Golden Door Chapter 16 Beth in Flight, part 2 of 2

April 28, 2025March 9, 2025M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“We should have fair weather.” Zinnia suggested.

“But sometimes in June we get a brief storm or two.” Mistletoe guessed.

“Yes, but this does not look like a brief storm to me.” Mrs. Aster pointed, and the girls finally looked to see a massive dark gray cloud on the horizon, coming on fast. Beth thought she saw a bit of lightning. But before they could respond again, before Beth could ask what they might do to avoid the storm, Holly came rushing up, followed by the other two girls.

“Carrion eaters!” Holly shrieked and zipped back to Beth’s shoulder to hide in Beth’s hair. Beth looked, and there were indeed, a bunch of black spots coming rapidly toward them from the opposite direction. The carrion eaters looked something like vultures and something like people, and they were between them and their objective; or at least in the direction they were headed.

“Geese!” Hyacinth said sharply. She pointed toward the storm, and indeed, it looked like a whole gaggle fleeing from the weather. “Swans!” The fairies cheered, and Beth wondered until Mrs. Aster explained.

“The swan people have not given into the demon-goddess, and they despise the carrion eaters.”

All the same, it looked like they would be in the middle of the fray when those two opposing forces met. Beth became suddenly frightened, until she got distracted from above. Three new fairies descended upon them.

“Dogwood!” Mistletoe shouted at the one dressed all in white, and she zoomed ahead which let Beth know just how much they had actually slowed down to accommodate her much slower air speed.

“The others are Pinoak and Cherry.” Holly whispered in Beth’s ear even as Beth realized that these were men, or perhaps young men. Holly still hid in her hair. Zinnia joined her on Beth’s other shoulder, as the young ones seemed shy in front of the men.

“Straight up! This way!” Pinoak shouted and Mrs. Aster agreed. Of course, fairies never fly in a straight line, but in this case, they tried as that line of darkness started coming on much too fast, and the closer it came, the more frightening it looked.

They started up, but soon realized that Beth was going too slow.

“We aren’t going to make it!” Dogwood yelled over the growing din of the storm as he came back to grab Beth’s hand, or her finger. Cherry grabbed her other hand, and they began to drag her up.

“Hurry!” Holly shouted as the black clouds were almost on them. She and Zinnia followed Mistletoe to where they began to push from below. Beth could hardly register a complaint, though, before the girls shrieked and zoomed past her. Dogwood and Cherry also had to let go at the last as the blackness enveloped Beth.

Beth held her breath and felt more like she was underwater than in a cloud. She was instantly soaked, and almost had to swim to the surface more than fly. When her head broke free, she heard Mrs. Aster and the girls. “Beth! Beth!” Beth did not stop at the surface of the wet, but broke free and continued upward only to be enveloped almost immediately with real, black storm clouds. The rain started to pour with very little preliminaries, and once again Beth could hardly see, though at least she could breathe.

“Beth.” She heard Mrs. Aster again and saw a bright light beside her. The others came to that light, surrounded her, and began to generate their own fairy lights. They glowed like little angels in the darkness. Beth did her best to add her glow to the mix, but it seemed a pitiful thing next to the fairies.

“We have to get above the storm,” Dogwood insisted. Again, Mrs. Aster agreed, and so they still went up and up. They had to stop, though, when a great stroke of lightning flashed through the darkness not a hundred yards above their heads. The thunder sounded deafening.

“Tornado!” Daffodil spotted the terror barreling down on their position as if it had a mind to find and destroy them. The fairies bravely rushed between Beth and the monstrous whirlwind, as if somehow to protect her. Beth turned and saw Fluffy and Flitter close by; or at least she thought it was them, with about ten more and they were holding hands, or cloudy mittens and dancing in a circle. They began to chant.

“Nimbus, Nimbus, come and save us,

Hear our cry through wind and rain.

Nimbus, Nimbus, Kairos’ daughter

Come before we call again.”

Of course, they repeated the chant over and over until Beth saw a blackness darker than the storm clouds; dark enough to rival the black water below. Beth gasped, but the blackness first passed over them and seemed to strike the tornado to send it spinning away in another direction. Then the blackness turned, and Beth felt sure this thing had something to direct it. In a breath of time, it had swallowed them all.

Inside the blackness, Beth and the fairies found a chamber of sorts, completely cloud free. The first thing Beth noticed, however, was the silence, as the fury of the storm became suddenly cut off from their perception.

“My thanks, Lord Nimbus.” Mrs. Aster breathed heavily. “I am getting too old for this.” The other fairies, men and women, said nothing. They hovered quiet and appeared respectful.

“We all are,” Beth said.

Beth jumped when she heard the voice she expected, though not the way she expected it. The voice itself rumbled, more softly, but like the very thunder which moments ago had frightened her half to death. Then she saw a face form on one of the walls of the chamber. It appeared a full bearded face that looked stern, though not unkind. “Kairos’ daughter. Let me look at you,” the face said. Beth found herself unable to move until Holly and Zinnia gave her a little push from behind. “Yes. Turn around.” Beth hardly had a choice as the wind caught her and turned her twice. “I see,” Lord Nimbus said. “She has been given gifts. Flight ought to be a natural thing, but the beauty I don’t understand.” Beth turned once more. “But now the sight? You fee have eyes of eagles, better than eagles; but I would have guessed this was beyond your magic. She has eyes to scan the surface of the sun.”

Mrs. Aster shook her head. “We did not do this,” she said. “It was the glorious one.”

“Eh?”

“The Servant of the Source,” Mrs. Aster said quietly, and she was going to say no more.

Lord Nimbus paused. “I see.” He spoke with utmost seriousness before he brightened. “Still, with all that, she is hardly in a position to defend herself if that should prove necessary.” Without asking, a bolt of lightning shot from the eyes of the face on the wall, struck Beth in the solar plexus and knocked her back against the far wall, which fortunately stayed cloud soft. Beth felt dazed, but fine as the fairies all gathered around her with worried looks. As Beth stood, she began to glow with a glow as strong as the fairies.

“There,” Lord Nimbus said. “Now she can make her own light, I should think, though I suppose it will not likely make a difference in the castle. She should have a little left over as well.”

“Like this.” Mrs. Aster tried to get Beth’s attention. She stripped the glow from herself and held a glowing ball in her hands, like holding a lit light bulb.

“This?” Beth shook her head to clear her thoughts. She held out her hands and tried to concentrate, but that started to give her a headache, so she just let it happen, and shortly, she had a much larger glowing ball in her own hands.

“Now let it go,” Mrs. Aster said, and she let her ball float free.

Beth also let go and watched her ball float up toward the center of the room to give light to all.

“Now enough.” Mrs. Aster said, and she clapped her hands and her ball of light dissipated. Beth also clapped her hands, but her light sparkled first before the electricity went off.

“Very good,” Mrs. Aster said; but by then the words of Lord Nimbus caught up to Beth’s mind.

“What do you mean a little left over?” she asked, but the face had gone, and in a moment the whole crew got ejected onto a field of grass. The sky still rained, and the wind felt horrendous, but they seemed to have been deposited on solid ground, and there did not seem to be any more tornados about.

“Ash,” Mrs. Aster identified something that looked to have turned the grass gray. Beth thought it was just the lighting under the storm, but Mistletoe agreed, and the fairies went to the edge of the field. They saw a dull orange light far off down below. Holly named it.

“Volcano.”

It looked to Beth like one of the mountaintops down below cracked open, and then she thought to step back from the edge, even if she could fly.

In truth, she found a castle in the sky, and one not made out of clouds. The grass out front and in the court looked just as lush, and the hills out back looked just as forested, and with real trees, and while the number of spires and towers on this castle could hardly be counted, it seemed curious because some of the tops of towers appeared to come up through the clouds from some other castle down below.

Golden Door Chapter 12 Beth through the Mist, part 1 of 2

April 2, 2025March 2, 2025M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Mrs. Aster fluttered by Beth’s ear as Beth stepped into the forest. The fairy allowed her butterfly wings to gently undulate against the slight breeze. The trees in that place looked widely spaced, and there were flowers and soft grass more than leaves and prickly bushes beneath Beth’s feet. It looked to her like a haphazard orchard rather than a natural wood, and Beth expected the trees would peter out altogether not too far along. She imagined they would give way to some flower filled meadow if not a field of grain.

“I do not like that sound,” Mrs. Aster said quietly, after a short way. “I do not like it at all.”

“What sound?” Beth asked with a bit too much volume, and as she said it, she heard it, not by the sound, but by its sudden absence. Mrs. Aster just looked at her, sternly.

“And I don’t like the fact that our way is bringing us closer,” she whispered. “Perhaps I had better look ahead.”

“No?” Beth did not know what else to say, but now that she recognized the heavy breathing in the distance, she had no desire to be left alone.

Mrs. Aster nodded, and Beth wondered if the fairy felt some of the same desire to stick together. “Hush!”

Beth stopped and turned her eyes from the fairy to look ahead. It took a moment to piece together what she saw. Unlike the lion-dragon-goat thing that Chris had ferreted out the night before, this creature appeared mostly horse, though the head and claws looked more like an eagle as did the wings, obviously, since horses normally did not have wings.

