Kairos

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who is there?” Beth asked quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think so Zinnia,” Mistletoe said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“G-good to know you,” Beth stammered.

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

MONDAY

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

*

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

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

When he came to the actual end of the tunnel, he came to a tremendous underground cavern. Chris could neither see the far walls nor the ceiling, so he wondered how big the cavern might be. Then he heard something he had not expected—the sound of water, waves breaking on a shoreline, and it sounded close. He stepped into the light.

Two braziers stood against the stone wall, and the shoreline of some underground sea looked hardly fifty feet away. The water appeared black dark and hard to see, even with his night eyes, but at that point on the shore, it looked as if someone built a kind of dock made of stone. He looked over the water and thought there might be something out there, far off. He imagined it was not likely the other side of the sea, but perhaps an island of some sort. He squinted and tried to focus when someone grabbed him by the arms from behind.

“Got him,” a male voice said. Chris did not struggle, because he saw a female step into his line of vision, and for a moment her red hair appeared to be on fire, though otherwise she looked very attractive.

“Who are you?” The woman asked.

“Chris, and you?” Chris spoke as calmly as he could.

The woman looked young. Chris guessed her to be about his age or a little older when she cocked her head to get a good look at him before she answered. “Heathfire. And my companion is Broomwick.”

“Well, you must be good at sneaking up on people because I didn’t see you at all.”

Heathfire looked at Chris like he had to be dumb. “We were in the braziers. Duh!”

“I’m sorry?” Chris did not understand.

“Hey! We are supposed to be asking the questions. Now, where did you come from?”

“Home, originally,” Chris answered. “I came down the tunnel with Deathwalker. The troll road.”  He pointed with his head.

“Deathwalker?” Broomwick slackened his grip, but he did not let go. Heathfire appeared curious as if she knew something, but it would not come together in her mind.

“Yeah,” Chris said. “I haven’t done anything if that is what you’re thinking.”

“Hey! You there!” The shout came from behind them.

“Chris!” Heathfire suddenly shouted. “You’re the Storyteller’s son.”

“I am?” Chris smiled as Broomwick let go and even took a moment to straighten out Chris’ shirt where he had wrinkled it.

“Sorry,” Broomwick said. “Just doing my job you understand. Guarding the wharf and all that. All okay?” Broomwick did not wait for an answer. He became a ball of flame and rushed back to one of the braziers while Heathfire laughed.

Deathwalker came up beside Chris and made sure no damage got done. He gave Heathfire a stern look, which she ignored.

“First stranger in a month and it turns out to be you, and we even knew you were coming.”

“Did he just go on fire?” Chris asked.

Heathfire nodded. “He’s a fire sprite. So am I,” she said. “I take it you’re human, mortal I mean.” Chris returned her nod.

“Now, young woman.” Deathwalker started, but Heathfire interrupted.

“Put it out, Gramps.”

“We need a ship.” Deathwalker finished his thought. “And young man, you might as well join us.” He spoke to the brazier and a flame face with a slightly worried expression stuck up for a second before it scooted away from the brass and took the shape of a burly young man.

“Sorry,” Broomwick said.

“You already said that.” Heathfire teased.

“No, I mean sorry. There haven’t been any ships in dock since that one, you know, took over.”

“That’s right.” Heathfire looked serious for a minute. “And no relief, either. I swear, if I ingest another faggot of charcoal I’ll up-chuck.”

“Charming thought,” Chris said. He wondered what a fire sprite might throw up.

Heathfire stepped close. She took Chris’ hand, and he felt a momentary spark between them which made Chris blink and Heathfire smile.

“Most guys think I’m pretty hot. What about you?” She looked at him in a way which only a fool could misunderstand.

“An understatement,” Chris said, diplomatically. Heathfire giggled, but Chris could feel the heat coursing through his hand.

“Ahem!” Deathwalker interrupted. “We need to get to the island of the castle,” he said. “Our mission is to set Lord Deepdigger free of his enchantment and set the women free as well, if possible.”

“Just the two of you?” Heathfire let go of Chris’ hand, stepped back and covered her giggle. “I mean, Kairos’ son and all, but still.”

“I’ll help,” Broomwick stepped forward. Chris looked at him. “Least I can do,” he admitted.

“Thanks.” Chris offered his hand.

“Me, too,” Heathfire said. She put her hand up like a real volunteer and let her eyes roll up toward the ceiling to suggest that she still thought they were crazy. “Maybe we can at least find something better to eat.”

“May I come?” All four turned to see an ugly old woman stand in the shadows by the sea. Chris did not understand, but Heathfire screamed, Deathwalker gripped Chris’ arm with something of an iron grip, and Broomwick rushed for the comfort of his brazier.

The old woman appeared to have risen-up out of the underground sea.

“Hag.” Deathwalker whispered the name of the thing, and as he spoke, the old woman cackled and began to change. She very quickly became seven feet tall and appeared to be covered with prickly, matted hair or fur. The monster looked incredibly strong. Chris especially did not like the way she or it drooled while looking at him.

“Stoked up.” They heard Broomwick’s voice behind them. “Football tackle,” Broomwick yelled, as he shot out of the brazier, a streak of flame, and set the creature on fire. To Chris’ dismay, far from being hurt, the creature seemed to revel in the flames, grew another foot taller and appeared stronger than ever.

“Football tackle.” Deathwalker repeated Broomwick’s words and yanked on Chris’ arm. To be sure, Chris would have rather run in the opposite direction, but he could hardly let Deathwalker tackle the monster alone. Deathwalker might have been far stronger than he looked, but he was not nearly strong enough to take down that beast alone; so, Chris ran beside Deathwalker, and together they bumped the beast while it was still distracted and reveling in the flames. It swatted them both aside like two troublesome insects, but it also lost its balance for a second.

A new figure, someone much bigger than Chris hit the off-balance beast, and though even the hulking person had only a little effect on the monster, it became enough to knock the beast over. The hag fell back into the sea and screamed at the last second when she realized she would hit the water. The fire with which the beast became covered, the fire that made the beast grow in size and strength, got doused all at once in a great cloud of steam, and the cavern filled with the agonizing screams of death. Chris could not tear his eyes away. Almost as quickly as the old woman transformed into the frightening monster, so now the monster changed back partially into the woman. Then the arms and legs, chest and face of the old woman collapsed and sank, in a sense imploded. It looked as if the bones and muscles which had once given the body shape had been liquefied and could no longer hold the skin to that shape. When it was over, Chris saw very little of the hag that remained afloat. He saw less than an oil slick on the surface of the water.

