Hobgoblin

Avalon Prequel Invasion of Memories Pumpkin Seeds part 6 of 10

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

The stranger stepped into the light. He appeared a bit shorter than a man or an elf. Macreedy was the tallest person there. But then this person did not look like a man or an elf. He had red eyes, almost no ears at all, and little horns on his head; what could be seen of them through the thick black hair. He also had a forked tongue, like a snake, with which he presently licked his lips.

“A goblin,” Sandra said. She buried her face into Glen’s chest so she would not have to look at it.

“A hobgoblin.” Macreedy corrected her. He still fingered the hilt of his knife but he left it where it sat for the present.

“Ignatius Patterwig, son of Coriander.” The hobgoblin bowed, graciously.

“Coriander Patterwig?” Macreedy knew something.

“The same,” Ignatius said. “But since my father did not survive the uprising, I have had to find other employment.”

“Who?” Sandra asked.

Ellean answered. “The self-proclaimed king of the hobgobs.”

“Hobgoblins are an independent lot. They don’t take kindly to kings,” Glen explained for Sandra.

“Very perceptive for one made of blood and mud,” Ignatius said. “How…” He had to think of the right word. “How impossible.”

“Never mind that,” Sandra interrupted. “Can you show us the way to go?”

Ignatius paused and a smile turned up his lips—a smile that was too big to be human, though it never showed any teeth. That was fine. Sandra did not want to see the teeth. “I assume you are following the mother and the baby.”

“I’m the mother!” Sandra shouted. “That was my mother and my baby.”

“Do you know where they are?” Ellean asked. Panic started building up in Sandra’s voice, so Ellean verbalized for her.

Ignatius looked like he was about to say one thing, but when he looked again at Glen, he changed his mind. “I know which way they went,” he said.

“Show us,” Glen said.

“And for me?” The hobgoblin could not resist the bargain.

“Anything,” Sandra said, but everyone ignored her, and Macreedy interrupted her.

“Your life.” Macreedy got blunt.

“Your life.” Ellean agreed and she held her bow steady with the arrow aimed right at the hobgoblin.

“And what does the warrior say?” The hobgoblin asked.

“You will have the satisfaction of knowing you have done a good deed,” Glen said, and everyone looked at him like he had a loose screw, except Macreedy who got that suspicious look once more. “Now, show us.” Glen put some command in that voice.

“I will,” the hobgoblin said, but then he paused and wrinkled his brow. “But only because I am a sucker for a mother’s love.” He figured a way to justify his agreement. “This way,” he said, but as he began to walk, he turned his head, and a bit too much as far as Sandra was concerned. “Anything?” he asked.

“Too late,” Glen said. “The bargain is with me and made. Walk on.”

Ignatius grunted. “I don’t normally argue with weapons,” he admitted, still rationalizing his choice.

“And I am dressed like a true warrior,” Glen said, speaking a half-truth, like a true elf. Ellean looked impressed. Macreedy just smiled a bit and nodded.

The glow-balls took up their positions and the company walked for a long way, turning this way and that, but always keeping to what appeared to be a main tunnel. After a moment of hope, to think this creature might know where her mother and baby were, Sandra sank into despair. She kept it to herself, but had worry written all over her, and the spiritual creatures were sensitive to pick up on the feeling. Ellean kept reaching forward to touch Sandra on the shoulder and she kept speaking soothing words. That touch would have felt creepy to Sandra a day earlier, but now it helped.

“How far?” Glen finally asked. Ignatius did not answer immediately. He stooped down first and picked up a seed. Sandra stifled her shout. Then the hobgoblin spoke.

“Not much further,” he said, and not much further on, he stepped around a corner and disappeared. They stood in another cavern of sorts, but not as big as the first one and with only two ways to go. Macreedy ran past Glen and into the cavern. He looked all around as he spun on his heels.

“I knew we could not trust a hobgoblin,” he said, through gritted teeth. “Especially the bastard son of Coriander Patterwig.”

“Where did he go?’ Sandra started to ask but changed her mind. “Where are we?”

“No idea,” Ellean said, and Macreedy nodded in agreement.

“Well.” Glen wanted to be practical. “There are only two choices. I say we explore down one carefully and quietly to see where it takes us.”

“Not a good idea,” Macreedy said. “Let me remind you. These are the caves of Cormac.”

“I remember,” Glen said, and whether by accident or fate, he began down the left-hand corridor. Macreedy dimmed the glow-balls and set them in place where they would just show the way ahead and no more. They came to a wall, or what they thought was a wall.

“Wait.” Sandra noticed something, and it may have been because she was looking down in search of seeds. They all whispered, of course, because it did not take much to be heard underground, and it would not have been wise to speak loud in a cave in any case for fear that the roof might collapse. Here, though, Sandra sounded a bit sharp with her words. “Move the lights back. I want to have a look.” She knelt and put her eye to the wall and then the others saw that she had found a crack, or maybe a keyhole, and there appeared to be a dim light on the other side of the door, if it was a door.

Sandra put her eye to the hole and took a moment to focus and make sense of what she saw. It looked like a deer, laid out on a table, and it looked like a fire burned in a fireplace on the other side of the room. She looked at a bad angle. Since the firelight came right at her, rather than being off to the side, she only saw the deer and the table as a shadow against the light. She just figured this out and started wondering if anything might happen, when she saw a large, bony, clawed hand reach out and tear a whole leg off the deer, like a man might tear off a hunk of bread from a loaf. She held her breath as a face came into view, with a long dripping nose and a great tusk that rose-up beside the nose. It sniffed the air, and it turned toward her. Despite the fact that she should have only seen a shadow of the head, she saw two great yellow eyes stare back at her. It seemed as if those eyes were lit by some internal flame and would be seen, even in the absolute darkness of the cave. Sandra screamed. She could not help it. Without hesitation, everyone else yelled a single word. “Run!”

Glen grabbed Sandra’s hand and dragged her back to the big room where they turned to rush down the second tunnel. They all wondered how they could possibly get away from a creature that could move faster through the dark than they could possibly move by the light of the glow-balls.

“Wait.” Macreedy, out front, shouted, and held them back. “It has got out into the passageway.” He said it, just before they all heard it. They turned to run back to the big room, but that was no good, either. The goblins had arrived and blocked the last way out, which was the way they had come in. Sandra screamed, and again she could not help it. She buried her face in Glen’s chest so she would not have to look at the creatures.

Ignatius stood out in front of a dozen or more goblins who came armed with a variety of clubs, swords and spears. When the lumbering beast came up behind the four travelers, it stopped in the doorway, not afraid, but wary of so many intruders in its antechamber. Macreedy and Ellean both had their bows out and ready, and Glen pulled his sword from the sheath on his back. He found it not too heavy, so he could hold it up, but he could only hope he looked like someone who knew what he was doing. If it came to it, he honestly wondered if he could do anything with it at all. He could not remember ever having held a sword before and he felt afraid he might only cut himself or cut the wrong person by accident and make matters worse.