“Mutant,” Beth called it. She was at that time first wondering how she could get to the castle in the clouds, and she briefly imagined that this might be the answer, though she hardly imagined herself as being comfortable on the back of such a creature.

“Hippogriff,” Mrs. Aster named it. “A meat eater,” she added as she appeared to want Beth to back away, slowly. Beth had already decided to do that very thing, but somehow the creature detected the motion and turned one big eye in their direction. “Fly!” Mrs. Aster shouted as the hippogriff broke into a run and headed straight for them. Beth ran. Mrs. Aster was the one who flew, and surprisingly, she flew straight at the beast before she veered off at the last minute. The eagle head took a half-hearted snap at the fairy, but then its wings opened-up and it took to the air in pursuit.

Beth kept running, until she came to a mist which came up out of nowhere and enveloped her. She stopped, almost afraid to continue into who knew what. Beth squinted and waved her hand, but the mist just swirled in place. It seemed thick, like a cloud come down to earth. She could barely see inches in front of her face. “Hello,” she called out rather quietly and at once saw a light through the fog. It flickered brightly for a moment and quickly faded.

Beth wanted to run to the light, but held her feet to a careful pace, even when the light appeared to float deeper into the recesses. She imagined she saw a figure too, possibly a woman. It seemed hard to tell from the shape, but it vanished altogether after her first step. Two steps into the mist and Beth had no idea where she started. She almost panicked and believed for a second that the light and misty figure might be luring her in for some nefarious purpose. Beth took a deep breath and tried to execute a full turn. After two steps, she realized she missed her target and decided to call out.

“Mrs. Aster,” she called, but again not too loud. Something about her misty surrounding required quiet and respect, like silence should be the norm and reverence the rule. There came no response, and Beth felt a little sick to her stomach at the thought that she got utterly lost after just two steps. “Mrs. Aster,” she called again with some sharpness, as if to suggest that this was not a time for fooling around, and then she had another thought. “Light? Hello, who is there?” She spoke to the figure she had seen on the chance that the figure might respond, and not want to eat her.

“Hello.” The figure did respond, and Beth jumped. Despite the hope that someone, that anyone might be there, she expected no answer.

“Who is there?” Beth asked quickly.

“Who is there?” The voice asked in return. It sounded like a woman’s voice, and Beth might have imagined an echo except the quality of the voice was decidedly not hers. This woman’s voice sounded beautiful, sweet, kind, suggestive of hidden depths, old, but quite young at the same time. It felt confusing.

“I asked first,” Beth retorted; but then she thought she ought to be more polite to a potential savior. “My name is Beth.”

“Mine is Mistletoe,” The response came, and it got followed immediately by another, sweeter, much younger voice.

“Mine’s Holly,” the voice said, and there came a flash of light which seemed to buzz around Beth’s head for a second before it vanished into the mist.

“But I can’t see you.” Beth insisted. A little concern about the mysterious flashing light crept into her voice. She felt simply fear of the unknown because she did not feel threatened in the least. It seemed as if the fog acted like a protective blanket to keep her warm and safe regardless of what might be out there, hippogriffs or otherwise. “Where are you?”

Beth moved carefully in the fog from the same fear of the unknown, but here she imagined very real dangers from being unable to see, like falling into a hole or a pit or falling off a cliff.

“Over here,” Mistletoe said. “I see you perfectly well.”

“Is she safe?” Beth heard a third voice.

“I think so Zinnia,” Mistletoe said.

“I think she’s nice.” Holly voted for her. Beth thought, Hurray!

“I do too.” That sounded like yet another voice. How many of them were there?

“Daffodil. You think everyone is nice.” A fifth voice spoke.

“I do not.” Daffodil defended herself with some grump in her voice.

“Hyacinth is right,” Mistletoe said. “You do think everyone’s nice, but Daffodil is usually right.”

“Come on-y,” Holly said. “Just a bit further.”

One step more and Beth arrived in a completely different clearing in the forest. One moment she walked mired in fog and the next she got utterly free and stood amidst trees so tall she could not see the tops. The early morning sun, colored green by the leaves, broke through here and there in streaks of light that reached the forest floor, and looked like golden streaks on a canvas. The birds, which she had not heard through the mist, were in full song and danced among the branches. Beth found herself facing the four most beautiful young women she had ever seen. She had to catch her breath because their beauty appeared almost unbearable. She swallowed hard and tried not to stare, and finally forced herself to look down at her feet where she saw stones just behind her heels. In fact, she stood in a stone circle of some sort, though she had no idea what the significance of that might be.

“Welcome.” Beth heard Mistletoe’s voice and looked up again. The woman looked about her age, or perhaps a little older, dressed in a medieval foot-length dress which fit her very well. Her long raven hair fell to her waist and gold sparkles flashed in green eyes which looked warm and welcoming as well as a little mysterious in their depths. The eyes looked as confusing as the voice, and Beth decided that while Mistletoe looked to be about twenty, there was something in her which felt much older. The same could be said for the other girls, though they appeared more like they were seventeen or eighteen, and one perhaps sixteen.

“I am Mistletoe.” Mistletoe continued to speak when Beth failed to respond right away. “And these are Hyacinth, Daffodil and Zinnia.”

“G-good to know you,” Beth stammered.

************************

MONDAY

Beth receives the gift of flight and just in time because David and his friends suffer an earthquake while on their way to the sea. Until Next Time, Happy Reading.

Golden Door Chapter 7 Explanations, part 1 of 2

March 12, 2025January 14, 2025M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Mrs. Aster reached out to hold Beth’s hand which rested on the table while Mrs. Copperpot settled into the last seat, the one next to her good eater, James, and Inaros fell silent readily enough. He would let the woman explain.

“And who is Angel?” Beth asked before the fairy could begin.

Mrs. Aster looked at the others before she spoke. “When Ashtoreth, the demon-goddess came out of hiding, and drew your father into this place, and captured the Lords of the Dias, and imprisoned your mother, we four did something that is not normal for our kind to do.”

“And it was a shameful hard thing for us, let me tell you,” Deathwalker added.

“We prayed, not to your father, the Kairos, as is our way, because he is in the most danger of all, but to the other.”

“To the one above,” Mrs. Copperpot said.

“To the Source,” Mrs. Aster closed her eyes.

“To God?” Chris said the word out loud and saw the four elders wince, but nod.

“We were brought into this place and told to wait for you,” Mrs. Aster went on.

“And it was the most scariest moment of my life, let me tell you,” Deathwalker said, and to hear a goblin, or whatever he was, talk about being scared really felt like something.

“And so, now, here we all are, but I am not sure what we can do about the situation,” Mrs. Aster finished.

“Out there?” David asked. He looked up at Inaros, who like James, kept trying not to doze off.

“But it is dangerous out there,” Chris said, in all honesty.

“Yes, son, it is,” Deathwalker said, knowingly. He raised a hand, filled with very sharp nails, and placed it gently on Chris’ shoulder. “There’s danger on every street corner. Washington, Bangkok, Paris. Why, a person can’t hardly make his way in the world without bumping into some evil…” He stopped. “Oh, you meant Avalon.”

“Well, yeah.” Beth sounded exasperated.

“Well, maybe we ought to start with some pictures, some background to get the gist of what we are up against,” he said.

“No,” Mrs. Copperpot said sternly as she stood. “Children got to get ready for bed first,” she insisted.

Clothes were laid out on the four beds, clothes the children did not notice before or that somehow just magically appeared. Mrs. Copperpot pulled a screen from the wall to separate Beth’s area from the boys, and Inaros showed them the bathroom, behind a door on the bedside. The door, almost invisible, fit perfectly into the white wall like the door to the kitchen on the table side.

“Everything off,” Mrs. Copperpot insisted.

“This is fairy weave,” Mrs. Aster explained to them all. You can grow it, shape it, and even color it just by thinking about it. You can harden it for shoes or leave it soft underneath against the skin. You can even separate it into several pieces or bring it back together into a nice dress if you like.”

“I’m not wearing a dress,” James said.

“Of course, you have to separate it to make shoes,” Inaros said, grumpily, like it had gotten past his bedtime.

“She meant me and the dress,” Beth told her little brother.

“Don’t be wearing shoes to bed. You’ll get the sheets all dirty,” Mrs. Copperpot said.

Eventually, all four children were ready, though Beth kept changing her nightgown from blue to green and back again, unable to decide, until Mrs. Aster turned it into a green background with big blue flowers and told her to leave it alone. Then they took their pillows and gathered themselves on the floor in front of the big blank wall at the back of the room, which was going to be their television, as Deathwalker explained.

Mrs. Aster changed back into her fairy size, with wings fluttering gently against the air to keep herself aloft. She said it felt much more comfortable than being big, and Beth said she did not mind. Mrs. Copperpot wanted to pick James up and hold him in her lap, but James decided he would rather not. David would not let poor Inaros sleep. He got excited and expected a good movie. Chris talked with Deathwalker who wanted to get things started; but he tried to answer Chris’ questions and got loud enough for everyone to hear while they waited.

“But how can my dad have lived other lifetimes?” he asked, having realized that the Kairos had to be something more than just a title passed down from person to person.

“Well, it would be more correct to say the Kairos has lived many lifetimes and at present he happens to be your dad. In other lifetimes, the Kairos lived as dad or mom, as it were, of other children.”