“My thanks,” Deathwalker said. Chris looked. Their help had not been Broomwick in solid form, and certainly not Heathfire who spent those few short moments trying hard not to scream again. This brute looked young, had fangs for teeth and claws for hands, but he grinned and shook Deathwalker’s hand, so Chris imagined he might not be too bad.

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.

Golden Door Chapter 10 James and the Tree part 2 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

The imp became the first to recover. “Aw. I’m not scared of her,” he said. He looked back at the twins for support, which they gave by nodding their heads, though they looked plenty scared.

Tekos turned serious. “She should scare you.” He whispered in a James sort of soft voice. Then he spoke up. “Back in the day, we were considered lesser gods, ourselves, though not immortal like the Gods, and yet this one even scares me.” It felt like a big admission.

“Well, we’re not afraid.” Grubby the imp tried again.

“I am,” James said. He remembered the witch and the arm half-way into the room, reaching for his neck. He shuddered.

“Me, too,” one of the dwarf twins admitted.

“And me, too,” the other echoed.

“We all are.” Mrs. Copperpot nodded and looked ever so stern. “But we still have to do what we can while we are able. The Lord Kairos is depending on us. There is no one else.” She paused to explain their mission to Tekos; that they were headed to the castle on the hill to try and set Lord Noen free and release the prisoners from the dungeon if they could.

With that said, Tekos leaned down to James and smiled, his wooden face crackling with the movement. He laid a gentle, though bark-rough hand against James’ cheek. “But I would not see you go defenseless into the lion’s den,” he said. He lifted his hand to James’ head, and his eyes went wide. “Son, I see that you have already been given every talent and connection to the dwarfs and those that walk the earth in between the light and the dark. There is much that you will have to discover and learn, but there is one thing I can activate in you.” He paused and appeared determined. “I have no authority to change you into a lion, you understand. I may not be able to affect the son of the Kairos at all, lesser god though I be. But I think it would be good to keep up with these other misbehavers, and glamour your way to the castle. Yes, I think you ought to be able to put on a good glamour when you have a mind.” He took his hand away as if already finished with his work, and the twins pushed forward.

“Try it out,” they echoed each other again.

James did not understand. “What’s a glamour?” he asked.

“An illusion,” Tekos responded.

“It’s how we move about sometimes when we are in substance form like now,” Mrs. Copperpot began to explain, but stopped when she saw it did not help.

Grubby pushed the twins back behind him and spoke. “Like when some human person comes tromping through the woods, and there isn’t time to go invisible-like, we make an illusion.” Grubby stepped back, and James suddenly saw a bush of thorns where the imp had been. “What dumb mortal is going to guess I’m not a real bush?” The bush finished the comment.

“Try it out,” the twins said again, though they kept back as if even they seemed reluctant to get too close to the thorns.

“It’s easy,” Grubby said, and he reappeared as the bush disappeared.

“But.”

“Just think about what you want to be,” Tekos said, gently. He laid a very long fingered hand on James’ shoulder.

“Just think,” Mrs. Copperpot urged. “But think with your belly, not with your head.” She stopped. She imagined she would confuse the boy again; but in this case, James understood what she said, or he thought he did. He did not think of it exactly. He more felt it. Then he was not there, but aware of the illusion which was a lion, and he roared loud enough to echo through the forest. The twins jumped behind a tree, and Grubby swallowed hard. Even Mrs. Copperpot looked startled, but Tekos merely smiled.

“And now the glamour will remain as long as you want,” Tekos explained while James licked his hand like Seabass his cat so often did; and the illusion lion licked its paw and looked every bit like a real lion. “You must think yourself James again to come back.”

The inevitable thought came. What If I can’t do that? But James tried, and it turned out to be very easy.

“That was great. I’m Picker.” The head stuck out from behind the tree.

“That was really great. I’m Poker.” The other called down from the third branch above. The young one quickly climbed down, while James studied them. He decided that apart from their short stature, not unusual for boys, the only way he could distinguish them from the purely human boys in his school was the fact that they both sported the beginnings of serious beards. Otherwise, they looked like perfectly normal, dark-haired, bright-eyed boys.

“’sall right,” Grubby admitted, but he looked impressed. Grubby, on the other hand, had a bulbous nose that seemed a bit too big for a human nose, and bulgy eyes which looked more nearly like little saucers. He did not exactly look non-human, but then he did not exactly look human, either.

James had a thought. “Will you come with us to the castle and help rescue everyone?” he asked before anyone could stop him.

“Oh, no, dear,” Mrs. Copperpot spoke quickly. “It’ll be dangerous enough just for the two of us.”

“Oh, please.” Tekos spoke almost as quickly. “My dear Mrs. Copperpot, you are a far better choice to watch these young ruffians than I. I understand the danger,” he assured her. “But if they do not go somewhere, I fear you may return to find no forest at all. You may find nothing but cinders.” He looked cross as he pulled a small broken branch from Poker’s shirt, and then snatched several light-anywhere matches from Grubby’s pocket with such speed and dexterity, the young imp could not do anything but shout.

“Hey!”

“Please, my dear Lady Copperpot. I must insist.” Tekos looked stubborn. One might say he looked rooted in that position.

“Yes, my Lord.” Mrs. Copperpot would not argue, but she had something more to say. “You three had better mind,” she insisted, shook her finger at them and lingered on the imp.

“We will.” Picker and Poker readily agreed, and even the imp nodded.

“Will you come with us?” James asked the dryad.

“Alas,” Tekos said in his most tender voice. “Apart from an invitation and under the protection of Lady Alice, the Kairos, your father, I cannot. Like the Naiads and their springs and grottos, and the Oreads and their stones and mountains, I am bound to the trees. I cannot go far from my roots, you see?”

“I see,” James said, but he felt disappointed to hear it. He imagined this great, tall tree-man might come in very handy against whatever they faced.

“Well, then,” Mrs. Copperpot said, as she came to grips with her extended responsibilities. “Let’s be off. Time is short, and there is a ways to go yet to reach the castle.” She reached out one hand, and the dwarf twins came forward. Grubby held back a bit, until James took the imp’s arm in encouragement. Grubby smiled.

