goblin

Avalon Pilot part I-4: The Tower of Bricks

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Mingus and Alexis landed somewhere in the woods.  Alexis spent the first ten minutes yelling, and occasionally hitting her father in the arm.  Mingus took it, but as she began to run out of steam, he said they had to move on from there.

“Why?” Alexis asked.  “Why should I go anywhere with you?”

“Because I am moving on, and I don’t believe you want to be left alone here in the wilderness, in the dark.”

Alexis looked around for the first time.  The woods appeared like a jungle, even if the trees and bushes were the sort that might be found anywhere in the temperate zone.  All the same, there was no telling what might inhabit such woods—wherever they were.  She had one more thing to say.  “Cheater.”  They began to walk.  Alexis added another word.  “Kidnapper.” After a time, she added, “Selfish.”

Mingus checked the amulet once, set his direction, and otherwise kept the instrument hidden in his pocket.  “An unspoiled wilderness, probably untouched by human hands,” Mingus said, after a while.  “I thought you were into all that environmental stuff, save the planet and all that.”

“Save space for the trees and animals,” she said.  “That doesn’t mean I want to go tromping through it.  That sort of defeats the purpose.”

Mingus shrugged.  He picked up the pace where he could.  He felt spooked, and wanted to get out of the woods as soon as possible.  Something unnatural permeated the air.

After a while, Alexis said, “Wait a minute.”  Mingus stopped, assuming she needed a break.  She was an old woman, after all.  He knew he could not expect her to walk all night, but he wanted to get out of the woods.

In fact, all Alexis wanted to do was snap a thin branch off an oak tree.  She used a little magic to clean off the bark and sand it smooth.  “I need to use this wand to break it in,” she said.  Mingus said nothing.   He looked around and feared she might get to use it sooner than expected.  He walked.

Alexis was a real trooper.  She walked a long way for someone her age.  She thanked the gym membership, which she did not use often enough, and the Y, where she regularly swam.  She kept in reasonable shape, but at last she said she had to stop.

“I can’t do an all-nighter like some college kid.  I need to rest.  I need some sleep.”

They came to a small clearing and Mingus did not argue.  Only then did he think about how unprepared they were for such a journey.  They had no tents or blankets, though it felt hot enough, the ground was dry, and it did not feel like rain.  They did not have so much as a knife, which meant it would be hard to hunt or fish.  If they arrived anywhere near his intended destination, he knew they could not count on human help.

Alexis did not worry about any of that.  She just needed to sleep.  She curled up in the grass and let her father watch over her.

Mingus remembered Alexis as a little elf with a big heart.  A good spirit, with a good will, she was always kind to the animals and to all the people she met—even human people, which might have told him something.  He did not need to think about that.

He remembered how everyone praised her gentle heart.  She practically raised her baby brother when their mother took a turn on the earth before she retired to Mirroway.  Of course, Roland would take her side.  He would support Alexis in whatever she wanted to do.  She was loved.  Mingus, on the other hand, might have been…perhaps…not a very good father.  He spent all his time in the history department and had little time for his daughter, Alexis.  He named her after Alexander the Great, and his son Roland, he named after the best friend of Charles Martel.  He spent so little time with his children, he admitted to himself.  Even when he did, he made everyone feel like they were a burden and disturbing him.  He did not need to think that way.

Mingus found some stones and built a small circle in the clearing.  He gathered some dead wood and piled it inside the circle.  He held his hand over the pile, and the fire jumped from his fingers to the wood.  It gave him a small campfire to cut through the dark of night.  He could do that much.

After mind magic, Mingus’ element was fire.  Alexis, a healer, a reflection of her internal goodness, could manipulate the air, like her mother.  Roland, a hunter, had a little of both wind and fire.  Mingus wondered where Roland might have gone off to in the night.  He hoped the boy would find a nice elf maid and settle down.  He prayed that he not make the same mistake his sister made.

Mingus cried to think of losing Alexis to death.  Once she went over to the other side, even the Kairos would not be able to save her.  Mingus was not a man to pray, but his heart cried out to the Kairos, the god of the elves, light and dark, and all the dwarfs in between.  The Kairos became their god at the beginning of time—at the beginning of history.  All the ancient gods on the earth gathered, agreed, and anointed him and her for the task.

Over one hundred and twenty-one lifetimes, the Kairos did take turns being male or female, more or less.  The Kairos did have double the normal DNA, and the capacity to be him and her at the same time, but…  Mingus understood being one person in two bodies at the same time would be very hard to pull off

In any case, the ancient gods wanted a god for the little ones, and not just the little spirits of the earth, but the sprites of the fire, air and water as well.  The gods wanted someone to watch over the little ones and, more to the point, be held responsible when they screwed up.  But they were not about to put that much power into the hands of one of their own.  So instead, the elves got a person who moved on every fifty or sixty years and started all over again from scratch as a newborn baby.

Mingus laughed at the memory of an expression old Fangs the goblin used to say.  “Just our luck.  We get a god who dies.”  Of course, the little ones rarely followed the rules the Kairos gave them, even if they knew the rules, like not lying, not stealing, being good, and doing good for others, and stuff.  Then they got a break every sixty or so years when the Kairos started over again as a baby.  It seemed a good arrangement, overall.

Mingus prayed.  He knew little ones prayed to the Kairos all the time, but like humans, their normal prayers asked for things people had no business asking for.  Most would be scared witless if the Kairos actually showed up.  Mingus shrugged and figured he fit that category.  He had no right to ask for a solution to his problem, and he knew, deep down, Alexis was a problem of his own making.

Mingus chided himself for spending so many years in study.  He missed so much of his own children’s childhood.  He sighed, but realized it was too much to ask the Kairos to turn Alexis back into an elf.  The Kairos, in the form of Lady Alice, was the one who made her human in the first place.  It was too much to expect the Kairos Glen to change his mind.

Mingus stirred the fire for the next several hours and worried about what he could do.  Alice stood there, in the tower on Avalon.  She saw him escaping with Alexis held captive.  Surely, she would send a rescue party.  Old Doctor Procter might get that new amulet working, and then they would be after him.  Mingus figured his only chance was to get beyond the range of the Heart of Time.  He had to somehow take Alexis back to a time before history began.  He had no idea how he might do that.

Something shuffled among the leaves.  Mingus looked to the sky.  It would be daylight in another hour.  Something wailed nearby.  Mingus woke Alexis gently.

“We have to go,” he said.  “We have intruded and made the spirit of this wilderness angry.  I have been feeling the anger building, ever since you snapped off that twig from the oak tree.  We have to get out of the woods while we still can.”

“Father?” Alexis asked.  She did not quite grasp what he said.  She rubbed the sleep from her eyes to better focus.

“Come on.  Now.  Hurry.”  Mingus took Alexis by the elbow and dragged her among the trees.

“Father, the fire.”  Alexis saw the fire and objected.

“Give the wilderness spirit something to do while we run for it,” he said, and picked up the pace.  Alexis had a hard time keeping up.

They reached the edge of the woods when the sun topped the horizon.  They tumbled out from the bushes and paused to stare.  The plain before them had been stripped clean of vegetation.  It had become a great mud flat, like it might have looked after a devastating flood.  A great, three-story sized mound of dirt, like a small hill, stood to their left.  On the top of the mound, an enormous brick-built tower stood and reached up toward the clouds.

“The bricks won’t hold that much weight.  It will come down,” Mingus said.

“Father!  Do you know what that is?”  Alexis looked, awe-struck.

Mingus turned from the tower to look back at the trees.  He saw the unmistakable face among the green.  It looked like a face full of rage, tempered only by a touch of cruelty.  Death glinted in the eyes; but it also looked like it had no intention of setting one foot beyond the edge of the forest.  Clearly, it despised the human race that stripped the flatland bare.  Mingus had no doubt the spirit would attack the humans if it could.  He imagined some agreement had been reached.  The edge of the forest looked like the DMZ.  Mingus sighed his relief to be out of it.