“But look. I remember where it said it is appointed once for a man to die and after that the judgment.” Chris insisted.

“Yes, it is, but there is the hurt of it, don’t you see? The Kairos gets all the pain and suffering of death, right up to the last breath, but before he can cross over to the other side he gets pulled into a new conception. He is never actually allowed to die.”

“But I thought reincarnation—”

“It isn’t reincarnation.” Deathwalker spoke with certainty. “It is deliberate and done by a power far greater than us little spirits have. Sometimes he calls the doers his friends, and sometimes he bitterly refers to himself or herself as an experiment in time and genetics, but all the same, he or she gets born again and starts from scratch again as a know-nothing baby.”

“But…”

“Sit down, son,” Deathwalker said, gently, and he reached up again with that clawed hand and rested it again on Chris’ shoulder. “There’s a couple of things to know yet, and no sense in getting worked up over what none of us can really know or understand.”

Chris nodded and sat as Mrs. Aster fluttered up to the wall, pulled a stick out of some unseen pocket, or something like a stick, and began to tap the wall here and there. Wherever she tapped, there came a swirl of color which spread out until it touched other swirls, and then the swirls began to form into shapes, out of focus at first, but they slowly came together.

“Like Tinkerbell.” David suggested.

“Wrong kind of wings,” James pointed out, and then they all grew quiet as the pictures on the wall took on a three-dimensional quality that no television or movie could match. It seemed like they were looking through a glass into another place, altogether.

Alice stood in that place. They all recognized her by her blonde hair, and when she turned around, by her light brown, almost golden sparkling eyes. They named her; and the golden door stood there too. The children imagined it had to be how Alice got into that place, wherever she was. It looked completely desolate, a bit rocky and full of bare dirt without the least sign of grass or anything growing and alive at all.

“This all happened ages and ages ago,” Deathwalker explained. “That spot where they are standing is at the very center of where the Castle of the Kairos now stands.”

“And who is the other one?” Beth asked, because a man that faced Alice had to be nine or ten feet tall.

“Cronos,” Deathwalker said, and they watched while the two held out their hands and something began to glow between them. In a very short time they saw a crystal of some sort, but with an internal glow as if something bright got trapped inside the crystal. After another short time, the crystal began to pulse with a regular steady beat, and then the making of that object seemed to be done.

“That is the Heart of Time,” Mrs. Aster said. “That is the point where human history began, and everything that has ever happened since then is recorded in the heart.”

“Everything?” David wondered, and the four little spirits all nodded.

“Trouble is, the heart is now in the hands of the demon,” Deathwalker said. “And there is no telling what she is doing with it.”

“Our fear is that she may attempt to break it,” Mrs. Aster said.

“And a real fear that is,” Mrs. Copperpot interjected. “Some say that human history will come to an end at that point. Some say that time itself will come to an end. Some say creation will be ended and the whole universe will roll up like a scroll. Who can say exactly?”

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MONDAY

After witnessing the making of the Heart of Time, and hearing the dire predictions, it is time to have some further explanations, like why they are there and what they hope to do about the trouble. Next time. Until then, Happy Reading

Golden Door Chapter 6 Angels & Visions, part 2 of 2

March 11, 2025January 14, 2025M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“I am Mrs. Aster,” the fairy said. “Since no one here has the manners to properly introduce anyone.” She fluttered up to the side of the table and appeared to grow instantly. She became a stately woman, very old, but still very shapely and easy to look at. She wore a gown of silver sparkles and a very small circle of silver with small diamonds set around her head to keep back her long silver hair.

“The wings.” James noticed that they were gone.

“Now I could hardly walk around on Earth with wings, could I?” Mrs. Aster responded with an enchanting smile. She took a seat between Beth and David.

“Yes, well, you can call me plain old Deathwalker,” Mister Deathwalker said. He slipped into the seat beside Chris. “I’m too old to worry much about that other part. Anyway, our cook is Mrs. Copperpot.” The dwarf curtsied a little and the children heard the crackling in those old knees. “And you are very fortunate to have her to cook. She mastered the art some three hundred years ago.”

“I wouldn’t say mastered,” Mrs. Copperpot said shyly. She sat beside James who wanted to say she had mastered the art as far as he was concerned, but presently his mouth was too full to speak.

“And this,” Mister Deathwalker stopped in mid-introduction. “Where has that old coot got to?” he asked. They all heard a loud crash from the back room, followed by the words.

“I’m all right! I’m all right! I just slipped on nothing. You shouldn’t leave nothing lying around just anywhere, you know.” A six-foot-tall, most ancient man appeared in the door, supported by a large cane of hickory wood. He had on a scarlet ruffled shirt, a golden vest, complete with pocket watch and fob, something like a tuxedo dinner jacket with tails, and terribly pointed shoes beneath the long black pants that covered very long legs. “Inaros of Constantinople at your service,” he introduced himself, bowed regally, and tipped his hat which looked like an alpine hiker’s hat, complete with a feather on the side.

“He has pointed ears.” David noticed right away.

“Of course he does.” Mister Deathwalker whispered. “Most elves do, you know.”

“An elf?” David got excited.

“Yes.” Mister Deathwalker continued a little louder for the benefit of all. “And nearly deaf.”

“Deft?” Inaros sat beside David and leaned over to let the young man touch his pointed ears. Apparently, David was not the first young man in his experience who needed the assurance of that reality. “Why, I haven’t practiced the art of slight-of-hand in years, but I do thank you for the compliment, Professor Deathwalker, and as for the other part, plain Deathwalker rather than Mister Deathwalker, if I heard aright; might we say Dreamwalker? Perchance to dream, eh? Perchance to dream.”

Mrs. Aster leaned over to whisper to Beth and Chris. “He fancies himself an actor.”

“Yes, those were the days.” Inaros went on without having heard a thing, or perhaps he ignored the comment. “It was the Kairos, Peter Van Dyke, who introduced me to William, you know. A horse. A horse. My kingdom for a horse.”

“Shakespeare?” Beth wondered.

“Indeed. Is there any other William worthy of the name?” Inaros asked. “That was back when I was on the stage, a real stage, mind you, not like the silly things they call plays today. I became the inspiration for Oberon, you know. Some incidental time in my younger days.” Inaros held his chin up as if posing for a picture.

“Peter Van Dyke?” Chris started on another track.

“Your father in this life.” Inaros nodded. “Peter Van Dyke lived as Captain of the Golden Hawk, scourge of the Spanish Main.” He lifted his cane and pretended he had a sword. He almost knocked over the crystal decanter.

“My dad was a pirate?” James whispered to himself.

“My dad was a pirate?” David repeated it loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Not exactly your dad, but the Kairos, certainly,” Deathwalker said.

“Hardly.” Inaros looked offended by the pirate suggestion. “He was a Privateer, with papers from the queen, herself. After destroying the Spanish Armada, we took to the Caribbean. “Have at ye! Make all sail! Two points off the starboard bow Mister Givens! The Golden Hawk was the fastest ship afloat. Many a merchant feared the Flying Dutchman.”

“The Flying Dutchman?”

“Aye-Aye, Captain. Of course, there were real pirates then, not like the silly ones today, or the ones up on the so-called big screen.” He made a disgusted face. Clearly, he did not think much of Hollywood acting. “But that was some years ago, a good while before you young urchins ever came to mind. Like sweet infants, you are.” He looked at the children and meant it as a compliment, but Beth pushed her head up.

“I’ll be twenty next spring,” she said, asserting her adult status.

Inaros smiled. “I just turned fifteen hundred,” he said, and Beth and Chris both swallowed hard.

“I first fought beside the Kairos when she was the Duchess Genevieve, back in the days of Charlemagne, at the battle of Tours.” He tried to lift his cane again for another try at the decanter, but Deathwalker held the stick to the ground, and Mrs. Aster interrupted.

“Charlemagne’s grandfather, Charles Martel fought at the battle of Tours, and the Kairos was Lady Margueritte back then.”

“Have some more taters.” Mrs. Copperpot tried Chris, but he felt stuffed and waved her off. James raised his hand. “Ah, my James is a good eater for a little one.” She smiled and loaded James’ plate with enough mashed potatoes for six people.

“Eh? Eh?” Inaros got miffed at the interruption.

“I said—” Mrs. Aster began, but Inaros interrupted her in turn.

“I heard what you said. I’m not deaf, woman, but I am pontificating. Since when do the facts stand in the way of a good story?”

“Oh, well, if you’re pontificating,” Mrs. Aster responded, curtly.

“Pontificate away,” Deathwalker encouraged.

“More milk?” Mrs. Copperpot poured some for David.

“Now, where was I?” Inaros asked and rubbed his ancient chin.

“Tours,” Chris suggested.

“The Kairos was Lady Margueritte.” Beth shook her head.

“Ah, yes.” Inaros looked up, but his eyes were not focused on the glowing ceiling so much as his mind tried to remember. “Lady Margueritte. The Kairos is always a fine Lady when living a female life, not like today, you know. She would never lower herself to be a flapper. Not her.”

“Like Doctor Mishka?” Mrs. Aster interjected.

Inaros looked slightly offended again. “Nadia was a respectable professional in her thirties. An educated woman. A Doctor.”

“But still a fine figure of a woman,” Deathwalker said. “She could get away with the short stuff. She had mighty fine legs.”