“Cormac.” Ignatius spoke over the group toward the lumbering beast that blocked the exit. “I bring you the goblin sacrifice as agreed. Accept these elves and humans and leave the dark elves in peace for a season.”

Cormac looked like he might bargain and maybe claim that the sacrifice was not enough, but from the way his lips began to drool, it felt hard to believe he might be thinking of anything but supper.

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

MONDAY

Sandra and Glen may need some extra help getting past Cormac the ever-hungry troll. Until next time, Happy Reading

*

Avalon Prequel Invasion of Memories Pumpkin Seeds part 5 of 10

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Glen found it difficult to sleep at first, since he had such a hard time keeping his hands to himself; but then the something inside of him rose-up, and he felt he could hold this beauty after all without becoming overly excited. He slept well after that. He could not vouch for the others.

When the sun looked about ready to rise, Glen’s eyes popped open. Sandra snuggled into his shoulder, and with the little bit of new light, he looked over at the elves. He felt embarrassed. He saw Ellean snuggle up to Macreedy and Macreedy looked at her with a loving expression and tenderly brushed her long black hair behind her ear.

“Ahem.” Glen coughed softly and Macreedy looked more than slightly embarrassed. “This is a switch. It is usually the women who wake up before the lazy men.”

“Oh, we’re awake,” Ellean said, and Macreedy jumped back as if stung by a bee.

“We?” Glen asked.

“We are,” Sandra confirmed without opening her eyes. She shifted her head in Glen’s shoulder and reached for his other shoulder with her free hand. She seemed to want to snuggle some more, but Glen noticed what he had on, and though he was not exactly naked, he jumped further than Macreedy. He got out from beneath the covers altogether. All he had on was a t-shirt and boxers, though when he examined the clothes, he caught a glimpse of Fairy Weave.

“What is this?” he asked, as he sat on Sandra’s bed and covered up. He thought dark blue, and his weave turned dark blue, which seemed better than the almost translucent white it had been.

“The magic came in the night,” Ellean said. “I was surprised that it did not wake you.”

“Lord Alderon says you are to put this on.” Macreedy pointed to a suit of armor, chain on leather. It sat neatly laid out at the end of Sandra’s unused bed. There were swords and knives with the outfit, and a cape that looked reversible, with black on one side and white on the other.

“But I…” Glen considered his underwear and did not feel in a position to argue. He got into the outfit as rapidly as he could and found that it fit perfectly. It also felt very comfortable, and light, which surprised him. He had expected all that metal to weigh a hundred pounds. At last, he set his hands on the weapons. “I don’t know what to do with these,” he said. “I never killed anything bigger than a spider.”

“You need to bring them,” Macreedy said.

“I can help you put them in place,” Ellean said. “These are like the ones our god carries.”

“They are?” Glen spoke absentmindedly, because he got busy trying to figure out where they hooked on. They appeared to have rings that only needed hooks.

“Wait.” Macreedy stopped Ellean and he looked very suspicious. “Try calling to them,” he said.

“What?”

Macreedy stepped over, took the weapons, and laid them out again on the bed. “Try calling to them,” he repeated.

Glen looked at Sandra who had gotten up to watch the proceedings, but she could only shrug.

“A virtue in their making,” Macreedy suggested. “They were given to you so you should be able to call to them and they should fit themselves into place.”

“Like magic?” Sandra was not slow to catch the implication, and Macreedy nodded.

“Okay,” Glen said, but he sounded doubtful. “All-ee, all-ee in come free,” he shouted and shrugged because nothing happened. He was kidding. He tried again. “Sword, here. Knife here. Here, swordy, swordy.” Still nothing happened. He tried a poor man’s Shakespeare. “Afixeth thyself before I be off, oft.” He shrugged again. “Nothing.” Macreedy looked relieved.

Ellean began to move again to help him, but Glen held out his hand. He started getting into this. “Open sesame. Attach sesame.” He turned to loony tunes, beginning with Yosemite Sam. “Ya gal-dern galoots!” He went on for a while with nonsense words until he said something that sounded like a string of consonants with hardly any vowels at all, and the sword and knife jumped. They rushed at Glen. He covered his face. He thought maybe he angered the inanimate objects—the sharp inanimate objects, but then he heard several clicks and Sandra applauded, Ellean shouted something not at all like “golly gosh!” and Macreedy went back to looking suspicious.

“Well.” Glen looked up and smiled. “But they can stay where they are because otherwise I will probably cut my foot off.”

“Why would you cut your foot off?” Sandra asked.

“If I had a gun I would probably shoot my foot off and I figure fair is fair.” That ended the discussion about the weapons. Glen saw that both Ellean and Macreedy sported long knives at their belts and both carried bows, and that felt like more of a comfort than anything he might carry.

Sandra and Ellean found the food that had been left for their breakfast. It looked like the troops pulled out before dawn since they and their tent were all that remained in the area, and Glen looked all around. When he returned, the tent had already been reduced to a cube the size of Macreedy’s hand, which the elf slipped into his side pack. The fire still burned, though, and they had bacon and eggs cooking.

“There goes any chance of getting my clothes back, I suppose,” Glen said.

“I think you look good,” Sandra grinned.

“What, for Halloween?”

Sandra stood up to whisper in his ear. “You look sexy,” she said, and quickly scooted to the other side of Ellean.

“My birthday is the day after Halloween. I’m open to suggestions on presents,” Glen said, and Sandra turned red beneath her blond hair. Macreedy temporarily dropped his suspicious look for a confused look.

“I don’t understand the game,” he admitted, with a shake of his head.

“Human mating ritual,” Glen confessed. “You should try it sometime.” He pointed at Ellean with a shake of his head. Macreedy made no response other than to open his mouth, wide.

“Enough of that,” Sandra scolded. “Breakfast.” They ate what they could, even Glen, not normally a breakfast person; but to be sure, none of them knew when they might get another good meal.

They found the entrance to the cave close by. They did not find any seeds on the way, but they did not expect to see any. The little pile of seeds just inside the cave, where the morning light struck, and the little trail that ran away from the pile and into the dark could not have been clearer.

“Just to be certain I have this right; Melissa is two?”

“Mother?” Sandra responded, and Glen nodded as he suspected the woman had taken the seeds and left the trail.

“Still, a rather sloppy kidnapper not to notice something as obvious as this.” Glen remained skeptical.

“They may have rested here before entering the cave.” Macreedy offered an explanation. Glen did not feel so sure, but they had no choice but to go into the dark.

Macreedy pulled the three glow-balls from his pack—the ones that had been in the tent. He spoke over them, they became bright, and with a few more words, they began to float in the air, one out front, one in the middle, overhead, and one just behind the group. Sandra looked amazed to see real magic and stepped closer to Glen. Pointed ears were one thing, but the outright impossible was quite another.

“Macreedy is so talented.” Ellean praised him, and Macreedy looked like he might say, “Tut-tut” at any moment.

“Y-yes.” Sandra stuttered around the smile that she pasted on her face. Glen felt less surprised. He paid attention when Macreedy built up the fire the night before. He expected some sort of magic, and he had examined the glow-balls. With that light, though, they could move forward.