Golden Door Chapter 26 The Broken Heart, part 2 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

The elf queen wrinkled up her face. “Children, you must try to understand,” she said. “The Heart of Time has been shattered and time itself is in danger of unraveling. The Kairos, your father is safe here for the present, in the second heavens, but with the heart missing pieces, he is very, very sick.”

“Our main concern is for your father, of course, but we are also concerned for your world under the first heavens.” Lord Oak, the fairy King looked down again at his hands.

“The Earth is in the most dreadful danger,” Deepdigger, the goblin king interrupted, speaking for the first time. His red eyes flashed gold as he spoke, like eyes on fire, filled with lava from the deep. Nothing could have grabbed the children’s attention quite like a goblin speaking of dreadful danger. Lord Noen went on to explain.

“You see, without time and history to keep life in order and on track, the Earth, the planets, the sun and the moon, and even the stars are in danger of curling up like a scroll and maybe disappearing altogether.”

“But what can we do about it?” Beth asked. Everyone heard the Thump!

The Golden Door appeared behind the children and elders, near the bookshelves at the far end. A moment of staring and silence followed before Deathwalker finished speaking.

 “In any case,” he said. “This much we have been able to discover. The shattered pieces of the heart have flown throughout time to the many, future reflections of the Kairos, the Traveler in time. And this golden door, though not of our making, is certainly able to travel through time. We believe it is the same door that once brought Lady Alice from the far future, back to the beginning of history when the Heart of Time was first made.” He sat down.

“Not of your making?” Mama looked up as if this was news.

“A power far greater than ours is behind the golden door,” Lord Oak said, quietly, and said no more about it. He cleared his throat and Stongheart reached over to nudge him and nod. It was time.

“Please,” Lord Oak began, and took a quick sip of water. “What we are asking is if you children might be willing to make the journey through time, to find the Kairos, wherever you may find him or her, in order to retrieve the pieces so the Heart of Time can be restored.”

“So your father can be made well again,” Lady Lisel added.

“So the earth can be saved,” Stongheart whispered.

The children looked at each other, and then at their mother who sat quietly on the dais with her head lowered. She was not going to influence them. She knew there would be risks and dangers, and sometimes the dangers would be very great, indeed. But she did not want to think of that. She only thought that she was glad she did not start crying.

“But why us?” Once again, James, in his almost inaudible voice, threw the important question into the silence.

Lord Oak did not hesitate to answer this time. He spoke as if this question had been anticipated. “Because, for all our magic, our wisdom, our power, we are like any other people. We are trapped in the days in which we live. We are born, we grow old, and yes, even we come to the end of days.”

“Even the elders behind you will not be able to come with you this time,” Lord Noen added, with a look at Mrs. Copperpot, his grandmother.

“I’ll starve,” James said, with a smile and a glance back at the same Mrs. Copperpot, and thoughts about the old dwarf’s good cooking. She returned his smile but said nothing. Besides, as usual, James’ small voice got swallowed up by David’s shout, which was perhaps David’s normal voice.

“You won’t be coming?”

Inaros leaned forward from his wheelchair and patted David on the shoulder. “I’ll be with you in spirit, boy. In spirit.”

Mrs. Aster, sitting in her big size rather than her natural small fairy size, also leaned forward to pat Beth on the shoulder. “Besides,” she said. “We have already given you all the help we can. You carry all the magic and abilities of the fairy world, as Chris carries the strengths of the dark elves, David the light elves, and James the dwarfs and all the in between spirits of the earth. At this point, us older folks would just be a burden to you.”

Beth held Mrs. Aster’s hand on her shoulder and looked back with a look that said she cared deeply for the old fairy and being a burden would not matter.

“And your mother.” Lady Ivy added and reached in front of her husband toward the empty place and Mama’s hand in a sign of reassurance. “For all of her love, she is only an ordinary, mortal woman,” and she whispered, “I mean no disrespect.”

“You children, alone, carry the blood of the Kairos, the Watcher over history, the Traveler in time in your veins,” Lord Oak said. “You, alone, can travel through time to find the pieces and restore the Heart.”

“You are the only ones who can do it,” Strongheart said softly, and nodded to himself.

A silence even deeper than before fell on the room while once again the children looked from one to the other. Beth finally nodded and Chris spoke.

“When do we start?” Chris asked, and a great sigh went up all around. Most had been holding their breath. Mama began to weep, softly, but this time it was out of fear for her children. All the same, Davey spoke up loud and clear.

“I want my dad to get well and come home,” he said.

“Thank you.” Strongheart spoke for everyone in the room, and with a glance down at Mama, he added, “You may begin when you are ready.”

Lord Oak stood, and others followed until everyone stood apart from Mama and the children. The fairy king clutched a gold and silver goblet firmly in his hand and he raised it with a word. “To the children,” he said.

“To the children,” the dais responded.

The children stood. The golden door slowly opened to reveal a light so bright, even fairy eyes could not penetrate. James started it by hugging Mrs. Copperpot and saying, “Thank you.” David leaned down to the wheelchair and hugged Inaros.

“I’ll be here when you get back,” Inaros whispered in David’s ear.

Chris hugged Deathwalker, and the goblin returned the hug briefly. He looked a bit surprised, and mumbled, “Yes, well… We don’t go for much of that sort of thing in the underworld.”

Beth hugged Mrs. Aster and let out one tear before she let go and looked to her mother. They all looked, but Mama kept her moist eyes glued to the table. She would not say anything, or even show a facial expression that might cause her children to second guess their decision.

“Come on,” Beth said, and the nineteen-year-old led her soon to be sixteen-year-old brother Chris, and her brothers David, just twelve, and James, just three months into his ninth year into the light. The light did not blind them because it was meant for them. And when they vanished behind that brightness, and the golden door closed on the outside world, they went to their knees, trembling.

Angel stood there, but his first words brought them comfort. “Do not be afraid.” Angel toned down the light and his awesome nature so the four could breathe as Angel spoke. “Welcome. We have a long way to go.”

End

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

MONDAY

Now you know how the Avalon Series really began. It started with four children and a broken heart. Of course, once the heart is repaired it must be tested, but that is a different story. Look for Avalon, Season One Travelers (The Pilot Episode included) at your favorite e-retailer. The series is nine seasons (nine books) altogether worth buying and reading. If you are still uncertain on just who this Kairos person is, you might start with Avalon, the Prequel Invasion of Memories, where the Kairos is forced to remember himself as the Traveler in time, the Watcher over history because there are three Vordan battleships on the moon preparing to invade. A book to buy and keep. You might want to refer to it now and then. Enjoy.

*

Golden Door Chapter 26 The Broken Heart, part 1 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Beth, Chris, David, and James all entered the annex room at roughly the same time. It looked much bigger than they expected for a small room off the main banquet hall in the Castle of Avalon. Then again, the banquet hall itself was a huge room, built to accommodate all the residents of a castle that was big enough to almost be a small city, with more rooms and buildings than could reasonably be counted.

The annex proved a long room, almost like a hall, with a big fireplace on one end and bookcases on the other. Along the long wall where the door was located, tapestries alternated with instruments of war, like swords and shields, long spears, and suits of armor. The other long wall appeared to be all windows, with two glass doors that let out to a stone-built balcony. Beyond the balcony, a sculpted garden stretched out to the horizon and the setting sun.

Mama hugged each of her children as they came in, while the lords and ladies of the dais went to sit at the semi-circular table on the fireplace end, though near the center of the room. When Mama went to join the dais, she sat in one of the two empty seats in the very center of the semi-circle. Everyone imagined the other empty seat would remain empty. It had to be for father, though the Kairos, Lady Alice might sit there.

Lady Goldenvein, the goblin queen sat to Mama’s left hand and took Mama’s hand to comfort her. Beside Goldenvein, her husband, Lord Deepdigger seemed deep in thought. Next came Lady Biggles and Lord Noen of the dwarfs, who spoke quietly with each other. To Mama’s right hand, after the empty chair, Lord Oak and Lady Ivy, king and queen of the fairies were followed by the elves, Lord Galadren, which is “Strongheart”, and his wife, Queen Lisel.

