Freyja

Medieval 6: K and Y 18 Aesgard to Avalon, part 1 of 2

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Kirstie

Wilam opened the simple latch door and peeked. Kirstie pushed up to look over his shoulder. A hearth across the room held a roaring fire. Everyone suddenly felt the cold on their backs as the fire helped them feel toasty and warm in front. One old man sat in a comfortable chair facing the fire, a bowl of soup held up to his chin with one hand, and he sipped the soup with a big spoon. He spoke.

“Come in my daughter, and friends. Come in.” He even sounded old.

Wilam and Kirstie pushed in so the others could follow. Wilam and Brant looked around. The room was much bigger than they imagined from the outside. Inga and Kirstie looked at the fire, the several chairs that faced it, and the old man. There did not appear to be anything else in the room. Erik said “Wow,” softly, but did not otherwise know what to think.

“Come. Sit. Warm yourselves,” the old man said.

Kirstie pushed forward, so the others followed, and she was the first to speak to the man. “I expected this whole place to be deserted,” she said.

“Eh?” The man responded like he did not hear, but he followed up with a word. “It would have been. It should have been, but I stayed at the last minute. Someone needed to keep the fires burning for a while longer.” He set the soup down on a side table beside his chair and turned his head to take a good look at his visitors. He named them after a fashion.

The husband with the impossible legacy. The skipper who needs to captain his own ship. The brilliant and understanding heart who is a witch without magic. The rebellious, runaway boy whose parents could use his help. And my son who at present happens to be my daughter.” He looked at Kirstie and squinted a bit like maybe his old eyes were not very good. “That is what your mother used to call you.”

Kirstie looked again and saw the missing hand. It was possible he made an illusion of being two handed until she figured it out, though he practically told her who he was. “But Father,” she said, taking the seat next to his. “How is it that you have gotten old?”

“Idon has gone. The apples of youth are not tended.” he smiled and shook his head. “That is not entirely true, but it is what people have been told. To be clear, it is one thing I never experienced before.” he paused long enough to turn to the fire. “I see getting old is not fun.”

Kirstie sneezed again and shivered, which contrasted with the others who were well warmed in the face of the great fire. Wilam asked again if she was all right, and Inga seconded that question, but Kirstie answered in a straightforward way. “No. I’m sick. I’m cold. I feel as if someone is walking on my grave, which is odd because I have a hundred graves, but I am not dead yet.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Erik said. No one else interrupted, and as was her way, Kirstie did not explain.

The old man sat for a minute and stared at the fire. “Your Abraxas came here as I knew he must.”

Kirstie looked at the floor. “Three times I let him live, and three times he failed to do the right thing.”

“The right thing?” he asked. “I suppose,” he answered himself and turned to look at her again. “It took him years to discern your mother’s secret way between her home and your home in Avalon. Sometimes, she would disappear and go to visit all the little ones who loved her so dearly, and Lady Alice who keeps Avalon from crumbling to dust. She always came home refreshed and ready once again to take on her burden of humanity.” He got lost for a moment in some memories and she had to nudge him.

“He found the way?”

“Yes. A portal between one world and another. Yes. Then he attacked your son Soren with a debilitating disease, and while I was preoccupied with concern for the boy, he snuck past me and into your realm. He had in mind to attack you with the disease, but I chased him and drove him back out of your place. I have watched the way ever since, but in my old age, the time came when I slept. Such dreams I had. But he escaped my hand and went again to Avalon. That was several months ago, but now you are here, and you can stop him if you will.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Kirstie admitted her fears.

The old man finally smiled. “Just do your best. That is what you always say to others. The gods do not make promises, but we may pledge to do our best and leave the outcome in hands greater than our own.” he reached over to take her hand but ended up putting his good hand on her head. “Let me do this for you,” he said, and he gave her a gift, part of which was courage.”

“Father… Where is this way?” Kirstie felt the tears coming up into her eyes to see the man in such a condition, old and with trembling hands. She had to say something to distract herself.

“Right here,” he said. “You must walk through the fire.” he pointed at the fireplace. “But since you are not of the gods, since you are flesh and blood, you must first put out the fire. Just be warned. If you put out the fire, this realm will crumble away, and I will be no more. You will not be able to come back this way.”

Kirstie protested. “That is not fair.”

“That is the way it is,” he responded. “My life has been over for a long time. You will merely send me to your mother. Did she not ask this of you?”

Kirstie nodded, before she threw her arms around the old man. She hugged him gently because he was old, and she cried all over him until he pushed her away and she wiped her teary eyes. “I’m ready,” she said, and added, “Hold hands,” because she was not sure exactly what might happen.

“Thank God,” he responded and closed his eyes.

Kirstie took Wilam’s hand without looking back, turned to the fire, and searched for the gift of Njord inside of her. She opened her mouth, and a river of water came and put out the fire. As the fire went out, the room became utterly dark, as dark as a cave where no light ever penetrated. Kirstie stepped forward, and on the third step she seemed to see a light in the distance, or her eyes started paying tricks on her. After a few more steps it became a definite light ahead. She tried not to hurry but let them get there in good order. She saw then that the light appeared to be at the end of something like a cave or tunnel.

When they reached the light, she had a bad feeling and asked the others to stop and wait. She thought she recognized the place, and it did not look right to her. She could see mountains and fire, like volcanic maybe in the distance. She stuck her head out into the sunlight and immediately pulled it back. Tremendous flames came from somewhere above and covered the whole outside of the cave opening. They heard a roar.

“Dragon Island,” Kirstie said. “That is not right.” She lifted her hand, and something appeared on the cave wall. “Mother Freyja did not set her portal to come out on Dragon Island.” She pushed her hand up again and again as lines of some writing appeared to shimmer against the wall.