This seemed an ordinary enough cave, with an uneven floor, stalactites overhead, and Glen hoped no bats, or at least not too many. As they moved deeper into the dark and found seeds, almost by accident in several cases, it quickly got cold, and they all hugged their cloaks. Sandra had been given one and had wondered why she might need it in the warm fall air she felt in the forest. Now she understood. It got cold underground where neither the sun nor the warm air could penetrate.

After a time of clambering through and over rocks and around corners, and always going further down and deeper in, the floor beneath their feet flattened out and brought them quickly to a large chamber that looked more like the inside of a cathedral than a cave.

“Not good,” Macreedy said. He laid his hand against a stalagmite, which had the appearance more of a column than a natural occurrence. “This is a goblin hall,” he said and he pointed to some carvings on the column.

“Glen.” Sandra scooted yet closer and laid her hand on his wrist. She looked into his eyes and hoped for reassurance.

“Dark elves,” Glen said. “That is an easier word than goblins. They stay underground and work great magic in stone and metal. They are not necessarily the evil goblins of legend.”

Ellean had her bow out and an arrow ready. “But many do like to eat the flesh raw,” she said.

“Big help!” Glen put his arms around Sandra, and she did not mind that at all.

“They are not friends to the elves of the light,” Macreedy agreed with Ellean, though he left his weapons where they were and only fingered the knife at his side.

“I see three ways we can go.” Glen changed the subject.

Macreedy shook himself from his own thoughts and raised his arms. The glow-balls brightened a little, spread out and showed that there were actually five choices. “The problem is two or three of these ways will lead to the warrens—the goblin homes.” He added that last for Glen and Sandra. “Only two or three ways will lead to other places.”

“And which is which?” Ellean finished the thought, and she, Sandra and Macreedy all looked at Glen.

“No, no,” Glen said. He let go of Sandra and stepped back a full step. “I’m no seer. If there is magic in the human world, I have less of it than anyone I know.”

“Someone has to decide,” Sandra said.

“Or you could all just stay here until you starve.” An eerie sort of voice spoke out of the dark. Sandra jumped back into Glen’s arms and Ellean pulled her bow to the ready, though how she knew which direction to point was a mystery since the cavern not only looked like a cathedral, it echoed like one as well.

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

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“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

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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.

Charmed: Part 9 of 11, A Disney-Like Halloween Story (Without the Singing)

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Chapter 9

The music was contagious. Jake and Jessica could hardly hold their feet still, even when they were still down the hill and could not see a thing. Cinnamon could not keep back. She zoomed ahead, just to check things. Mary floated along contentedly on her broom. Jake took hold of Jessica’s hand to help her over a rough spot in the path and neither one wanted to let go after that. They held on tight when they heard the wolf howling in the distance.

“Wolf, howling at the moon,” Jessica suggested, and she smiled at Jake and he returned her smile. hween big moonThe moon remained very big and full and low on the horizon so it appeared to have some orange and even red in the midst of the golden light, and the face of the man on the moon was plain as day, and also smiling down at the young people. Jessica looked shyly down where her hand held his.

Mary perked up her ears and when the howl came again and she corrected Jessica. “Werewolf.” Jake and Jessica held on tight to each other after that, and Jake fingered the cutlass that rested at his side.

When they reached the top of the path where it let out into the great clearing and the stone circle, Mary was the first to see something, and it did not make her happy. “Mister Stuffings!” She raised her voice a bit and there was some scolding in her tone. “Who is home watching the garden?”

A man turned and removed his hat, except it was not a man since it was made entirely of straw. “Sorry, Miss Procter, mum, but this is just once a year, if you don’t mind,” the scarecrow apologized.

Mary softened her look and Jake and Jessica knew by then that the witch was really a sweet old lady. “I don’t mind.”

hween jack2“Good,” They heard another voice hidden behind the scarecrow. “’Cause even a doorbell needs to get out once in a while.”

“Jack!” Jake and Jessica said it together, as Mister Stuffings the scarecrow stepped aside and revealed Jack-o-lantern on the ground, facing the circle.

“Hey, kids,” Jack said, but with the scarecrow no longer blocking their view, Jake and Jessica made no response. They were already watching the dancers, taking in the music and wanting to get in the middle of it all. Then Jake saw Elizabeth and shouted.

“Elizabeth!”

Elizabeth heard, turned her head and returned the shout. “Jake!” She let go of the fairy hands to run to him, but as soon as she let go, she fell the full six feet to the ground. The music stopped. Everyone gasped. Cinnamon whipped out her wand and slowed Elizabeth’s fall, but since it happened so fast, she could not stop it. Elizabeth hit the hard ground and scraped her knees and hands, and she began to cry. Jake ran to her. Jessica came right behind, and paused when Jake held his sister in a strong embrace and cried a little with her. Jessica hesitated for a second before she got to her knees and threw her arms around them both to join the hug and add her tears. They had all had harrowing experiences on that Halloween night.

“How quaint,” Greely Putterwig said, as he stepped free of the crowd. Jack stared hard at the man who no longer looked like a man. His skin was green, which offset his bloodshot eyes, and the only other color was the two tuffs of white hair around his two pointed ears, just like Putterwig the man had hween greely 3around his not so pointed ears. This Putterwig was very skinny, with a small trunk that he more than made up for with extra long skinny arms and skinny legs. He had a pointed nose, a pointed chin, long thin fingers with pointed nails. His feet were flat and wide and he had thick toes, to keep him from stumbling in the dark, Jake supposed.

“She is my sister,” Jake said. “You can’t have her.”

Old Putterwig grinned a hobgoblin kind of grin. “But I have her already. Elizabeth, come here.”

Elizabeth, who turned to watch what was happening, got to her feet, and with a “Yes sir,” she walked over to stand beside the hobgoblin.

“I got her fair and square,” Putterwig said.

“You tricked her. It doesn’t count,” Jake protested

“Son,” The dwarf called Nuggets spoke gently to the young man. “Tricking is the hobgoblin version of fair and square.”

“You said you wished she would just get lost,” Putterwig raised his voice. “You should thank me. I am making your wish come true.”

“That’s not right. I didn’t mean it. Not like that.”

hween dwarf 2“Oh, son,” Nuggets shook his head. “You should always say what you mean and mean what you say. No good will come from doing otherwise.”

Jake got tired of arguing. He carefully pulled the cutlass from his belt. “Then I’ll take her back.” He found a small but strong hand on his hand, and it lowered the sword.

“No son. That is not how we settle things here. Please put down the sword before someone gets hurt.”

Jake lowered the sword and did not resist, but he fought his tears as he spoke. “But what else can I do?”he asked the dwarf. “Elizabeth.” He touched the cutlass tip to the ground and held out his free arm. “We need to go home.”

Elizabeth only glanced at Mister Putterwig before she threw her arms out in response to her brother and said, “Jake. Help me.” She began to cry once again because her feet would not move. Then she began to weep, and this was from a pain far deeper than any skinned knees could ever be. In fact, any number of those in the dance began to weep with her, empathetic as so many of them were.

