Giant

Medieval 6: K and Y 14 And Back Again, part 1 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Kirstie and the officers with three Algonquin chiefs and Anenak the giant spied on the enemy from behind the trees. The fortified position was not well made and hardly finished, but it would already be a help to the defenders.

“They have their back to the lake,” Brant said, and Wilam asked a serious question.

“If fire and then water is a danger to the hags, why are they close to the lake? The hags you told me about were by the docks, the river, and the sea. I would think that would be dangerous for them.”

“Kirstie nodded and tried to explain. “They are in a tough situation. Fire and water don’t mix, but their god, so-called, Abraxas, is made up of these two elements. Being near the water lets them draw on the water for strength. They would be weak and much less frightening in a desert where little water is available. They draw also from the fires, campfires, cooking fires and so on, but they must keep things in the right order and in proportion, and especially keep the two elements separated. When the hag is actually set on fire, it is too much all at once. They appear to grow stronger, but when the water puts their fire out all at once, it breaks something on the inside. Think of a bow. When you draw the string in the right way and to the right distance, you can fire the weapon, arrow after arrow. But if you draw too hard and suddenly, at first it looks like you will send your arrow farther than normal, but one tug further and you will break the weapon and make the whole thing useless.

“I guess. Sort of,” Wilam suggested he understood even if he didn’t.

Captain Olaf stepped up to Kirstie and interrupted. No sign of the hag or the other women. They must be in the tents. But Anenak, Chestnut, and we are all agreed, the only way to get at them is to charge across the field, unless you have a better idea.

Kirstie considered having Anenak throw rocks which would be like mini boulders at them, but it was probably too far even for him. She considered asking her elves to go invisible and sneak up on them, but the hag would know. She dreaded the casualties. Ulfsson’s crew would not go far from their bows. She felt sure there should be a better way, but she could not think of it. She shook her head, sadly and spoke softly.

“Have the men keep one hand on their weapon and carry some bushes and branches in the other hand in front of them, and wave them as they run. It should confuse the enemy as to where exactly the people are and they might not shoot as many as otherwise,” she said. “And maybe the branches will deflect an arrow or two. Other than that, I got nothing.”

“Better than nothing,” Wilam said and hugged her. Kirstie worried about him. It had been nearly three days since the last time he moaned that Mary Katherine was the hag.

When they were nearly ready, someone pointed out that some would like to carry their own bows and arrows for when they arrived. Kirstie said they had to follow the men with the bushes. Then they were ready, and Kirstie had to say “Go.” She felt sure the hag would sense their charge and have her men ready. Sadly, she was right.

Despite the bushes to distract and confuse the enemy, any number of men fell to arrows in the charge. Even so, they broke through the half-finished fortification on the order of three to one. Ulfsson’s crew was not that big, and the enchanted converts were not many after only two days, and they did not fight well in any case. The whole battle got to be messy as natives and Vikings fought on both sides, and some could not tell friend from foe. Yrsa and Chestnut’s people had their hands full keeping the friendlies from killing each other.

Wilam jumped in front of Kirstie to face Ulfsson, but Kirstie turned and faced Njal the giant, who did not appear so big compared to Anenak, the twelve-footer. Brant, who kept an eye on her stepped in to help, and together they took down the big man.

Everything paused when the hag showed up. She came from the tent and said, “I will have my husband back.” She got followed by five more hags. All of the young women had been converted. Some men screamed, and the women laughed. Kirstie might have screamed, but she got distracted by the face of a fire sprite in the campfire. New world, new rules, she thought. “Flame them,” she whispered, and the flames from all six fires around the camp vacated the wood and attached themselves to the hags. Kirstie fully expected the hags to grow in power and appearance and she desperately tried to figure out how to knock them into the lake which was right behind them. But what happened surprised her and everyone else.

The hags began to merge into one another and as they grew, they roared like a half dozen lions roaring all at once. They became one big hag, almost as tall as the twelve-foot giant, and they looked much stronger. Sadly, Kirstie did not have the time to shout “No!” Anenak flew at the hag, but unlike Vortesvin years ago in Nidaros, Anenak did not duck. The hag grabbed the giant’s head between her hands and snapped the head right off at the neck. But Anenak’s forward motion was enough to knock the hag into the lake. Six screams followed. The hags separated again, and six young women melted. Whatever remained would eventually sink to the bottom. Kirstie remembered her friend Yazu and cried for the giant. She cried for the men who died. She cried for Wilam’s sister whom she never met. It would be a while before she stopped crying.

~~~*~~~

Kirstie finally had to stop crying long enough to let Mother Greta work on the wounded and save who she could. Kirstie discovered some Iroquois speakers had escaped the hags by seeking refuge with the giant despite the fact that it meant being surrounded by Algonquin speakers, their traditional enemies. Now that the trouble was over, they decided to head back to the great lakes region and abandon the island at the river’s end. They said it was too dangerous, but they did steal some metal tipped arrows and a couple of Viking spears. Who knew where those metal artifacts would end up. Probably upper New York near the lakes.

With that, Kirstie realized she had to put her foot down. The native Algonquin speakers, the Lenape or Manhattan, or whatever history ended up calling this particular tribe might remember the story about the white men and the monster they would probably refer to as a wendigo, but it would not be believed by the oncoming white men in the future any more than the stories about the giants. The Vikings, however, needed a good talking to.

Kirstie considered asking Nameless to wipe some memories once they sailed back to Europe. The ancient gods did that sometimes in the deep past to keep the various cultures and civilizations from bleeding into each other too much, or to keep certain information secret for the time being. That television show, Ancient Aliens would not be nearly so successful if the aliens were a well-documented historical fact. Rumor and inuendo was fine, but some memories got wiped in ancient days.

In the end, she gathered the survivors and put her foot down. It did occur to her once again that the sons or daughters of these men, or maybe the grandchildren might have some stories to inspire the likes of Eric the Red or Leif Ericson in the decades to come. They were only about seventy or eighty years early here. The men mostly listened.

They had thirty-three men to sail Captain Olaf’s ship, and they carried the nineteen wounded that Kirstie hoped would live. They did have a couple of burials at sea. Another twenty men sailed Ulfsson’s Viking longship, which meant both ships had about half the normal crew. It was enough to get them back to Iceland and the Faroe Islands. Splitting the distance between the Shetland and Orkney Islands, they soon reached Aberdeen and finally made port once again in Bamburgh.

Captain Otto, who managed to break his other arm so he now had both arms wrapped up tight, inherited the longship until he could build a new ship of his own. He said that would be fine for the present since he had no plans to go out until next spring.

Captain Olaf said his ship had a good workout but now he needed to pull it up into drydock and give it a good going over. They reached September, so he was a month behind and would probably have to cut his fall trip short to get home before the dead of winter. Kirstie apologized for taking so much of his time. He just smiled for her.

“Worth it,” he said.

It took another week before they could go home. They had to report an amended version of their adventures to King Eadwulf II. No surprise that he knew Captain Olaf who told the tale. Olaf was not exactly clear where they caught the last longship. They said Scandinavian land and left it at that. Sadly, the kidnapped young women all died.

“It would have been a better report if I would have said we rescued them all.” Olaf shook his head and looked sad.

The king agreed, but his eyes went to Kirstie. She accompanied Wilam, Brant, and Olaf into the king’s chamber. She came in her blue dress to look presentable and hoped she did not have to retrieve her armor, maybe ever again, God willing.

Captain Olaf took that moment of distraction to introduce his companions. “My Skipari, Brant Svenson. My navigator, Wilam Halfdanson, and his wife, the Lady Kristina of Strindlos.

“Kristina?” The king wrinkled his brow and asked, “Where is Strindlos?”

“Majesty,” Kirstie curtsied and thought maybe she did it well for once. “Strindlos in in the great fjord of Trondelag, in Norway. I am one of those terrible Vikings you have heard about.”

The king looked surprised but had another question. “Are all Norse women as tall and blonde as you?”

“No, your majesty,” Kirstie said and smiled. “Some are short and dark. Like elsewhere, we come in all shapes and sizes.”

“Lady Kristina was the maiden who saved Lindisfarne from the Viking horde.” Captain Olaf said to Kirstie’s embarrassment. Several men who were standing around looking bored perked up at that bit of information.

“Yes. You said you found her.”

“Found her and married her,” Wilam said.

“A lovely wife,” the king said. “But somehow, I can’t picture her fighting off four hundred men at arms.”

Kirstie looked at Wilam, Brant, and especially Captain Olaf with a look that said they should keep their mouths shut. “I was wearing different clothes at the time. I wore my armor and had my battleaxe and shield, and my sword at my side. You have to imagine it.”

The king squinted at her but shrugged. “Lovely wife, though,” he said, and stepped back to his throne where he sat, an indication that the interview was over.

“Majesty.” The men bowed and Kirstie tried her curtsey again but did not do it nearly as well since she was mad about being ratted out, as she saw it.

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

MONDAY

Home to Soren and after a time, home to Strindlos assuming all is well, like, since when did that ever happen? Monday. Happy Reading

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Medieval 6: K and Y 13 To the New World, part 1 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

The storm came quickly. Kirstie, who was presently tuned into the sprites of the water and the air got the impression that the ship stayed on the edge of the storm. The wind and waves pushed them toward North America as it slowly turned to swipe the southern point of Greenland. The water sprites made something like a stream in the sea that kept them moving in the right direction, though it was hard to tell given the way they went up great hills of water and zoomed down the other side. The crew certainly had no control over their vessel.