“There is something behind us,” Erik said. They all heard the chittering sound and Kirstie had to quickly choose.

“He has the whole program messed up,” Kirstie complained. “He doesn’t know how to use it. Moron.” The chittering grew louder. “Damn. Not the best choice. Hold hands again,” she yelled the last and grabbed Wilam’s hand as she touched a line of writing on the wall. Everything around them changed in less than a second.

Medieval 6: K and Y 9 The Journey Begins, part 1 of 2

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Kirstie

Kirstie packed her things. She dressed Soren to travel, and Hilda said Hodur would cry and miss his friend. She hugged Erik and told him to stay out of trouble. She also told him to take care of his mother and brother while his father Thoren was away.

“And if you need anything, food or anything,” she told the boy. “You find Inga or Yrsa and let them know right away. They will help you with whatever you need.” Erik nodded, but Kirstie was not sure he exactly understood, so she asked Alm to have someone keep an eye on the situation. There was no telling how long Kare might stay away now that she divorced him. And that meant it might be a long time before Thoren came home.

“Don’t worry about the farm or the tenants,” Alm said. “You have good people in your tenancies, and Thomas and Gustavs are doing a good job running the farm. Gustavs is content. He says if he did not have the work to keep him busy, he might join a monastery. He is a true believer. As for Thomas, I may talk to Sten, Captain Harroldson’s man up by the Varnes River. He has a young thrall that cooks and cleans and all that sort of thing. Her name is Lyall, from the border of Strathclyde and Pictish lands. She is very unhappy where she is, so maybe Sten might sell her for a reasonable price.”

Kirstie smiled at the thought of Thomas and a girl being in love. “Whatever you think is best,” she said. She knew her little ones were very perceptive in the ways of love. It came from hanging out with Mother Freyja over so many centuries. Mother Freyja loved on the little ones even before she had her Nameless son.

Yrsa stepped up dressed in her leather, a knife at her side. “Ready to sail,” she reported.

“No. Wait.” Kirstie responded. “We are going to meet Wilam’s family. This is not a dangerous mission. No need for you to go.”

Yrsa looked at Alm, but Alm’s expression did not change. Yrsa spoke. “You have a four-year-old and a new husband. You can use the help. Besides, it is practice for when Alm and I have a son.” She looked at Alm again and he smiled at that suggestion.

“But we will be gone a whole year. We won’t be back until next spring.”

“I know, but Alm and I have hundreds of years to live together. We are not short livers like human mortals. Besides, I got my muscles ready for rowing.” She lifted her hand to show off her skinny little arm.

“This is a two-decker ship. I don’t know how much rowing they do.” Kirstie put her hands up in surrender. She really could use the help.

Yasmina

It took some honest effort on Yasmina’s part to drag al-Din out of the pit of depression he had fallen into, but finally, one evening over a campfire, al-Din opened up enough to explain what happened.

“It was my servant girl,” he said. “She is a very kind and good person, always trying to do good for others. She is what my Christian friend, Francesco would call a real saint. You remember Francesco?”

“Yes,” Yasmina said in a small voice. She had thought of him regularly over the last four years of her “captivity” as she now thought of her time in the palace of Mahdiya. She felt bad for al-Hakim. He had been a nice boy despite being a servant of the Masters. But, yes, she remembered Francesco. She remembered his kiss. She thought she might like to see him again. She thought she better pay attention.

“So, the merchant offered new lamps for old ones, and it never occurred to her how senseless that was.”

“Not senseless,” Yasmina objected. “The old lamps—many are solid copper. Most new lamps are cheap tin with a copper coating to make them look good, though they are cheap. Good copper is worth way more, so not entirely senseless.”

“Huh,” al-Din said. “I never considered that.”

“So anyway…” Aisha wanted on with the story.

“So, she traded the lamp of the Jinn for a new tin one. She did not know. All she knew was the dirty old lamp was impossible to clean.”

“That was Suffar,” Yasmina said.

“What?”

“According to the story a thousand years from now, the lamp dealer was Suffar, the Sultan’s Vizir disguised as a poor tradesman.”

“What’s a Sultan?” Aisha asked to the side, but Yasmina waved off the question.

“That makes sense,” al-Din said. “Because Suffar ended up with the lamp and he ordered the Jinn to get rid of me. You see, I asked twice if Badroul would marry me, and twice she said yes. The first time the governor said she was still too young. The second time, he said he would think about it. But I know Suffar asked on behalf of his son and I believe the governor told him the same thing, that he would think about it.”

Al-Rahim spoke up. “I have not had the pleasure, nor the headaches, but I believe it is a natural reaction for a father to dislike their daughter’s boyfriends. I suspect he will always say no until the daughter says she is going to marry the boy anyway, so he might as well say yes.”

“What about me?” Yasmina asked. “I’m like a daughter, or a granddaughter anyway. I give you headaches.”

Al-Rahim nodded. “You are right about that.”

“So anyway, I think Suffar had the idea that the Jinn would kill me by accident or by design. But what he did was whisper in the governor’s ear that I would be a good addition to the diplomatic group. Considering my interest in his daughter, I suspect he did not take much convincing.”

“What about the diplomatic mission? Did someone honestly believe the Mahdi would be interested in peace?” Al-Rahim asked since he did not get the straight story.

“As I understand it,” al-Din answered. “The Caliph sent a letter to the governor of Egypt that said make peace with the Fatimids. The governor of Egypt sent a letter to the governor of Alexandria saying, make peace. The governor of Alexandria told his advisor, go and make peace, and I got caught up in the mission.”