“Children.” Lady Lisel was the first to speak. “It seems it is time to talk with you.” She waved for them to come forward, and Beth, with a look to her brothers, came to the center of the room where seven chairs had been set up, facing the dais. Chris came with her and Davey and James, with a little push from behind, sat in the four chairs facing their mother and the table. The elders of the little ones sat behind the young people. Mrs. Aster of the Fairies sat behind Beth. Mrs. Copperpot of the dwarfs sat behind James. Professor Deathwalker of the “dark elves”, which is to say, “goblins”, sat behind the Chris. Inaros of Constantinople, the oldest elf on record, and one presently confined to a wheelchair, rolled up to sit behind David.

“Did you enjoy the day in Avalon?” Lady Ivy asked abruptly, and the children all nodded and smiled, but voiced nothing.

“I imagine you are wondering why you are here,” Lord Oak glanced at his wife and began, haltingly. He looked down to the table where he worried his hands. “Your father is fine, though fading, as you know… Lady Alice, one of your father’s future lifetimes may herself be too sick to attend…well…” He looked up to see the children nod, sadly. They understood, but said nothing, and Lord Oak looked away. He seemed at a loss for words. Strongheart, the elf king took up the telling.

“The plain truth is we need your help,” he said, bluntly, before he explained. “You see, at the beginning, when the steady progression of days turned to history, old Cronos and the Kairos got together to instill some small part of themselves in a common thread, like the threads of fate, only more so, not less. It was not yet woven, of course, because history was not yet written.” He stopped. It felt like he was giving a speech and he needed something to wet his lips.

“We call that thread the Heart of Time,” Lord Noen said, from the far end of the table.

“Think of it more like a crystal,” Lady Biggles added for her husband. “Think of it like a heart shaped crystal, red in the center inside, and glowing, like the beating of a real heart.”

“We all saw the Heart of Time,” Chris said, softly, and the others nodded. They saw it broken and knew it had missing pieces.

“Of course,” Lord Noen breathed, and Lady Biggles kindly patted his hand.

“As long as it was kept safe and beating, time continued in an orderly way,” Stongheart added.

“History is built on that,” Lord Oak said, trying to regain his place.

“Only now it is broken,” Goldenvein spoke in her chilling goblin voice.

“There are missing pieces,” Lord Oak continued.

“We must put the heart back together or things in life, in the world…” Lady Ivy interrupted her husband.

“In your world,” Goldenvein interrupted the interruption.

“…Will begin to fall apart,” Ivy finished.

“Alice by herself cannot hold life together, forever,” Lady Biggles added her two cents.

“History is in danger of being swallowed up in a confusion of time.” Lord Oak came to a stopping point, and everyone looked at the children to see if they were following along.

“I am very confused,” Beth admitted.

Davey took that as his chance. “I don’t understand,” he said, turning to the others.

“What are you suggesting?” Chris asked. He didn’t get it either, exactly, though he suspected something might fall on them.

James yawned while the people at the table looked at each other. He stepped into that moment of silence. “Where did the pieces of the heart go?”

Strongheart nodded, thinking the children were at least understanding something. He pointed at Professor Deathwalker. The others waited for the professor to speak.

Deathwalker stood behind Chris and pulled out a piece of paper. “Skipping over all the math and scientific rationale, blah, blah, blah,” he said, a comment which the members of the dais found funny for some reason. “The consensus is the pieces have moved into the future, a piece to each future life of the Kairos, whoever he or she might be.”

Golden Door Chapter 25 Sunshine, part 1 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Mrs. Aster returned to her small fairy form and fluttered up to Beth’s ear. She sat gently on Beth’s shoulder, like Holly, but without all the tugging on Beth’s hair. David helped Inaros stand and walk. The elf appeared very old, sad, and frail. Mrs. Copperpot slipped one arm around James. He did not mind. He needed her kerchief to blow his nose.

Deathwalker opened the tower door and squinted. The sun came out. “Likely give me a migraine,” he mumbled, and Chris heard, and tried to laugh.

“Seems solid enough,” Inaros said, as he stomped several times on the ground. That thought made David smile.

“Thinking about college?” Deathwalker asked Chris. He pointed to the buildings across the stream. “Avalon Castle University,” he named it.

“Professor?” Chris asked and turned the word on Deathwalker almost like an accusation.

Deathwalker looked away. “Yes…well.” He coughed. “Retired. Don’t make more out of it than you hear. I said, in the underworld we don’t hold much with titles…”

Mrs. Copperpot closed the tower door and stepped over to the spring. James followed. The spring still bubbled out of the ground, but the water looked dark, almost blood red. James imagined it as the color of the dirt but got a shock when Mrs. Copperpot touched the spring water three times, gently, with her cooking spoon.

A young woman appeared on the surface of the water. She looked like she had been beaten raw. She looked cut everywhere, and while most of the cuts had scabbed over, blood still dripped from plenty of places. The woman squinted out of bruised and puffy eyes.

“Oh, my dear,” Mrs. Copperpot said, softly, as everyone gathered around.

The woman on the water slowly licked her lips and tried to speak. “I’m all right. Everything will be all right now,” she said, and vanished again.

“Oh, my dear,” Mrs. Aster repeated Mrs. Copperpot’s words. Then, Beth spoke from the heart.

“We have to go and save our friends from the soldiers.”

“And Mama,” David added.

“Even Warthead, and Grubby,” James barely breathed the words.

Everyone turned their eyes to the woods. They moved slowly, carefully, and quietly through the trees, not knowing what to expect. The forest gate proved to be open. Chris, at least, imagined some of the soldiers may have followed them into the woods.

“Warthead wandered off,” James spoke up. He realized Warthead had not been there when they escaped in the rain, though he did not notice at the time.

“Shh,” Chris hushed James; a very rare occurrence for James who normally spoke whisper soft.

David put his own hand to his own mouth. He was about to say something that would have come out the opposite of whisper soft, that is to say, in his normal voice.

They hid behind the trees and felt stymied, until Mrs. Aster spoke. “Let me fly to the top of the wall and spy out the area.”

“Wait,” Beth said, a bit loud, as Mrs. Aster vacated her shoulder.

“Beth, dear, you’re too big,” Mrs. Aster responded. “You’ll be spotted.”

“Wait. Just wait a minute.” Beth thought about having everything that the fairies had. She concentrated, before she remembered the fairy light, and just let it happen. She got small, fairy size, and she had bumblebee type wings that beat rapidly to keep her aloft. Her fairy weave clothes shrank with her, so she did not appear there naked, and she smiled while everyone around her gasped, except Davey, who said “Wow” a bit loud, though muffled by the hand that still covered his mouth.

“It doesn’t feel natural,” Beth admitted to Mrs. Aster.

“Natural for you will still be your big size,” Mrs. Aster said through her smile. “Now, are we ready?” Beth nodded and followed the elderly fairy to the top of the wall where they crouched down to peek.

Inaros and David watched with their good elf eyes until the two spies disappeared. Inaros drew in his breath, and David uncovered his mouth and let out a loud, “Hey!”

“Over here,” someone called from the gate. David saw little Mickey O’Mac next to a dirty kid and standing beneath a monstrosity that made Davey want to scream and throw-up at the same time.

“Grubby. Warthead.” James waved and ran to meet them, Mrs. Copperpot waddling behind.

“Redeyes? Crusher?” Chris sounded concerned.

Deathwalker squinted and used his hand to shade his eyes, even standing in the shadows of the trees. “Don’t worry. They probably slipped into the Bailiff Tower as soon as the blasted orb came out.

Chris looked toward the sun and imagined what that might be like to look with his goblin eyes. He decided not to test out his theory.