The rain pelted them all day and night. In the morning, Wilam thought the rain slackened off, but Kirstie knew that was wishful thinking. She could sense where the tail edge of the storm was located and knew when they finally broke free of it about two that afternoon.

Everyone weathered the storm, and they lost no one overboard, but there were any number of cuts and bruises as men banged into the wall, the deck, the railing, the mast, and seemingly whatever else they could find. One man busted his arm on his own rower’s bench down below. One man, one of the three on the steering board that held on for twenty-four hours, got thrown from the board at the last and cracked his head against the stern dragon’s tail, giving himself a concussion.

No injury was life threatening, so after a hot meal of fried fish and being warmed by some particularly strong mead that Olaf had down in the hold, they raised the sail and continued their pursuit.

Traventor reported that they lost about half a day on the Viking ship, but that ship, once they hit the coast of Labrador, began to sail slowly to the south along the coast looking for something. Traventor said they could make up the half day by cutting the corner and heading for where they anticipated the Viking ship would be. Kirstie hoped they could catch sight of the ship once they hit the Labrador coast, but they were still too far away for that.

Yrsa got Kirstie’s attention when she reported that she was picking up something like a spiritual broadcast. The hag was reaching out to the tribes as she went by, looking for a people that would be amenable to her word about Abraxas. Abraxas might have been banished from the earth, and everywhere on the earth that he had some connection. But Kirstie understood if he forged a new connection with people unknown to him, he might yet come back to earth and ruin everything.

History has no record of Abraxas being worshiped in the new world. He has no more place here than in the old world.

Captain Olaf’s ship had a small mizzenmast for a second sail. Even though his ship was heavier and sat deeper in the water, it could almost match the speed of the longship. It could not maneuver as well, and when they had to get out the oars it lagged behind, but as long as they had the sails up and a good wind the Viking longship would not get further away.

“The hag needs to find a people confronted with two different worldviews and confused about what to believe,” Kirstie said to Yrsa, Wilam, and Brant. “She seems to be reaching out to the tribes along the shore, looking for the right set of dynamics.”

“She is looking for people with no faith that she can fill with faith in Abraxas?” Brant asked.

“No. I think it is more people whose view of the world seemed rock solid and are suddenly confronted with something that tears down that view. It is people who have always believed, but now don’t know what to believe. That is where she can gain converts, and with enough believers, she can invite Abraxas to return to the earth and start all over again.”

Kirstie imagined she knew where the hag would end up. When the Vikings came to Belle Isle and turned into the strait, she felt sure they would park a L’Anse aux Meadows on Newfoundland. That was where the future said the Vikings built a settlement. She figured they were about fifty or eighty years too soon, but maybe the stories would pass on and one or more of the men might help guide Eric the Red or Leif Ericson in the future.

In fact, the Viking ship hardly slowed when it entered the strait. It sailed all the way down to the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and for a day, Kirstie feared they might sail up the river, but they turned. They reentered the Atlantic, turned again, and sailed down the coast of Nova Scotia.

Captain Olaf’s ship had some difficulty following that course. When they reached what would someday be called the Cabot Strait, the wind turned completely against them. They had to row their way back out into the Atlantic, and that lost them another day.

Captain Ulfsson’s ship left Nova Scotia and skipped over the Gulf of Maine, making a beeline for Cape Cod. Still not finding what they were looking for, they sailed around the islands off the coast and headed into Long Island Sound. When they reached the East River, they pulled up to the eastern shore of Manhattan and went to work.

The island was divided between Iroquois speakers and Algonquin speakers. The struggle for dominance was as much cultural and psychological as physical warfare. It was the earliest version of West Side Story with the Jets and the Sharks struggling to control the neighborhood. Most of the innocents on the island got caught up in the struggle, and frankly did not know what to do.

It did not take long for the hag to gather people to her side. A demonstration of power and the promise of having a god with us was all it took. Many came willingly, wanting an end to the struggles. Some did not believe, but they soon moved out of the way. The Iroquois fled to the Bronx or abandoned the struggle altogether and tried to navigate the paths between the Lenape and Mahican tribes to get back to Mohawk land. The Algonquins crossed over to Brooklyn where they had a strong base, made strong by the twelve-foot giant, Anenak, who lived and all but ruled there.

When Olaf’s s ship arrived in the East River, Kirstie had them row first to Brooklyn. It would be dangerous, but they would need allies against the hag if the Lenape were willing. They were met on the shore by an armed party, and the giant. At least they were not met with arrows.

The captains, their officers with Kirstie and Yrsa came ashore and walked a short way to where the natives stood armed and ready. Wilam whispered. “Thank you, Yrsa, for contacting the light elves in this region and gathering the information we need.”

“And they are watching the hag and Ulfsson’s crew?” Brant wanted to be sure.

“They are, but we have our own problems first,” Wilam answered, and just missed grabbing Kirstie’s arm because of the distraction of the question. Kirstie, as was her way, rushed out in front of the captains and the officers, Yrsa on her tail, and she shouted.

“Giant. Why are you here? The only giants remaining in the north are around the great lakes or scattered across the distant mountains. Anenak, do you not fear the wasting disease being around so many ordinary humans?”

“Who are you to know about the wasting? Are you the one I was told was coming, or is there another?” he asked, even as an elf-like man came to appear beside the giant. Many Algonquin warriors stepped back from the sight, and the captains and their men looked uncomfortable. The man did not exactly look like an elf. He looked like what the Kairos sometimes called a new world elf. He went to his knees in front of Kirstie.

“I am the only one in this time and place,” Kirstie said. “But why are you not with the last of your kind?” she asked.

The giant conceded and told his story. “When I was a child some four hundred years ago, my mother told me the tale of Yazu the Great and his companion, the young mortal girl Huyana not Ugly. They came from the west, far and far. They came to destroy the serpents who walked and talked. The battle was fierce, and in the end, Yazu the Great destroyed the last of the serpents, though he gave his life to do it. The serpents who walked and talked were removed from this world to never return, and Huyana not Ugly buried Yazu in a great mound of all honor. I do not know the truth of this tale, but when the last of my tribe became taken by the wasting, I escaped and thought to come to this place and see if I might find the mound of honor. I have not found it, and now I wonder if the tale is true or just a story.”

“That was ages and ages ago,” Kirstie said. “But it is true. The great evil was utterly destroyed. I know this,” Kirstie said, and reached into the deep past for a life she once lived. She traded places with the young woman. “I know this because long ago I was called Huyana.” She opted to leave the not ugly off her name.

Anenak went to his knees and found a few tears. The natives did not know what to think, but they lowered their weapons, and some of them also went to their knees.

Huyana felt the dizziness come upon her and thought it prudent to trade places with Kirstie again, and Kirstie spoke. “Anenak, my friend. In this life I am called Kirstie, and this time I have come from the east, far and far. There is a new evil that must be utterly destroyed. They are women who become monsters of great power and who speak to the mind about a god that must not be. We chased them across the endless water and came to this place where they plan to do their evil magic. Will you go with us to end this threat to all people?”

Anenak agreed and many of the warriors agreed with him. After all, it was their land and their people at risk.

“Lord Chestnut” she spoke to the elf on his knees. “Please rise. You must ride with us on the ship and explain to the captains how Ulfsson and his crew are preparing to defend themselves.”

Anenak, bring your warriors across the river and we will meet you on the shore and go together.

“They are building a fort by the lake,” Lord Chestnut told the captains as they went to the lifeboat, returned to the ship, and went to the other side.

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

MONDAY

Yasmina reaches Alexandria only to run into trouble but there is both a ship from Amalfi pulling into the docks and the last ship she ever expected to see and hopefully both crews might help. Until Monday, Happy Reading

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Medieval 6: K and Y 8 Shame On Us, part 1 of 2

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The week with Wilam went by very fast. Lind and Gruden left for the west toward the villages at the entrance to the fjord on that first day, even as Wilam arrived. That helped Kirstie relax and put her in a good mood all week. She said yes without hesitation when Wilam asked her to marry him. He already won Soren’s heart so there was nothing to stand between them.

Father McAndrews spent most of the week in the big house talking with Chief Kerga, the village elders, the captains, and their officers. He spent one whole day visiting the Witcher Women, and much of that day was spent one on one with Mother Vrya. The two older people found they had much in common not the least being the muscle aches in the morning and the onset of arthritis.

On the sixth day, which was Friday, first thing in the morning, Father McAndrews performed the wedding for Kirstie and Wilam, Father Damien assisting. The whole village turned out. It was a lovely ceremony, and the first that some of the village heard about this faith. Kirstie was wonderfully happy, so naturally, life struck back at her in three ways.

The first was more of an annoyance. Liv came back from Varnes., and she appeared to have turned into a dark-eyed, raven-haired beauty. Hilda and Kirstie almost did not recognize her. Liv turned eighteen and said she came to reclaim her family property. She came as a single woman, but with three thralls in tow; men who looked more like bodyguards than farm workers. Honestly, Kirstie imagined no free man would want to get too close to Liv’s bad attitude. Wilam scolded her for thinking such a thing about her childhood friend. Fortunately, Liv proved Kirstie’s thoughts.

Liv did not come to the wedding, but she came after for the feasting. Even while she hugged Kirstie and said congratulations, she said there was no way she would ever marry. She said her lover would have to be a god. Hilda asked if she had anyone in mind and Liv looked at her like Hilda must have left her brains home that day. Kirstie understood. No one would ever measure up to Liv’s standards. She hoped that was all Liv was saying.

Kirstie and Wilam walked home around two in the afternoon, The feasting would go on well into the night, but Kirstie started feeling nervous. It was not something she ever felt with Kare. She really wanted to make Wilam happy, but after four years of build-up in his mind, she was afraid she would disappoint him.