“Son of the Kairos, indeed,” Tekos said, with his own creaking smile. He no sooner finished speaking, however, when the ground began to tremble. It felt like an aftershock from the previous night’s earthquake, perhaps, but this one felt stronger than the other, and it went on longer as well. Everyone fell to the ground. The twins crawled up beside the bigger dwarf, and the imp all but buried his head in the dirt. James tried not to scream, even as he tried not to get sick. The crashing of trees started in the forest, and the voice of Tekos rose-up.

“Hold to your roots! Keep a deep grip!” It felt hard to tell what or whom he spoke to as a nearby tree began to topple toward them. James got a good look, but afterwards, he could not say if the two big branches happened to be in the right place to catch the tree before it crushed them, or if the branches sort of grew and reached out to grab their fallen comrade. Then the earthquake subsided, and the earth stilled.

As soon as she caught her breath, Mrs. Copperpot stood. “Come,” she said. She looked up briefly as a shadow crossed the clearing. “Time is short.” The young ones followed, and only after reaching the path did James think to look back and say, “Thank you.”

“Don’t be a stranger.” James heard Tekos, either on the air or in his mind, but he could see nothing but trees.

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MONDAY

Chris discovers there are dangers in the dark, and Beth could tell him there are dangers in the bright sunshine as well. Until Monday, Happy Reading

*

Golden Door Chapter 10 James and the Tree part 1 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

James had to hustle to stay beside Mrs. Copperpot despite the dwarf’s short legs.  She did not ignore him, exactly, but she did not talk much, and she loved the brisk stroll through the old growth forest. James did not worry too much as long as he kept to the path, and as long as he could keep up, he would not complain. The trouble, of course, is dwarfs can walk at a spritely pace all day and all night without a stop, and James soon found his legs were not used to so much rapid walking.

He paused at one point to catch his breath and give his legs a breather as well. “Hey. Just a minute,” he said, but between his soft voice and Mrs. Copperpot’s elderly ears, they did not make contact. James bent down to tie his shoe and thought that the woman stopped, but when he looked up he did not see her.

He ran a little to catch her, but just around the corner, he came to a crossroads of a sort and felt stumped. He could neither see her nor hear her, and he felt afraid for a minute that he might be lost. Then he felt the urge and sniffed. Without hesitation, he knew exactly which way she went. James could never explain how that worked. He said, much later, that it seemed like a sixth sense, something Angel had given him, but in this case, since it was the first time he tried it, his mind filled with doubts. He started down that path, but then backed up to the crossroads, and thought that surely Mrs. Copperpot would notice his absence in a minute, and she would come back to that place to find him. He did not want to be wandering down the wrong path and miss her. His father always said if he got lost, he should stay where he was and wait for the others to find him.

James looked around and decided that apart from being a place where two paths through the forest crossed, nothing special stuck out about his location. There were trees, piles of old leaves, bushes, vines, and a few flowers all around him, but the paths seemed clear of debris and so he sat at the very cross of the crossroads and waited. He heard a rustling in the leaves and started; but it turned out to be a squirrel, as he guessed. The birds came out as well. He began to hum and then mouthed a few words. He moved his arms and elbows sharply back and forth as he sat.

“Now we’re not complaining, but there is still one thing remaining. For bread is quite boring if that’s all you eat.” He screamed. A vine came up from behind him and wrapped twice around his middle. James leaned forward to grab what he could, but the path was just dirt without even a protruding rock to hold on to, and the vine pulled him back among the trees.

“Help! Help!” James cried out, and he flipped around to see where he headed. He spied a fly trap type plant big enough to swallow him, but also a tree root that stuck up out of the ground. He grabbed the root and held on, and his motion toward that plant trap stopped while he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Help! Help!”

A man stepped out of the tree, or at least it looked like that to James. The man raised a staff of oak and spoke to the fly trap in some ancient language. The plant immediately burst into flames and withdrew the vine from James’ chest. The man spoke again, and the wind came and put the fire out lest the whole area of dead and dry leaves go up in flames. Then he grabbed James by the hand, without looking at the boy, and pulled him away.

“Come along you nuisance. Are you the imp or one of the twins?” James kept his mouth shut, but apparently, the man thought he was someone else. At last, they came to an area that could not be seen from the paths. Nothing grew in that spot other than sweet grass all the way around in a circle, and in the center of the circle of grass, a tremendous, thick, gnarled old oak grew in primeval splendor, taller than any of the other trees around. It looked like a hand reaching for the sun. “Now let’s see.” The man said, and he spun James around rather rudely; but paused when he got a good look. “Why, you’re neither imp nor dwarf,” he said. “If I did not know better, I would guess you were a mortal human, though I don’t suppose the creature in the castle would be daft enough to allow that to happen.”

“I’m James,” James said hopefully. He did not want to be cross with his savior despite the rough handling. The man turned James around for a thorough look, while James also examined the man close enough to realize that it was not a man. For one, the hair looked too thick, and the face and hands too scraggly, with warts that looked almost like tree knots, and skin that seemed a bit rough and brittle as well, like bark. Most of all, when the man finally stood upright, he apparently stood about ten feet tall, and that made James, who was short for his age, feel especially short.

“I am Tekos the Seventh, Lord of the Oak Wood,” the man said, and with hardly a breath, he added. “And you are mortal, human, aren’t you?”

James shrugged. He could not be sure what the Lord of the Oak was asking. “My father is the Kairos,” he said. He thought that meant something in this world, even if he did not exactly understand what it meant.

Tekos’ eyebrows lifted slowly, and James heard the sound of crackling wood. “I’ll bet the-should-be-gone goddess in the castle did not plan on this.” He smiled.

“No, sir,” James said, politely.

Suddenly, the man-creature softened and plopped down on the ground to speak to James more eye to eye. “You know my sire, the first Tekos by name, did your father a great favor in ancient times. He was rooted in Greece, not far from Athens, and he opened a way for some friends of your father so some of the little spirits could travel instantly from Greece back to their homes at the top of the Black Sea. Of course, your father was a god himself in those days, the Nameless god, but the story says he was very young and did not yet know how to do the work on his own.” James shook his head. He did not follow the story.

“James!” The call came from the path.