“I blame that Hollywood crowd.” Inaros confided to David, but his voice sounded loud enough for everyone to hear.

Chris pushed his plate away. Beth had already finished. David nibbled on a roll and sipped his milk. James began to stare. Everyone could see he was ready for bed.

“So, Okay,” Chris said. “Those are all lovely stories, but now I think we have some questions, like who are you and how did you get here?”

“How did we get here?” James whispered and yawned.

Golden Door Chapter 6 Angels & Visions, part 1 of 2

March 10, 2025January 12, 2025M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“Who are you?” Chris asked. The light dimmed a little and the children came back to their senses.

“Angel.” The presence spoke as he stepped out from the glare and the unbearable light fell into the background, ever present, but not intrusive. “That is what your father called me ages and ages ago.”

“You know my dad?” David asked, while Beth studied the creature. From the dress, the voice, the long, pure sparkling white hair, and the sparkling eyes of some indeterminate color, it seemed impossible to tell if Angel might be a man or a woman. Beth and the boys eventually referred to him as a man; but to be sure, that was not certain, any more than it was certain how old he might be. He might have been just twenty-something, but he seemed as ancient as time, and possibly older than time.

“I know your dad well.” Angel said, with a smile that looked very warm and very human in a way.

“You know everything.” James whispered. Angel did not acknowledge the comment.

“I knew the Kairos when he was a Scotsman who deserted the English lines to hold the hand of a young French girl named Joan,” Angel spoke. “I knew him when he was a boy, sitting in the dust, holding the camels, waiting for his brothers to return with news of what happened to Sodom. I knew him when he was the young grandson of Odin trying to run away from himself, when he was a priest preparing to face the Witch of Endor, when the Kairos was a woman. I knew her when she had to leave her cousin, Tutankaton, and run for her life. I knew her when she feared Tiamut and the Chaos that started swallowing the world; and again, when the demons came up and infested her village way back in the days of wood and stone, sinew and bone. And even earlier, I knew the Kairos when she was the lady Alice who has not yet been born. She stood not far from this very spot with that old spirit, Cronos, and between them they created the Heart of Time. With the Heart of Time, that thing you call history began. I knew your father when each of you came to be born, and how much he loves you with all of his heart.”

“Is my dad safe?” David had to interrupt. He just had to ask.

“For now,” Angel said. “But you will have to help him. Since that one has come to infest this place with wickedness, you will have to help him and your mother and the little ones who have had this place as a sanctuary for thousands of years. They will be depending on you.”

“Us?” David wondered.

“But the door can move,” Beth pointed out.

“Can’t we just go and get them? Can’t you just take us to them?” Chris thought much the same thing.

“Christopher,” Angel scolded, and that felt like a terrible, frightening moment; but then he spoke with such calm grace the moment passed quickly. “You know the Most-High does not work that way. You must walk by faith, and never lose hope, and always love.” Angel stepped forward, or glided forward, and placed his hands on Beth’s and Chris’ heads. Beth wanted to take a step back, but she did not dare.

“One little one to dance on the clouds. One for the dark, deep underground. There is help, but you need the eyes to see. Be a light to pierce the darkness,” he said, and shifted his position to put his hands on David’s and James’ heads. “One for the light with your feet on the ground, and one to find the narrow path between. You need the ears to hear, and the good sense to find your way.” He stepped back and smiled more deeply. “And no, James, I have no wings.” He looked ready to laugh, and the children found it was something they longed to hear, but it did not quite come. Angel spoke to them all. “The gifts now resident in your heart will not fail. Some, you will discover. Some, others will set free. One for each of you will be given and enhanced by others if they are willing. Then, when you find the ones you seek, simply say, “Angel said, do not be afraid.” With that, Angel began to fade from sight, still smiling at each of them, personally, and all of them at the same time. No one said wait, or where are you going, they just returned the smile and no longer felt afraid. And then Angel vanished, and they were alone in the small room.

The light faded until it toned down to the intensity of a well-lit room. It glowed down from the ceiling, if indeed there was a ceiling above the glow. The children saw three stark empty walls, and a fourth wall which now held the familiar golden door. On one side of the room, four beds waited for the four of them. A table with eight chairs sat on the other side. But the wall opposite the door had nothing to cover it. It stood out, stark white, and bare. It stared back at them until an unseen door opened in the corner of that wall near the table, and a smallish head popped out.

“Is it gone?” the head asked.

The children, who could not really feel fear at that moment, were shocked all the same at this sudden intrusion of color against the pure white. In fact, the head looked a bit gray in color, and it sported two little horns and eye teeth in its lower jaw which honestly had to be called tusks.

“Tom and Jerry,” James said to himself. David caught the angel and devil suggestion, grinned and nodded.

“Professor Deathwalker, you’ll scare the tykes.” A full-grown woman’s voice got followed by a little fairy who fluttered out from behind the door. She looked about a foot tall and had butterfly-like wings which undulated like a stingray in water. “Welcome children.” The fairy bowed regally in mid-air, though she seemed a bit hard to see, exactly, since she hardly kept still even when she hovered, and she glowed a little as if powered by some internal light.

“Just making sure it was gone, and it is just Mister Deathwalker these days,” the head said. Mister Deathwalker stepped into the room. The children saw a creature about four feet tall, but it had hairy feet like one might imagine hobbit feet, not cloven hooves, and they saw no tail. He came dressed in a simple black jerkin, and leggings, and the belt looked like well-worn leather. The buckle looked as gold as the door, and he sported a ring on his finger which had to have the biggest, gaudiest cut of green glass in it, because surely no one had an emerald that big.

“Move out of the way.” Another voice boomed out from behind the door, and Mister Deathwalker jumped quickly to the side.

“Mrs. Copperpot.” Mister Deathwalker identified the newcomer with a tip of his hat which the children had thought was his hair. It turned out the imp or goblin or whatever it was, looked utterly hairless apart from the hair on his feet and knuckles.

Mrs. Copperpot appeared to be a more normal dwarf if a real dwarf can be called normal. She stood three-and-a-half feet tall, and had some stubble on her chin, though not what might be called a beard, and she came dressed in a simple green dress with a red and white apron over her front. The thing the children noticed, however, was the fact that she carried the most enormous tray of food, and they realized they were all starving hungry.

“Well, come on,” she said. “It will only get cold if you hesitate.” The children did not hesitate, at least not Chris and James. Beth kept one eye open, and David had always been a bit of a finicky eater, but it all tasted very good, whatever they tried.

Medieval 6: Giovanni 10 Flesh Eaters, Witches, Apes, part 2 of 2

February 4, 2025January 6, 2025M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Matilda looked at the young couple that she imagined they were and wondered how such children could be in charge of this circus thing. “I came to warn you that we have worse than witches in our neighborhood.”

“The Flesh Eaters,” Leonora said, like she knew, though Giovanni felt her tighten her grip on his arm.

“Is that what you call them? We’ve been calling them Snake Heads….”

“Or Big Mouths,” one of the men spoke up.

“Or Big Mouths,” Matilda agreed. “What Rudolf said. They say they are not allowed to eat people, but we got four dead and eaten…”

“And that is why there are only eight left out of the twelve that came here. The four that could not resist eating people all died.”

“As it may,” Matilda said. “Though why God didn’t make it so they couldn’t eat people, I don’t know.”

“Because people always need to have a choice. Adam and Eve had a choice. It is part of the package.”

“And they chose wrong,” Rudolf said.

“Snake Heads aren’t people,” Matilda argued.

“But they are people,” Giovanni responded. “They are not human people, but they are Flesh Eater people. They talk and think and are self-aware. Just because they are not human it doesn’t make them less of a person.”

In the timing the little ones often exhibit, Oberon and Sibelius walked up and Oberon spoke. “Boss? We got to go see the Flesh Eaters?” Oberon and Sibelius together hardly looked like people in that moment. The two men looked at Sibelius and took a half-step back.

Matilda’s eyes widened for a second before she nodded for some reason. “I assumed you planned to go and see the Snake Heads—Flesh Eaters. I suppose I better go with you. How about you gentlemen?” One man waved them off, turned and walked away. Rudolf said he was game, and Matilda explained. “I understand Wilfred was the worst of the worst when he could do magic, but since the magic went away he has proved himself to be a real coward.”

“Everyone makes choices,” Giovanni said and Leonora nodded.

It took almost an hour to get there so they arrived around two in the afternoon. Giovanni heard from Lady Alice that the Ape ship kicked in the afterburners and nearly caught up to the Flesh Eater shuttle. While they walked to where Matilda knew the Flesh Eaters were parked, they saw the flash high in the sky when the shuttle broke into the atmosphere. They arrived just before the shuttle set down, and Leonora, Oberon, Sibelius, Matilda, and Rudolf were all eyes on the shuttle. Giovanni was busy with an internal dialogue and Leonora guessed.

“Junior?” she asked, knowing Giovanni had no special ability to deal with people from another world.

Giovanni shook his head. “Nameless,” he said. “This is his part of the world, and he needs a turn, though he is complaining that he always gets stuck with the werewolves and hags and such things.” Giovanni traded places with the ancient god he used to be, though like Junior, he kept up a perfect glamour of Giovanni so no one would notice unless they were sensitive to such things.