Cinnamon, a full sized, full grown woman, stepped up between Jake and Jessica and put an arm gently around each. “Is this what you want, Greely Putterwig, to make this poor child suffer for the rest of her hween greely 2days?”

“No,” Mister Putterwig spoke in anger. “She will forget. In time she will forget all about that other place.”

“Bet it leaves a great big hole in her heart.” Nuggets stepped up beside Jake.

“She will suffer mightily from that hole in her heart, and the empty pain will point at you. Is this what you want, for Elizabeth to hate you forever?” Cinnamon stared hard at the hobgoblin until he shrieked.

“You don’t know. You have friends, and people who love you. You all have no idea what it feels like to be alone all the time. Sometimes, I am so lonely I can’t bear it.” He was the one who was now holding back the tears.

“Why you silly hobgoblin. I don’t know why hobgobs should be loners and so pigheaded and stubborn.” Mary stepped up beside Jessica. “Just look around. You have a whole community of people who would be glad to be your friends, who are your friends, and some would be very good friends if you let them.”

“Yes. That’s right. True enough.” Words came from every direction.

hween greely 5“Is this what you want?” Cinnamon gave no quarter. “For the community to despise you and turn their backs on you? Did you really steal this child in order to hurt her?”

“No.” Mister Putterwig shrieked again. “I don’t want to hurt her.” The tears came at last, unstoppable. “I don’t ever want to hurt her.” He got down on his knees and hugged Elizabeth and cried, and she hugged him right back and cried, too. Everyone else remained still and silent until Mister Putterwig pulled back enough to say, “Go on. You are free. Go home to your mom and dad, and your brother Jake.”

“Really?”

Mister Putterwig tried to smile. “Really.” And he watched Elizabeth as she ran and jumped into her brother’s arms and Jake let go of the cutlass completely to wrap up his little sister. Cinnamon stepped back so Jessica could join the hug and join in their happiness as she had joined in their sorrow.

Everyone was suddenly smiling and happy, and the music would have started again at any minute, but a small golden glow appeared in the middle of the circle, and it grew in size and shape until it turned into a beautiful woman, tall and slim, with long blond hair and sparkling light brown eyes, though sparkling is not usually a characteristic of brown eyes. The woman came dressed in a full length, well fitted gown of the whitest white, and she wore a cloak to match where it became hard to tell exactly hween Alice 1where the gown stopped and the cloak began. She wore sandals on her lovely feet, but to be sure, it was never certain if her feet actually touched the ground. She looked happy, but she also looked like one who might get angry if anything ever made her unhappy.

“Lady Alice,” Mary curtsied. All around the circle, the people bowed, or went to one knee, or went to both knees and lowered their heads and eyes. Jake, Jessica and Elizabeth did not know what to think, except that they felt they ought to keep very still and quiet. Poor Mister Putterwig fell to the ground, prostrate and trembling.

“All settled?” Lady Alice said in a voice as beautiful as the rest of her, but clearly she was not really asking. She stepped up to Jake and touched his head as she named him She named Jessica and brushed Jessica’s hair from her eyes like a gentle, loving mother. She kissed Elizabeth as she named her and Elizabeth positively and literally glowed a rich golden color to match the moon. “Now the fairy food will no longer affect you, and you are free indeed.”

Lady Alice turned to Mister Putterwig and smiled. “L-lady,” Mister Putterwig stammered. “I know I did wrong and I am so very, very sorry. Please, show mercy.”

hween alice 3“I thought you didn’t care.”

“Careless words Almost human words. Please.”

“Do not fret,” Alice bent down and lifted the Hobgoblin’s head. “As my friend Will used to say, all’s well as ends well, but this play is not done.” Lady Alice stood and smiled once around at everybody. “There is a last act to this story, but I believe it requires a change of venue.” The Lady clapped her hands, twice. All of the people and creatures around the circle remained solid enough, but the Lady, the ground and the trees, the mountain and the hills, the stars and the moon began to fade from sight.

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Charmed is only posting for this month … So come the 31st I say to you all, Happy Halloween, you know, spiders on your back and over your head, waiting for you to go to sleep.

hween spider 4hween spider 3

Charmed: Part 3 of 11, A Disney-Like Halloween Story (Without the Singing)

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Chapter 3

Jake soon realized he was getting nowhere by yelling. Jessica took his hand and calmed him down enough to look at the footprints where he had not yet stomped. Jake recognized Elizabeth’s prints by her little foot and short stride. The other prints were barefoot, flat footed and too big.

“Mister Putterwig?” Jake asked. The prints did not look right because they did not look exactly human.

Jessica shrugged. “Where are we?” She squeezed Jake’s hand, and her question caused Jake to finally look around and wonder the same thing.

“I felt something when we came through the door,” Jake said. He dropped Jessica’s hand, stood, and fingered a pine branch to be sure it was real.

“I did too. An odd tingling sensation.” Jessica only looked at himhween forest 2

“Me too,” Jake agreed. He went to look again at the footprints. He avoided Jessica’s eyes.

“I don’t see any way back the way we came,” Jessica walked all of the way around one of the trees.

“This is the way we need to go,” Jake said, and he pointed in the direction the footprints pointed.

“But the way back has to be around here,” Jessica protested. “We can’t wander off. We’ll just get ourselves lost and never find this place again.”

“I’m not leaving this place, wherever we are, until I get Elizabeth back.”

Jessica felt scared about wandering off into the dark woods, but her words spoke of something else. “Are you sure? You didn’t seem too concerned about Elizabeth before.”

“What are you implying?”

“Nothing. You said she ruined your life. I just thought you were only concerned about Jake.”

“What made you think that?”

“Well, you sit right next to me in Civics and you won’t even talk to me,” Jessica said, a complete change of subject.

“Well, you won’t talk to me either.”

“I’ve tried, but you don’t respond.”

hween forest 3“Well, I can’t talk to you.” Jake turned a little red. “I’ve tried, too.” He took a deep breath. “I can’t think of what to say, and my life is so dull and boring.”

“Oh.” Jessica lost some steam on hearing the truth. “I don’t think your life is dull and boring. I think taking care of a seven-year-old is special, and you do a great job.”

“I didn’t do such a great job today,” Jake confessed. His voice was also calmer, but his upset remained.

“We will find her together,” Jessica offered, and reached out to touch his hand again.

“Good,” a woman’s voice said. It startled Jake and Jessica. They backed away from each other like two young people caught by their parents, “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“Who said that?” Jake raised his voice and spun around.

“Was it a bird?” Jessica pointed toward the top of a tree where the branches shook.

“Don’t be silly,” the voice said. “Birdies can’t talk in words you would understand.” Something fluttered down from the branches to face them, and at first it made them think it might be a bird after all, or a giant talking insect. It turned out to be a little woman with wings, a fairy, and Jake stared and smiled. Jessica fell over and seemed to have trouble closing her mouth.