They entered the gate, and discovered the soldiers had all been put to sleep. No doubt, it was an enchanted sleep, because more than one continued to snore despite the movement and noise of conversation all over the courtyard. As he walked, Chris saw James with two bearded boys, the dirty kid, and a monster that had to be an ogre. Chris figured trolls were more frightening and ogres were more disgustingly ugly. He swallowed the bile that came into his throat from looking at the beast and looked elsewhere.

Chris saw a bunch of lights flying around one bench in a dizzying dance. Mrs. Aster hovered there, not getting into the middle of that madness. Then he saw his sister, Beth, get big again. She had no wings, and looked normal, apart from the two lights that appeared to want to play with her hair.

Chris followed Deathwalker across the courtyard and almost bumped into David. David raced around the courtyard with two boys, at super speed. They paid no attention to the good-looking young college age, maybe high school senior age girl—elf girl, that stood with her hands on her hips, yelling at them. Chris grinned. Yelling at Davey usually did no good.

Chris worried about Silverstain but paused at the door to the Bailiff’s Tower. His mother came out with all the ladies of the Dias still talking about everything and nothing. He paused to give his mother a quick hug, but then rushed in to where the dark elves waited.

“Silverstain?” he asked.

Watcher limped with his leg bandaged. He had a wan look on his face. Stalker stood quietly in the corner with his shoulder bandaged. Redeyes ran up, his arm in a sling, and he explained. “Crusher and Silverstain are in the hospital. Silverstain is in intensive care, but Doctor Burns said she should recover.” Redeyes tried to sound hopeful. Chris dropped his head and found some tears.

~~~*~~~

Three days later, Chris and Redeyes sat in Silverstain’s hospital room playing chess and talking about video games. Redeyes praised his first-person shooter VR game that had not yet been invented on earth. Silverstain made faces which made Chris laugh. Crusher sat in the corner and laughed once in a while as well; but then he ate something that looked like a bloody mess. As he said when Chris looked up. “It would take more than one blinkin’ arrow to interrupt a troll’s appetite.”

“Chris.” Mama stuck her head in the door. “We need to talk.” She looked upset.

Chris got right up. “Is Dad okay?” he asked. The four children had only been allowed into their dad’s room for a few minutes each day. He was never awake.

“Fine,” Mother said. “Doctor Burns says he is fine, but he is hardly conscious. He may slip into a coma if the trouble with the heart of time is not repaired.” Mother held her tears and stepped out into the hall. Chris noticed Goldenvein, the goblin queen stood there to give his mother a hug and comfort. Maybe Lady Goldenvein was there because Silverstain was her daughter, but Chris found it odd that of all the ladies from the dais, including the elf queen, the dwarf queen, and the fairy queen, his mother chose the goblin queen as her best friend.

“I have to go,” he told Redeyes and Crusher. He looked at Silverstain. She would be in months of therapy before she walked again. Chris wanted to cry, but she looked at him to say he should do his duty, and she would be fine.

“Everyone has been sent for,” Mother said, as Chris shut the door behind him. “Lady Alice wants to meet us in the first annex off the banquet hall. She doesn’t want there to be a scene.”

Chris could only nod. He removed his frightening aspect as they walked. He could make himself look like a goblin. In fact, he had been gifted with everything a dark elf might have to live in the dark and underground, but somehow, he felt for this meeting he ought to be just Chris—an ordinary almost sixteen-year-old human.

Lord Deepdigger, the goblin king, and Professor Deathwalker waited by the elevator at the end of the hall. Deathwalker waved as they approached.

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

MONDAY

The children are being gathered. The story is not done. The Heart has been broken. It has to be fixed or time might yet come to an end. Until Next Time, Happy Reading

*

Golden Door Chapter 23 The Tower

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

The tower stood, a cathedral-sized building in the middle of the forest. Chris remembered his view of the inside that he saw on the white-wall screen behind the Golden Door. It did not seem cathedral sized on the inside, but then his eyes stayed focused on the Heart of Time and the demon goddess. Chris looked up and had another thought. Then again, the height of the tower may have made it appear not so wide, something like an optical illusion.

Deathwalker put his claw up on Chris’ shoulder as he spoke. “Though the sky is dark, even goblin eyes could not see the top of the tower.” Beth looked up. “Not even fairy eyes, even if the sun was out and it wasn’t raining.”

The group moved slowly along the outside wall of the tower, looking for the door. The bushes and brambles resisted them until the forest ended abruptly on the edge of a manicured lawn. They saw the spring of water that bubbled out of the ground in that place. Beth followed the stream that came from it, with her eyes, and imagined it eventually left the castle at some point to meander down the hill, where it became the small river that flowed into the sea. She remembered that river as one of the first things she saw when she and the boys came into Avalon.

“The poor naiad of the spring,” Mrs. Aster said, with a sad shake of her head. “The water is still running fresh and clean, but no one really knows what happened to her. Some fear the worst.”

“I am grateful for the river,” Beth responded. “I thought about jumping into it when the dragon attacked.”

“Avalon Castle University,” Inaros said, leaning on David’s shoulder and pointing with his walking stick. David looked at the buildings across the lawn, and the footbridge across the stream, which said there were paths through the grass, even if he could not see them in the rain. “Some of the best and brightest minds in Avalon teach and study there.”

“Some?” Chris asked, as he and Deathwalker stepped up.

“Well,” Inaros drew out the word. “Some of us are retired.”

“Here it is,” Mrs. Copperpot garnered everyone’s attention.

“The door,” James whispered, and it looked like a medieval wooden door, with black-painted, wrought-iron decor, hinges, and handle, though it otherwise looked like a regular, human-sized door.

“I assume it is locked,” Inaros said.

“No doubt,” Deathwalker agreed and rubbed his chin, deep in thought.

Mrs. Copperpot held up her cooking spoon. Mrs. Aster pulled out her wand and spoke. “I don’t know the combination.”

“I don’t either,” Mrs. Copperpot agreed.

“I am not sure regular magic would work in any case,” Inaros mused.

“Why are we going in there?” David asked the elf. “Isn’t that where the demon is?”

“We have to,” Chris said. He looked determined.

“We are all there is who can do it,” Inaros told David in as calming a voice as he could muster.

Deathwalker agreed. “As the Kairos said a million times, there isn’t anyone else.”

“Well, we must do something,” Mrs. Aster said, with a look at the sky, where it began to rain harder and harder.

“Before the ground beneath our feet starts to break apart,” Mrs. Copperpot agreed.

Beth agreed with that statement. “We must do something.”

“Maybe all four together?” Deathwalker suggested.

The elders began to argue about it while James reached for the handle. He opened the door, easily. “It’s unlocked,” he said.

Everyone stopped and stared at him for a second before the talking started again.

“Be careful. Quiet. Don’t make a sound. Hush. Shh!”

They stepped into the tower, and the door slammed shut behind them. They got surprised for a long second with the silence of the sanctuary before they heard the voice of pure evil.

“Welcome.”

Something struck the four elders, and they froze where they stood, like stone statues, unable to move a muscle. The children got lifted an inch from the floor and rushed forward against their will, while the voice continued.

“Children. How my husband used to love to eat the children.” The Ashtoreth demon cackled, a true witch’s laugh and the children got deposited at the four corners around her.

The Heart of Time throbbed in front of them, the light getting bright and dim, and bright again, reminiscent of a true heart beating. It rested securely in the three-pronged stool, or table, a crystal about twice the size of a basketball; both smaller, and in some sense bigger than they imagined.

Ashtoreth appeared not far from being a corpse, with her gray green, rotting, wrinkled skin, and black circles around her eyes, which gave her gaunt face a skull-like appearance. She had a few strands of hair left. They grew around the two-great bull-like horns that projected from her forehead. She moved by gliding in a circle around each child, examining them closely. Her sunken, bloodshot eyes showed only death. Her sharpened teeth clacked the whole way, and her mouth drooled, David thought about the idea of eating the children. Her claws with nails like daggers reached out but did not touch.