Leonora smiled at him and held on to his arm. His attention stayed focused on the newly arrived shuttle until the shuttle turned off all systems. He noticed when Leonora’s attention shifted from the spaceship to the oncoming local Flesh Eaters. She got one good look and swallowed her scream as she buried her face in Nameless’ shoulder.

“Matilda.” The Flesh Eater out front spoke. “We have rescue.”

“Snakes,” Matilda called the Flesh Eater. She obviously talked with the Flesh Eaters enough to not only name this one but to be able to distinguish between one Flesh Eater and another. Not an easy thing to do. “These people came to see you. I do not know what they want, but I thought to bring them because you can be frightening for our eyes to see.”

“Captain and crew,” Nameless said, and the newly arrived captain and all of his crew appeared with the others. “Quiet. Listen.” he made sure no Flesh Eater interrupted and they all heard so there would be no mistake. “Quercus,” he called. A fairy dropped down from the tree branch above. He faced Nameless and put his back to the Flesh Eaters. “Have they been good?”

“They have not used their VR Energy on the people and they have not used their weapons to kill people,” Quercus said, as Leonora dared to peek. “Define good.”

“Only one is good and he is beyond us. In this universe of flesh, good is relative, but there are some certainties, such as leaving the humans alone and not eating people.”

“Then they have been relatively good,” Quercus said, and smiled for Leonora. “My lady,” he bowed to her.

“Don’t start,” Nameless said and turned to the newly arrived Captain. “You are here to rescue this crew and leave this planet forever, and do not come back here.” He allowed the captain to speak though only himself and his little ones would understand the Flesh Eater language.

“I do not know what we may do.”

“I am not asking. I am telling. You will leave this planet and not come back here.”

“We are being followed. We might not be going anywhere.”

“What happens if we do come back?” Snakes asked.

“Your broken shuttle,” Nameless said and raised his hand. Every eye looked there as the shuttle slowly turned to dust, inch by inch. “It is now gone forever. So will you be the minute you touch the atmosphere.” Nameless tapped the shoulder Leonora was not using and Quercus came to take a seat and watch the fireworks, if any.

One of the Flesh Eaters did pull a gun and fired, but the fire stopped at the screen Nameless put up. Snakes and the captain both yelled, “No.” but it was too late. That Flesh Eater became dust and blew away on the wind.

“I am sorry for that, but we all make choices and choices have consequences.”

The Flesh Eater captain paused before he spoke. “We are here to rescue our people and leave this planet to never come back.”

Nameless nodded and put his hand up again, and the functioning Flesh Eater shuttle and all the Flesh Eaters present became invisible. Nameless allowed Leonora, Matilda, and Rudolf to continue to see the Flesh Eaters and their ship, but only after they saw everything vanish. When they reappeared, they appeared to be surrounded in a glowing light of some kind. Of course, Quercus the fairy, Oberon the dwarf, and Sibelius saw that as the invisible spectrum, so-called.

Moments later, the Ape warship broke into the atmosphere. It only took a couple of minutes before they landed and three Apes came out to face the humans. “Where have they gone?” The Ape commander insisted on an answer.

“Out of your reach,” Nameless said. “This world is off limits. You do not belong here.”

“In the years ago, the Kairos in this world said we could come and remove the hated Flesh Eaters from this place.” The Ape ground his teeth. “Where are they?” he raised his voice.

Nameless sighed. “The time for Apes and Flesh Eaters has ended, and you who were once the most kind and gentle of people have become filled with anger and hate. Let go of the evil that grips your heart and return to your peaceful ways. Please leave this world in peace and do not expect me to ask you again.”

‘Where are they?” the Ape yelled.

Nameless raised his hand and the three Apes vanished and maybe reappeared in their ship. The ship started its engines, whether voluntarily or forced, and the ship lifted back into the sky. It moved at maximum speed out of the atmosphere and when it was clear, it shifted to multiple light speed, as much as the engines could tolerate, and soon left the solar system.

The Flesh Eaters reappeared by their shuttle and the captain spoke again, and this time he meant it. “We will leave and not come back.” They boarded their ship and in a few minutes took off. Giovanni returned and hugged Leonora.

“I see what you mean,” she said as he turned her toward the village, and everyone turned with him. “I can’t imagine what a battle in the sky might have been like.”

“It would have destroyed everything around for miles, maybe hundreds of miles,” he said. She nodded and smiled for the fairy on his shoulder as he walked with his arm around her shoulder.

“One question,” Matilda spoke as they walked. “How come your magic still worked?”

“Because it was not magic.” Giovanni answered. “It was the ancient power rooted in the source… In God.”

Matilda nodded. “I certainly could not have done anything like that when I did have the magic.” She looked at Rudolf and he shook his head to say neither could he. They walked for a while before Matilda added, “But that certainly would be a power to conjure with. If I could do like that I could become really corrupt.”

Oberon took that moment to interject a thought. “That is strike two as you are fond of saying. The Masters are going to figure it out.”

Giovanni sighed, much like Nameless, and changed the subject. “By the way,” he said. “We have a magician as part of the circus. Try not to laugh too hard when you see his cheap tricks.”

“Oh, I hope I get a good laugh,” Matilda responded. “I’m looking forward to it. I haven’t had a good laugh in years. You know when you are a witch nothing is ever funny.”

Leonora shared her thought. “So you can be like march. you came in like a lion and can go out like a lamb.”

Medieval 6: K and Y 20 End and Beginning, part 2 of 2

December 11, 2024November 23, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Yasmina

Yasmina wandered through the meadow where the wildflowers grew, and the bees came to collect the pollen to make their honey. It was not exactly the sculpted garden she grew up in, or the imitation garden in Fustat, the Princess garden in Alexandria, or the newly planted and manicured garden she practically lived in when she was held prisoner in the palace in Madhiya, but it would do. In some ways, the meadow was better. It was natural. The flowers, many different kinds, grew wherever they found a place, or more accurately, where the local fairies encouraged them.

The nearest fairy troop live in the hills some distance away, but she spied one every now and then. In exchange for a bit of honey, they kept the flowers growing big and strong for the bees. Of course, the people saw them as little birds, if they even noticed, but Yasmina could see beneath the glamours, and even see the gnomes who mostly worked invisible and insubstantial, if she cared to look.

Aisha fell in love with a local elf and joined a troop that lived in the distant woods where only a few human farms interrupted the verdant wilderness. Of course, Aisha and her husband Castaneis visited once or twice a year, “Just to check up and make sure all was well.” Yasmina was happy for her friend.

Also, once or twice per year, or at least every other year, Norsemen began to come to the port of Amalfi to trade. Amalfi was easier to reach than sailing all the way to Byzantium. The Rus had trade down the rivers blocked to competition, especially since they took Kyiv a couple of years ago. The Normans in particular had to come the long way around, through the so-called Pillars of Hercules. Still, Amalfi was closer and less taxing than Constantinople.

They brought furs like ermine and beaver, and sometimes amber and ivory to trade for silks, fragrances, glassware, and wine that would fetch a fortune back home in the north. It was all due to Captain Frodesson, Oswald the elder, and Edwin the dog. By 945, southern Italy had regular and friendly trade with the north, in particular the Normans, as they came to be called. Yasmina understood the general thrust of history. It would be fifty years before the Normans came to settle southern Italy, piece by piece. She would be gone by then, but her children and grandchildren, and maybe great-grandchildren would be part of that.

Yasmina sometimes got called on to settle things when there was a dispute, since she got credited with setting up the Norse trade in the first place. Those disputes were usually minor and easily resolved. It was a different story when Islamic ships came to the port. Yasmina got called on then, too, and sometimes those disputes were not so minor.

Yasmina herself donned her armor three times over the last ten years to fight off Muslims that tried to establish settlements in southern Italy. She fought alongside Naples, Salerno, Capua, the Byzantines, and plenty of princes, dukes, and counts from here or there. She was instrumental in keeping Italy Muslim free. Al-Rahim taught her well. She knew Islamic ways, weapons, tactics, and what the Muslims in general and in particular the Isma’ili fanatics were capable of. Francesco got knighted after one victory. They did not knight women. She did get a thank you note from the Pope, but that was it.

It was not that she turned away from her faith, but she knew if Italy became divided, her children would never have peace. As Kirstie often said, trade was better, and trade works, or as her Kairos self said in many lifetimes, peace was better than war. And she knew the way Muslims and Christians viewed the world and everything in it was incompatible. There might always be war between the two, sad as that would be for the human race, but at least she could help keep her corner of this world from all that bloodshed.

Yasmina had some pieces of the Koran which she diligently read. She kept her Islamic traditions in Italy, and celebrated all the festivals, at least as well as she could. It was hard to fast on Ramadan when the children came along, and especially when Francesco’s mother cooked a huge meal for the whole family after church on Sunday. Mama Rosita lived in a castle-sized house, but then the woman had eleven children, so the room was needed. Francesco was the third child, the second son.