“Elizabeth, my little sister dressed like a fairy for Halloween,” Jake said, completely enchanted by the mere appearance of a real fairy. He put his hand up slowly to touch and see if the fairy was real, but the fairy backed off and would not let him touch her.

“Yes, I heard you calling. Elizabeth. Eliza-BETH. It was very loud. Too loud for sleeping.”hween cinnamon 4

“I’m sorry about that.”

“We’re sorry,” Jessica corrected Jake as she began to get over her astonishment.

“Oh, Jessica. Elizabeth would love to meet a real, live fairy.” Jake looked down, and gave Jessica a hand to help her to her feet.

“Do you know the way through the forest?” Jessica asked and spoke to Jake, though she never took her eyes off the hovering fairy. “I wouldn’t mind going after Elizabeth if we had something like a guide.”

The fairy fluttered down to face Jessica. “There are ways through the trees, and then there are ways. I’m not saying which way is best.”

“Maybe you could show us the way Elizabeth went,” Jake suggested.

She zipped over to face Jake. “I don’t know the way Elizabeth went.” Jake looked defeated. “But she went with Greely Putterwig, and I know where he lives.” Jake brightened. “Maybe we could go to Greely’s nasty house and ask.”

“So, you will go with us?” Jessica asked

“Well.” The fairy looked at them both and put one hand up to tap a finger against her cheek. “Human people don’t belong here. I suppose Lady Alice would not want you to get lost in the woods and yelling. Then nobody would get any sleep.”

hween forest 1“So you’ll come?” Jake asked.

“My sister Pumpkin used to travel with human people and she had great adventures.” The fairy appeared to smile. “Okay,” she said. “Where are we going?”

“To Greely Putterwig’s house,” Jessica said.

“But we can’t get there from here,” the fairy said firmly.

“I’m Jake,” Jake said and pointed again. “The footprints go this way. Maybe they wil take us to a place where we can get to Putterwig’s house.”

“Okay,” the fairy said happily. “I’m Cinnamon.”

“What a lovely name. I’m Jessica.”

“Hi Jessica. Can I ride on your shoulder?”

Jessica stopped. “Will it hurt?”

“Only if you get too bumpy. I might have to hold on to your hair.”

“Okay,” Jessica imitated the fairy and then squinted in case it did hurt. The fairy settled down without a bump, and she was very light so Jessica hardly felt her. “That’s not so bad.” She started to follow Jake and Cinnamon grabbed to the strands of Jessica’s hair that stuck out from beneath her cap.

“Woah. Pumpkin never said it was this bumpy.”

Jessica grinned at her thought. “I just think you want to ride on my shoulder so you don’t have to use your own legs, or wings as the case may be.”hween cinnamon 1

Cinnamon nodded, though Jessica could not exactly see her. “That, and to hide in your hair and shut my eyes when we run into spookies. Too bad you don’t have more hair.”   Jessica removed her ballcap. She actually had a full head of rather thick hair. Cinnamon sounded delighted, scooted closer to Jessica’s ear to get covered and promptly spent the next few minutes playing peek-a-boo like Jessica’s hair was a kind of curtain.

They heard a scream up ahead. It sounded like Elizabeth, and Jake began to yell again. “Elizabeth! Eliza-BETH!” When there was no answer, he stopped yelling, but he turned them in the direction of the scream.

Cinnamon asked. “Can I take my fingers out of my ears now?”

“Yes,” Jessica said, but her peripheral vision showed Cinnamon still plugged up. Jessica had to reach around very carefully with her finger and dislodge one of Cinnamon’s arms to unplug the ear. “Yes,” Jessica repeated with a smile. She noticed that the fairy felt like flesh and blood and not at all like something ephemeral.

“Good,” Cinnamon grabbed a chunk of hair to steady herself. “You know, there are all sorts of monsters, nasties and spookies that can make screaming like that.”

Jake stopped for a second to check the footprints. “I figured that, but it sounded like Elizabeth, and we don’t have anything else to go on.”

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Charmed is either a very small book or a long story offered in eleven parts over this October, 2023, leading up to Halloween. The posts go up on the blog on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.  If you miss a post, or want to go back to the beginning, they are easy enough to find. Just click on the archives and select October 2023. Charmed is the main posting for the month … So on the 31st I say to you all, Happy Halloween, you know, bats and spooky thingshween bats 2

hween bats 1

Charmed: Part 2 of 11, A Disney-Like Halloween Story (Without the Singing)

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Chapter 2

Elizabeth Simon, all of seven-years-old, finished at 315 Bleeker Street, but when she went to the sidewalk, she saw her brother occupied with some big kids. She did not interrupt. She decided to go to the next house as she had been taught. She liked the house. It was dark and spooky, the way she thought Halloween was supposed to be. The unkempt yard cast all sorts of odd shadows across the walk, and the rickety porch squeaked under her steps. She even found a big spider web in the corner next to the post, up near the roof.Hween putterwig house 1

The old man sat in the rocker, watching. Elizabeth saw him from the front walk, so he did not startle her. “Child,” he said. “What do you want?”

“Trick or treat,” Elizabeth said her line, held out her shopping bag, and smiled a warm smile.

“Trick or treat? Trick or treat is it? What a quaint custom.” Mister Putterwig glanced ever so briefly at the young people out on the street and he thought he could easily make the little girl disappear. “I can do a trick, and I have a treat, both,” he said, and put out his hand. It held the biggest, most chocolaty, gooey mess Elizabeth had ever seen. “But only good little girls can have some,” he warned.

Elizabeth’s hand hesitated. “I try to be good.”

“Wisely spoken,” old man Putterwig conceded. “Try it.”

She did, and when the old man held out his other hand to take her hand, there was nothing more she wanted in the whole world than to go with this kindly old man. When they entered the house and came out among the pine trees, Elizabeth had a question.

“Where are we going?”

“To a land of wonders and enchantment and magic, and keep walking.” Mister Putterwig looked back.

“The land of the fairies?” Elizabeth sounded excited.

“I suppose there are some around,” Mister Putterwig made another concession. “But once you eat fairy food, you become captive to the little ones, or in this case, to me  Now, you have to do whatever I tell you.”

hween greely 6“Oh, yes. But I don’t mind because you are such a nice man.”

Mister Putterwig’s face turned red and then purple. “First of all, I am not nice. I am grumpy and, um, mean. I can be very mean. And second of all, I am not a man.”

Elizabeth stopped and looked up into the man’s eyes. He contorted his face with a big toothy grin and squinted his beady little eyes. Elizabeth shrieked and looked away. “There, see?” Mister Putterwig sounded proud, like he proved his point. “I told you I could be mean.”

“No, that isn’t it,” Elizabeth said. “You looked like a clown face and I’m scared of clowns.”

“Oh,” Mister Putterwig deflated before he looked up, sharply. They heard Jake call,. “Eliza-BETH.” Mister Putterwig barely got his hand over Elizabeth’s mouth in time.