“And what will you do when you get home?” Yasmina asked, kindly changing the subject before al-Din once again turned morose.

Al-Din looked at her with blank, staring eyes before he made his pronouncement. “I will marry that girl no matter what.”

“Hope,” Yasmina said. “Hang on to that. As long as there is life, there is hope.”

Al-Din smiled briefly before he turned it on her. “But what about you? What will you do?”

“My needs are simple,” Yasmina said. “All I want is a safe place, a place I can call home. So far, every place I have been has failed to provide that.”

“Aren’t you afraid of running out of options?” Al-Din asked.

“No way,” she answered. “We have a whole world to explore, and I can’t imagine living long enough to explore it all, at least not in this lifetime.”

Medieval 6: K and Y 8 Shame On Us, part 2 of 2

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Wilam said thanks to Alm and Yrsa for being there for Kirstie. Hilda was also there, but it was mostly to pick up Hodur and Soren and take them to her place for the night. No telling where Erik went. Wilam also said thanks to Thomas and Gustavs, whom he had met. They seemed extra happy, Kirstie figured, not the least for being relieved of Kare. There were also small presents from her tenants, Tove and her young family, and Helga’s family.

Wilam met Mariwood and Buttercup who stayed big the whole time they were there out of deference to the humans. He also met Booturn and Buckles who went with Birdie and Missus Kettle, and who came dressed as dwarfs and did not care about the humans. They had more food and drink which Booturn said was fit for human consumption, the drink being Bjorn the Bear’s recipe. Also, Inga and Brant Svenson were there, sort of a couple. It was a feast on top of the feast, but after a couple of hours, Wilam and Kirstie slipped away to their room.

 Around nine o’clock, Wilam and Kirstie got up. Kirstie felt uncomfortable about something, and after assuring Wilam that she was not uncomfortable with him, she lay there in the quiet trying to puzzle it out. Wilam pointed out that someone was in the main room, talking. They found Inga and Brant Svenson still there. They must have stayed when all the others left.

“Wilam,” Brant said, and smiled. “Inga tells me it is a Norse tradition that people stay by the couple to make sure they are undisturbed on their wedding night.”

“We are undisturbed,” Wilam said, but I think Kirstie is having some kind of premonition. No idea what about.”

Kirstie confessed to Inga that she imagined that whatever troubled Avalon also troubled her; but it was not that. It was more than that, like something else. “I did not feel troubled by Avalon all week. It just never occurred to me. Soren got well, and I got well all at once, the minute Wilam showed up. But now, something is wrong somewhere. If not Avalon, then where?”

“I feel the trouble myself, now that you mention it.” Inga said, and that seemed all Kirstie needed to trigger her actions. She stepped back into her room and to her closet.

“What’s up?” Brant wondered.

Kirstie looked at her armor. She kept it with her rather than sending it back to Avalon as usual. She felt afraid, even then, that if she called to it, it might be slow to respond. She decided not to risk it and stripped to dress the old-fashioned way. Inga kindly averted Brant’s eyes.

“She’s not my little girl anymore,” Inga said while she kept Brant from peeking.

Wilam asked, “Where’s the fire?” Always ready for adventure, it was one of the things Kirstie liked about him.

“I’m not sure,” she said, but with her weapons in place she felt ready for it.

“I’m not sure either,” Inga agreed. Kirstie and Inga looked at each other for a minute while the men stared. They agreed to go to the big house. Kirstie was not certain if the trouble would be found there, but it seemed a logical place to start.

They stepped outside to find someone peeping through the window. Young Erik escaped from being stuck with the babies, Soren and Hodur. He was out much later than he should have been. Hilda was probably worried about him. He started to turn, to run away, but stopped and spoke instead.

“Where are you going?” he asked, with a bright smile but some embarrassment at having been caught.

“Just looking for trouble,” Kirstie answered and smiled her reassurance. She didn’t mind, even if he peeked through the window while she changed. She simply did not have that sense of prudishness common among some. Instead, she would have felt sorry for him if he had not looked. “Come along,” she told him on a whim. Wilam responded by putting his arm around the boy and bringing him to the front of the line.

“Captain,” the boy said, sheepishly. He appeared a bit awed by a real longship captain, though Wilam was the navigator, not the captain. At eight years old, Erik already angled for a place in someone’s ship. He wanted that nailed down before he got old enough.

“We must hurry.” Inga was the only one paying attention to the task at hand. The rest of them seemed more like they were out for a moonlight stroll. They hurried at her word.

The big house looked still lit up from the all-day feast. They saw a big man, running away from the building at all speed. He showed clearly against the bright windows of the house for a minute, but rapidly vanished into the dark. By the time they arrived, the drama was over. They found broken furniture in several places and a broken man sitting against the wall. He bled profusely from his stomach and his left hand did little to stop it. His right hand hung limply at his side.

“Father McAndrews!” Inga jumped to his side. She was the Volva in training, after all, and no doubt would fill Mother Vrya’s place soon enough. She quickly checked the wound and just as quickly concluded. “There is nothing I can do.” Inga pleaded in Kirstie’s direction.

“Erik.” Wilam got the boy’s attention. “Go find the strangers, Lind and Gruden. Just find out where they are and come back here immediately.” Wilam looked at Inga, questioning, because he did not want to put the boy in danger. All she could do was wave without looking up. Kirstie and Inga were too busy. “Go.” He scooted the boy out the door.

“Wilam.” Brant paused. “No, I had better fetch the young priest, and Kerga. You don’t know the village well at all.”

“Nor you,” Wilam said.