“Over here!” James shouted, in case this Tekos turned out to be not so nice as he seemed and tried to stop him from speaking. Then he explained. “Mrs. Copperpot. My, er, friend,” he concluded. He realized that he did not know what else to call her. She was not his babysitter or any such thing; certainly not his cook, though he would not have minded if she was. He supposed guide would have been a reasonable choice, but friend just seemed friendlier.

“I see,” Lord Tekos said, and crinkled those eyebrows up once again. He called out himself. “James is here, and safe!”

A moment of crunching through the bushes followed. James thought that surely Mrs. Copperpot would not make all that noise, when he saw her holding a youngster by the ear and followed by two other boys of some sort that had their heads down like they had just survived a good scolding. He heard the one in her grip.

“Ow! I tell you, ow!”

 “Quiet, Grubby,” Mrs. Copperpot said, in a voice not to be argued with. “You behave or I’ll twist the ear right off. And you two, Picker and Poker, I expect better from you than to hang around with wayward imps!”

“Yes, Ma’am.” The two boys in Mrs. Copperpot’s train spoke in unison, but neither raised his head.

“James!” Suddenly the imp got dropped and forgotten as Mrs. Copperpot raced forward to embrace the boy. James did not mind the hug, but he felt a bit uncomfortable as well. He decided it would be all right provided she did not start slobbering over him like a seldom seen grandmother. Besides, the hug felt brief as Mrs. Copperpot turned quickly to Tekos who had stood to his full height and towered over them all. “Lord Dryad.” The dwarf curtsied.

“Lady. Have I the honor of addressing the great Lady Copperpot of the golden cauldron?”

“I wouldn’t say great, your worship.” Mrs. Copperpot turned her head, shyly, and curtsied a little once more. Tekos merely smiled before he turned on the three youngsters.

“And you, you rascals.” Tekos eyes creaked down to slits as he peered at the three boys that James suddenly realized were not boys at all, though they appeared to be about his age. “Did you hear this fine lady? Your behavior is in need of repair, lest you call attention to yourselves and the creepy thing in the castle grab you.” The way Tekos said creepy thing sent chills down James’ spine, and he saw it affected the others in a similar way.

Golden Door Chapter 9 David by the Pool

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David and Inaros walked through the hills on what appeared to be a path. David had not recognized it as a path at first because fallen leaves, stones, sticks and overgrowth completely covered it. They startled a few partridges right away. The birds took to the sky in a flurry of wings. After that, they saw more than their fair share of birds and squirrels, and one white tailed deer that scramble off into the trees at their approach. David kept his eyes open for bees and spiders, and his ears open for larger predators, but the area around him seemed quiet and peaceful, even tranquil in a way.

“I can almost smell the sea from here, boy. Do you smell it?” Inaros took a great whiff of air and let it out slowly. He walked on his own and had since he stopped trying to animate his words. He paused to lean on his cane.

“Sir?” David felt that word was appropriate. Inaros pointed. They had been following a stream for some time and slowly worked their way down hill. David looked, but all he could see was blue on the horizon.

Inaros spoke. “The trouble is always where does the sky end and the sea begin? Sailors know”

David looked again and he thought he saw a distant line separating the two. “I think I see it.”

“You will, boy. Practice with that nose and you will smell it, the smell of clams and brine of the salty sea. And practice with those ears and you may even be able to hear it crashing against the rocks from this far away. I know I don’t hear like I did when I was young, but even I can imagine hearing it from here.” He appeared rested and they started walking again. “It is Swift’s Gulliver, eh? And I am one of the Little People.” He laughed and slapped David on the shoulder. David laughed as well but looked up at the elf who stood considerably taller than himself.

After a time, they came to a short cliff and had to climb down carefully to the woods below. These woods seemed less inclined to be overgrown with burrs and pines, though the pines were still present, the trees had begun to thin out even more as they approached the salty air coming up off the distant water. The stream tumbled off the short cliff and crashed into a pool with a minimum of spray and foam because the cliff proved not terribly high. The pool looked like it churned the same water since the beginning of time.

“Time to rest.” Inaros announced, and David did not argue. The old elf probably needed a mid-morning nap.

“I’ll take the first watch, Captain,” David said with a short salute. He was a good sport and willing to indulge the gentleman who smiled and patted his shoulder.

“’Ware the Jabberwock, my son,” Inaros said, as he stepped heavily over to rest against a tree. Hardly a moment later, David heard the snores.

David wandered to where the stream came out of the pool and decided that it might be a very small river, being waist deep where he checked with a long stick, and it seemed twice the distance across than he could jump, even with a running start. He wanted to see how deep the pool might be, so he took his stick and poked, but he could hardly reach the center of the pool.

David looked at Inaros who slept peacefully. It would be June soon enough, and it warmed up nicely as they headed toward noon. David decided to slip off his shoes and socks and change his fairy weave long pants of the morning into shorts for the afternoon. With that, he waded out into the pool for some distance. He poked with the stick and tried to find the deepest spot. His stick brushed against a fish, and he scrambled out of the pool as fast as he could just on the general principal that he would be better safe than sorry. The fish came to the surface and poked its’ head out of the water to stare up at him.

“Ouch,” the fish said, and David felt too astonished for words. “Want to eat me?” The fish asked.  It looked like a very big, and apparently, a very old fish.

“What?”

“Eat me,” the fish repeated. “All of the wisdom and knowledge in the world is in my flesh.”

“I’m sorry?” David said. “I’ve never talked to a fish before.”

“Salmon,” the fish said. “I was going up-stream to spawn and die when Alice, the lady of the castle, put in this cliff and waterfall. I’ve been stuck here, down below for thousands of years.”

“Eat you?”

“I’m tired,” the salmon said. “I want to go over to the other side, but I don’t know the way. Someone has to cook me and eat me, and I promise all the wisdom and knowledge of the ages.”

“Stop it.” David felt sure the fish was lying to him.

“I’ll prove it!” The fish said, indignantly. “Touch me and lick your finger, and you will be able to teach your seventh-grade teachers a thing or too when you get back to school in the fall, I guarantee it.”

“How did you know I am going into the seventh grade?” David responded, sharply.

“I know all about you, David,” the salmon answered. “I had to do something to occupy my time while swimming around this pool for thousands of years. You think I am kidding about knowing everything?”

“Stop.” A young man of some sort stepped up beside David. “We don’t talk to fish, least of all Salmon know-it-alls.”