The children tried not to look. They held their breath, and none of them screamed, though they all wanted to.

 Ashtoreth stopped by the Heart of Time where the children of the Kairos let their eyes rest. It was the only other thing in the room they could focus on, besides the demon-witch. The demonized goddess appeared to smile and spoke about the heart like a child showing off her favorite toy.

“Trapped in this glow is the entire record of human history. Sadly, I have not yet found a way to disrupt that history and change it. But I will, if given enough time. My will be done.” The witch laughed again. “I hear your thoughts, but this tower and crystal were the first things made in this unnatural disruption in the natural chaos of these heavens. It will stand and continue long after the castle, the islands and all are destroyed and returned to the hell they should be.”

Ashtoreth walked once around the crystal, looking alternately at the crystal and the children, which caused the children to turn their eyes to their own feet and the mosaic floor beneath them. Ashtoreth laughed again, and clacked her teeth, seemingly in anticipation of something.

“I saw myself in here, when I escaped this place and walked again for a time on the earth. That happened a thousand years ago, but nothing there was to my liking. The gods abandoned you, but everything there became faith.” Ashtoreth expressed pure disgust. “It was unbearable. After a thousand years in hiding, I found my way back into this place, and I will change the history of all things to my liking. My will be done.” She repeated herself and stopped walking. She appeared to think. “But children, it is not enough to consume your flesh. We would have your souls. Fear is the key. You must be frightened to death.”

Ashtoreth waved her hand, and each of the children found themselves in a different place.

Golden Door Chapter 19 Chris Down Under

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“Come on, now.” Deathwalker wanted to get them off the castle dock. “Careful where you step.” They slipped and slid to the end of the wood at the edge of the wet grass where they stopped and looked up the castle hill at the main gate. They could not see it well because of the fog that filled the air. It wafted through the air, hot ash mixed with sea water steam, and it smelled of sulfur.

“Careful,” Deathwalker said. “There will be guards.”

“There already are.” Watcher pointed. Rats poured out of rat holes dug beneath the main wall. Some came from the gate and some scrambled down from holes in the wall designed for archers. They began to swarm and soon looked like a bubbling river beneath the castle wall. They blotted out the grass and made the whole area look like a squirming rat color.

“Into the water. No, Rats can swim. Back to the boat. The grass is too wet to fire. Knives ready. Run!” Everyone said something, except Silverstain who simply screamed, even as a brilliant light appeared beside them. Crystal, the oread of the mountain, stepped out of a bright hole from some unknown place. Several dozen shepherd-like dogs followed her. They were all pure white except for a touch of pink inside the ears. Chris feared at first that this might be worse than the rats, until Deathwalker said a word with a sound of great relief.

“Hellhounds.”

Chris watched the dogs charge the rats. The rats abandoned their swarm and it looked like every rat for himself. He was about to say something when Redeyes tapped him on the shoulder and pointed. Catbird, Chris’ golden retriever, ran right in the middle of the dogs, barking his head off. He did not bite anything but looked to be having a great time dancing around, barking, like the best playtime.

Chris shouted, and Catbird came right up to him, panting and wagging his tail. The dog was not fooled or put off by Chris’ appearance, and he even let Silverstain pet him before he bounded off again to frolic and join the fun.

“Now’s our chance,” Deathwalker said and started forward toward the gate. He was the only one who really paid attention. The dogs had driven the rats down, around a corner of the castle wall. There were still a few rats between them and the gate; stragglers that escaped the main force of dogs and might still be tempted to attack the original target, but everyone had their knives ready and waiting.

Stalker and Crusher took the perimeter and kept most of the rats away. Redeyes cut one. Broomwick fried one and Watcher grabbed it for lunch, which Chris preferred not to watch. They made good progress up the castle hill but stopped within sight of their goal. There was a giant three-headed dog pulling against its chain, barking, and growling, and looking very hungry.

“Cerberus.” Deathwalker identified the beast.

“We could transition through the wall,” Redeyes suggested.

“No good,” Stalker said with a shake of his dark head. “Walls have guards which luckily can’t see well because of the mist.”

“No good,” Deathwalker echoed. “Transitioning through the wall sets off the alarm. The only alarm-free way in is the gate.”

“Transitioning?” Chris asked.

“Becoming insubstantial and walking through the wall. Like when we go to ground when the sun comes up.” Silverstain whispered and licked Chris’ ear. “You taste good.”

Chris was not sure how to take that, but Crusher interrupted with a word. “We got company.”

“Rats?” Watcher squeaked. All heads turned, expecting to see a pack of rats that escaped the dogs, but instead jaws dropped into the silence. Deathwalker finally named the visitor.

“A Knight of the Lance.”

Chris heard the respect in Deathwalker’s tone. He did not know what made this one a Knight of the Lance, whatever that was, but he saw the knight in shining armor with the lance pointed toward the three-headed, snarling dog, riding on a horse that looked to be running on air. Chris’ only thought became please, don’t kill the beast. They saw a brilliant flash of light just before the lance struck home. The goblins all moaned and covered their eyes. Chris and the fire sprites saw the knight vanish and the dog collapse.

“I’m blind,” Watcher yelled.

Broomwick quickly covered Watcher’s mouth. “Quiet.”

“The eyes will recover,” Stalker said.

“Quick, while the beast is down,” Deathwalker commanded. They staggered forward. Chris grabbed a blinking Silverstain with one hand and Redeyes with the other and move them forward. Heathfire took Stalker and Deathwalker by the arms. Broomwick brought Watcher and helped Crusher, though the troll insisted he could see.

When they reached the wall, teary eyes were working well enough. Chris wondered who had the key, but Deathwalker killed that notion. “We can transition through the gate without alarming anyone. Quickly now but stay hidden and quiet when you get inside.”

Chris kept looking at Cerberus. “Just sleeping,” Silverstain said with a smile, even as one of the dog heads began to snore. “Transition,” Silverstain added, and Chris looked up to see her half swallowed by the solid door with only her front half sticking out from the wood. “Think insubstantial,” she said and gave a little tug on Chris’ hand.

“It’s easy,” Redeyes said, and Chris watched while the goblin disappeared right through the gate. Redeyes’ head alone stuck out from the gate as the goblin must have turned around, and he whispered again, “It’s easy,” and the head disappeared.

“Come on.” Silverstain gave another tug on Chris’ hand.

“If I bump my nose, I’ll find a way to get even,” Chris said.

“Promises, promises,” Silverstain said, and she pulled Chris to where he saw his own hand disappear into the door before he thought to pull back. At that point, there was nothing to do but follow with the rest of his body.

“It feels funny, sort of like a ghost,” Chris said.

“Shh!” Silverstain hushed him as they came out on the other side, inside the castle. There were big boxes and bags dumped by the castle gate, like a delivery that no one bothered to put away. Deathwalker grabbed Chris’ free hand and pulled him and Silverstain behind the nearest box. The others all hid and waited.

“We need to move from cover to cover as much as possible,” Deathwalker whispered.  “Hiding in the shadows doesn’t do much against goblin sight.” Chris nodded. He could see where the shadows were, but with his goblin eyes he could see them as only slightly less bright than the rest of the courtyard. There were torches at various points along the wall and a fire pit in the center of the courtyard, but they were harder to see than the shadow areas. With that, he truly realized what a bane the sun could be.

The group moved out slowly, crouched down, headed for the columns that ran along the edge of the courtyard. They got about half-way there when they heard a shout. At once, the yard filled with arrows and people started running as fast as possible back to the crates. Watcher took an arrow in his leg. Crusher took one in his side and roared.

Deathwalker pulled Chris’ head down and shouted at him. “What did the Angel tell you to say?”

“What?” Chris asked before he remembered. “He said, don’t be afraid.”

“What?” Deathwalker balked and the arrows did not cease. “Angels don’t talk that way. I was standing just on the other side of the door.”