Interestingly enough, Francesco’s father, uncles, and all the boys, brothers and cousins accepted her right away. A few were jealous of Francesco. Yasmina was very pretty. It took the women longer to get adjusted to this foreign girl. Mama Rosita and Francesco’s older sister, Maria were especially stubborn. They finally softened when Yasmina had sons. Peter was first. Antonio, a well-used family name, came two years later. They did not fully accept her, though, until she had a daughter, Sophia, and she wore a small crucifix around her neck and went faithfully to mass on Sunday besides, and she kept her head and hair covered, even if she rarely wore a veil in Italy. She worked hard to fit in with the family and the people of the town because, quite the contrary to Yasmina’s upbringing where she was ignored by her mother and father as often as not, and she only had the grandfatherly al-Rahim to care for her before Aisha arrived, in Amalfi family was the most important thing. Children mattered, so Yasmina had some adjusting to do, but in the end she decided she liked it that way.

Francesco was not the most faithful husband in the world. He loved Yasmina passionately when he was around, and she was all he wanted. But he traveled. He was part of a family of tradesmen—Italian tradesmen. And when he traveled, he often sought comfort in the arms of a local woman. Yasmina did not feel terrible about that. The women in the family understood that was normal, healthy behavior for the men. If he did not dally, like Don Giovanni, they would have thought something was wrong with him. Then again, Yasmina did not have to worry about Francesco having concubines, or a harem where she might be demoted to second or third wife, so there was that. As long as he came home and loved her when he was home, she would not rock that boat.

“Sophia,” she called to her three-year-old and the girl came up holding some wildflowers she had picked, and she smiled for her mother. Yasmina returned the smile as she took her daughter’s hand and started down the path toward home. She thought about how Kirstie ended the days of Abraxas. She completed her work in the world. In fact, Yasmina smiled for the last three days, and considered visiting Avalon herself and how wonderful that would be, but by the time she got home, Kirstie got home.

Yasmina began to cry and stayed a moment on the front porch of her home. When Kirstie found armed men in the streets, she had to sit down right there in a chair on the porch. She could hardly focus on what was going on around her. She felt as though her whole being was absorbed by events that happened thirty-one years ago in another land—in another world. The boys came out on hearing their mother. Aisha who came for a visit followed. Francesco and Castaneis were just coming up the road.

“Liv!” Yasmina shouted for no reason anyone could see. Even Sophia and the boys could not get her attention.

“Two for two,” she mumbled before she shouted, “My scimitar.” The weapon appeared at her feet. Big Sister Maria who also came for a visit raised her eyebrows at that and looked again at Yasmina like maybe something was wrong with the girl.

“No!” Yasmina banged into the arms of the porch chair she sat upon. The arm of the chair cracked, and Yasmina grabbed her own arm, and then rubbed her side. Her arm was not broken, and her ribs were not crushed, but she felt the blow like the pain was her own.

“Now. Do it now,” Yasmina cried out, and her own hand looked for a second like it was on fire before water came from her mouth, like she filled her mouth with water and then spit it out. Yasmina sighed. The job was done. It was enough.

Yasmina knew as surely as Kirstie knew that the big house in Strindlos would burn to the ground. Chief Kerga was dead. Mother Vrya was dead. Whoever remained in the village would move. The farms in the north would be attached to Varnes. The farms in the west would connect with Nidaross and Strindlos would be no more. In the future, Nidaross would be dedicated. The Jarl of the Trondelag would build there, not a fortress, but a strong house, and Strindlos would become a memory.

Yasmina wanted to cry, but her eyes went wide instead. “Gruden,” she said and practically growled. Kirstie could not twist out of the way. Yasmina tried to twist for her, but she could not. Yasmina pushed with her hand, Kirstie’s hand that still worked. She felt the sting in her belly but felt satisfied that Gruden was a dead man. Then Yasmina slid out of the chair and collapsed to the floor.

Francesco picked her up and carried her inside, to her bed. “Wilam,” she called him. She cried. She wailed, “I died.” Then she felt something she could never explain. She was not nothing. She was not something. She became like the wind, or perhaps like light, and for one brief moment she felt all the warmth and peace of her mother’s womb before the memory stopped.

Yasmina cried all afternoon and into the night. In the morning she felt a wreck, but she got up, hugged her children, gave Francesco a kiss, and began her daily routine. She said only one thing of note that morning. “Kirstie died. Now it is up to me. She did not live beyond my age so what I do from here is all new. I hope it is a good story.” Then she did not want to talk about it.

************************

MONDAY

The last of the Kairos Medieval stories, the story of Don Vincenzo Giovanni, Ringmaster and his adventures in Venice, Italy, and the Holy Roman Empire just in time for Y1K. Don’t miss it. Happy Reading

Medieval 6: K and Y 17 The Rainbow, part 2 of 2

November 27, 2024October 1, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Thoren gave Kirstie a hard look before he began.

“In those same days, when the Vanlil of Jamtaland invaded our peaceful village, some of us who were younger in that day were set beside the woods and hills to watch for the enemy. You all know this is so. And on that day, Kare and I were well hidden, our eyes open, and we saw Kirstie come to the very edge of the trees. She must have escaped from her watcher.” Thoren paused to look at Inga and Inga responded.

“She escaped several times,” she admitted and lowered her eyes.

“Kare and I argued about which one of us would marry that girl, but not for long as the whole edge of the forest suddenly lit up, bright as the sun. It looked like a piece of the sun itself fell to that spot. I looked away, but Kare stared too long. You all remember that Kare could not see for three days after. Thanks to the good work of Mother Vrya, his eyes were repaired, but Kare never told how his eyes came to be damaged, and I never told.” Thoren paused to nod at Mother Vrya before he continued.

“Soon, the light grew less strong, and I dared to look again. A man stood there, facing Kirstie who did not appear to have even blinked in the face of that light. And there was heat also, like the sun. I wondered how the girl could not have been burned to ash. Then I heard them speaking.

“My daughter,” the man said. “A different daughter, but all the same I have a gift for you.” He took her hands and Kirstie appeared to catch fire. She became covered in flames, and I almost shouted and showed myself, but the flames quickly became less as the man spoke. “I am sorry I was not a very good father to you.”

“Oh, no,” Kirstie said. “You were a wonderful father. You watched over me and kept me safe when no one else could, and I love you very much.” Kirstie changed then into a different person, another woman, one with red hair and… and…” Thoren smiled, a very unusual sight. “And I did not think I could ever become interested in another woman after seeing her. She was beautiful beyond words.”

The confession was embarrassing. Thoren married Kirstie’s best friend, Hilda, when Erik’s father failed to come home from the sea. In fact, Thoren was the father of Hodur, her son Soren’s best friend. But Kirstie could not think of that just then. She felt she had to say something to Mother Vrya. “Faya,” Kirstie whispered, and added, “Five thousand years ago.” Mother Vrya made no answer.

“Anyway,” Thoren continued after a moment. “It could only have been one of the gods. You know Kirstie is a fire starter. She can take soaking wet wood, frozen solid, and cause it to burn. You all know this is so. Now you know how she came by this skill.”

Before Thoren could sit down, Kerga cut through the noise. “Who do you figure it was?”

Thoren paused to think out loud. “He had two hands… He did not have an eye patch…”

“Freyr,” Kirstie interrupted. “God of the sun.” She paused and admitted to the crowd. “I think this rainbow is here for me.” She refused to look at anyone.

“But look,” Harrold said. “This is daft. The bow is an illusion as Jarl has said. It is not something to climb. It is no ladder to the realm of the gods.”

“Perhaps not to you.” Chef Kerga spoke at last. Mother Vrya tugged on Kirstie’s arm. Kirstie got up, but still did not look at anyone. If it was the rainbow bridge that led to Aesgard, or not, she felt she had to know. Yet as she sneezed, she thought she should be going to Avalon, not Aesgard.

She stepped up on the rainbow. It felt as solid to her as—she did not know the word. Her Storyteller life suggested an escalator. “Yes,” Kirstie whispered out loud. “But not a moving one. I’ll have to climb with my own legs.” While a few people screamed, the Storyteller amended his suggestion. “A Stairway to Heaven.” Some people ran from the room. Wilam said something that got everyone’s attention.

“I’m coming with you.” He had to shout above the noise.

“I can’t wait for you.” Captain Olaf spoke with a trembling voice.

“Pick me up at summers end, or not at all,” Wilam said, and he jumped. He stood beside Kirstie on the bridge. Neither knew if he might simply slide through the light and land on the floor, but apparently once Kirstie mounted the rainbow, it became solid enough.

“Inga?” Kirstie called. She hardly had to ask. Inga grabbed her bag with all of her potions and such, and grabbed Brant by the hand, so together they joined the rainbow crew. Oddly, the rainbow seemed well able to accommodate them all.

Young seventeen-year-old Erik ran up. “No way! I’m in on this! You’re not leaving me behind now.”

“Go home Erik,” Brant scolded the boy.

“To Hodur and Soren? I don’t think so. Father, tell Astrid I’ll be back.” The boy jumped as Wilam had and landed firmly on the bridge.

“Then I had better come, too.” Thoren spoke and surprised everyone.

“No more!” Kerga started yelling.

“To watch the boy,” Thoren explained himself,, but when he tried to step on the bow, his feet slid right through.

“I will watch him,” Inga said, and Thoren nodded, trusting, as Kirstie began to walk up the rainbow. The others followed her.

Mother Vrya caught Kirstie’s eye at the last moment. Kirstie knew the old woman and Yrsa would care for the children and Hilda would care for Soren until she got back, if she did get back. The old woman’s eyes told her that much.