Inga stood, shaking her head for the man on the ground and for Brant. “No,” she said. “I’ll go. Your arm may be needed if the murderers come back.” She hid her tears as she gave Brant a quick peck on the cheek and left.

“I failed.” Father McAndrews became conscious. “I fought. I raised my hand to them. Lord, forgive me. I failed.”

“You did not!” Kirstie shot at him as she tied the old priest’s shirt securely around his middle in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. “You did not fail. Jesus never said turn the other cheek to the devil. He said resist the devil and he will flee.”

“They did not flee.” The Priest took her hand. “They are merely men, not demons. They lured me here with the promise that they would hear my testimony, and I suspected they were lying. And even knowing this, I struck back. I failed.”

“Whether men or demons I will not argue.” Kirstie said, even more softly. “But do not worry. Our lord already paid the penalty for all of our failures.” She would not argue with the priest any further.

“Yes,” he said and suddenly smiled. “It is right I should enter heaven in total dependance on the Savior.” He closed his eyes.

Wilam gently lifted Kirstie by the shoulders. “Inga’s back with young Damien.” Brant spoke from the window. “And Erik at a run. Good boy.”

“They left.” Erik interrupted everyone and then took a long breath because he was winded. Father Damien knelt by his mentor. Inga said Kerga was coming in a minute but slow to react to the news. “They sailed off just now on the evening tide,” Erik finished his report. “I saw them untie the boat.”

A crack like thunder shook the big room, and everyone shielded his or her eyes for a minute against the great light.

“The old priest?” Wilam wondered.

“No.” Inga pointed when the light became bearable. They saw a shimmering figure, a woman, floating near the ceiling, a couple of feet off the ground, looking around as if trying to orient herself to new surroundings. Kirstie recognized her, or rather, her Nameless self far in the past saw her through Kirstie’s eyes and gave her a name.

“Mother Freyja.” She called the goddess and the attention of the goddess focused on her. Freyja continued to shimmer and float in an eerie ghost-like way, and Kirstie alone knew it was because she was a ghost. She, and the other Gods of Aesgard and Vanheim passed over to the other side ages ago.

“Kirstie, my daughter.” The ghost spoke. The others stared while the goddess continued. “You are my son even when you are my daughter.”

“Mother Freyja.” Kirstie interrupted before the others could start asking questions. “Father McAndrews.” She pointed.

“No, my heart,” Freyja responded. “My Nameless son knows the laws of the gods. Rule number one is that mortals die, and number two is the gods must not change rule one, even for favorites.” Kirstie dropped her head. She knew Freyja was right.

“But now, listen closely because I do not know how much time I will have to speak,” the goddess continued. “Your soul, Avalon, has been far more plagued than you imagine. It has been hidden from you. That was part of the problem, yet it may also help you in the time to come. The one of fire and water found my secret way between Aesgard and Avalon, but your father found him and drove him back to the golden streets of Aesgard. My love now guards the way. But soon you must go the way of the heart and with my son within, you will not go alone. Send my love to me.”

“Mother.” Kirstie spoke loudly because the goddess started to fade. “Freyja, what do you mean, the way of the heart?” Freyja smiled a smile so warm and loving the people could hardly take it all in. Every heart felt warmed, and everyone there thought for the first time they knew what love was. Something like golden sparkles came from the goddess and settled on Kirstie’s head. Then Freyja looked sad, and everyone gasped to see that love vanish. A small tear fell from the eyes of the goddess before she left. Kirstie reached down to the floor and picked up the teardrop of solid gold.

“What is this?” Kerga burst into the big house.

“He’s gone.” Father Damien spoke of Father McAndrews at almost the same time.

“A shame on our homes and hospitality,” Inga said.

“Wilam, take me home,” Kirstie pleaded, and he did. Kirstie suddenly felt very sad, but she did not cry.

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

MONDAY

The Journey Begins. Kirstie is headed toward Northumbria, and Yasmina is headed out into the desert still looking for a safe place to call home. MONDAY. Happy Reading

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Reflections Flern-12 part 3 of 3

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The night creature, and one that seemed able to move in daylight, contrary to all things natural, roared. It moved slowly and awkwardly, like a donkey might move in a barnyard, as it looked her over. Flern was not fooled by the awkward gate. When it attacked, it would move more graceful than a leopard and with more ferocity than a whole pack of hungry lions. Flern felt she only had one choice, to call on the gift of Odin. She felt it in her gut, and it burst from her hands just as the night creature prepared to charge. No way her blast would have melted the main gun of a Gott-Druk battleship, but in this case, it proved enough to put a foot-wide hole through the beast and continue to where it put an equal hole in the newly erected wooden wall. The night creature, what remained of it, collapsed, and then sizzled in the sun until it was no more.

The Wicca screamed and threw her hands toward Flern. Flern got caught in the middle by the same kind of force she just used, a force great enough to lift her from her feet. The force could not break through the shield of Frigga, and even if Flern only reflected in a small way the gift given to Wlvn, it seemed enough so the force did not harm her. It did drive her back, however, until she reached the middle of the river where it sent her down under the deep of the water and held her there.

Flern asked her water sprites to wait. She figured the gift of Njord would not let her breathe all day underwater like it would for Wlvn, but she could certainly breathe underwater for a few minutes. The Wicca kept up the pressure for a good five minutes before assuming she must have drowned. When the pressure lifted, Flern let the sprites help her up. She came to her feet on the top of the water where her water babies held her up. She spit the water out of her lungs and then walked back to the land on top of the waves.

“Thank you,” Flern said as her feet reached the shore.

A little water baby head popped up from the waves and squeaked an excited, “Your welcome,” before it disappeared again moving downstream.