“Relax,” he said. “I’m in no hurry now that we are married. We have years ahead of us to make everything just the way we like. It doesn’t have to happen in one night.”

Kirstie hugged him and loved him more, and let her worries turn in another direction. Mother Vrya and Chief Kerga, and probably Inga and Brant Svenson all ran interference because Lind and Gruden returned to Strindlos that afternoon. It was one of the reasons Inga suggested she take Wilam home in the early afternoon. In the morning, Lind and Gruden planned to sail off to the north end of the fjord, but for the present, they seemed to be determined to get in the way of her happy day. She mentioned something cryptic to Wilam, but he understood her enough by then to ask who they were and why they mattered.

“They are the king’s men, King Harald Fairhair,” she said. “They came here ten years ago in search of the one who led the people against the invasion of the Vanlil, the Jamts.”

“Elgar, your Saxon,” Wilam said.

Kirstie nodded. “And the young girl that came with him but was never seen at the same time as him. That was me.”

“Why would they want you, him or you?”

Kirstie just nodded and continued. “They came just before you came, looking for the girl that stood in defense of Lindisfarne four years earlier. They heard the story of the giant that stood with the girl. I have no doubt they heard about the giant I had working on my farm, though he has gone home now, but it pointed the finger at me. Of course, it can’t have been the same giant that stood with the woman at Lindisfarne, so it might have been a coincidence, but I am sure they suspect me.”

“A giant?” Wilam asked.

“He was a troll, disguised to look more or less human,” Kirstie said.

Wilam took a deep breath. “A troll. I hope you bear with me. Some of this is going to take some getting used to.”

Kirstie smiled for him. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it easy for you. They will all love you like I do.”

Wilam nodded. “All the spirits, the ones who came to tell me you were standing alone against four hundred terrible Vikings; they all seemed nice. I can only imagine it is terribly hard being responsible for all of them. How many are there, anyway?”

“Far more than I care to count,” Kirstie said. “But the point is, Lind and Gruden have their eyes on me at this point. They have no proof, but I am sure they are looking for witnesses and evidence to pin me to the to the crimes.”

“What crimes?”

“None, except crimes against the Masters.” Kirstie stopped and took Wilam’s hand. She faced him so he understood how important this was. “There are men… and women in history who have repeat lives in the future.”

“Like you?” Wilam interrupted. “That is what Inga told me. She said you lived many times in the past and you will live again in the future, and you can become those people in a time of need. I did not exactly understand, but that is what she said. I did see you disappear, and the beautiful lady came to your place in Normandy. She certainly did some remarkable things.”

“In this life I am not quite so remarkable. I’m just Kirstie, your wife.”

“I guess that woman was who Father McAndrews was talking about when he said something similar aboard the ship. He said you disappeared and the mother goddess of all the Celts came and stood in your place. After she was done, she vanished, and you returned.”

“A fair description,” Kirstie said. “But no, the servants of the Masters are not like me. I have lived and will live more than a hundred times all in a row and without a break in all that time. The servants of the masters have maybe three, or at most five lifetimes strategically placed to interfere with history and the development of the human race. I sometimes believe the Masters must be demons from Hell, so you can imagine what their servants go for; to steal, kill, and destroy.”

“And lie,” Wilam added, and it made Kirstie smile.

“Some of my little ones are expert liars, and it doesn’t seem to matter how much I tell them that is not a good thing.” Kirstie coughed and removed the smile. “Anyway, whatever life I am living, sometimes I am the only one standing in the way of the Masters achieving their goal of ruling over all the humans in this world and, I believe, bringing humanity to destruction.”

“Lind and Gurden?”

“Gruden. Yes. They can only be working for the Masters and looking for the Kairos, which is what the ancient gods called me.” Kirstie lowered her head. It was a lot to take in and it said their life together might not always be a peaceful one, but then in her day and age, especially among the Vikings, no life was necessarily peaceful.

Wilam put on his serious face. “And I thought hunting down hags was going to be dangerous enough.”

“Hopefully, there will not be any more hags. Abraxas, the would-be-god that created them has been banished from the earth.” He looked curious, so she explained. “He is wandering around the second heavens thinking about giving up his flesh and blood and going over to the other side, that is dying, which he should have done nine hundred years ago.”

“In the time of the Christ?”

“Yes. When the Master of the Masters was overcome, the Lord of this world was defeated. That was when the ancient gods went over to the other side.”

“But not all.”

“Nearly all. But let me add, the one thing the Maters are most against is the spread of the faith in Christ. It is the one real thing that stands in the way of the Masters evil vision for humanity.”

“I…” Wilam paused and nodded slowly. “I think I understand. So, Lind and Gruden…”

“I would rather have them waste their time looking for me than scheming to start a war or assassinate some ruler or some such thing.”

“So, maybe we need to make it more difficult to find you.” he said, and this time she felt curious. “We haven’t talked about where we will live.”

“This is my home,” Kirstie said defensively.

“And a fine home it will be, but while Lind and Gruden are poking around, maybe I can convince you to come and meet my family.”

“Your mother?” Kirstie asked. He nodded, and she hoped he did not see her trepidation at that prospect. She still held his hand, so she took him inside her house.

The house was full of people, and they all yelled, “Surprise.”

Medieval 5: K and Y 20 Misdirection, part 1 of 3

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Kirstie

Yrsa woke Kirstie after roughly six hours of sleep. The late spring sun looked ready to rise, and Kirstie asked first thing, “Has the island been evacuated?”

Yrsa had to pause and sense her surroundings before she answered. “I don’t think so. There seem to be humans in a big room not far from here, yelling. I can feel the anger and upset from here, but I can’t hear their words, exactly, so I can’t tell you what it is about.”

Kirstie stood and touched her dress. “Fresh and clean, and no wrinkles,” she said, and the dress complied. “Too bad I can’t make my body do the same thing.” Yrsa nodded, but Kirstie felt it was not exactly fair. Yrsa always looked fresh and clean. “So, we go and find out,” she said, though she could guess. She walked into the run-down church, really a chapel overlooked by the ruins, and arrived in time to hear what the abbot said.

“But we are a small community. We have no riches. Most of our land has been taken from us, and we no longer have any influence on anyone. Why would anyone come here looking for gold and silver? I have prayed about this, and the Lord has assured me this holy island will not be despoiled for as long as I am here. Why would you come now and tell such mean and awful lies, and stir up so much trouble among the people?”

“He is not lying,” Yrsa said.

Father McAndrews mumbled something followed by a whispered “Forgive me.”

“Well then,” Kirstie shouted, interrupting the men, and gaining all of their attention. “I have my work cut out for me.” Kirstie called and became clothed in her armor and weapons. The men in the chapel shouted in response, except Father McAndrews who appeared to nod. Yrsa changed more subtly to her leather but pulled her bow seemingly out of thin air. “Come on, Yrsa. We have to see if we can stop almost four hundred men from despoiling this place.” Kirstie stopped in the doorway. “No promises on my part.”

Father McAndrews spoke. “I pray that those who are with you are more than those who are against you.”

“Good choice,” Kirstie said, and they left the building.

Kirstie contacted Fardlevan as soon as they were outside. She asked him to keep track of the progress of the longships. He said they were not far offshore and headed straight for the rise between the chapel and the old end rock. They would have to come uphill to reach the monastery and the ruins, but with more than three hundred and fifty men, they had ten times the number of men, women, and children left on the entire island, and of the thirty-five humans that refused to escape to the mainland in the nighttime low tide, twenty were unarmed monks and the rest were relatively unarmed fishermen..

Kirstie sat on the edge of the rise where the chapel stood. She found the remains of a wall in that place and sat atop the wall to wait. In front of her, between her and the sea, a flat and open space reached all the way to the small cliff and rocky shoreline. The Viking ships landed carefully along the rocky shore, and most dropped their anchors to steady the longships. a few men were left on each ship, but most came to shore and climbed the short cliff easily enough.

Kirstie got down from the wall to face them, and Yrsa joined her. Kirstie pulled her battleax, set the handle on the ground, and gripped the top of the axe with both hands, like one might hold a cane. Then she waited and growled a little.

When the men came to field, they saw her, and some stopped to look at their captains and skipari. Ulf, Harrold, Odger, and the two captains Kirstie did not know well did not stop. Rune, Jarl, and Bo Erikson paused. Kirstie concentrated. She did not want to burn Yrsa. She did not want to burn the men if she could help it. “Close your eyes,” she told Yrsa, and let a touch of the sun the god Fryer gave her out from her pores. She tried to direct it toward the front and not toward Yrsa.

The men across the way all yelled and shouted. They covered their eyes and felt what little heat did go with the light. Some sounded angry. Some sounded afraid. But they all stopped moving forward which is what Kirstie wanted. She quickly yelled as she stopped the light, hoping at least the ones who mattered would hear.

“You will not desecrate this holy island. These few monks have lost their property. They are barely able to grow enough for their daily bread. They have no gold and no silver. You have come here for nothing. Turn around and leave this place and leave these holy men alone or suffer the wrath of God.”

The angry men responded. “That won’t satisfy Cnut. We won’t get paid. You are lying.”

Captain Ulf raised his voice. “Which god?” Everyone grew silent.

“God almighty, father of our Lord Jesus the Christ,” she answered.

“And are you champion of this lord and god?” Ulf asked.

“We are here,” Kirstie heard behind her. Father McAndrews and three of the monks came to stand with her and Yrsa.