“Don’t answer him. Come on. Hurry.” They began to walk again and picked up their pace. It was a few minutes before they slowed again and Mister Putterwig had a question.

“So, do you have a name?”

“Elizabeth. Elizabeth Simon.”

“Well, Elizabeth-Elizabeth Simon, my name is Greely Putterwig, and I am a Hobgoblin.”

“I’m a fairy,” Elizabeth responded, happily.hween elizabeth 1

“What?” Mister Putterwig eyed her closely.

“My costume. Don’t I look like a fairy?”

“Not too much,” Mister Putterwig said, and seemed relieved. “You’re a bit big.”

“But I got wings and everything.”

“I see that. Turn around.” Elizabeth turned and Mister Putterwig adjusted her wings to set them more squarely on her back. “That’s better. Now you look more fairy-like”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said, and reached for Mister Putterwig’s hand, who took her little hand and almost smiled.

They started to walk again. The pine forest did not seem too dark where the trees did not grow too close together.   Plenty of room remained overhead for starlight to find the forest floor. Elizabeth saw some snow on the firs and she could not help voicing her thoughts. “Do you know any Christmas Carols?”

Mister Putterwig stopped and looked angry for a moment, but one look into Elizabeth’s innocent face and he decided to think about it. A hoot owl sounded out not too far from where they stood. He started them walking again and sang, “Oh, you better watch out.” He stopped there, and Elizabeth giggled.

“That’s not it. It goes, “Oh, you better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout I’m tellin’ you why…”

“Stop, stop. Stop!” Mister Putterwig waved his big hands back and forth, shook his head, and snarled. Elizabeth stopped, worried that she got it wrong. “You can cry and pout if you want to. Go ahead and cry. And Pouting is an old family tradition, my family I mean. “Oh, you better watch out” is the only part I sing. There’s reasons for that we don’t need to go into just now.”

hadj ghouls 4Elizabeth tried to nod and agree, but all she could do was scream. An eight foot ogre stood directly in their path. He was ugly, tusky, full of boils and puss and with more sharp teeth than anyone would consider reasonable. He had long arms and short legs, all the size of tree trunks, and apparently carried a separate tree of some sort, his club, in one huge, gnarly hand. He also had a spark of intelligence in his eyes which said this creature is fully capable of chasing you and eating you, though to be fair, the spark of intelligence was a very small one.

“Eliza-BETH!” The sound came from a long way off, much further than before

“Jake!” Elizabeth shouted back. She recognized the voice.

Mister Putterwig looked back and said, “Quiet. I said don’t answer him. Now, run.” They ran and Mister Putterwig mumbled. “Leave it to Pusshead to ruin everything.”

Elizabeth was glad to run from the ogre. She was a bit upset when the ogre spoke over her head.

“What are we running from?”

Elizabeth screamed again, and stumbled. Old Mister Putterwig scooped her up and ran at a spritely pace. In fact, even carrying the little girl, the old man ran fast enough to lose the ogre somewhere in the deeper forest.

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Charmed is a long story offered in eleven posts over this October, 2023 leading up to Halloween. The posts go up on the blog on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.  If you miss a post, or want to go back to the beginning, they are easy enough to find. Just click on the archives and select October 2023. Charmed is the main posting for the month … So on the 31st I say to you all Happy Halloween, you know, witches flying across the face of the moon and stuff.

hween a witch moon

M3 Margueritte: And Secrets, part 3 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Sir Bartholomew stepped back a step on seeing the doctor disappear, but quickly recovered and turned to Grimly and Luckless the Dwarf.  He tried hard not to look up at the ogre.  “And what can I do for you gentlemen?” he asked.

Luckless stepped up again.  “Actually,” he said.  “We were kind of hoping we could stick around for a while.”  He looked at Grimly who nodded vigorously, and at Hammerhead, who was not sure what was happening.

Sir Barth took another step back and looked to the girls and to his wife.  Surprisingly, Lady Brianna did not seem to have any objections, while Elsbeth quickly said, “Please.”

“Pleasy,” Little White Flower echoed.

“But.”  Bartholomew hardly knew what to say.  “Where will they stay?” he asked.

“Under the hill, under the barn,” Margueritte suggested quickly.  “They dig fast and well, and no one need ever know they are there.”

“Aha!  But what will we feed them?”  Bartholomew thought he had the right idea.  “We can’t possibly feed the lot of them for free.”

“I understand fairies need only a little milk and some bread for sustenance,” Lady Brianna said, and Sir Barth knew he was already outvoted.

“And berries.”  Little White Flower spoke up from Elsbeth’s hair and shoulder.  Elsbeth giggled because it tickled.  “I like berries.”

“I can cook a bit,” Lolly chimed in.  “I been practicing, er, ‘bout four hundred years.  I ought to be pretty good by now, so wouldn’t be for free.”

“You ought to be good,” Luckless mumbled.

“Never heard you complaining yet,” Lolly shot at him and Lady Brianna covered her grin.

“M’lord.”  Redux the blacksmith stepped forward.  “I would be pleased to learn from this good dwarf, all of whom are known to be experts in the smithy crafts.”

“I’m no expert,” Luckless said, as he straightened his helmet which was a bit large and had begun to slip to one side.  He paused, but then rubbed his hands.  “Still, it would be good to get my hands on a good furnace again.  All play and no work makes for a fat dwarf.”

“No.  It’s my good cookin’,” Lolly said and smiled from ear to ear, literally.

“And Grimly the brownie.”  Margueritte gave him the Breton name rather than the Frankish “hobgoblin.”  “He can help in the fields.  Gnomes are known to be very good with crops and bring bounty and blessing.”

“So, it would not be feeding them for free.”  Brianna summed it up.

Bartholomew put his hand to his chin.  “Ah!” he said at last.  “But what about this big one.  He looks like he could eat a horse for breakfast.”

Grimly stepped straight up to the lord who had to look straight down to pay attention.  “You got a problem with rocks and boulders in your fields?  Like who doesn’t in these parts?  You got a problem with sandy soil and needing tons of fertilizer?  Like who doesn’t around here?  You got stumps and things to clear, and sink holes and little hillocks and the like?  Well, my friend can fix all that, and better than a whole herd of oxen and bunches of you human beans.”

“Beings,” Margueritte corrected, then held her tongue.

Sir Barth thought a minute longer before he turned to Margueritte.  “Can you guarantee their good behavior?  I’ve heard some pretty strange stories, as have you.”

“Well.”  Margueritte hesitated.  “No, father, I cannot promise.”

“That’s right.”  Lolly stuck up for her Great Lady.  “The gods never make promises.”

“’sright.”  Luckless confirmed.

“But they will be loyal and faithful and won’t hurt anybody.  Isn’t that right?”  All the little ones agreed to that and swore mightily.

Sir Barth looked around at his men, and especially at Marta and Maven.  “If any one of you ever says anything about this to anyone at any time, I will not rest until I find out who did the telling and it will be worse for them than if they had never been born.”  His men and women also swore they would keep it all a secret, though they did not swear nearly as colorfully as the little ones.  Margueritte knew the Franks, and even Marta and Maven would keep their word, at least up to a point.  She also knew the little one’s word was hardly worth the breath it took to say it, but her father seemed satisfied.