By the time Flern reentered the circle, she had gotten just about dry, apart from her hair. “A fine dip in the fine water. Very refreshing. Thank you,” Flern said. The Wicca said nothing. She simply clapped again. Flern imagined the Wicca had to be running out of steam, given her age and the amount of power she had already exerted. Flern knew she was getting tired with all of this.

When Flern looked up, she saw her parents and sisters dragged to the circle by Jaccar. The Jaccar had swords drawn, and the threat appeared to be against her family’s necks.

“No,” Flern said in a surprisingly calm voice. Mother Vrya said I had to be willing to be who I am. Well, I am her son even when I am her daughter. And I am also her son when I am her son.” Flern went away from that time and place so Nameless could stand in her place. “You go too far,” he said, and in the blink of the Wicca’s eye, Flern’s family and all three hundred and fifty-two villagers disappeared from their village and reappeared safely across the river. The Jaccar found their swords all put away, and Nameless took one step toward the Wicca who screamed in terror.

“Father!”

Loki came, and the first word out of his mouth was, “Please.” It had a touch of sarcasm in it.

“Hilde,’ Nameless called. “Mother.” Both women appeared, one to each side of him, and they waited with an eye on Loki to see what might transpire.

“Please,” Loki began again with much more sincerity. “Odin pledged a time of indulgence.”

“The time is over,” Nameless said. “Your spoiled little brat has caused too much undue suffering. Set the Jaccar free and let them go home to their families and children. Let her go home to live out the remainder of her days in peace.”

“But she is my daughter.” Loki’s crooked face scrunched up with angst. “They won’t let me make her immortal. A little kindness. She has so little time.”

“That is the problem. Your kindness to her is terror and hatred to everyone else. Now it is ended.”

“But Hellas has vowed to keep her half-sister in torment and torture forever, and there is no talking her out of it.”

“Mother?” Nameless turned to Vrya. He did not have to spell it out. She took her son’s hand and pointed at the Wicca.

The old woman crashed back in her chair and screamed again. “Father. You promised.” A sickly green light, the color of mold and decay came out of the Wicca to dissipate in the sunlight. Then it was done. The Wicca collapsed, like she no longer had the energy to sit up straight. She was old, and now she showed it. She looked tired. She looked used up.

“Now she is fully human,” Vrya said. “Now I can let her serve in my house when the time comes to make up for all the people she forced to serve her in her lifetime.”

“When the time comes, I will personally bring her to your home,” Hilde said.

“How can I trust you?” Loki’s face contorted. “Do you promise to do this?”

“The gods don’t make promises,” Nameless responded. “But you have three witnesses who will see if people stay free and if she lives in peace.”

“But father,” the Wicca’s voice sounded weak and cracked in the upper register. “You promised I could have what I want.”

“You don’t know what you want, child,” Vrya said, and she looked to her son for an answer.

Nameless nodded. “It is a breach of temporal etiquette, but I can give her something like medicine to indulge her in her final days.” He thought through the recipe so Vrya, Hilde and Loki could catch it. Then he produced a small bowl out of thin air. He handed it to Loki who tested it with a finger. He gave a small spoonful to his daughter who made the strangest noises.

“Nectar,” the Wicca called it and grabbed for the bowl. It was Chocolate ice cream, and with it in hand, Loki and his daughter vanished from that place.

“Indulgent,” Vrya said with a slight smile.

“I’ll never be thin again,” Hilde admitted.

“Jaccar leaders!” Nameless shouted. The Jaccar were all on their knees before the gods so Nameless softened his voice, but it still carried the power to be heard. “Go home.” The Jaccar found their horses saddled and ready, and with minimal urging from their chiefs, they mounted and rode off into the East, never to return.

Vrya kissed her son. “I await the day when you will be my little one,” she said, and vanished.

Hilde bowed. “My Lord. I am yours with a willing heart, and I have sisters now to help in this great work.” She vanished.

Nameless waited until the Jaccar were all gone before he vanished and Flern came home to stand on the riverbank, all alone in her own village. Across the bank, the people were cheering and celebrating, and Flern did not blame them. No more good people would have to die.

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

MONDAY

The conclusion of the story followed by a look ahead toward Avalon, Season 9, the final season.  Until then, Happy Reading.

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Reflections Flern-11 part 1 of 3

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Flern woke up happy and wonderfully well rested. There was only one thing that caused ripples in the calm surface of her mind. “Am I home?” she asked.

“Yes.” Mother Vrya stood right there to assure her. “And I have something else for you.” She handed Flern a paper with the name Andronicus written on it. “The bronze maker.”

Flern gave Vrya a funny look. “But didn’t all the gods promise not to interfere with the Wicca?”

“I don’t make promises,” Vrya responded. “I learned that ages ago from someone very wise. Besides, a name is hardly interfering.”

Flern arrived in her good old dress, and she had a pocket where she put the paper, but first she had to hug the goddess and say, “Thank you.” And Vrya said something sweet to Flern’s ears.

“Just what Brmr would have said.”

It did not matter that Brmr had technically been Wlvn’s sister, not hers. She felt the joy of the statement and felt very happy for Brmr, for Wlvn, and for herself. “But my friends?”

They stood and Vrya informed her. “They left the village last night and are camped outside. It is early morning, but I believe they have eaten.”

“Oh?” Flern walked slowly to the cave entrance. Vrya disappeared at some point, but Flern did not notice. Her mind focused on Pinn, Vinnu and Thrud, and the boys, Vilder, Gunder and Tiren. She knew she had to remember Riah, but when she looked, she only looked for one person.