Kirstie turned her head and quietly commanded, “Stay here.” She stepped ten paces from the wall and shouted. “And you, Captain Ulf from Steinker, are you champion for these men or are you afraid and a coward?”

Plenty of eyes turned to Ulf and saw him spit. He came out from the group and stepped forward to meet her. “You insult me. Now I will have to kill you.” Njal the giant followed his captain a few steps behind.

As Kirstie stepped forward to meet Ulf in the middle of the open field, she mocked the man. “You need to fight two against one? That is hardly fair, even for a coward.”

Ulf looked back when he stopped to face Kirstie. “Stay out of it,” he told Njal before he spoke to Kirstie. “Njal is my second, just to make sure you don’t cheat.”

“So, I get a second,” Kirstie said.

“You have your girl.”

Kirstie shook her head. “To make things more even,” she said and called, “Vortesvin.” The troll appeared behind her and took a few moments to orient himself to where he was and what was happening. Vortesvin came still covered in his glamour of humanity, so he looked like an eight and a half foot true giant, not like Njal who was merely a tall man. Vortesvin came in work clothes complete with a floppy straw hat, and he only carried a hoe, but he was not only a foot and a half taller than Njal, he looked much wider as well, with muscles like the incredible Hulk. Njal took two steps back and likely considered turning around and running away.

“Vortesvin. You are not to interfere. You are here to observe, and make sure Ulf does not cheat, and see that Njal does not interfere either. If Ulf cheats or Njal interferes, you have my permission to rip them to shreds.”

“Yes, Lady.” The slight growl in the words of Vortesvin did not help Njal one bit, or Ulf for that matter.

Kirstie pulled her shield from her back, raised her battleax, and stood at the ready. Ulf pulled his sword and did not bother with his shield, like he thought this would not take long. He came at her with three quick strokes and forced her back. She swung her axe at his head, and he jumped back. She swung at his legs, and he jumped back again. He got mad and came at her, but she blocked his sword with her shield and swung again for his neck. He avoided the hit, but she scraped his shoulder and tore the leather. If this had been a more modern duel, first blood would have ended it in Kirstie’s favor, but this was not really a duel. Someone would die.

Ulf stepped back to think. Maybe this won’t be so easy, and he pulled his shield. Both combatants paused as an arrow flew passed. Someone in the line of men cried out. He was one of Ulf’s crew. He grabbed his chest where Yrsa’s arrow pierced his heart. His own arrow left the bow but did not travel far as he dropped the bow and fell over, dead.

“Cheater,” Kirstie said, and Ulf roared and rushed her, landing blow after blow. It hurt her left arm to fend off the sword with her shield. Kirstie got a couple of blows against the man which kept him from simply overpowering her, but sometimes he used his shield like a club, and she kept backing up because of it. Finally, she swung a hard blow to the top of his head, but he got his shield up in a way that caught the blade. Her axe busted the metal border and stuck fast in the top of the boss. Ulf grinned and yanked the axe right out of Kirstie’s hand. It smarted something terrible.

The axe flew to the ground, and after a moment to examine his broken and cracked shield, he threw the shield after the axe. He got both hands on his sword where he could take advantage of his superior strength. He grinned at her. He thought he had her, but Kirstie called, and her sword, salvation, vacated the sheath and flew to her hand. Ulf paused in wonder, but it was what Kirstie needed. She moved her shield to her right arm and gripped her sword with her left hand.

Ulf came at her, swinging wildly. Again, she backed up and turned toward his sword side, so he kept having to turn to get at her. She did use her shield as a club a couple of times to make him back up. She was told not to do that. It would tire her out much too quickly, but she had no choice. He was relentless, and while she tried to respond with her own sword, she eventually had her sword knocked from her weak left hand.

Finally, she tripped, or got pushed, or blocked his blow in just the wrong way. Her shield slipped from her arm as she landed on her back. His expression turned to gloating. He turned his sword to point down on her. He planned to pin her to the ground like a bug. He stood over her, but he forgot. Kirstie called the sword to her hand, and as he struck down, she shoved her sword up into his middle even as she twisted and sat up, so his blow missed her completely.

Ulf’s eyes got big. Kirstie used her foot against the man’s chest to pull her sword from his middle. She pulled some of the man’s insides with it, and he fell on his back to bleed out.

Medieval 5: K and Y 10 Home Again, part 2 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Inga and Hilda met Kirstie at the dock and Kirstie introduced her thralls and explained while Fiona collected their few things for the walk to Kirstie’s house. “They were taken in Northumbria. They were already serfs or slaves to the manor there, so being brought to Olvishaugr in the Skaun did not change their status much. Fiona lost her husband, Aidan, when the Vanlil came. She also lost her left arm from the elbow down. The man said it was a wonder she survived. The boys are Oswald, ten, and Edwin, eight. They are a bit young to do much, but they will grow. The man said he could not afford to feed them for nothing and keep them until the boys got big enough to be useful. They did not cost much. I figure the boys can learn to keep the sheep out of the grain and pull weeds from the garden, and the mother cooks so I don’t have to.”

“I hope it works,” Inga said.

“Speaking of cooking,” Hilda said with a grin and a pat on her enlarged belly. “I need to go home. I can’t walk that far anymore.” She hugged Kirstie and walked off, Inga and Kirstie staring. Kirstie said it.

“The girl waddles like a duck and she is just six months along.”

Inga chose not to comment, though she did whisper when they were on their way to Kirstie’s house. “Have you considered what to do when certain people show up on your doorstep? I mean, you get plenty of strange visitors.”

“We already talked about that. Fiona is used to having little ones around. She calls them the wee ones, or the good people. She says she even saw one once. We should be all right as long as Vortesvin the troll doesn’t show up.”

Inga rolled her eyes before she laughed. “Leave it to you to be friends with a troll.”

“A big ugly one, too. He has some ogre blood. But he is a nice fellow beneath that rock hard exterior, and he even seems to have a brain.”

“You sound like you like him,” Inga said, surprised until she put it together in her mind. “He is one of yours.”

Kirstie nodded. “All the trolls. I am responsible for all the sprites of the air, fire, water, and the earth. That includes all the elves, light and dark, and the dwarfs in between. Trolls are in there somewhere.”

“Giants?” Inga asked.

“No.” Kirstie shook her head. “In fact, even among the little ones, the little spirits of the earth, there are far more than the few I am responsible for. I have no responsibility for any lesser spirits or greater spirits, and certainly not for any flesh and blood people like giants or mermaids. I have no say over the swan people, or seal people, or any such people.

“Just the sprites,” Inga confirmed in her mind, although “sprites” was a generic enough term where it did not honestly explain who was included and who was not. “How do you know which ones are yours?”

“I know,” Kirstie said with finality. She thought for a moment while they walked and then tried to explain a bit more. “I have thought about this for a long time. I think in the beginning, the gods decided they could more or less watch over the lesser and greater spirits. Mostly those spirits did their work and there was not much interaction with the gods, or with people for that matter. Oh, the gods might call up a hurricane, or turn one away, but generally, the spirits did their jobs and that was fine.”

“Okay,” Inga said, to show she was listening even if she did not exactly understand.

Kirstie backed up the story a little bit to speak of an earlier time. “All of the universe is alive in one way or another. It is constantly changing. Gravity, electro-magnetism, time all bring changes.” Kirstie stopped and waved off the questions that might bring. “At some point, some five thousand four hundred years ago, there was a tower built to the glory of man. The Most High God scattered the people at that time and confused the languages so like today, different people speak different languages, and we cannot understand each other easily.”

Kirstie looked and Inga nodded slightly. “Well, at that time, the gods were given the job of watching over the human race, to test and try the souls of the people to see if they were fit for heaven or hell. The gods could encourage, support, strengthen or weaken, guide, defend, or withdraw their protection as they saw fit. They were not allowed to decide how things should turn out, but they laid the foundation for morality and natural law and showed that in this world there is a greater power than the human self, and that power will one day hold all people accountable for their lives so no one would have an excuse. But in their work, the gods noticed that certain little spirits worked close to the humans and risked interfering with the work and the development of humanity. They were mostly the little ones that were able to take on a form of flesh and blood, even to appear human, though they are not.”

“Like Yrsa,” Inga understood. “She looks human enough, but I have seen behind the glamour she wears and know she is not really human at all.”

Kirstie nodded this time. “The gods wanted to give the responsibility to someone to watch over them and keep them to their tasks, and most importantly, to prevent them from interfering with humanity. They were reluctant to put that much power into the hands of one of their own because for one thing, that person would have to be able to travel around the world as needed. They would have to have access to the lands of Aesgard and the lands of the Celts, the Africans, the Romans, the eastern lands… The sprites move with the winds, the seeds, and the waves, you know, and are not tied down to only here or only there.”

“But you are tied down to this place,” Inga said and held up her own hand this time to say what she thought she understood. “You have lived many lives in the past and will continue to live into the future. I get that. But in this life, and at least most of them you are just a plain, ordinary human and nothing special.”

“Thanks,” Kirstie interrupted. “I’m just an average nobody,” she said in a goofy voice.

Inga smiled, but she knew that Kirstie knew what she was saying, so Inga continued. “In any case, you are not a god like the gods. You may be immortal after a fashion, but you die time and again and are reborn somewhere else on the earth.”

“And very disturbing it is when that happens,” Kirstie said.

Inga nodded. She could imagine. “So, the gods give you the little ones they want to watch over, because you are not tied to one place on the earth, and not being an actual god, you are no threat to them.”

“Basically,” Kirstie nodded.

“But you are tied down to this place for as long as you live your life. What if there is trouble in Egypt? That is a long way from here and I doubt Rune Stenson would be willing to sail that far.”