“He said, don’t be afraid,” Chris insisted. “Don’t be afraid.”

“Do not, not don’t.” Deathwalker shouted again.

“You have to say the exact words,” Redeyes spoke up, even as he leaned in Chris’ direction. He got an arrow in his arm for his troubles and fell to the ground, face up, but in pain.

“All right,” Chris said, with an annoyed look on his face. “He said do not be afraid.”

Deathwalker threw his hat to the ground and swore. “Stupid and stubborn teenagers.”

Silverstain ran to her brother. “You have to say the whole thing, exactly for the magic to work.”

“Angel said,” Deathwalker prompted.

“Do not be afraid.” Chris shrugged. He had the right words in his mind, but he did not like being called stupid and stubborn. Just for that, he was going to be stupid and stubborn.

“The whole thing.” Deathwalker shouted a third time. “Angel told you to tell them what?”

Chris shook his head in the pretense that he did not remember.

Silverstain suddenly arched her back. She took an arrow in her kidneys, and Chris shouted. “Angel said do not be afraid.” The arrows stopped. They heard any number of archers fall to the ground. A few staggered out into the open and came up close for fear of the damage they might have done.

Heathfire and Broomwick popped out of the fire pit to rejoin them. Crusher bled badly from the wound in his side. Watcher held his leg and stared at it like he feared he might lose it. Stalker held his hand against his shoulder where an arrow scraped him and opened a big gash. Redeyes cried. Silverstain breathed rather shallow.

Deathwalker retrieved his hat and walked out into the courtyard without a word. Chris tried to think of every reason why this was not his fault, but he could not think of any. Deathwalker was right. He knew exactly what Angel told him to say almost from the start, but he felt determined to be stupid and stubborn, exactly as was said. For one brief moment, in an event most rare in all of history wherever teenagers have lived, this teenager felt a moment of remorse and whispered, “Sorry.”

A very goblin looking man ran up to Silverstain. “Doctor Burns!” he roared and tried to help Silverstain off Redeyes. The doctor came straight away and stopped the goblin’s hand.

“Don’t move her. Sorry Redeyes,” he said. “Back up.” The big goblin took a big step back.

“Lord Deepdigger,” Deathwalker called.

“Professor Deathwalker,” the big goblin turned.

“Let the doctor work. We have to free Goldenvein and the other ladies.”

The big goblin glanced back once before he said, “Right.”

Meanwhile, Heathfire and Broomwick each took Chris by an arm to help him along. “Don’t worry,” Heathfire said. “The doctor is my uncle. Silverstain is in the best hands.”

Chris swallowed to keep his eyes free of tears and his face straight. “So, are you planning on going to medical school?” Heathfire gave him a strange look. Broomwick laughed before he could stop himself.

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

MONDAY

Beth struggles to enter the castle, but when they succeed, they are betrayed and beth has no memory of Angel telling her to say anything. Meanwhile, David and James try to set the women free. Until Next Time, Happy Reading

*

Golden Door Chapter 15 Chris in the Camp, part 1 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“Chris!” Chris heard his name and was grateful for the excuse to turn away from the melted creature. “You gotta be Chris!”

“Redeyes!” Heathfire identified the caller as she stepped up to help Chris back to his feet. Chris was more than glad to get away from the huge fellow with the big teeth.

“Chris!” A red face ran up the beach while a hand with rather remarkable claws waved. Heathfire snuggled against Chris’ shoulder and pointed. “Heathfire, leave him alone!” Redeyes hollered.

“What if I don’t want to?” Heathfire hollered back. Chris thought the wisest move was to let go of Heathfire’s hand and step away. He certainly did not want to start anything.

“Hey,” Redeyes said like a simple hello when he came to a screeching stop in front of Chris. Broomwick came up, grabbed Heathfire’s hand and gave Chris a jealous look. Chris put his hands up in surrender.

“Too hot for me to handle,” he said, and Broomwick smiled.

“She is that.”

“I must be losing my touch.” Heathfire commented to herself,

“The ship?” Deathwalker changed the subject from teenage foolishness.

“Fine. Hidden just down the shore,” Redeyes reported while Chris got a good look at the goblin. Redeyes had pink skin around those red, beady eyes, and two little red horns that stuck up through black hair. Chris could not help bending over, as he had with Deathwalker, to see if the goblin had the tail to complete the outfit. He did not.

“All right, Chris,” Deathwalker said as he placed his own claw on Chris’ shoulder. “Redeyes and Crusher.” He introduced the two newcomers and added one note. “Crusher is a troll.”

“Troll?” Chris asked, remembering they had traveled down a troll road.

Crusher got close to Chris’ face so he could not turn away, and he drooled a little as he spoke. “That just means I like my meat more raw.”

Chris returned his trademark grin, the same one he used on his younger brothers or when his parents asked him to do something around the house. It was Crusher who had to turn away. “Bless my stinky feet. That grin could scare a basilisk.”

“But where is the rest of the crew?” Deathwalker once again attempted to get people back on topic.

“Guarding the ship,” Redeyes responded, and he led the way. Until then, Redeyes kept standing on his toes. Being a bit short, he wanted to appear more Chris’ height. Oddly enough, Chris found that comforting as it reminded him of a short friend that lived down the street.

Deathwalker paced Chris and whispered as they walked, not that he thought the others might not hear, but to indicate that this was supposed to be private, so they all better keep their mouths shut. “Now, I don’t want you to be shocked when you meet the others. Stalker is more of a true goblin, you might say. His face is so dark it is hard to see his features apart from the glowing yellow eyes. He is a quiet one, but one Alice picked.”

“Alice?” Chris asked. “You planned all this ahead of time, didn’t you?” Chris just figured that out.

“Lady Alice did,” Deathwalker said and then clarified. “Your father. She brought me together with these young ones, more your age, give or take. She found us the boat and then she brought me safe to the others in the Golden Door. She said we had to pray for help, and not to her. She figured out that given the chance, you children would follow your mother into Avalon.”

Chris merely nodded. He had met the Lady Alice.

“Oh, and one more thing. Watcher is a hobgoblin. Watch out for him that he doesn’t steal your shirt. Most of our kind don’t care for the hobs much.”

Chris nodded again, but before he could ask what was wrong with the hobgoblins, they arrived and climbed aboard a small steamboat. Chris had recently seen the movie the African Queen, and thought this boat looked similar. Apart from the furnace amid ship that ran the small paddles on each side, it also had a small rigging for a sail and oars as a last resort. Chris imagined being reluctant if they were headed toward the ocean, but even with his dark elf enhanced senses, though he could not tell how far it was to the castle, he thought it was relatively close, and this underground lake, as big as it was, might be passable in that little ship.

“Here.” Chris heard a female voice and looked up to see her tap the seat beside herself. It was a young girl about Chris’ age, very pretty, and apart from her silver hair she appeared utterly human. Then the woman licked her upper lip with a long and decidedly forked tongue, and Chris knew better.

“Come on up front,” Redeyes encouraged Chris to follow, but he preferred the back, sat opposite the silver haired girl and only then realized that put him close to Crusher who stood on the tiller.

“Silverstain,” the girl said and put out her hand to shake. She smiled. She had ordinary enough hands and Chris decided the teeth were not too sharp. He reached across the boat to shake, but immediately found Redeyes on one side and an unknown on his other. He guessed the unknown was Watcher. The hobgoblin still had a bit of a goblin look about him, only not so much, and his ears were pointed, more like Inaros the elf.

Chris felt trapped and knew he would have both of his ears talked off for the journey, and now it was too late to change his mind. Stalker, the dark one with the yellow eyes took the seat beside Silverstain.

Heathfire caught the look between Chris and Silverstain and it was one look on two faces. She sighed. “I guess I better get this tub moving.”

“Can I come?” Broomwick asked permission and Heathfire teased him. She pretended to think about it.

“Okay,” she said at last, and smiled for the sprite. Chris watched as they both turned utterly to flame and shot into the furnace. It only took a moment after that to steam up and begin moving.