“Flern?” “Flern!” The girls stood when they saw her. The boys moved a little slower, but they also rose as Flern saw him. She ran, perhaps floated a bit, tackled Kined and landed on top of him.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes,” and she kissed his face. “Yes.”

Kined smiled well enough as he rolled her over and pushed up to look into her eyes. “But I haven’t—oh, I see. So will you marry me?”

“I already said yes.” Flern answered and thought of Andrea as she pulled his head down to kiss properly.

“I’m glad that’s settled,” Thrud said. At least Vinnu had the decency to sigh.

“You owe me,” Tiren said.

“Ha. Glad I didn’t bet this time,” Gunder grinned while Vilder rolled up his sleeve.

After a while, Kined stood. Flern’s face appeared full of curiosity, but Kined spoke honestly. “I have to.” He started getting too interested.

“Oh,” Flern felt it too and did not argue. “I suppose we need to keep moving while we can. Oh, I missed you all so much.” She hugged the girls each in turn and pulled out her paper and handed it to Pinn.

“What is this?”

“A gift from Mother Vrya.”

Pinn barely paused on Flern referring to the goddess as mother. She started adjusting. “But what is it?”

“Real paper. I don’t know how she managed that.” Flern rolled her eyes at Vinnu.

“No, I mean these marks on it.”

“That’s writing.”

Pinn stared at it for another moment while Vilder came up to look over her shoulder and the others gathered around. Finally, Pinn spoke again. “But what does it write?”

Flern realized the problem and took the paper back. “It says Andronicus. Mother Vrya says that is the name of the bronze maker.”

“Andron…”

“Andronicus,” Flern repeated as she put the paper back in her pocket.

Riah chose that moment to come up and bow. “Lady,” she said and kept her eyes lowered.

Flern reached out and took the girl’s hand. “It is still just me. You were very good to Wlvn me. I hope we can be friends, too.”

Riah smiled at that thought, but Kined had to ruin it.

“But poor Riah is now the only single person on the trip.

“Maybe we need to find someone for her,” Flern suggested, and she felt very grown-up as she slipped her arm around Kined’s waist. He grinned and put his arm over her shoulder.

“Oh, yes,” he said, “someone very nice.”

“Oh no, you wouldn’t, would you?”

Flern giggled. “You sound like your mother.” She poked her finger in Kined’s chest. “And you sound just like my wife.”

“Your,” Kined wrinkled his brow. “Wife?”

“Well, Wlvn’s wife.”

“Ah. He never mentioned it.”

“Later,” Flern said as she thought she better let go of him again. They needed to fetch their horses anyway. “But say, where is Bricklebrains? I was looking forward to seeing him with my own eyes.”

“Ah.” Vilder stepped up as he rubbed his upper arm. “He went back to Movan Mountain. He said his wife’s cooking called him, but he said you knew where to find him if you need him.”

“And I do,” Flern said. “Bricklebrains.” She called in a special way and the dwarf was obliged to appear before her. It looked like great magic, but in truth it was something perfectly natural to Flern since the gods collectively saddled the Kairos with oversight of the little ones. Bricklebrains showed up with his back to her and had something to say.

“Hey! I was almost half-way home.”

“Ahem,” Flern coughed to get the dwarf’s attention. Bricklebrains turned around, saw her, whipped off his hat and held his tongue. “I just wanted to thank you for taking such good care of Wlvn.” She bent down and kissed the dwarf on his receding hairline. “Say hello to Balken for us and give a special hug to Badl for me. Now go to Movan Mountain.”

Bricklebrains said nothing. His cheeks and forehead were scarlet from the kiss, but as Flern clapped her hands, Bricklebrains vanished.

“Amazing,” Kined said. Flern just looked up at him and smiled.

Reflections Flern-10 part 1 of 3

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Less than an hour after sunset, they came to a mountain town. It stood perched on the side of the mountain itself, so it did not encroach on the plateau above. Indeed, a stockade wall had been built between the village and the plateau, and Wlvn understood it kept the villagers from violating the land of the Were even as it protected the village during the times of the wolf moon.

Wlvn felt the hair on the back of his head rise again and again as he walked the town. It got worse when he heard the people speak. The language remained unknown to Kined and the couples. Riah and Bricklebrains could understand and respond in any language known to humanity, so Wlvn knew they would have to depend on translations at that point. It got worse still when a lovely young woman came to stand in their way and spoke.

“She wants to know how it is that elves and dwarfs travel with mere mortals,” Riah said.

Wlvn said nothing at first but stepped up for a closer look at the girl. When he spoke, it was only one word. “Raini?” The look on the girl’s face said she knew that name, and she responded with a string of words that Wlvn mostly grasped.

“My ancestral mother. How do you know this? She was in the days of Faya, the beautiful, when we first came to live beside the plateau of the Were. Faya made peace with the Were when all the world was at war, and Raini made peace across the plains for she was a great warrior, daughter of Vrya herself, goddess of love and war,” Riah translated.

Wlvn nodded as he grasped for understanding. After a moment, he left that place so Faya herself could fill his place. The girl screamed, but quickly stopped screaming as a crowd gathered in the twilight.

“I was born and raised here,” Faya told the others. “Youngest of nieces, do you have a name?”

“Who are you?” the young girl stammered.

“I am Faya, come home for the night.” Faya’s words and syntax were a bit old, like someone in the twenty-first century speaking Shakespearean English, but she was understandable. The young girl and several of those gathered genuflected as if confronted by a goddess while others ran off as if they had seen a ghost.