Kirstie stopped walking. They had reached her farm, and she had servants to get settled.

Reflections Wlvn-11 part 3 of 3

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The group left early in the morning. The poor villagers, still in a state of shock, began to grieve for the dead. Sadly, Flern could not do anything for them, and she feared the night creatures would show up and finish the job if they did not leave. They had a pass into the mountains to navigate.

Thred did not like the climb, and they often walked the horses as they climbed. There seemed little else they could do beyond struggling up the rough path at a gentle but steady pace. Wlkn looked back now and then, afraid of what might be coming next, but the others kept their eyes focused ahead and did not really have the strength to spare.

The clouds thickened all that day, so they were forced to spend a night among the rocks. Though they had food and managed a fire, it became a cold and miserable night all the same. Flern shivered by sunrise, and when she heard the baby wail in the distance, she shivered all the more.

The second day became a repeat of the first, only this time the legs and backs already ached. By lunch, it finally began to snow, and it came down in blizzard proportions for hours. Even Elleya got cold in the chill wind that seemed to sweep right up the mountainside with an unnatural strength. Boritz, who had been exceptionally quiet since the ghouls, gave her his shirt, and it helped. It covered her to well below the knees, almost like a dress. Andrea looked up at the big man and he looked down at her, sheepishly. Then she stood on her toes, and he still had to lean down a bit, and they kissed, and enough so the others had to look away to be polite.

“That is just for warmth,” Andrea said as she took hold of her horse’s reigns and started to walk again. Boritz said nothing, but he did appear to grin rather broadly, and continued to grin for some time after.

They reached the top of the pass just as the afternoon came to a close and the snow finally tapered off. Wlkn looked back and Elleya looked with him. Andrea and Boritz were trying hard not to look at each other. Moriah and Badl were looking at each other and congratulating each other on making the climb; though to be sure, they were far less tired than the others, apart from Laurel, who still appeared as fresh as a spring flower. Flern felt exhausted from the two-day climb, and all of the stress. She admitted that stress had a lot to do with her condition. She presently felt worn very thin. No wonder she reacted the way she did when the giants approached them—just ordinary ten- or twelve-foot giants, not Titans.

“We have no argument with you, grandson of Perun.” The blond leader of the group recognized Boritz and made a point of asking him to stay out of it. Boritz stood an impossibly big man in that day and age, but he stood several feet shorter than the smallest of the giants. Nevertheless, the giants clearly respected the man, or at least they respected the blood that ran in Boritz’s veins. “We just want the red headed girl. The rest of you can go in peace.” Loki had apparently figured out the switch.

“And do what with her?” Badl asked. Flern presently had her head in her hands. She started working on a whopper headache.

“We have no quarrel with the dwarfs or elves. You are safe here.” The chief said, and that was all he was going to say, but one of the giants in the back spoke up, though he probably should have held his tongue.

“The god said we could roast her, and when we were done, we should throw her remains off the cliff. Then he will bless us with all sorts of good things.” A young giant, he clearly looked forward to the good things, whatever they might be.

Flern snapped. She floated up off of Thred’s back and found the power to fly up to the lead giant’s face where he stood, one giant step out from the crowd. She wagged her finger sternly in that face and yelled. “My village got overrun with the enemy and my family may already be dead for all I know. I escaped to get help, but all I get is one stupid headache after another.” The giant took a step back in the face of her fury, but she followed him. “I was almost raped, and I had to kill him, and I resent whoever manipulated that poor slow mind in the first place. Then I got in a battle and plenty of good people got killed. Then I got tricked into looking into a mirror and I got sucked into this time period and I might never be able to get home. Now, I have lost all of my friends back home as well as my family.” Flern started to glow as her anger began to seep out of her pores, and the giant took another step back.

“But I got stuck here, only to get into another battle, and this time it was not with men, but with ghouls. Now, I am dirty, beat up, and worn to my last thread. I don’t have time to play with a bunch of stupid little giants, so you better hear this. Loki does not own me. I do not belong to the gods and do not bow to them because I have been counted as one of them for hundreds of years. Loki can promise you whatever he wants, but he cannot give me to you, and I will tell you right now you don’t have the guts to take me. You get the same warning I gave the ghouls, leave now and I will let you live. The ghouls did not listen and now they are all dead and here we are, safe and sound. So, leave now before I get really mad.” The giant took one more step back and ended in the midst of his group.

Laurel, Moriah and Elleya had their mouths open. Badl and Wlkn cowered, never having imagined that this sweet little red-headed girl could vent like this. Boritz stood calmly, cradled his big club in his arms like a baby, and Andrea reached up to take the big man’s arm and stand close to him. The corners of Andrea’s lips turned up ever so slightly, and she nodded, but otherwise she looked cool and calm in the face of the storm.

Flern began to weep, even as the chief giant yelled back. “Get her.” No giants moved to obey that command as the earth began to shake and rumble. A genuine earthquake. A sudden great gust of wind blew Flern back to her friends where she fell on to a pile of soft snow and let out her tears. She utterly ignored the rumbling beneath her. No one else ignored it. They all screamed and shouted at each other to hold on. The giants all fell to the earth except one who managed to spread his legs, lean over and place his hands on the ground. He looked like a jackass ready to kick, but he did not utterly collapse. Then rocks began to shoot up like spikes reaching for the heavens. They came up between the two parties and became like a wall so neither side could get at the other. When the wall became complete, the shaking stopped, and Badl, Andrea and Wlkn had a terrible time rounding up the horses.

A woman appeared beside the wall, but on Flern’s side of the wall. She stood too tall, perhaps a foot taller than the tallest giant, and while she wore a long dress that looked and moved like silk in the wind, she appeared to have gray skin and white, marble eyes that were nevertheless alert and aware.

“Who are you?” Flern looked up and feared that this might be yet another one of Loki’s surrogates.

“I am Carpasis, the oread of the mountain, and this is my pass. Greovic and his friends shall not determine who may pass and who may not.”

Flern let out a laugh, a small slightly hysterical laugh, while the Storyteller echoed instructions into her mind. “My name is Flern. I seek the Golden Hind, and my favorite color is red.”

The oread stopped moving. “The red suits you,” she said. “But I know who you are and what you seek. The goddess came this way only a day ago. She has gone on to visit my sister, Sylvan in the place where the river runs out of the plateau and down the far side on its journey to the Great River. You must cross the plateau, not go around as you have been thinking, and you must look for my sister when you arrive, before you descend into the Great River Valley.”

Flern took that as permission given and she immediately whistled for Thred who came bounding up like a faithful puppy dog. The others tried to get up on their horses. Only Andrea had a bit of a problem calming her horse enough to take Boritz once again. “Thank you.” Flern looked at the oread who looked startled for just a second.

“You’re welcome,” Carpasis responded, and then added one thought. “If my earth shake sent some of my children of stone into the valley below, and if one boulder happened to crush a night creature, it cannot be helped. There are still four behind you, though I cannot imagine they will bother you tonight.

“Thank you again.” Flern repeated and she started forward before anything else changed. Laurel caught up to ride beside her.

“The Great Lady of Love is most thoughtful to provide a way for us.” Laurel said, having guessed who Carpasis meant with the word, goddess.

“Yes, and I thank her every day.” Flern admitted.

Laurel paused before she spoke again. “So, we are going across the plateau of the Were after all.”

“Yes. Faya help us.”

Laurel said no more, she just clicked her tongue.

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

MONDAY

The quest needs to cross the plateau of the Were, that is, werewolves, not to mention lions, tigers, and bears… Until next time, Happy Thanksgiving and Happy Reading.

*

Reflections Wlvn-9 part 2 of 3

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Neither Wlkn nor Badl moved, and Badl rather yawned.

“Well?” the man asked.

“Oh, are you talking to me?” Badl asked. “I thought you were talking to the man. There is only one at present.”

“Eh?”

Wlkn shook his head. “I’ve lived my whole life under the gaze of the Titan. Now, there is a giant! What can a mortal man do worse than that?”

The big man grumbled.

“Hello. Do you have a name? My name is Elleya.” Of course, she had to speak up.

“What brings you our way?” Flern asked, as some suspicion crept into her voice.

“Hold on a minute, Red.” The man said. He seemed to be examining them closely. “It was the God of Light who sent me. He said I should meet you in the way. He said one dwarf, one halfling, one elf, one mermaid.” He counted his fingers as he pointed.

“I’m the mermaid.” Elleya said with glee.

“Wait! One elf, one mermaid, one old man, one lady, and one red headed man who I was to help reach the Great River beyond the mountains.” He paused and this time everyone waited in silence. “So are you them? Where is the old man and the red-headed man?” He stepped a little closer to Andrea and removed his hat altogether. “I see the wee spirits and the half-one, and the perfect lady.” He tried his best grin. “The god was right about that. But where are the others?”

“I’m the old man.” Wlkn spoke up. “I’m fifty and a bit, just older than the elf maid.”

“He had a run-in with Ydunna and one of her golden apples.” Badl said by way of explanation.

“And I’m the red-haired fellow?” Flern raised her hand.

The man looked again. “Sorry Red, but I can see you are definitely not a man. Why, you are almost as lovely as your lady friend here.”

“Andrea.” Andrea gave her name, though it seemed hard to read her expression.

“Boritz.” The big man readily gave his name in return.

“My name is Flern.” Flern tried to gain the man’s attention again. “And it is kind of complicated, but for now you have to pretend I am the red-headed man. Gods willing, he will come back here soon, and I can go home.”