“Let’s go home,” he said.

They rounded up the horses and found a half dozen Arabians added to the spoils.  Those horses carried the dead who would be buried by the chapel, but already Lord Bartholomew’s mind turned to breeding.  He thought the right combination of Arabian and Frankish charger would be a horse that could finally beat the Gray Ghost.

Luckless, constantly straightened his helmet and walked beside Redux.  “Got a wife?”  Margueritte heard him ask.

“No,” Redux answered.

“Lucky man,” Luckless said.  “I can see maybe there’s a thing or two I could learn myself.”

Margueritte, knew how good the ears of a lady dwarf really were and felt surprised Lolly had no comment to shout.  Then she saw her in the cart with Marta and Maven.  Marta reached out to touch the dwarf like one might fear to touch a leper.  Maven was already looking for a comfortable spot for twenty more winks.

“Lady.”  Margueritte heard and almost answered before she realized Little White Flower was speaking to her mother.  “Can I spend the night in Elsbeth’s room?  Pleasy?”

Lady Brianna laughed and nodded.  She understood this would become a regular thing.  Both Elsbeth and Little White Flower cheered.

Margueritte then looked back to the end of the small procession, just past the third wagon.  Hammerhead walked slowly to keep from accidentally kicking the last wagon.  He grinned ever so broadly, and Margueritte felt glad no one else looked back.  The sight of an ogre grinning was not something normal people would ever want to see.

“So, it’s you and me.”  Margueritte heard Grimly’s voice, but the brownie was obscured by the wagon where she could not see him.  When the ogre did not respond, probably because he did not hear the little voice, being lost in his own though, in the singular, Grimly floated up until he got to ear level.  He leaned in, spoke right into the ogre’s ear and cupped his hands for the extra volume.  “I said, so it’s you and me.”

Hammerhead dumbly turned his head in the direction of the sound and bumped Grimly who flew back and down and landed smack in a mud puddle.  “Sorry,” Hammerhead said, sincerely.  He tried to whisper so as not to frighten the beasts or the people.  Margueritte laughed.

Come evening, Margueritte could not help dreaming of little ones, but oddly, she also dreamed of Gerraint, son of Erbin that Thomas of Evandell sang so well about.  At least it seemed like a dream, at first.

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MONDAY

Beltane, because, you know, for every fall festival there has to be a spring festival.  Until Monday, Happy Reading

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R6 Greta: The Forest of Fire, part 1 of 3

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The travelers spent the next three days moving through the woods that Greta called the Brugh.  They were mixed fir and pine at the higher elevations, but deciduous further down the slopes.  It did not look like a forest of fire to anyone, especially when it rained on the second day.  Much less did they expect to find a lake of gold.

“Believe me,” Bogus declared.  “If there was a lake of gold, the dwarves would be mining it right now.”

On that first night, Greta finally sat down with Bogus and let him speak what stayed on his mind and in his heart.  “I dearly love my granddaughter, Berry,” he said. “When she was just a baby, three-quarters human and all, so many of us worked so hard and with every ounce of magic we could muster to release the fairy within her.  And we succeeded.  She found her wings, and though she could not fly as fast or as far, or reach as high as a real fairy, like my mother could, and though she had no magic of her own to speak of, I loved her dearly and took the very best care of her I could.  I did.”

“I know you did.”

Mavis and Nudd finished caring for Stinky and came to sit and listen while Vedix and Hermes tried to put together something edible without a fire.

“And her twin sister, Fae, though she found a small bit of magic in her one-quarter spirit blood and despite her three-quarters human blood, I kept the agreement and never sought her out, and never knew her at all.  Berry was given to us and Fae was given to the humans, and I left Fae to her own people, though it broke my heart every day to know she was out there, but I would never know her”

“I know that is true.”

Lucius came in from the south and sat.  He picked at a bit of dried beef that they brought from the village of the Dragon Clan and had left over from their time in Movan Mountain.

“But then, Lady, when you came along after seventy years, and Berry as a fairy was just a teenager of maybe thirteen or twelve human years in looks, and Fae as a human was a poor, old woman of the full seventy years, I thought something might be done, even if I could only have both of my granddaughters together for a short time.  I was determined to be content to love them for however brief a time I had, but then you made a miracle, you did.  Poor Fae, when she was struck by that arrow in the battle, she was sure to die, being as old and frail as she was.  But you took all of Berry’s fairy blood and gave it to Fae, and filled Berry with Fae’s human blood, so Berry became a one hundred percent human, poor child, and Fae became half-fee, like her father.  And then, as easy as a blink of your eye, you healed Fae and brought the fullness of her spirit blood out, so seventy was suddenly not so old, and Fae was a happy dwarf.”

“I know that she is happy.”

Alesander and Briana came in together from the north where they scouted out the land and saw no sign of the Wolv.  They were not holding hands, but they might as well have been.

Bogus took off his hat and laid it gently in his lap before he continued.  “I’ve never been so honest and straight-forward in all my whole life. Normally, for spirit folk it goes against every fiber to be pure honest, but I honestly don’t mind telling all of this to you.  It is like a confession those humans talk about, and a great, life-long burden lifted from my heart.”

“Go on.”

Vedix and Hermes joined them so everyone began to listen, and everyone had the good sense not to interrupt.

“Well, I can’t say I am happy that Fae has taken up with that old curmudgeon, Hobknot the Hobgoblin of the Hardwood, but Berry being married to your own brother I don’t mind at all.  He is a fine young man, human though he is, and I will tell anyone the same.”  Bogus paused and looked down at his hat.  “It is not my place to question the way of the gods, but I don’t know what might have possessed you to let those four go off on such a daft errand.”

“They wanted to find their father,” Greta said quietly.  “It is not my place to say what my little ones do.  I can encourage, inspire, enthuse and ask, but I will not control. Ultimately, what you decide to do will be up to you.  You make your own choices, and have to live with them.”

Bogus nodded slowly.  “It was still daft,” he said.

“But you have not spoken of their father, your son.”

Bogus nodded again and began to worry his hat. “Damn stubborn and stupid boy.  He went off in search of his grandmother, my mother, and got himself trapped in the Land of the Lost.  And now Berry and Fae have followed him into the same stupid place.”

“Softly,” Greta said, and she touched Bogus and calmed the hands on his poor imp hat.

“I loved her, you know.  Sweet Clarissa.  She was so young and vulnerable when the Romans came stomping into the forest. She was hurt and cried so softly, like a bird with a hurt wing.  I hid her and cared for her as well as anyone could.”

“And you fell in love with her.”