“I am Nadia. They say I am named after one of your aspects.” The girl lowered her eyes. “But to be sure, I never believed the old legends. Not exactly.” It came out as a real confession, and Faya lifted the girl’s chin and shared a radiant smile that glowed with life, health, and the brightness of the sun.

“My grandniece, Nadia. We seek only shelter for the night. Is there a place where we can be safe?”

“Yes. I mean, yes. I know just the place. It is outside the town on the road down to the plains below. It is where many traders stay and where the metal merchants come. I will take you there.”

Faya explained and they followed after the girl while Faya spoke. “You are very like Raini, you know.”

“How could I be?” Nadia sounded uncertain about this whole thing. “They say she was filled with love and the most beautiful woman who ever lived but only for yourself.” Nadia paused to glance up at Faya. “And I never saw such beauty as yours.”

“But I pale compared to your greatest grandmother. You should see her, the goddess of love herself, and of war.”

“Yes.” Nadia jumped a little. “I always thought I would be good with a bow and even a sword, like yours. But the men won’t let me.”

“Their loss.”

“They say my ancestor Raini could fight better then the best and that she even beat the son of Thor in battle. That must have been glorious.”

“It was scary, and complicated,” Faya responded as honestly as she could without getting into an all-night story. “The gods themselves were at war in those days and Raini and Vrya were right in the middle of it all. They loved it, but to be honest, I was more reluctant.”

Nadia fell silent for a moment before she came out with another, deeper thought. “I pray to the goddess every night. Well, every night that I remember to pray, and I ask to find love, a true love.”

“Why don’t you ask to see her? Maybe she can explain what she has in mind. I am sure with Vrya’s blood in your veins, she might be willing to pay a brief visit. I don’t know, but it never hurts to ask.”

“I never thought—” Nadia took a deep breath. “I would be so afraid. I could never ask for such a special thing. Why, the wise men and women themselves have never seen one of the gods in all their days.”

Kined spoke up from behind where Riah dutifully translated the conversation for them all. “That’s because they never got to hang around with Flern, or Wolven or Faya or Doktor Mishka or the Princess or Diogenes or, did I forget anyone?”

“Nameless,” Pinn said.

“Of course, the god himself.”

“Wolven mentioned Amphitrite. He said she was a goddess married to a god of the sea, though I can’t remember his name,” Vilder said.

“Poseidon,” Kined offered.

“But Faya isn’t Poseidon,” Thrud said.

“No, Amphitrite, his wife” Vilder repeated.

“What about the Storyteller?” Gunder asked.

“Haven’t met her yet,” Vinnu assured her husband.

“Him, I think,” Pinn said.

By the time they reached the inn that actually had six empty beds much to everyone’s joy, Bricklebrains had to push up front and translated in turn for Nadia. They were all engaged in a serious discussion as they went in and Faya had to clap her hands and show off a bit of light like a flash picture to get their attention.

“I am going to see if I can get some word on Fritt as soon as I settle up here.” She turned in time to see an older gentleman come out from a back room.

“Welcome to my humble home,” he said as he looked twice and then a third time at Faya.

“Father,” Nadia said to no one’s surprise. “This is Faya, returned to us.”

Father smiled. “The red hair, and certainly beautiful if I may say. Named after the legend?”

“No, Father. You don’t understand. This is the legend.”

Nadia’s father had to wrench his eyes away from swallowing Faya to look at his daughter. “Don’t be silly.” He returned to Faya and became as much business as he could. “We take all kinds of trade for the rooms and food. What do you have to offer?” It was clear what he wanted her to offer.

Faya frowned and shooed Nadia back to the others. She clapped her hands again and shouted in a particular way. “Batwings and Dross. Here, now.” She pointed at the floor in front of her and the two goblins were obliged to appear. Nadia’s mother, who followed her husband, came out just then, took one look at the goblins, and fainted. The man gasped and stepped back. Nadia let out a little shriek, though it was quieter than the earlier scream. The others all laughed, to Nadia’s surprise.

Batwings had a black eye and Dross had a bloody lip. Faya grabbed a shallow bowl and ordered the two to empty their pockets. She let Dross keep the rat and let Batwings keep his mold collection. She confiscated the brass knuckles and bronze knife and that left several gold nuggets, a couple of rubies and a diamond. “Here.” She handed it to Nadia’s father. “This should be good for two nights plus as much food as they want.” She turned back to the goblins and shook her finger at them. “Stop fighting, now back to where you came from.” Faya clapped again and the two goblins disappeared. “Not that they will listen,” Faya sighed for the group. “Now I go.”

Faya stepped out the door and all eyes followed her. She immediately turned into a great owl, one with scarlet feathers that reflected her flaming red hair, and she took off for the plateau.

Reflections Flern-5 part 3 of 3

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Flern knew exactly when the moon goddess touched the head of her reflection. “Grrr.” She had to say it. She wondered what Mother Vrya meant about her willingness to be herself. How could she, with all these giftly interruptions? But that was what Vrya said. Flern did not know what that meant, but she would willingly give it a try if she could.

She turned down Arania’s last dress. They were all too big for her anyway. She was the tallest one after Elluin, but she had nice long legs and a short waist and was really a petite—a petite with long arms, so very hard to fit. Flern called to her armor, though she took off her sword and long knife, and then she lay down on her blanket and hugged her weapons like a child might hug a teddy bear. She let her exhaustion overwhelm her until she fell asleep.

No one woke Flern for breakfast, though the girls never left her alone for a minute. Thrud sat there when she awoke, and Thrud stayed uncharacteristically quiet. She did not even make a crack about Flern being lazy, and that made Flern very suspicious.