There came a moment before the man shook himself free from staring at Andrea. “No. The god said a red headed man. Now, I don’t think the gods can be mistaken, and especially about something like that.” His eyes went back to Andrea and his smile returned as well.

Flern shook her head and tried to explain. “The gods don’t have my lifeline so what I do is a mystery to them. I am sure Wlvn was here when Vry talked to you; but Vry had no idea I would double trade and screw everything up.”

“Hush. Not so.” The others tried to comfort Flern, and she tried hard to hear them.

Boritz did not pay the least attention, staring as he did at Andrea. “Very clever, by the way, riding on the backs of your supper.”

“These horses are not for eating!” Wlkn spoke right up.

“I thought that very thing at first,” Badl admitted. “But I have since learned that these horses are good for something more than bacon, maybe.”

“Stop. You are making my mouth water,” Boritz said.

Flern dismounted.

“My Moriah is a good cook, too,” Badl added. Moriah blushed.

“Your Moriah?” Andrea and Laurel spoke together.

“Ours.” Badl quickly corrected himself. “Our Moriah.”

“Do you know the way over the mountains?” Flern interrupted Boritz and stood between him and Andrea to be sure she had the man’s attention, not that he could not look right over her head. Boritz nodded. “And across the plateau and over the mountains on the other side?” Flern finished.

Boritz got serious for a minute. “The Were plateau is not for crossing. But I know some ways to go,” he said. “I’ve been all the way to the Great River several times.”

“Good.” Flern steeled herself and gave it her best shot. She grabbed Boritz the giant by his coat and lifted him right off his feet, to the surprise of everyone, not the least herself. She had to toss him a little to get him up on the horse but managed to set him behind Andrea. “I can’t just lay hands on like Wlvn, but you need to ride behind Andrea.” Andrea gave Flern a dirty look, but Flern knew that the god of light, Vry, was the twin brother of Vrya, the goddess of love, and she knew Vrya had a hand in Andrea’s arrival, so she simply added two and two together. She felt certain that Boritz had to be the one that Aphrodite knew would make Andrea happy. Flern remembered what Wlvn got told, that no one in the Greco-Roman world would make the girl happy. “And Elleya. Njord gave you to Wlvn?” Elleya did not understand the sudden question, but Wlkn answered.

“Yes, that’s right.”

Flern nodded. Njord was Vrya and Vry’s father. And Tyr sent Badl, and Tyr would one day be Vrya’s husband and father of Nameless, though Flern was not sure if Tyr or Vrya realized that yet. In any case, they respected each other and were cooperative and in agreement on most things, so where Thor, Njord and Baldur were giving women to tempt Wlvn—to be sure he faced the Titan—Vrya, Vry and Tyr were making sure those women got attached to someone else.

They made an early camp that evening, and Laurel went out with Moriah to hunt. Badl and Flern gathered what they could, while the other two couples sat around swapping stories. That evening when the sun set, Boritz lay down with Badl and Wlkn, though Elleya had to also lie beside her Wilken. That left the four girls to commiserate. It turned cold that night, so they huddled by the fire for warmth. Flern had to ask.

“So, what do you think of Boritz?” She looked straight at Andrea who had ridden with him all afternoon. Laurel and Moriah also looked at her, but their interest seemed like mere curiosity.

“I think he is the biggest, most arrogant, self-interested, and self-centered braggart on two feet.” Andrea answered. Laurel and Moriah looked shocked and felt sorry for Andrea, but Flern knew better.

“Really?” Flern said. “Do you like him that much?”

Andrea tried to keep a straight face, but she could not help the corners of her mouth or keep them from lifting up just a little. “Yes,” she said, and Flern said no more about it.

A short while later, Flern lifted her head from the conversation. She felt afraid that her ears were hearing the wail of a baby, but Laurel set her straight. “It is the swan’s song,” and Flern sighed in relief

“I thought swans were day creatures,” Moriah said, and Laurel shrugged. They all listened for a bit and Flern thought she heard something mournful in the song that maybe Wlvn never heard. It sounded very sad to her ears, though she could not imagine why.

Later still, when Flern finally got to sleep, she dreamed about the swan, and it seemed a lovely dream, but then she had a nightmare about the night creatures and felt fortunate that she did not start screaming in her sleep.

Reflections W-2 part 2 of 3

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Wlvn had a week to prepare for his journey to the center of the universe. He left the actual preparation of the grain and the wagon in Gndr’s hands since Gndr came of age and could not avoid going. Strn, not old enough, had to stay home and take care of Brmr, though Wlvn expected old man Wlkn to do most of the watching since he finally reached the age considered too old to make the trip.

“It will probably snow,” Wlkn said, while his eyes examined the sky. “And the villagers from Mskvt will fail to show up with the grain, and with the snow, we probably won’t be able to hunt or gather much.” Wlvn ignored the man and walked away before Wlkn started in on starving to death and whatever other worries might be on his mind.

While Gndr got the grain ready, Wlvn carved a new kind of harness, one where the horse could pull with his shoulders, not cut against his neck. He knew he tempted some time displacement in doing that, but he would not put Thred in any other kind of harness, and he would not take any other horse. Thred did not like being made to pull a wagon at all, but he was willing to lower himself for Wlvn’s sake who believed, without any evidence, that it was imperative he have the quick means for a getaway.

“All right, Thred. It won’t be for long.” Wlvn assured the horse and the horse puffed in response, but settled into a nice, easy pace. When they got to the line, Gndr seemed amazed. He never saw so many people in his life and he did not know that many existed. Wlvn hushed him and told him to keep his head lowered and do as he was told, just as he had been instructed by their father. “Don’t draw attention to yourself.” Wlvn talked to both Gndr and Thred, and then he looked around for his mysterious cloak, but he did not see Mother Vrya anywhere.

When they came to the top of the rise, Gndr let out the expected gasp, and Wlvn hushed him as he had been hushed. As they came near enough to be within range of hearing, Gndr, Wlvn, and every man and woman in the train had a terrible start. Wlvn had to cover Gndr’s mouth to keep him from screaming, and he had to look away to keep his own scream at bay. The Titan came out of the dome. He eyed the horses in the line and drooled like he could eat several, raw, and no doubt he would have if the immortal had not stepped between them.

“My Lord!” Loki shouted up and did something in the exercise of his godly power to be sure he was heard. Wlvn and everyone else found their eyes drawn up to the Titan, but in his fear, Wlvn quickly pulled his gaze away and turned it toward a party of mounted men that were half-hidden by one of the long houses. Wlvn recognized several men from the villages who looked to be riding in good order, and some helpers were with them, though they did not look at all comfortable on horseback. “My Lord!” Loki regained Wlvn’s attention. “Consider this new development before you act in haste. Think how these riders can extend your territory and bring ever more to the truth.”

The Lord of All did consider, and he looked out over the line of humanity which already served him, utterly. When he spoke, it was in a voice like thunder.

“Very well.” The Titan’s face seemed easy to read. He looked reluctant to give up his lunch. “For it has been said: cursed is the ground because of men. Through wretchedness they shall eat of it all their days. By the sweat of the ground, they shall eat until they return to the ground from whence they came, for they are dust and to the dust they shall return. All men must know this. We will extend our reach until all men can be made to understand.” With that, the Titan reached out and grabbed a man, snatched him right up off the ground. The man screamed. Many people screamed and looked away. The man stopped screaming when the Titan bit the man’s head off and went back into his dome because clearly the smell of horseflesh was driving him crazy.

Wlvn focused his eyes for a minute on Loki and noted how easily he swayed the Titan, even when the Titan wanted something. Wlvn wondered who was in charge here, and the worst of it, Loki would probably get away with it by blaming it all on the Titan. Wlvn felt like letting out a little Flern-type “Grrr,” but he got interrupted by a woman’s voice.

“No, no, my son.” He felt the tap on his forehead. Of course, by the time Wlvn looked around, the cloak went half-way down the line. He watched it disappear over the little rise, and then he heeded Mother Vrya’s advice, turned his eyes from Loki and concentrated on the task at hand. He reached down and scooped up a big handful of mud left from the recent fall rains. He splattered it directly in Gndr’s face which made Gndr open his eyes, wide. The mud went back and forth for a little, but then Wlvn ended it when he spoke.

“That is about as unappetizing as I can make us, now drag your feet and look down. Don’t do anything except what you are told.”

Gndr looked like he finally understood on the third telling. He tried to look stupid which Wlvn thought was a very simple thing for his brother to do.

When Wlvn and Gndr were third from the front, the movement of the horsemen caught Wlvn’s attention. He looked up, but his first sight was the face of Eir, peering out from the little window in her cage. He felt like she called him and spoke to him, though she could not have been speaking, exactly, from that distance. “It is a trap.” Wlvn hardly had time to respond when the horsemen pulled up for a closer look.

Wlvn looked down, emptied his mind and did everything he could think of to hide, hoping they would pass him by, but they stopped alongside the wagon all the same. Wlvn looked up at the riders in a last, mad hope that they might not give him away, but what he saw disturbed him beyond anything he had yet seen. The humans looked like empty shells. This appeared far worse than mere mind control or brainwashing. These men were the living dead, soulless zombies, animated flesh or flesh reanimated by the souls of the men after death, and it seemed a wonder the horses would even let them ride. Again, Wlvn suspected Loki. Wlvn knew that none of those living-dead options would be beyond the reach of the gods, but he also knew that the flesh was probably no longer under human control. No doubt, the flesh had become demon infested. They certainly pointed out Wlvn without hesitation, and one of the decaying corpses even made a sound probably meant to be, “He is the one,” but it came out, “Eeeaawonn”

Gndr screamed at the sight of the flesh falling off that finger, but Wlvn did not have the luxury to scream. One second, he reached for his knife and the next second he no longer stood there. Diogenes came all the way back in time from the court of Alexander the Great to stand in Wlvn’s place. What is more, he came clothed in the armor of the Kairos, god-forged chain mail over leather, and he had a sword at his back and a long knife across the small of his back also forged of that wonderful new material the dark elves had discovered, Flern’s dream metal, bronze.