Deathwalker paced up front, marked their passage and communicated somehow with the troll on the tiller. Crusher got the messages and adjusted their course as needed, but that did not keep him from the conversation. Most of it was about raw meat and rock music. Crusher remembered Big Sur. Redeyes went to Woodstock. Chris dared not ask them how old they were; besides, his eyes kept returning to Silverstain even as his ears tuned out the topic of NASCAR. Redeyes finally noticed.

“My little sister,” he pointed at the girl. She looked up and Chris offered his grin, but she shook her head, sadly.

“You need the teeth,” she said before she stood and hauled Chris to his feet. “Hey Deathwalker,” she raised her voice. “I just realized. Chris can’t go into the castle looking all human, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

 Deathwalker turned to the group. Everyone stared at each other, dumbfounded, when he said, “Frightening aspect.”

“Will it hurt?” Chris asked as soon as the rest of the crew stood, grinned evilly and surrounded him in a threatening manner.

“No,” Mister Walker said. “At least I don’t think so,” and Chris ducked. Everyone roared and squealed and howled the most frightening noises, and they pelted him with whatever dirt and grime they could reach. Crusher slapped the back of his head with a piece of raw meat the troll had been chewing on. Then Silverstain stepped up and grabbed him around the middle. She pressed her lips against his and wrapped her long, forked tongue around his even as he felt his own tongue wrap around hers. She had something to say when they separated.

“Wow.”

“Want to go with me to the Prom?”

“Absolutely.”

Both grinned, when there was an explosion far to starboard, against the far wall of the huge cavern. The water began to churn.  Everyone had to sit or fall over. Stones began to drop from the impossibly high ceiling. A few boulders just missed the boat but struck the water near enough to send great splashes up on to the deck. A second explosion brought a light, as a great yellow-orange crack opened in that far wall. It lit up a great cloud of something black and moving that spread out from the explosion and headed in their direction. The crack itself looked like an open wound leaking down the wall and into the underground sea. Where the light touched the water, another cloud rose up and it also began to creep though the cavern.

Everyone started shouting and held on to something. Deathwalker staggered up to the tiller where he began to yell. “Turn it into the light! Turn the boat toward the light!”

Watcher, the hobgoblin pulled a hood over his head and tried to make himself as small as possible in his seat, but Stalker with the dark face and yellow eyes stood and grabbed Redeyes by the hand. Chris and Silverstain were still standing and holding on to each other as Stalker grabbed Silverstain’s hand. He joined Silverstain’s and Redeye’s hands and put one claw over top of the two. He put his other claw on Chris’ head, drew close to Chris’ stunned, unmoving face, and exhaled a great breath.

Chris caught the exhale full force. It stung his eyes, burned in his nose and down in his lungs, and tasted like rotten eggs in his mouth. Chris hacked and coughed as the three goblins backed up. Redeyes dropped his sister’s hand when Stalker let go and spoke in a voice as chilling as expected from a goblin.

“Now, no matter how toxic or poisonous the air, he will still be able to breathe.”

The boat shook, and everyone dropped to the deck and held on for dear life. The ship tilted left and then right, took on water from both sides, but not quite enough to swamp them. Chris worried briefly about Heathfire and Broomwick in the furnace. He feared enough water to put the furnace out might kill the fire sprites. But then he had no time to think as he wrapped his arms around the chair leg that was fastened to the deck, and Silverstain crawled up to wrap around him. They were pointed toward the light, a volcanic crack in the wall, and just in time. The first big wave came upon them.

The ship rose up and up at a precipitous angle to where Chris almost felt like he was standing upright. It flattened out again suddenly and with a crash on to the top of the wave before it shot down the back side of the water in one great rush. There came a moment of calm at the bottom of the wave.

“More waves coming!” Deathwalker shouted.

“Let’s do it again,” Silverstain whispered in Chris’ ear, and she licked his ear with that long, forked tongue. Chris licked his own nose with his own forked tongue and wondered what his grin looked like with his new, sharp teeth.

Golden Door Chapter 11 Chris in the Dark, part 1 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Chris followed Deathwalker into the darkness, and immediately the golden door vanished, exactly as Chris expected. He stopped, placed his hand on the goblin’s shoulder so the goblin would stop with him, and he looked all around the tunnel they were in. They had absolutely no light of any kind in that place, but Chris could see almost like mid-day. The colors were all a little different, what colors there were, but he could identify all of them, along with a few shades he was not sure he had ever seen before.

“It’s as bright as day in here,” he said.

“Bright as night,” Deathwalker corrected.

Chris nodded that he understood. “But which way?” The tunnel stretched as far as they could see to their right and left and eventually faded back into the true darkness in which it actually existed.

“Hard to say.” Deathwalker shook his head. “This looks like a troll road, but they are not like dwarfs, not big on signposts, or reading and writing for that matter.”

“A troll road?”

“Yes,” Deathwalker nodded. “Only hope they don’t charge too much for using it.” He chuckled at the over-worn joke. Chris groaned at the bad pun but wondered if they might have some troll house cookies. He held his tongue.

“I hate to split right at the beginning,” Deathwalker said. “But with the earth shake last night, we might find the tunnel blocked one way or the other.”

“I think we should stick together,” Chris said quickly.

“But we could take maybe a half hour and see where things lead,” Deathwalker tried.

“No. I insist.” Chris sounded adamant. “We stick together. Let’s go this way.” He picked a direction on a whim and did not want to hear about separating. Sight or no sight, he was not about to be left alone in an underground tunnel, and maybe especially if it was a troll road.

“Good enough.” Deathwalker shrugged. “In this world, all roads eventually lead to Rome, if you catch my meaning.” Chris imagined he meant the underground castle, and he nodded, but for the moment, he concentrated on keeping his eyes and ears open. They walked, but after about twenty minutes of silence, Deathwalker opened up.

“Now, be sure you call me Deathwalker, even if some others add an honorific.” he started. “That is what I tell all my students. Besides, we in the under place don’t put so much stock in formalities like the upper people and high elves.” He said “high elves” like that might not be the best of things to be. “Sometimes hobs get high and mighty, but no one much likes the hobs.”

“Hobs?” Chris found the sound of Deathwalker’s voice comforting, and the conversation kept his imagination from running too far ahead.

“Hobgobs. Hobgoblins. The ones your dad once took from the land of the dead and made able to stand the light of day, poor gob.”

“I imagine not everyone would say, poor gob,” Chris interjected.

“No, I suppose you’re right,” Deathwalker admitted. “Some might even call him improved with all that. Your dad, when he lived as the Lady Xiang, did that. She had gone to the place of the dead and the gob worked on staff to torment the wicked people that went to that particular place. Of course, she went there by mistake, and she proved her case by taking the poor gob and turning him into a hob. But, yes, well…” Deathwalker changed the subject. “To understand the feeling of some of us, you honestly have to see the world below, to know the beauty, to recognize the glory of life as we see it. There is no sight so glorious as a new moon and the stars blasting in the heavens, or the full moon, making the most delicious shadows for dancing, almost like the shadows got a life all their own.” Deathwalker smiled and appeared to remember some specific memory.  “I suppose some do,” he added, as a mumble. Of course, presently, Chris’ only experience of the dark world consisted of a rather plain and long tunnel. Then Deathwalker spoke again. “When that big blaster of a sun comes out, it ruins everything and makes it hard to tell the difference between here and there, it does.” He shivered a little just at the thought of all that brightness.

“So, you’re a goblin, then,” Chris guessed, but he was wondering.

“Dark elf.” Deathwalker nodded. “That is sort of the generic name some use. Goblin, troll, hobgoblin, and all sorts of others, breeds, in-betweens and on. Your dad’s little ones come in all shapes and sizes, and some prefer the light, and some prefer the dark, and then the dwarfs and such, I suppose, are the real betwixt and betweeners.” Deathwalker rubbed his chin as he tried to sort it out in his own mind. Chris thought it sounded simple enough, but then he probably did not know enough about it to be confused. Instead, he had a question.

“What do you mean, little ones? I’ve heard the term, and you also said spirits?”