“Yeah!” A second young man who stepped up on David’s other side, agreed.

“Little bugs.” The fish spat at them. “If you won’t eat me, perhaps I should eat you.” The fish began to grow, like a blowfish, and as it swelled it came more and more out of the water. All three young men shrieked before the two on each side of David pulled on David’s hands to get him out of there. But David responded slowly, as if the fish had hypnotized him. The salmon’s mouth opened, and there were plenty of sharp teeth inside. In fact, the salmon began to look less like a salmon and more like a great white shark; but still David could hardly move. His feet felt glued in place.

An arrow shot out from the bank of the pool, followed by two darts and another arrow. Something must have struck home, because the fish immediately began to deflate, and as it did, David became able to break eye contact with the beast. He let the two boys, and he thought they were boys, lead him up the bank of the river pool. When he looked more closely, he saw three young people dressed in hunter green, and Inaros up, with the darts in his hand. The three newcomers smiled, and the young woman with the bow and arrows bowed slightly and nudged the two boys to tell them to do the same.

“Lord Inaros,” the young woman spoke. “I am pleased to see that you have not fallen into the clutches of the beast in the castle.”

“Hardly,” Inaros said. He leaned on his cane and returned his remaining darts to his pouch. “It would take more than a sea devil to trap these old bones. Er, Floren, isn’t it?”

“Exactly so,” Floren said with another slight bow, and David made note of the pointed ears and understood that this was another elf. “I also see that these are strange times, indeed, that you should travel about with a mere human from the Midgard lands.”

“Earth.” Inaros corrected the name. “And this is David, son of the Kairos.”

“Oh.” Floren went to one knee, but the boys grinned.

“I’m Oren,” one said and stuck out his hand which David gladly shook.

“I’m Alden,” the other spoke. He looked a little older. They seemed to David to be about James’ age, but when he remembered that Inaros claimed to be fifteen hundred years old he held his tongue. They were probably older than he was.

“David,” he said, and he gladly shook both hands.

“Up, up.” Inaros insisted, and Floren did rise but with a look at David to make sure it would be all right. “David’s a fine boy, and he doesn’t bite,” Inaros said. “But tell me, how is it you are free in this neck of the woods.”

“We were hunting.” Oren spoke right up. “And we were trying to get lost.”

“Why would you want to get lost?” David wondered.

“Elves don’t get lost,” Inaros whispered, a bit too loud.

“Young Lord,” Floren explained. “I was to babysit my younger brother and his friend. They were trying to lose me.”

“And we would have, too,” Alden insisted and folded his arms across his chest.

Floren ignored the boy. “And for a week, nearly ten days, we have been hiding out here by the pool. We have a small camp on the other side of the river, and fresh fish cooking for lunch.”

“Not salmon.” David wanted to be sure. Floren shook her head but smiled at the thought.

“Come on,” Oren yelled, and he tugged on David’s sleeve. He turned and ran with such speed he raced across the water and hardly got his feet wet. Alden ran right behind.

“I can’t do that,” David protested while Inaros winked at Floren, and she smiled. The next thing David knew, Inaros bonked him on the head with his cane, and not softly, and Floren whipped his bare legs with her bow, which stung, and his feet started to move. He ran across the top of the water and hooted the entire way, while Inaros and Floren watched. When David stopped, turned around and shouted.

“That was great!”

Floren waved and raced to his side faster than David could blink. Inaros picked up his cane, put one hand on his alpine hat, and crossed the top of the water in four quick, very leggy strides.

“Refreshing,” he said on the other bank. “But I am always hungry after a nap and a good run.” David did not hear. He ran off to find Oren and Alden, and laughed at the speed, and Floren went right behind him, thinking that now she had three young men to watch.

When the fish got ready, the boys climbed down out of the trees, and David finally tired of running around with super speed, they sat and had a good, if a bit early lunch.

“We are headed for the sea,” Inaros explained. “We hope to find a way to the Palace under the sea, set your father free of his enchantment, and if possible, get the ladies out of the dungeon as well.”

“Eh?” David said in imitation of the old man. He looked up for an explanation having caught the part about their father.

Inaros leaned over. “Floren and Oren are the children of Stongheart and Lady Lisel,” he said, and then apologized. “I am sorry, but I do not recall Alden’s family.”

“Cause I’m a mountain elf, you know, a kobold, not strictly in the elf line,” Alden said and Inaros nodded. David nodded as if he understood as well, but he could hardly see much difference. Alden looked a half-foot shorter, but then James was small for his age group, so David thought nothing of it. He looked closely, then, and decided that Alden’s skin might have been a little darker and his ears not quite so pointed, but it did not mean much.

David tried the fish. He found he could eat it even if it was not his favorite. He preferred the bread, though, with plenty of butter, and he knew that at least his finicky self would not starve. Then he had a thought. “This fish isn’t salmon, is it?” He just had to ask again, to be triple sure.

“No,” Floren said, with a smile and a sweet, lilting laugh. “You asked that already.”

David returned her grin. “Because the salmon said he knew everything, but I’m not ready for that yet.” David always spoke in utter honesty about what he thought and felt, and because of it, he sometimes shared more than he should.

Floren smiled even more deeply at his words. “Well, I wouldn’t worry about it. The salmon was probably just bragging.”

“No,” Inaros said to everyone’s surprise. “Maybe it does know everything, but that is still no excuse for being rude.”

Golden Door Chapter 8 Morning Matters, part 2 of 2

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“But we only saw one castle,” David said. He tried to turn his mind from the sight of Ashtoreth.

“Castles.” Inaros underlined the plural.

“Yes, you see, this place is in the second heavens, which is not like on earth under the first heavens. Things are different here.” Mrs. Aster spoke quickly.

“An understatement,” Chris muttered, and James got a very broad grin.

Deathwalker held up his hand for quiet before he tried to explain. “There is only one castle, but four castles in a sense. It is all in how you look at it. In the same way, there is only one island, but many, many islands in the sea. They are separate islands, so you can sail to them and all the way around them, but you can also go from one island to the next without ever crossing the water.”

Mrs. Copperpot interrupted and spoke to James and to all by extension. “Most of the monsters now on Castle Isle belong on other islands, but the demon-goddess is now controlling the doors and has Avalon cut off from the Earth, and she has made the innumerable islands of Avalon leak into each other. She is using the monsters to guard the ways to the castles.”