“G-gods of Olympus!” Diogenes’ sword jumped into his hand, and he cut down the nearest helper where the helper had a hard time keeping his seat. He cut the restraining harness on Thred’s back with the same stroke. Thred responded by rearing up and making a great noise in the face of the zombies. Terrified by the smell of death, he could hardly contain himself. Gndr barely got out of the way, and at the same time, Diogenes sheathed his sword, well-practiced soldier he was, leapt up on Thred’s back and grabbed Gndr with his hand to drag the fifteen-year-old up behind him in one motion.

The zombies started to push their horses in to cut off his escape route, but Diogenes grabbed Gndr’s hands around his waist and brought Thred up again. Thred responded with a great noise and motion that made the other horses hesitate, and Diogenes seized the opportunity to race for freedom, brushing by the horse formerly occupied by one of the helpers, where the horse desperately tried to back away. Diogenes considered and went away from that place to let the Princess come and sit with Gndr, lightening the load on Thred’s back.

The sudden appearance of the woman in the man’s place disturbed and confused the zombies and dumbfounded the helpers so none of them went rushing after her. That allowed the Princess to take off back up the road at great speed, and she wasted none of the opportunity. Thred seemed more than happy to get out of there; but then, Loki, a master of false appearances, had not been fooled in the least; yet even he shouted, “Get him! Stop him! Kill him!” That did not help the zombies or the helpers since the boy, Gndr, was the only him present at the moment. The Princess wondered why Loki did not simply trap her with a small exercise of his godly power, but then, she did not waste too much energy wondering.

As soon as they were over the rise and out of sight, the Princess considered trading places once again through time even as she caught sight of the robe out of the corner of her eye. She thought Mother Vrya smiled. Of course! She traded places with Vrya’s son-to-be, the Nameless god, and that proved a good thing, because Gndr could not hold on much longer. Nameless glued the boy to his seat, but then he found he could do little more. No way they were going to disappear and reappear in Wlvn’s village. “Eir.” He said her name out loud. She was the one, blocking Loki’s efforts, canceling out any exercise of Loki’s godly power. That eased the Princess’ getaway. Unfortunately, Eir blocked Nameless as well. Nameless knew it was only because she was so young and did not exactly know what she was doing. Nameless smiled and loved the girl as he always would, and he at least tried to send a message. “Thanks. I’ll be back for you.” He felt her heart beat a little faster.

Thred let out great gasps of air by the time they got back to Wlvn’s village. The sun would soon be down, so he did not have much time to make his moves. Nameless unglued Gndr, who looked to be in absolute, uncomprehending shock, and then he let go of that place so Wlvn could return to his own life. Wlvn decided to keep the armor and weapons, however, and his armor dutifully adjusted itself to fit this new form

“Get down.” Wlvn had to tell his brother what to do and help him dismount.

Reflections W-1 part 3 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Since Wlvn had turned old enough for the pilgrimage, he got to hunt that winter with the men. He did not have to hang around his mother’s skirts and dig through the snow to gather whatever he could or climb trees to steal nuts from the squirrels. All of that digging and climbing could be hard work, especially when it turned ten or twenty below. Of course, hunting was not exactly easy, though as often as not, for the first couple of years Wlvn got to stay in the camp and keep the fire burning while the older men went out into the wilderness. In fact, he was busy doing that very thing one day when he had an unexpected visitor.

A mature man came to him, one certainly older than Wlvn, though it seemed hard for Wlvn to tell exactly how old the man was, like the man appeared very old and quite young at the same time. The man held in his hand a string of large, swift animals tied in a line. Wlvn had seen such animals before and ate one once when the men brought back one that they claimed had fallen into a ditch. He had never seen them before, though, with bits in their mouths and reigns and standing still in a line as if the man himself was the lead stallion.

“You are Wolven?” The man pronounced the name imperfectly. “I’m sorry. You must be. I can’t read your mind all that well.”

Wlvn felt that he knew this man even if he could not find a name. He decided to stand up as tall as he could to show that he was not afraid, though indeed, if he felt anything, it was a protective warmth that emanated from the man.

“I am Wlvn,” Wlvn said. “What brings you so far from home?” He asked that because he felt that surely this man had to be a long way from his normal haunts.

“I have Odin’s permission,” the man said, assuming that Wlvn knew who Odin was. “Nereus, the Sea Elder said that in all the world you would be the only one who would know what to do with these and make proper use of them.”

“Horses?” Wlvn said the word like a question even as his mind flooded with images from the future—images of riding horses, plowing in the fields, of chariots and carriages and millennia of cooperation. The dog might be man’s best friend, but the horse was always man’s best help. Wlvn had to sit down again to clear his head.

“Who are you, really?” The man asked as he tied the lead horse to a tree branch and stepped closer. Obviously, the man had some thoughts on the subject.

“Poseidon?” Wlvn named the man and the man stopped where he was. “But I don’t really know what to do with them. The idea of catching them and training them and caring for them is all too complicated right now for me to remember. I think I am still too young.” Wlvn looked up into the big man’s eyes, but the man smiled as if he had guessed correctly.

“No, but that is easy,” the man said, and before Wlvn could protest, the man took that last step forward and laid his big hands on Wlvn’s head. Then Wlvn knew. In that moment, he knew more about horses than anyone alive, perhaps ever. “And here.” The man took Wlvn’s hands to help him stand, and Wlvn felt a strong tingling in his hands as he stood. “Now you can give the basic knowledge to others. It is that simple.”

“But where did they come from?” Wlvn asked. He let go of the man’s hands to examine the lead horse. He felt a little uncomfortable and not sure he liked the way the man kept staring at him.

Poseidon tried to get serious as he shrugged. “Athena won.”

Wlvn put his hand to his head. It all felt like too much, too fast. He felt a little dizzy. “Athens.” He got that word out and it helped him say the rest. “The olive tree.” Poseidon nodded and smiled and Wlvn felt the strangest thing happen that he had yet imagined. A woman pushed up inside of him; or rather, not inside, but from somewhere in time, one of those imaginary lives he would one day live. She pressed really close to his consciousness. It almost sounded like she might be speaking to him, like she stood right beside him, or inside him as he thought at first. She appeared to be asking if she could visit with her husband for a minute.

No. Wlvn thought, absolutely not. But the woman pleaded so sweetly, and Wlvn felt so confused at the moment, he finally said yes, but make it quick. Then Wlvn no longer stood in his own shoes. A woman stood in his place and Poseidon spoke her name.

“Amphitrite.”

She stepped up into his arms and they kissed, passionately, before she asked how the children were.

“How like a woman,” Poseidon responded. “Our son is just fine.” Then he got a very curious expression. “Children?”

Amphitrite nodded but said no more. She had obviously appeared very deep in the past, and they only had one son, Triton, so far. She knew she was not supposed to tell him about the future, so instead she reached up again and let him kiss her again and again. Finally, they heard a “Cooo! Cooo!” in the distance and Amphitrite stepped back.

“I will do my best with your gift.” Amphitrite spoke for Wlvn.

“You always do.” Poseidon grinned, knowing it was time to leave. “Children.” He let that word float on the air as he vanished.

“Thank you Wlvn,” Amphitrite said, not hiding the grin on her own face. She said the words out loud, though she knew Wlvn would have heard her merest thought. She told the horses to be good and mind the boy, and then she let out a “Cooo!” in Wlvn’s voice before she vanished and let Wlvn come home.

The first thing Wlvn did was wipe his lips clean, though it had not been his actual lips that did the kissing. Then he sat down because that had been the strangest experience in his life. He wondered briefly if he could do that again, and he thought of Flern; but no, he did not want to be another stupid girl. He got a shock when he actually heard a response.

“And I don’t want to be a stupid boy, either.” Flern spoke clearly into Wlvn’s mind, and he even heard the raspberries. Fortunately, the lead horse had just nudged him and let out a puff of cold air. Wlvn had to look at the horse. The men were coming back, and he realized that he had to act fast. Even so, it was nearly impossible to keep Ktrn from immediately killing one of the beasts.

After Wlvn explained things as well as he could, leaving out the part about Amphitrite, of course, he laid hands on the men so the horses would not appear to be simply lunch. They returned to the village without much meat, but with the most sensational find any village ever knew. They rode home, and Wlvn felt two things he never felt before. First, he felt proud, and second, he felt happy. Until that moment, Wlvn could honestly say he did not really know what happiness was, and given the hardship of his life, that was no wonder. Now, with the horses, that life might be immeasurably improved. Sadly, that elated feeling lasted a very short time. Mother had been taken by the selection.

A great deal of yelling happened at first. Brmr and the boys fell to tears. They could not frame clear sentences, but Wlvn could hardly blame them. Finally, Father and the other hunters got old man Wlkn to explain.

“They came on the ground and with one of their air wagons, though I cannot imagine how it stays up in the air. Anyway, they had some selections on the ground, and they looked like a despairing lot, though I did not see anyone from the other villages that we know.”

“They come around for selections every few years.” Father interrupted. “They want to make sure we are not hiding any grain in the years of calling. We know this.”