“No more!” Kerga still yelled until Kirstie got to the ceiling and without a pause, walked right through the wood as if it was not there. The others came with her. The big house with the meeting hall vanished. They found clouds around them. They had no way of telling how high they were. They felt like they climbed for hours, or a few seconds, or minutes, or perhaps for days.

Finally, they passed out of the world altogether, from the first heavens to the second heavens.

~~~*~~~

Kirstie knew the feeling well. This was the second time Kirstie actually experienced it. She remembered that she and Inga, with the fairy Buttercup sitting on Inga’s shoulder, just caught Erik on the road. He was having second thoughts about marrying Astrid, and Kirstie did not entirely blame him. They were just sixteen, and that felt terribly young.

Erik and Astrid would have Hilda’s old house, the house he grew up in. It was all arranged, but Erik was getting what they called cold feet and Buttercup said maybe he needed a present to encourage him.

“I don’t see how that would encourage him,” Inga said, frankly, but Kirstie had a thought. It was something she never did before, but something inside her said no time like the present, so she asked the fairy a question.

“How many miles to Avalon?”

“Three score miles and ten,” Buttercup answered and excitedly clapped her hands.

“Can I get there by candlelight?”

“Yes, and back again.” Buttercup squealed in delight as an archway appeared in the road just ahead of them. It was a door to Avalon, and Kirstie had never been there before. She wondered why she felt such a strong desire to go there at that time, of all times, but did not imagine it would be a bad thing. Inga and Erik came with her and Buttercup, and they spent the next three days in the castle around all the little ones, and all the kings and queens of the elves, fairies, dwarfs, and so many others it would take all day to explain. They feasted, danced, sang, and played as only the little ones knew how to do so well. But when three days were up, they had to come home, and they arrived back on the road only three hours after they left.

Kirstie wondered if her first trip to Avalon coincided with trouble in the Second Heavens. They had a wonderful time over those three days, and no one let on that there was any problem, but she wondered if it was just beginning. Two days after Erik’s wedding, she set sail with the men of Trondelag to got to King Harald’s war. Hardly two months later, she got word that she was needed at home. She wondered if the trouble had something to do with Abraxas.

She understood the feeling everyone was feeling as a feeling of sudden contrasts, where everything took on an eerie, queasy sense of unreality. She felt it when she went to Avalon, and supposed Inga and Erik remembered it as well. The first time the Kairos climbed the Rainbow bridge, or the first time she presently remembered, she went as the Nameless god, a god among the gods. Even he thought he passed from life to death. The group all felt it. Wilam and Brant actually became sick to their stomachs. Erik became disoriented and only Inga’s quick hand kept him from stepping off the bridge altogether. A little further on, and the feeling lessened before it went away, or perhaps the group began to get used to the new sense of proportions in their surroundings.

“Where are we?” Wilam asked Kirstie, and even as he asked, they came to the place.

“The top of the bridge,” Kirstie said. “Do you see right here?” She pointed at a particular spot by her feet.

“I see only a cloud.”

“An ankle-deep mist or fog,” Brant suggested.

“What about it?” Inga asked.

“This was Heimdallr’s favorite spot,” Kirstie answered. “From here, he could see everything happening on the whole earth and listen to all the conversations of the people.”

“I don’t see…” Erik started to speak but stopped when he noticed a small echo in his words.

“He is gone now,” Kirstie continued. “They are all gone. We have been cast adrift, left to hear the good news, or to reject the same. It is up to us to make the future a good one or self-destruct.”

No one answered her. As she began to walk, a path appeared to open up in the mist and she cautioned people to stick to the path. “Once, this was a broad road paved in gold and solid as you may imagine. The walls of Aesgard are behind us and all around. We have come in the rainbow gate. Folkvangr is to our left. Valhalla is to our right. In the old days, men and women of worth and valor went to one or the other, to the Vanir or the Aesir. Now, the halls are all empty.

“Where did they all go?” Brant asked.

“God alone knows,” Kirstie answered. “But when the gods gave up their bit of flesh and blood and went over to the other side, the people, those who died were taken. All we are told is everyone will be raised up in the last day and enter into Heaven or be cast down to Hell.”

“This isn’t heaven?” Wilam asked.

“The Second Heavens. You might call it the dividing line between the throne of God in the third heavens and the earth under the first heavens.”

“Kirstie. There is a light.” Inga pointed to their left. It looked like a small building and a firelight shining from a window.

“The path seems to lead there,” Brant agreed.

“So, we go see and say hello,” Wilam said, and Kirstie nodded before she sneezed.

************************

MONDAY

Kirstie and her crew find their way to the golden streets of Asgard, but the place is deserted and getting to the source of the trouble proves difficult. Until Monday, Happy Reading

Medieval 6: K and Y 4 Happy Soon, part 1 of 3

September 17, 2024August 10, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Once on the dock, they got joined by the elders, including Svend the blacksmith who was not quite ready to move to Nidaros, and they were backed up by all the families waiting to welcome home Jarl’s crew from their long voyage.

The new ship looked like a real transport, like from the Danelaw, or maybe eastern, Swedish lands. It had a hold and stood taller in the water that Jarl’s longship, but it looked slimmer than the typical belly-boat such as merchants sailed in the waters of Northern Europe. It looked like the kind of ship that might stop at the towns at the entrance to the fjord, or sail to the king’s house, back before the king’s house burned, or maybe sail all the way up to Maerin or Steinker. It did not look like a ship that would bother with a small and getting smaller village like Strindlos.

The ship bumped gently against the dockside, as Jarl brought his longship to the other side. Kirstie did not wonder for long who the ship might belong to. She saw old Captain Olaf lean over from the rail. “May we come ashore?” he shouted in as near to the old Norse tongue as he could manage.

No one could answer because Kirstie took a step forward and shouted, “Wilam.”

“Kirstie,” they heard the return shout, and the young man leapt to the dock without waiting for permission. Kirstie ran to him, and he met her halfway. They wrapped each other up in their arms and Kirstie began to cry softly on Wilam’s shoulder. He whispered in her ear. “I spent the last four years looking for you.”

“I spent the last four years dreaming about you. I’m sorry,” she said, and could not say any more through her tears.

Inga came up alongside Kirstie and a man came up beside Wilam. They looked at the couple before they looked at each other, and Inga spoke first. “Inga,” she gave her name.

“Brant Svenson,” he said, and smiled. “I take it you are Kirstie’ friend.” His old Norse was much better than Captain Olaf’s, though he spoke with a touch of a Danish accent.

“More like her watcher, ever since she was a wild child.”

Brant nodded. “Same for Wilam. He did not calm down until he started to study the stars and learn about navigating the seas. Now that he has found his heart’s desire, I hope he may finally become a man.”

Inga nodded and pushed her hair back a bit. Buttercup was whispering that this man seemed very nice, but Inga could tell that for herself. Buttercup did not get exposed, but the fairy quieted. “So, you know. Kirstie is twenty. I am eight years her senior and I am studying the ancient wisdom of the Volva. But even at a young age, Kirstie knew more about all things than myself and my teacher combined. She is special beyond words and in ways I cannot explain, but you must see for yourself.”

Brant nodded that he understood something. “And I am thirty to Wilam’s twenty-five, and I saw the goddess in Normandy,” he said, but did not explain as he turned his head when Wilam spoke.

“So, will you marry me?”

Kirstie finished crying and pulled back to look into Wilam’s face. She studied his eyes. She pulled from the embrace but held on to his hands. She did not think for very long. “I want to, but I can’t right now. After Lindisfarne, I was forced to marry someone else. I tried to make it work. I have a three-year-old son. But I just went to the elders to insist on a divorce. I never thought I would see you again. You may want to change your mind, but even if you do, I will be getting a divorce.” She waited, near tears again, but he did not think for very long either. He just had to piece those sentences together.

“So, we have to wait until the divorce is final, that’s all.”

Kirstie cried, but they were happy tears. She hugged him tight once again, and this time she did not want to let go.

“That was quick,” Inga said.

“Not hardly,” Brant said. “She was all he could talk about since he turned twenty-one. Sometimes, I feared he might explode for wanting her.”

“Is that how you feel about your wife?”

“Not married,” he said, and Inga felt something inside. Maybe she felt happy.

“So, the goddess?”

“Gnomes, too, though I never heard that name before. At least gnomes are what she called them.” Brant smiled and did not mind sharing his thoughts with Inga. “My neighbors back home would call them brownies. I suppose in Frankish, old Germanic lands they might be called kobold. Here, they might be called dwarfs or maybe elves of some sort. “

Inga pushed her hair back again to get Buttercup quiet. “My source says they are whatever Kirstie called them. It is part of what I was talking about when I said Kirstie was special beyond words. Apparently, she is the expert and decider of such things.”