“Enough.” Deathwalker regained the floor. “So there is one castle, but four that are one and the same. There is the Castle on the hill that you have seen. It is called Castle Perilous or Castle Turning or the Castle of the Kairos or Nameless’ Castle.” Mrs. Copperpot cleared her throat to stop the litany. Deathwalker swallowed before he continued. “Yes, it is where the spirits of the Earth reside and where the Kairos usually makes his or her home, but then there are three other castles as well. One is the castle under the earth, Castle Sidhe or the Castle of Darkness, you know, Danna’s Castle.” He paused long enough to stare at Mrs. Copperpot before the next cough. “The castle underground is where the dark elves and fire sprites reside. Lord Deepdigger is master there right now, and his Lady Goldenvein is in the dungeon.”

“He has his own lady in the dungeon?” Beth asked.

Deathwalker waved off the question. “He is enchanted. All the Lords of the Dias are enchanted, and the ladies are all in the dungeon. We think the ladies are all together in the same rooms with your mother, but who can know?”

“You forgot Lord Noen, the Dwarf King is in Nameless’ Castle and his lady is Lady Biggles,” Mrs. Aster interjected.

“Yes, and the Castle in the Clouds, the Castle in the Sky, the Castle of Light, Junior’s place is presently ruled by Lord Oak of the fee.”

“Fairies,” Mrs. Aster whispered.

“It is where the sprites of the air live, and Lord Oak’s lady is Queen Ivy.” Deathwalker nodded to Mrs. Aster and then looked at a contemplative Inaros. “The fourth castle is called the Golden Palace under the sea where Amphitrite used to rule over the winds and waves. Lord Galadren, the Elf King has been made ruler over the water sprites and mere people. He did the most to resist Ashtoreth and his punishment is to be assigned under the sea.”

“His lady?” Chris asked.

“Lisel.” Deathwalker said.

Inaros spoke. “Galadren means strong heart, and he was very hard to enchant, and Lisel means beauty, and that she surely is. My own lord and lady confined to live with the seaweed.” He shook his head.

Mrs. Copperpot rapped her spoon on the table in front of the old man. “I should say Lord Sweetwater and Lady Wavemaker might take exception to your sentiment.”

“To those it suits, dear Lady. To those it suits.”

“Anyway.” Mrs. Aster took the floor again by fluttering down to stand on the table. “We thought we might be able to liberate one or more of the lords from their enchantment and they might know a way to overcome the demon-goddess. After all, and I mean no offense, but what can a bunch of old has-bins and human children do against the likes of her, even if you are the children of the Kairos.”

“Hey. That’s right.” David sat up and looked pleased, as if two and two just connected in his mind.

“That makes us what?” Chris asked. He was going to say nothing special, but Inaros spoke first.

“Like a prince of the realm, and a princess for Miss Beth, in whose blood runs all the power of the rightful king.” He tipped his hat toward Beth.

“More like demigods,” Deathwalker said quietly to Chris and James, but he found his hand slapped by Mrs. Copperpot’s spoon. He popped his hand into his big mouth while she spoke.

“Truth is, if you don’t want to do anything, we can’t make you even if we had all of the power of the little ones on earth.”

“You’re not has-bins.” David backed-up in the conversation.

“Kind of you to say.” Inaros smiled for him.

“I want my mom safe and my dad well,” James said, quietly. Beth nodded, and Chris spoke for the group.

“We’re in,” he said.

Mrs. Aster likewise looked around the table. “As are we,” she said, and it would have been a beautiful moment if Deathwalker had not removed his hand from his mouth to mumble.

“Probably in for the dungeons.” He jumped to get away from the cooking spoon.

“Beth.” Mrs. Aster ignored the exchange and got Beth’s attention. “You are the eldest. We are first.” They all looked again at the open door and the garden-like scene outside.

“It doesn’t look too bad in daylight,” David admitted.

Beth walked to the doorway but hesitated while Mrs. Aster turned back to the others. “We’ll meet you in the Castle in the sky,” she said. They moved through, and the door closed.

“Well, Gentlemen,” Inaros said. “And the ever-blessed Mrs. Copperpot. Who shall go next?”

The thump came and the door opened on pitch blackness. “Looks like the decision has already been made,” Deathwalker said, still out of reach of the cooking spoon. “Come on, Chris.”

“But it is totally dark in there. I can’t see a thing,” Chris protested.

“Now that Holy One gave you eyes.” Deathwalker told him. “And I will admit that those creatures know what they are doing, so I would guess all you have to do is use them. Try looking at the dark in a different sort of way.”

Of course, that honestly explained nothing, but suddenly Chris said, “Wow!” in a way that suggested he saw something, and they stepped through the door together, and the door closed.

“You go next,” James said.

“No.” David immediately protested. “You go.”

James shook his head, but then the next thump came, and the door opened on a real forest scene. They saw a path through the trees, but otherwise the forest looked dark and thick with plenty of bushes and large clumps of fallen leaves at ground level.

“I think I know this place,” Mrs. Copperpot said, as she stepped up for a closer look.

Inaros put his old hand on David’s shoulder. “I think we will call it ladies first,” he said.

Mrs. Copperpot turned around. “Come along, James. At least you won’t starve.” She held out her hand. James reluctantly took it as he looked at his brother. Then he broke free and came back to give David a hug and whisper in David’s ear.

“Good luck. If I can do it, so can you,” he said, and he turned and rushed out to follow Mrs. Copperpot before he changed his own mind.

David nodded, and then he set his courage and he became determined to see things through. His face became stern and stubborn. Inaros noticed but said nothing as the thump came one more time. This time the door exposed a view that looked more like highlands. The trees were strewn sparsely among great rocks and boulders and heather of some kind for beneath the feet. Many of the trees were evergreen trees, and in all they smelled the aroma of cold stone and late spring flowers where spring came later in the highlands. David did not look encouraged by the scene, despite his determination. He hated camping out, but Inaros slipped his arm all the way around David’s shoulder and began to walk, alternately leaning on his stick and the boy.

“Reminds me of Nova Scotia where I sailed with the great Captain Hawk on the Golden Hawk.” He lifted his cane to use again as a pretend sword and leaned more heavily on David as he did. David, kind heart that he was, kept the man upright and helped as much he could.