“They searched everywhere,” Wlkn said, and his eyes got big and filled with fear at the memory. “They were very thorough, and I felt sure that this time I would be selected, but when they finished searching my house, your wife asked me to keep the children while they searched your house. Then they asked about everyone and made sure we were all accounted for. They wanted families and ages and all. Your wife was very honest. She said she had three sons and a daughter that was six. That seemed to satisfy them, and I thought they would leave, but they said something about her replacing herself and she got added to the selections. It was just like that.” Wlkn snapped his wretched old fingers. “They tied her to the end of the line, and they were gone.”

“Where did they go?” Wlvn spat and growled. The red rose to his face and made him look and feel like he had a fever.

Wlkn raised his brows, surprised by the fury of the boy. “To the next village, I suppose.”

“Father.” Wlvn turned to his father, but the man stood still like a statue. “Father, we have to go after them and get her back.”

“Oh, that would be very dangerous.” Wlkn verbalized his fears. “They have an air wagon that can rain fire from the sky, and the immortal came with them.”

“What?” That got Wlvn’s attention. “What immortal?”

“The tall, boney one with the crooked eyes.” Wlkn blinked. “They said he was looking for a particular person. I am only glad he did not find that person here. I hate to think what might have become of us.” Wlkn looked away and started to shake his head.

“Loki!” Wlvn spat again as he turned to his father, but the man kept shaking his head as well. “But we have the horses now. We can catch them by surprise.”

Father looked up at that, but his head still shook. “No, son. There is nothing we can do.” He grabbed Wlvn by the shirt and spoke sternly into his son’s face. “And I forbid you to go after them.” He shook his son hard before he let go.

Wlvn’s face turned red with both anger and tears. He stomped off and for the first time in his life he seriously considered being disobedient. Someday, someone had to do something. He knew the Princess could track them easily in the snow. She had been gifted by the goddess Artemis herself and knew all of the ways of the hunt. And Diogenes could beat them up. Wlvn believed that Alexander the Great’s first cousin was the greatest warrior of all time. It was hard to think of Diogenes as simply himself in another lifetime. And if Mother is hurt, Doctor Mishka can heal her.

“And accomplish what?” Wlvn heard the words clearly in his head. It was like when Flern talked to him, except this sounded like a man’s voice—like the Storyteller. “All you will do is make them mad enough to kill everyone.” There. He said it.

“I’m sorry, Wlvn.” Flern added her words, but by then, Wlvn sat down to cry, bitterly. There was nothing he could do.

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MONDAY Chapter 2

It does not take long to get horses into the hands of the people, but it puts a strain on Wlvn.  He takes a break before his village is called to the center of the universe where Loki and the Neanderthals are looking for him.

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Reflections W-1 part 1 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

WLVN

After 4026 B.C. Moscow in Ancient Days

Kairos 19: Wlvn, God of the Horses

It came time for the selection. The harvest was in and every speck of grain the family had struggled to grow got loaded in the rough, two-wheeled wagon—a heavy load for the old ox, but none of them had a choice. The very survival of the village was at stake, because if they failed to respond to the call, the village would be burned out by the fires from heaven. The helpers would come from the sky and no one and nothing would be left alive. Wlvn heard how it happened to one village in Wlvn’s lifetime.

“But Father,” Wlvn protested as he brushed back his red hair to wipe the sweat from his brow. “How shall we live if we bring all of our harvest to the center of the universe?” The practical question had to come as it always did; but secretly Wlvn felt excited because he was finally old enough to see the Lord of All and the great dome with his own eyes.

“We shall glean.” Father gave the practical answer he always gave. “And other villages, those not called this year, will share as we have shared with them in years past.”

“Oh, my son.” Mama came up, crying. She would stay home with Wlvn’s brothers, Strn and Gndr, and Wlvn’s baby sister, Brmr. Mama reached out to hug Wlvn and gave him great, tear soaked, slobbering kisses. Wlvn, who turned fifteen in the short summer, did not appreciate the attention; but he stayed gracious enough to allow his mother to do as she would. He did not fight her, and deep down, he did appreciate the sentiment, if not the slobbering.

“Now, dear.” Father stepped between mother and son and embraced his wife. Wlvn felt grateful. “He is of age so there is nothing we can do. The Lord of All has called us to the pilgrimage and there is nothing we can do.”

“There is never anything we can do!” Mama spat the words when she stepped back. True enough. Wlvn had heard it all his life. Whatever the Lord of All decided, the helpers enforced, and there was never anything that anyone could do about it.

“Mama!” Brmr came toddling up and Mama groaned as she bent down to pick up the four-year-old girl. Wlvn reached past his mother to give the little one a kiss and a big squeeze, and little Brmr gave it right back to him.

“Mama!” A different emphasis on the word came from beside the house. “Mama!” Nine-year-old Strn came around the corner, his face tear streaked. Eleven-year-old Gndr held back because Strn got knocked down again.

“Gndr!” Father called. “Come and say good-bye before we are last in line and eating dust the whole way.”

“Gndr!” Mama sounded like she had something else to say as she reached out for poor, picked-on Strn.

Gndr came from the side of the house, looked down and kicked the dirt. “Good-bye,” he said softly. Wlvn gave Strn a quick pat of reassurance and then chased Gndr once around the house for old time’s sake. Gndr shrieked the whole way and ended up hiding behind Father who grinned broadly at the exchange.

“Just something to remember me by,” Wlvn said, as he put out his hand in the obligatory peace offering. Gndr looked up and clasped his brother’s wrist, then rushed in for a hug.

“Come back,” Gndr whispered. Everyone heard. People feared the selection, because some people always got chosen with the grain, and those people never came back. Then, sometimes, the helpers toured the villages after the selection, and more people got taken. No one knew what happened to those people. Some said they were forced to slave for the helpers until they died from lack of food and rest. Some said they became sacrifices to the gods, and to the Lord of All. In any case, families were devastated and left without hope when it came time for the selection.

“Got to go,” Father said, and turned his back on the family. He put one hand gently to his eyes as if he had a tear, and that was the end of it. He nudged the ox on the backside with his little whip stick, and they started. Wlvn walked backwards for a long way.

By the end of the day, the people from Wlvn’s village joined people from two other villages. They slept, strung out as they were, made little fires, and visited with neighbors enough to whisper encouragement, or in some cases, to express fears. Poor old man Wlkn, Wlvn’s neighbor, felt certain he was going to be selected. Wlkn quaked under his blanket and slept very little that night.

“They go for the fat ones, you know,” Wlkn insisted. Wlvn knew the man was only fat from age, certainly not from overeating. Their hard and cruel life kept everyone near starvation, even in the years when they were not called to the center of the universe.

“Never you mind, son,” Father countered when they were alone. “Wlkn’s just a worrier. Everyone has their theories about the selection, but I never heard any good reason for why some and not others. It is the helpers that do the choosing. They take people off to a long house and those are never seen again, but those people are fat and skinny, tall and short, men and women and no one knows why them and not others.” Father shrugged as he settled down to rest. Wlvn did not get much sleep that night, either.

The next day, Wlvn lost count of the people that joined the train on that two-rutted path. All he knew was he got filthy, felt exhausted, and wanted to get the whole thing over. He and father talked little on that day. There just was not much to be said, until they came to a complete halt. Wlvn found he had to ask about that.

“No, son, this is not an early stop for the night. I doubt we will sleep at all tonight.” Father whispered so softly at that point, Wlvn could barely hear him. “This is the line. The one in front is being examined before being directed where to put his grain. Then the next will go, and then the next. Eventually it will be our turn. When it is, all that you have to do is keep your eyes down on the ground. Say nothing, do what you are told, and don’t call attention to yourself. If you do these things, we should be all right and on the road home to your mother by tomorrow afternoon.” Father said no more, but he looked now and then at the sky while the sun was still up.

An hour before sunset, Wlvn and his father finally inched to the top of the last small ridge. At first, Wlvn felt discouraged by the length of the line in front of them, but then he saw something that absolutely took his breath away. As he had been told, a dome of golden splendor, five or six stories high, stood at the end of the road—the center of the universe. The outside, plated in gold, sent out a tremendous glare in the low light of the sun. Wlvn stood still, awe struck.

Wlvn squinted as hard as he could before he had something like an out-of-body experience. His mind began to flit around somewhere in the future.

He first wondered how on earth they came up with the technology to construct something like that. He knew that it was more than a wonder of the world. It was an impossibility for his day and age. Wlvn’s people could build crude square huts that passed for houses, but a dome needed more than simple skill with wood. The stresses had to be enormous. As he looked closely, he decided that the spire on top had to be pure silver, or near enough. Wlvn knew that no one in his age was that good with the smelting process, even with soft metals.

Wlvn shook his head and wondered briefly where those thoughts came from, before his eyes got drawn back to the other buildings in the compound. The long houses that had to be barracks for the helpers and the grain storehouses and towers filled the back and both sides of an open square. Wlvn knew that any one of those buildings would have been beyond his own people. But the dome! Something moved and Wlvn let out a peep. He shot a quick glance at his father who frowned in his direction before his eyes darted back to the dome. A man stood outside the edifice, but he had to be twenty feet tall or taller. It had to be the Lord of All, standing beside a three-story door in the dome. The Lord of All went inside. Wlvn let out a shriek. Father whispered this time.

“Quiet son. Don’t call attention to yourself. Lower your eyes.”

He needn’t have said anything. Wlvn felt frightened out of his wits on the sight of that monster. His eyes became pasted to the ground until he heard a strange, whining in the sky—a sound he recognized. A hovercraft came in for a landing out behind one of the long houses—a sky ship of the helpers from which the rain of fire came. Suddenly, the future invaded his mind and a great number of things made sense.