“Your source being the fairy on your shoulder?” Brant asked, and Inga looked temporarily shocked. “I can explain. After Kirstie warned us and we evacuated the village, Wilam said he wanted to go back and look for her, but he did not know where to start. We went with the men of Bamburgh to search the coast for signs of the longships. Some men went south. We went north to Ross, and eventually all the way to Lindisfarne and back to Ross but saw no sign of any ships. When the men believed the longships eluded us and we were ready to give up, Wilam and I got a visit from the strangest crew we ever encountered. There were fairies, dwarfs, elves, brownies, gnomes of all shapes and sizes. They talked to Wilam like he was their friend and begged him to hurry to Lindisfarne. They said Kirstie was standing alone, with only her elf maid to support her, and she would surely die at the hands of the Vikings who planned to despoil the island.”

“What did you do?” Buttercup spoke right up suddenly ignoring the fact that she was supposed to be hiding in Inga’s hair.

Inga looked to the side and repeated the question in a calmer voice. “What did you do?”

“We hurried. We got all the ships we could find and all the men we could gather. Many raced up the coast but had to wait for the tide to go out before they could cross to the island. Many went with us aboard the ships. We landed at the docks and climbed the hill in time to see the last of the longships parked on the rocky shore. Wilam said he saw Kirstie, but she was too far away to call. She went with the ship, and he lost her, but he knew she was alive, and the Vikings left the island alone. Later, we heard the story from Father McAndrews about the bravery of the lone girl and how she fought the leader of the Vikings and turned them all away.”

Inga and Brant looked to the side and saw Wilam and Kirstie clinging to each other, staring at them, listening to the story with otherwise the same empty looks on their faces. Inga and Brant shared a smile and Mother Vrya arrived and totally interrupted everyone.

“Love later,” she said. “First we have business at the big house.”

Medieval 6: K and Y 3 Helpful Decisions, part 2 of 2

September 16, 2024August 10, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Yasmina

“It has been three years and the mothers are beginning to ask serious questions,” Yasmina admitted. She whispered to Aisha because they were approaching the area where the women went to watch what was happening in the court. Yasmina knew al-Hakim’s mother and grandmother would be there and hear everything.

“They know al-Hakim has no interest in girls. Maybe they will blame him.”

Yasmina shook her head. “If I don’t get pregnant soon, I will be out, and they will find al-Hakim a new wife.”

“I will think on it,” Aisha said, and then quieted as they came to the lattice wall and offered a bow to the Mahdi’s wife and al-Qa’im’s wife. The delegation from Alexandria was expected. Yasmina wondered if there might be fireworks, though gunpowder had not yet been invented.

Yasmina watched the men troop in. She did not look closely. Her eyes were focused instead on the old man’s face. She saw the frown form there and knew he would not be inclined to be gracious to his guests.

Aisha nudged her and pointed to the delegation from Alexandria. Yasmina caught sight of the leader of the delegation as the man bowed and made a nice little speech. He was the chief rival of Suffar, the governor of Alexandria’s evil Vizir. She guessed Suffar found a way to make the man leave town, maybe permanently. A delegation from Alexandria to the Fatimids had to be dangerous. No telling how the Isma’ili fanatics might treat those they consider heretics to the true faith. She imagined they might be kinder to Christians and Jews as complete outsiders to the faith.

Yasmina thought of the governor’s daughter, Badroul, that Suffar wanted to marry his son. She had to be seventeen by then, or near enough. Old enough to marry, but when Badroul was fourteen, she was madly in love with Ala al-Din, or as she called him, Aladdin, the guy with the lamp and the genie. She was just wondering if the girl was holding out against Suffar’s son when she caught sight of al-Din himself, shuffling at the back of the crowd.

“Apparently being a rich young man is not enough to keep you out of trouble when the governor gets an idea in his head,” Aisha whispered, directing her voice to Yasmina’s ears alone. Unfortunately, Yasmina did not have that same talent, so she had to swallow her response, or when Suffar puts the idea into the governor’s head.

“Child,” the Mahdi’s wife got her attention and was never kind to her. “Do you recognize any of these Alexandrians?”

Yasmina nodded. “Yes Grandmother. The speaker is one of the governor’s chief advisors. It must be a serious proposition they have in mind.”

“Yasmina,” al-Hakim’s mother was always nice. “You should not worry about such things at your age. You should be thinking of having a family.”

Yasmina lowered her head and played her part well. “Yes Mother. I think of it all the time, but al-Hakim is not very cooperative. It must be me.” She sighed to add just the right touch, hopefully without overdoing it.

Al-Qa’im’s wife gently stroked the back of Yasmina’s hair and cooed. Al-Mahdi’s wife clicked her tongue in disgust and said, “No, child. It isn’t you.”

When the delegation from Alexandria left the room, Yasmina and Aisha excused themselves and left. Yasmina spoke when they were alone again. “We have to find out what al-Hakim is doing and soon.”

“What are you thinking?” Aisha asked.

“I’m thinking I need to leave this place if I want to live. Kirstie has a three-year-old, but I will never have a baby with al-Hakim, and time is running out.”

“I spoke with your loyal retainer al-Rahim just yesterday. He got himself assigned to the stables with just that in mind.”

“Good,” Yasmina said, before she added. “I would like to have a son.”

“But first you need a husband,” Aisha countered.

“I don’t know. Kirstie has managed pretty well, though technically I suppose Kare counts.” She shook her head and changed her mind. “She needs to divorce him,” she said, without explaining.

Kirstie

Soren turned three in 903 when Kirstie finally admitted there was nothing she could do. Kare was determined have his cake and eat it too, which was a terrible cliché, but to the point. He expected her to be the good and submissive wife who let him dally in any direction he wanted. But that was not Kirstie, and he knew it. Things came to a head when she caught him trying to take some of her grain and carded wool. She had set it aside to go to market, and he, with three of his crew got caught with their hands full. He swore he needed it for his trading expedition, and he would bring her the proceeds. She said he already owed her thirty pieces of silver, so she did not trust him. He hit Soren. She prepared herself to kill him right then and there, but he and his crew members ran off while she made sure Soren was all right.

Kirstie cried for most of the rest of the day. Inga and Buttercup came in the afternoon and Inga was willing to wait until Kirstie got ready to talk about it, but Buttercup did not have the patience. She pressed the issue.

“I tried,” Kirstie said. “I really tried, but Kare is just impossible.” Kirstie felt like a failure, and though she knew that was not true she still felt that way. Some consolation was Yasmina urging her to divorce the jerk.

“You make me all weepy,” Buttercup said. “You need to be happy, soon. I think you will have happy soon.” Buttercup said through her own tears. Inga and Kirstie looked at each other like they had no idea what Buttercup might be talking about, but both knew not to question too closely the little prophetic-type utterances the little ones sometimes said. Often, they stretched the limits of what could be called coincidence. In this case, though, Kirstie and Inga understood there was no point in questioning Buttercup about what she meant because the fairy would have simply said, “I have no idea. I don’t know why I said that.” Assuming she even remembered saying that.

“I don’t know why I said that. I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout birthing babies.” Kirstie mumbled to herself. “We need to go,” she said and picked up her three-year-old, heavy as he was, and put him in her backpack. She had her adrenalin pumping when she started toward town. She called to Yrsa and Alm, and they caught up. She stopped briefly at the place of the Witcher Women. She found Mother Vrya waiting for her. When they all got to town, they found Captain Rune and Captain Harrold in the big house discussing the situation concerning Nidaros, where Strindlos seemed to be bleeding people. Rune was saying he and his crew would probably move there soon enough. Harrold said he would stay with Kerga because some of his men lived up by the Varnes River and saw no need to move from their good land.

“I want a divorce,” Kirstie said, without any preliminaries, interrupting everyone.

Mother Vrya nodded. Kerga and Harrold did not look surprised. Rune asked what happened.

It took about ten minutes to explain about catching Kare and his crew members trying to steal her goods for market. Kirstie yelled that her farm and the properties she bought and the produce from all of it was hers, not her husband’s, and he had no claim on her possessions. And besides that, he owed her thirty pieces of silver for selling her thralls without her permission.

“He hit me once, and he will never do that again. If he does, I will kill him. Only fair to let you know in advance. But now, he hit my son. I tried my best to be a good wife to him, but he is unfaithful, a thief, and a greedy useless excuse for a human being. God willing, he will sail off and never come back.”

“He has done the sailing off part,” Harrold said and showed a small smile. Harrold was responsible for the marriage. He clearly wanted to get even for her defense of Lindisfarne and seemed happy she suffered so much because of it.

Kirstie took a breath and apologized for interrupting their meeting. She repeated herself in a calmer voice. “I want a divorce.”

“No problem,” Chief Kerga responded to her apology. “We were not speaking of important things. We were just waiting.”

“There is a new sail on the horizon,” Rune said. “And Jarl appears to be escorting the ship.”

“We must go see,” Mother Vrya said.

Storyteller Tales & Thoughts

Stories and reflections on storytelling

Fairy

Golden Door Chapter 16 Beth in Flight, part 2 of 2

Golden Door Chapter 12 Beth through the Mist, part 1 of 2

Golden Door Chapter 7 Explanations, part 1 of 2

Golden Door Chapter 6 Angels & Visions, part 2 of 2

Golden Door Chapter 6 Angels & Visions, part 1 of 2

Medieval 6: Giovanni 10 Flesh Eaters, Witches, Apes, part 2 of 2

Medieval 6: K and Y 20 End and Beginning, part 2 of 2

Yasmina

Medieval 6: K and Y 17 The Rainbow, part 2 of 2

Kirstie

Medieval 6: K and Y 4 Happy Soon, part 1 of 3

Kirstie

Medieval 6: K and Y 3 Helpful Decisions, part 2 of 2

Yasmina

Kirstie