“Why was he called Captain Hawk, because of the ship, the Golden Hawk?” David asked.

“No,” Inaros said. “It was because he had a great aquiline nose.” He used his cane hand to represent the nose with his fingers. “Made him look a bit like a hawk.” He laughed. “Elizabeth loved him for his quick wit, you know.” Then to David’s curious look, he responded. “The queen, boy. The queen.”

David looked around suddenly, but they were already outside, and the golden door had gone.

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

MONDAY

David gets in trouble with a fish and James has a fine conversation with a tree on Monday. Until then, Happy Reading

*

Golden Door Chapter 8 Morning Matters, part 1 of 2

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The children awoke to the sound of church bells, far away; a lovely, soft and comfortable way to wake. Beth had to lay for a few minutes longer to figure out what she was hearing. Chris smiled, but in his usual fashion, he did not want to get up right away. James felt hungry. He always ate a good breakfast. David, with the nightmare journey completely behind him, only remembered his wonderful dream about elves and fairies.

“Get up boy.” David heard the words and sat straight up in bed to find Inaros looking down on him. He realized it had not been a dream. “Sleep all day ‘oft gang aglay,” Inaros said, and though it did not entirely make sense, the tone was clear. David got up.

Beth looked for a change of clothes, but there weren’t any. She looked for her own clothes, but they were not to be found, either.

“No, dear.” Mrs. Aster fluttered there. “Just think to freshen your clothes and then shape them and color them as you wish.” Beth did that, with a deep grin, and thought that she might never have to do laundry again.

“Yeah, yeah.” Mister Deathwalker seemed inclined to agree with Chris. He would not have minded a few more winks himself; but Chris got up, and having overheard Mrs. Aster’s instructions, Mister Deathwalker thought he ought to say something, too. “Freshen up and let’s eat.”

“Why?” Chris asked about the freshening, not the eating.

Mrs. Copperpot outdid herself with the rich variety and quality of breakfast choices. The children tended toward the sweet rolls and Danish type dishes, but James had some eggs, and Chris liked the sausage. Even finicky eater David had more than enough to keep his face stuffed.

 “Maybe we should have shown them before they ate,” Deathwalker said, suddenly. The three little spirits looked at him as if in agreement, but then Mrs. Copperpot appeared to change her mind and shook her head.

“Even that one can’t upset my good cooking,” she decided.

“See what?” Beth asked.

“What we’re up against,” Chris guessed, and the spirits nodded.

“We?” David asked.

“Of course, boy.” Inaros eyed the young man with a knowing eye. “We may be old and all that rot, but once more into the breach, say what?” David just swallowed and nodded.

“Better get it over before Davey changes his mind,” James teased.

“Not funny!” David’s words sounded sharp, even if he knew his brother was only teasing.

Mrs. Aster gave an equally sharp look at the boys but held her tongue as she fluttered up to the wall. The ceiling light, which had been at full glare, softened in anticipation of what was to come.

Mrs. Aster could not get a picture at first. The wall filled with swirling colors, but they would not congeal into a viable picture. Mrs. Copperpot came up with her cooking spoon to help, and Mister Deathwalker also tried flinging some dust at the wall which he pulled from a small pouch he carried at his side. By then, Mrs. Aster shook her stick and looked bewildered, as if something clogged up the magic. Inaros stood with a dour expression.

“Amateurs,” he mumbled. “All together now. One, two, three.” And he pointed his walking stick while the others tried their stick, spoon, and dust at the same time, and at last the picture came into focus. The children came up to stand around them as they all watched.

The room that they looked into did not appear to be all that big, though the ceiling looked cathedral-like, as it went up and up. It ended in beams of wood that were big enough to come from redwood trees and set in the shape of a dome, but the room itself looked relatively small, like the inside of a great tower. The floor looked all inlaid marble, though no one could quite make out the pictures set in the stone. Apart from that, there appeared to be only one noticeable piece of furniture in the room. A three-legged, waist high stand or table of a sort sat in the very center. The tabletop looked shaped like a three-fingered claw of wood, and it held the crystal which beat bright and soft, bright and soft, exactly like a heart. They all recognized the crystal—the Heart of Time.

The creature beside the crystal seemed of general human shape, though little could be determined through the long black robe, and nothing of the face, since it faced the crystal with most of its back to the watchers. It appeared to be staring into the crystal before suddenly, the creature picked up its head and turned around.

“Eh? What is this?” It looked straight at them all, and they saw, for all practical purposes, what looked like a classic hag, or a witch, with only a few straggly strands of gray hair that still clung for life to a skull whose ancient skin had turned a gray-green color. There were bumps and knobs, perhaps warts all over the head, except where the two horns protruded from the skull. These were no knobby little devil horns, but real bull horns, discolored and chipped in a few places, but ready to rend anything that got too close.

“Ashtoreth,” Deathwalker whispered, and Chris thought the goblin looked like a tame puppy compared to this horror.

“Looks like Gollum.” James suggested, and it did look a bit like someone who should have died ages and ages ago.

“I see you watching.” Ashtoreth raised a hand and flashed her teeth. The children expected to see few teeth, if any, in that ancient skull; but the teeth still looked as sharp and pointed as they had probably ever been. Beth imagined those teeth tearing apart live rats while the demon-goddess stayed in hiding for two thousand years.

“I hear you speaking my name.” Ashtoreth turned her head to the side and put a hand to her ear as if listening. Those nails, which may have once appeared human, were so long and thick and sharp they looked more like knives than fingernails.

The head turned again, and they all saw the blood red color come up into those eyes and noticed the darkness around them as the eyes seemed to sink a little further back into that horrible, ancient, decrepit face; and at once they all realized that when Ashtoreth hid herself for a time inside Lydia, she picked up more inside herself than perhaps she bargained for.

Her scream was enough to still the heart as she stretched out her right hand and ran straight at them.

The little spirits moved fast, and whether in concert or just accidentally at the same time, they managed to shut down the picture, but not before Ashtoreth stuck her right hand into the room, right up to the elbow. It grabbed at the air three or four times before it went stiff and turned as white as the wall and as brittle as plaster of Paris. It crumbled to dust. A thump shook the floor ever so slightly, and the golden door opened. A breeze came, swept up the white dust without missing a grain, and blew it out to be scattered in the wind of the world.