Bogus paused at that stark statement.  He stared at Greta before he looked down and began to worry his hat again.  “I would have kept her, enchanted, you know, but she was so sweet and fragile I knew keeping her in a cage would kill her, so I let her go, knowing I could not go with her.  She ran, I tell you.  She ran into the arms of that man from the Eagle Clan, but she was with child, and the son she had was mine as he proved many times.  Oren was a beautiful child.  When he was older, he began to spend some time with me and some of the others, which I felt was only fair, him being half mine. He found out his grandfather was an old imp who ran off at the ripe old age of eight hundred and fifty-two, about the time Oren was born, and he cried for his grandfather, though he never met the old bastard.  But when he found out his grandmother, my mother Willow, was the sweetest fairy of light this world has ever known, he became obsessed.  There was no living with him.  He began to range far and wide through the land, calling her name, even though he knew, some two hundred years earlier, her troop had migrated into the north and would not likely be found by any means.”

“I tried to stop him,” Bogus’ words burst out.  “I tried to tell him not to go, but his younger brother, my Clarissa’s human son was old enough to help keep and raise the family, and he said he was free to go.  Stupid and stubborn, I tell you.”  Bogus let his words trail off and thought the rest quietly to himself. Greta felt glad for that.  He did not need to say some of those words out loud.

“Fae and Berry found their father,” Greta took up the telling.  “But they are all prisoners in the Land of the Lost.  We have to go and set them free.”  With that, she laid down, turned her back on them all and pulled her blanket up to her shoulder.  She feigned sleep until sleep finally came for her, and she would not answer any questions, though she did hear some of the conversation.  Lucius, of all people, got it right.  They were headed right into the jaws of the Wolv and the home of the goddess.

R5 Greta: Battle, part 3 of 3

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Fae took a deep breath and continued.  “When as the knights of the lance, as Hobknot calls them, crashed into the center of the enemy charge, they divided very sharply to the left and the right and many came very close to us.  That was when I took an arrow.  It must have been one of the first to ride by with a bow in his hands. But my people were watching, and with a great cry, they came pouring out of the forest and crashed deep into the side of the enemy horsemen.  Lady, it was glorious!”

“But now you got a big hole in your side.” Hobknot could not restrain himself. “You stupid moron.”

“Oh, shut-up.”  Fae smiled at him.

“No, you shut-up.”  Hobknot wanted to smile back, but he could not for worry.

“You both shut-up,” Greta said.  “Now Hobknot.  Fae is three-quarters human.  She has lived the human life between her and Berry.  I have no authority over that.”  Hobknot looked downcast, but Fae reached out and squeezed Greta’s hand.

“The Don,” she said.  “Or if in her wisdom, Danna will not help me, please, may I see her again before I die?”

Greta checked.  Danna was willing, and she had something she would also do which helped Greta understand a mystery.  “All right.” She told Fae, and she and Danna traded places through the time stream.

Danna looked at Hobknot, Berry, Hans and Bragi in turn.  They were very quiet.  Fae, however, became filled with joy.  “Great Mother,” she said.  “How often I prayed to you and to your children, hoping against hope that I might someday see with my own eyes.  I knew you were gone away.  You left the world in the hands of your children, but I never understood what that meant, until now.  All the same, I think I loved you most of all.”

“I know,” Danna said, and she did know, exactly so.  “The lady speaks true,” she added.  She smiled for Fae’s love, but it became time to act.  “Berry.”  She called softly.  Berry came timidly, but Danna put her free arm around the little one and hugged her. “Would you be willing to give your fairy blood to your sister so that she may live?”

“Oh, yes, Great lady,” Berry said.  “Even if it means I will never be little and never fly again.”  Danna made sure that Berry understood what she was asking.  Berry looked up at Hans.  “Even if it means that Hans will not love me anymore.  Yes, I will,” she said, sadly.

“Good,” Danna said.

“Wait.”  Berry got little and flew all around the tent.  She flew a couple of back flips and then kissed Hans on the cheek.  At last she got big again and stood beside Fae. “All right,” she said.  “I’m ready.”

Danna put Berry’s hand in Fae’s hand and it was done. Berry showed no outward sign of change at all.  She simply became a full-blooded twelve, nearly thirteen-year-old girl.  Fae, however, changed dramatically.  She shrank, but unlike Berry who reflected the fairy side of the family, Fae reflected more of her grandfather, Bogus the Skin.  She became a perfect little dwarf, though technically a half and half.  Hobknot got so excited, he did handsprings and cartwheels all over the tent.  As a dwarf, Fae now became considerably younger than she had been as a human. Seventy or so was not so much in dwarf years.  She seemed to want to jump up and join Hobknot in his game, but she still felt sore in the side though she no longer showed any sign of her wound.

Berry, on the other hand, became shy and tried to hide behind Danna’s back, no longer having access to her hair.  Danna had to pull her out and she held her, until Hans reached for her.

“I don’t have to give her up, do I?”  Hans asked.  “We can still be engaged, can’t we?”  Obviously, Berry wanted that very much, and she giggled a little in delight when Hans took her again, to hold her.

“You still have to wait four years.”  Danna reminded them, even if Berry still felt like that was forever.

“Now Bragi.”  Danna said at last.  “Please don’t tell Mama or Papa about this.

“No problem, er, Great Lady,” he said.  “I’m not likely to tell anyone.  They will just think I am mad.”  He meant what he said, but he smiled and Danna could tell he started enjoying himself again.

“Right now, I am Danna,” she said.  “And I have lived any number of other lives as well.”

“She’s the nameless god, too.” Hans blabbed.

“I know,” Bragi answered.

“Stop winking.”  Danna scolded them.  “Most of the time I am just a plain, ordinary person, like this time.  This is Greta’s life, your sister of the same mother and father.  And I hope you take good care of her.”  She traded back with Greta, and Greta continued speaking.  “I mean it.  Please don’t say anything to anyone.  I would like to live a nice, quiet, ordinary life.”

“Not likely,” Bragi said, with a grin to beat all grins.

Thissle ran in and jumped into Bragi’s arms. Thorn walked in and saluted.  Then the musicians came in.  It was Fiddler, Whistler and several others.  The music started, and Fae did finally get up and dance. She could hardly keep her feet still. Bogus the Skin came in with Ragwart and Gorse and several woodwives.  Greta only felt glad that Thunderhead was not to be seen.  That would have been too much.

The atmosphere quickly became festive and someone even produced a table of wine and sweet meats.  Greta did not really mind.  For the moment the war and the world were shut out.  Then she felt two arms slip around her from behind.  She turned.  It was Darius.  He did not seem to mind holding her close and she knew she did not mind it at all.

“Is this a private celebration, or can anyone join in?”  He asked.

“Not just anyone.”  She answered, and they kissed until Greta felt she could not kiss him anymore.

“I almost forgot,” Darius said at last.  “I have something that belongs to you.”  He reached under his tunic and untied something. He handed it to Greta.  It was her scarf.  Greta became wide eyed and found out she could kiss him a lot more.

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MONDAY

What a lovely place to end a story… but the work of the Kairos never seems to end.  Some things need to be remembered, but some things are best forgotten.  Greta will need some extraordinary help to keep the guns out of Rome, and to save as many lives as possible.  Monday, The End of the Day.  Happy Reading.

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