“Sure,” Deathwalker said before he looked up at Chris and quickly shook his head. “Not ghosts. I don’t mean that kind of spirit.” Chris looked relieved. “It means by nature we are actually spiritual creatures and not actually flesh and blood. We get to put on flesh and blood for a while, though. We get born, grow old, and in time all of us gives up the flesh again in what you humans call death, but for us it is really just a return to our natural state.”

“Why?”

“Well, because a spirit alone is deaf, dumb and blind. No eyes and ears, you know. We all got work to do, like a purpose for being, and for most of us little spirits that involves working in the natural world of earth, air, fire, and water. Some, like some elves, might tend to hearth and home, but mostly it is with the earth and nature. By putting on flesh we can see what we are doing if you follow me. We can hear, taste, touch, and smell, like now. I smell a charcoal fire burning somewhere ahead.” They stopped walking. They were at a point where the tunnel split in two directions.

Chris spoke quickly as they paused. “But why little spirits?”

“Because above us there are the lesser spirits, and then greater spirits, and above them, the gods of old. Of course, the gods dealt mostly with humans in the old days, you know, like with love and war and such. But then, they all went over to the other side, which is to say, they gave up their flesh and blood two thousand years ago or so, except this one in the castle who seems to have escaped the time of dissolution.”

“Why?” Chris asked again.

“Because she is rotten and rebellious, to say the least.” He paused because of the look on Chris’ face. “Oh, I see. The gods gave up their position because the humans became mature enough to come under new management, so to speak, though my experience with humans has not shown me much maturity. No offense.”

“But—”

“Now, son. I know you are avoiding the inevitable and want us to stick together, but we need to separate here for a bit. Don’t be long and don’t take any more turns. In fact, if you come to another dividing of the ways, come back here. Meanwhile, I’ll just pop down this way and have a quick look and meet you back at this spot. Okay?”

Chris did not argue, but he did not like it. Anyway, he hardly had time to argue before Deathwalker scooted off, and Chris reminded himself the goblin’s name really was Deathwalker. Chris swallowed, and began down his tunnel which took a long, slow turn around a corner. He saw the light ahead, but it looked like firelight, and it did not disturb his eyes or his vision of the underground. In a way, it enhanced his vision.

“Deathwalker’s charcoal fire,” he whispered to himself, and he snuck up for a closer look. “The light at the end of the tunnel,” he added.

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

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Us?” David wondered.

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it gone?” the head asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Medieval 6: Giovanni 8 Women and Answers, part 1 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

After the loss of Umberto, and Giovanni counted it as a sad loss, the circus suffered only the regular trials and troubles of life on the road. A wagon broke a wheel. Another broke and axel. An ox broke a leg in a hole in the road that no one saw. They suffered the usual tears and worn-out spots in the tents and costumes. Needles, with plenty of wives and Constantine to help stayed very busy patching things. The roustabouts under Borges, one of whom was a reasonably good carpenter, and one of whom, with Oberon the dwarf’s help, could light up something like a forge to do some blacksmithing also made their repairs along the way.

Oberon kept one eye on the books, but he mostly turned the books over to his cousin, a goblin named Mankin. They were in Bologna while Giovanni, Leonora, and Oberon sat in Giovanni’s tent discussing how the show went and where they might improve the transition time between the acts, when Mankin rose up right through the floorboards. It took him a moment to recognize Oberon because Leonora distracted him so badly with her scream.

Giovanni hushed Leonora who got behind him and peeked over his shoulder. “Very frightening,” Giovanni said of the goblin. “Can you put on a glamour to appear human?”

Mankin ignored Giovanni and turned to Oberon. “I am here. What do you want me for?”

“Your cousin?” Giovanni asked Oberon.

“His grandmother was a dwarf, sister of my great-grandfather,” Oberon said. “He can go about in the daytime, unlike some goblins.”

“It is to my shame to carry dwarf blood,” Mankin admitted.

“No, no,” Giovanni said. “I think you are very frightening to look at. What do you think Harley?” He threw that last over his shoulder where Leonora’s face peeked over from behind. Giovanni really could not look at her, but he imagined she had yet to blink.

“Very frightening,” she said.

“But come. You need to at least look human,” Giovanni insisted.

Mankin looked at Oberon who said, “You better do what the Kairos wants while he is in a good mood.”

Mankin nodded, like Oberon confirmed what he thought. He raised his hand and things like his horns, forked tongue, fangs and claws went away to reveal a man with dark, slicked back hair that he kept beneath an alpine hat, and a black goatee and beady eyes which made him frightening enough in human form.

“Is that better?” Giovanni asked.

“Not much,” Leonora said, and Mankin almost smiled.

Oberon spoke for his cousin. “He is a whiz with the numbers and can keep the books and pay the people perfectly and keep straight exactly how much pay is due the various people based on receipts.”

“Gringotts,” Giovanni said without explanation.

“Don’t worry, Lord,” Oberon said. “I’ll show him and he will keep the books straight and the money counted perfectly. You also won’t have to worry about Corriden or anyone else stealing the receipts, either.”

“Now,” Giovanni said. “It has not been proved that Corriden had anything to do with the theft, or for my father being killed…”

“With respect, where did Corriden get the money to get the Corriden Circus off the ground?”

Giovanni waved off those thoughts and changed the subject. “Maybe he could practice in front of the tents collecting the pennies of the people.”

“Don’t want to scare the people off,” Oberon said, and Giovanni felt Leonora nod.

“With Piccolo and Rugello.” Giovanni mentioned the two presently tasked with that job.

“Maybe…” Oberon said and Mankin interrupted.

“Hurry. Hurry. Hurry. Step right up. Come and see the greatest show on earth. Seating is limited and you don’t want to miss out. Hurry, hurry. The show will begin in the next five minutes. I got here yesterday.” Mankin said and smiled. Leonora turned her head away. Oberon commented.

“Maybe with Piccolo and Rugello.”

Giovanni nodded and said. “I leave you to it. Come on,” he grabbed Leonora’s hand to take her from the wagon. She looked down at his hand in hers and smiled as hard as she could. Sadly, that smile got tempered as they traveled down the coast.

In Bologna, three young women came looking for Don Giovanni III. He said no and turned them all away, but Leonora was not happy about it. In Ravenna there were two more women, and then one in just about every stop down the coast. Giovanni turned them all down, but Leonora got upset and found some tears. Tears did not help her performance one bit. Harlequin was supposed to be happy-go-lucky, not moping and melancholy. It helped a bit when the old timers sat down and explained things to her.

“In the old days, young Giovanni was wild and carefree, if you know what I mean,” Madigan the musician said.

“I told him he should not do that,” Titania said. “You know, I tried to watch out for him after his mother died.”

Baklovani added his thoughts. “I’m surprised he doesn’t have a pocket full of children all over Italy.”

“Maybe he does,” Constantine said.

“Anyway.” Madigan tried to get back to the subject. “Since his father died and he had to take over running the circus…”

“And especially after you came,” Constantine said.

“…He appears to have given up all the women he used to spend his time with.”

“Stopped cold,” Titania said with a shake of her head.

“Maybe he will explode,” Baklovani suggested.

“Maybe he will become a monk,” Constantine offered another suggestion before Madigan began again.

“Mostly we think it is running the circus and all that is involved in that that has kept him so busy. I imagine he does not have time for anything on the side. Still, I would not have expected him to stop cold like that. I imagine that would be very hard.”

“I’ll tell you what I think,” Constantine began before he got quiet, like he did not want to tell what he thought. Everyone stared at him while he looked down, but soon enough he looked up at Leonora and just let it out. “I think he fell in love and has no interest in any other women but the one he loves.”

Leonora stared at Constantine. She slowly turned her head to look at the others, but they turned their heads away and down when she looked at them. The smile slowly came back to Leonora’s face and she said, softly, “Oh, I hope so.”

The others all chuckled a bit.