“What?” Flern asked. “Out with it,” she commanded, but Thrud looked reluctant to say anything at all. Flern heard nothing until Pinn and the others returned from breakfast, and then she heard it all. The Jaccar had come in the night. A dozen Jaccar had swum the river and came up into the village, searching for the girl with the auburn-red hair, as if Flern could not guess who that was. There were nearly a dozen villagers, along with a number of women and children dead, and that was a great toll in a village that supported barely over three hundred all told. One attacked the house of Venislav. He wounded the man and threatened Vincas, but Tird showed up and put the man down. Fritt arrived to stop the flow of blood, but the village healer says Tird may lose his leg.

“Tird?” Flern could not believe it.

“Worse,” Elluin said. “They have poor Bunder staked out. His screams are terrible to hear.”

Pinn, Thrud and Vinnu all hushed the girl, thinking of Bunder as the last one Flern needed to hear about, but Flern showed no emotion at all at the news. She called for her weapons. Her sword and long knife flew up to attach themselves to her armor, and she walked at a firm pace toward the wall of wagons. The others followed her. She hardly got out the door before she heard the wailing in the distance. She drew her ebony, elf-made bow from the secret pouch in her cape and found it looked much improved from the bow Wlvn once used.

“Revenge?” Pinn’s word made Flern pause for just a minute. She shook her head.

“Maybe mercy,” she said, and she did something that she knew she could do, thanks to Nanna, the moon. She floated up and forward just enough to land with both feet on the top of the nearest house wagon. No one screamed, and in fact Flern heard no noise at all from the girls or anyone else who might have seen.

Bunder, out there, looked tied to a cross of two logs, lashed together in a great “X.” Flern rose up again and moved to a house wagon that stood directly out from that spot. She noted that she could fly, sort of, or float anyway, and again she noted that she only reflected the gifts given to Wlvn, and in a lesser degree. Once she landed on her feet, she took a closer look. The Jaccar had not been content to merely crucify the boy. They had skinned him in several places, and they had peeled back his lips, ripped out his cheeks, and peeled the skin away from his eyes expertly so he appeared to have a skeleton head, with eyes that were still alive. Of course, he could not speak. He could only wail, but Flern imagined what Bunder would say if he could speak. Two words: “Kill me.”

Flern put her hood down. “The Jaccar have men in the grass!” A man shouted up to her. It was Borsiloff, and she waved to say she heard, but she had already seen the men. The Jaccar had taken the green paint of Karenski one step further. They had grasses and branches from bushes tied to their clothes so they might not be noticed unless one went looking for them. Flern looked, and one of the Jaccar inched closer with the intention, no doubt, of getting a good shot at her. Flern only thought for a second. Though not bad with the bow, the Princess had been, or rather would be the best with the bow in her generation, and maybe in any generation. So, with three arrows in her hand, Flern reached out through time and traded places with the Princess. All that anyone below might have seen was Flern’s hair, shining red in the morning sun, turn to such a golden brown it almost appeared blonde. That, and the fact that the Princess stood three inches taller, now being an inch taller than Elluin herself.

The Princess made three shots without the space of a breath between them. Three Jaccar were struck dead on, beginning with the one who inched up close. The other Jaccar wisely began to back away, and the Princess pulled out a silver tipped arrow she found. She kissed the tip with a prayer. “Artemis, strengthen me.” She did not know if a Greek goddess could reach into Odin’s jurisdiction, but she gave it her best try and intended to give it her best shot. Poor Bunder suffered just out of bow range. The Jaccar were obviously well practiced at this, keeping the boy just far enough from the camp so the best archer and strongest arm could not reach him. Dying, surely, but the longer he screamed, the more demoralized the locals tended to become. The Princess saw several arrows in the grass where men had tried and failed. A few were close, but not close enough. The Princess would need the strength of Artemis, and she took aim and let the arrow fly. It did not exactly hit Bunder in the heart as she hoped, but it hit near enough so he would be gone in a minute or two. At least his agony would not be prolonged into the afternoon, screaming until he got hoarse, until his peeled lips dried out like two worms in the sun.

The Princess spun around. She could not fly like Flern, but it did not appear that far to the ground. She jumped and used her legs to cushion the fall. This became the first close look in daylight the girls had, and the Princess could not help smiling for them as she set her hand on Pinn’s shoulder. “We may need to move from this place,” she said without too much of a Greek accent.

“Princess,” Pinn said, but she said no more. She stared.

“Karenski!” The Princess turned to the side. “Get some men up on those house wagons. You can see the Jaccar clearly from there, even in their grass suits; and tell them to keep their heads down.” Quite unlike Flern, in certain situations the Princess did not get into the habit of asking. She did the telling. “Borsiloff!” She turned again. The man had wandered down the row for a better look at her work, but he looked up as she called. “Come with me. We have to get the village men out here to hold the line. No telling how many Jaccar are out there.”

“The village men say they have to stay in the village and protect their houses in case the Jaccar swim the river again.” Borsiloff said as he jogged up. He arrived about the same time as Karenski. Both did a double take on the armor with a stranger inside. The Princess had already turned and used her own long legs to make for the village. She changed back to Flern without breaking stride, but then stopped and turned when no one followed.

She eyed Karenski. “Well?” She shouted, still having the spirit of the Princess with her like a ghost image. “Get the men up,” she insisted. “And come on.” She looked at Borsiloff, but when she turned her eyes on the girls, she added a thought. “We have to see if we can help Tird, don’t we?”

Pinn and Thrud smiled at each other. Dear old Flern.

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MONDAY

Flern does everything secant prepare the village and the travelers for battle, and she reaches out to the natural world to see what help she can get from that direction. Until then, Happy Reading.

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