Everyone stared at the scene outside the door. It looked like a park, or perhaps an orchard, with the trees spaced liberally about, and only grass and a few ferns and flowers growing beneath. Mrs. Aster quickly turned everyone back to the table. “We’re not ready,” she said to the ceiling.

“I can’t go there,” David said straight out what everyone honestly felt.

“Fortunately, we won’t have to,” Inaros assured him as they took their seats.

“Thanks be,” Deathwalker added.

“Then, what are we doing?” Beth asked.

“We thought we would go to the castles,” Mrs. Aster responded.

Golden Door Chapter 7 Explanations, part 2 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

With that, the picture began to pull back, and they saw that Alice and Cronos and the door were all on a very small island, indeed. Outside of the bare rock and dirt on which they stood the rest of that place looked like little more than a swirl of colors. Even the sky above their head appeared as a swirl.

“Primordial soup.” Inaros spoke almost as softly as James.

“That’s the way of the second heavens in many places,” Deathwalker explained. “And it may be the way for this place again if we don’t do something about it.”

“But that is not what we found out there,” Chris said.

“But that is because the Lady Alice is holding things together for the present, but with her sick and all, there is no telling how long she may be able to keep it together.” Mrs. Aster sounded very concerned.

“That is Avalon?” Beth asked, but the picture began to change.

“All there was at the beginning of time,” Deathwalker nodded.

“I always preferred the name Shamballa.” Inaros spoke up. “My grandfather brought the family from that region of the world and into the Roman Empire around the time of the first Caesar, Augustus, if I remember. Of course, that was before my time.”

“Hey!” Inaros’ recollection got interrupted by several voices of protest. Mrs. Copperpot reached out with her cooking spoon and tapped the wall, so the picture froze in place. They saw a woman with stringy, light brown hair who stood beside an old stone wall. She wore something like a Roman style toga, but her back was turned so they could not see her face.

“The children got to be prepared before they see more,” she said.

Deathwalker and Mrs. Aster exchanged a glance, but it was Deathwalker who spoke. “You will see the demons,” he said flatly. “Poor Lydia. Her mother suffered from demon oppression, but her mother got set free, by—by the one who was and is…” His voice trailed off.

“Jesus?” Chris asked.

The goblin squinted as if struck by a blow but nodded. “Lydia went to the crucifixion, but then her mother got killed on the road to the coast and the girl got stolen and carried off to slave in a brothel. She escaped. She married a fine Roman, a centurion. She had some adventures, but one day, they found her and dragged her back to the brothel. Many demons came into her in that place, but with her knowledge of the future, she became a prophetess and made money for her owners.”

Mrs. Aster took up the story. “But you understand that while Lydia’s body got saved from the degradation of the brothel, her spirit fell into eternal danger.”

“The spirit of the Kairos. The whole future of the human race stood in danger,” Inaros added.

“If it weren’t for the apostle.” Mister Deathwalker shook his head and the picture started again. The woman turned around. Beth let out a shriek, Chris gasped, James closed his eyes for a second, and David looked away altogether.

Lydia’s hair writhed without reason, her eyes looked blood red apart from the great black rings around them, like she had two black eyes. She had a cut on one cheek, and several cuts on her forearms where she had clearly tried to hurt herself. A bit of drool came from her mouth on a face that appeared so distorted it hardly looked human. Most of all, she showed hatred, fear, pure evil in those eyes and in that expression, which looked willing to destroy the whole world if it could only figure out how. Then she started to yell, and the voice gave chills down the spine as nothing else can.

“Listen to these men! They are telling you the way to salvation! Listen to them!” The picture got paused again by the cooking spoon.

“Demons are stupid,” Inaros said, and Mrs. Copperpot nodded but spoke differently.

“But do not be fooled to think the one in the castle is stupid,” and she started the picture again.

They heard the apostle speak in the name of Jesus and command the demons come out of her.

“No!” Lydia was not willing. “No!” The scene changed, suddenly. Lydia fell on the grass in the meadow that stood before the castle, but the voice came, relentless.

“Come out of her!”

It carried all the way into the second heavens. It reverberated from the rocks like a storm and came across the sea like a tidal wave. It shook the earth and the walls of the castle on the hill shook until it became difficult to see how the walls stayed up. Lydia tore her clothes, and things came out of her. They were identified by the little black dots, though at first, they came so thick together they looked like a pall of smoke. The picture paused again. Mrs. Aster did it this time with her wand. She circled one of the dots which appeared gray in color.

“Ashtoreth,” she announced, and the picture faded. “And she hid while the Knights of the Lance rooted out all the demons and drove them from Avalon and the Isles,” she finished the story.

“Actually.” Inaros put up his finger like he was testing the wind. “The isle of Avalon, the one by name, King Arthur’s Avalon which is the isle of the apples, is over that way.” He pointed.

“Knight?” Beth asked, as she remembered seeing one not many hours ago.

“Knights of the Lance?” Chris asked. He ignored the old man. Mrs. Aster nodded and the picture changed again.

They looked through a door in a darkened room and were hardly aware of the people in that room because of the vision through that door. It did not look like the golden door, but it was a door between the earth and Avalon. They could see the castle in the background beyond the green field. It looked like late afternoon, and an honest-to-goodness knight covered head to toe in brilliant, shining armor rode across the grass on a tremendous horse in full charge. The lance he carried, no toy for sport or jousting, was a real, wicked looking weapon intended to do great damage to an enemy. Chris understood in that moment why the knights of old sometimes got referred to as medieval tanks. This knight chased after one of those same creatures that had chased the children earlier that evening. He caught it by the door. The lance pinned the creature to the far earthly wall, while a very fairy-like fairy, with bumblebee wings, and a young woman with very light blond hair and light brown eyes and freckles, screamed. None of the children blamed them for screaming, and then the picture went away altogether until nothing remained but big, empty white wall.

“Hey!” Deathwalker objected. “The story of Greta is one of my favorites.”

“Greta?” David asked.

“The Kairos,” three people answered.

“My father,” Beth said softly, trying to grasp the image of her father living over and over and sometimes as a woman.

James yawned. Inaros leaned his head on his walking stick and nearly slipped as he almost fell asleep.  David wondered how anyone could sleep after what they just saw. He knew it had gotten well past time for bed. They knew of nothing they could do until morning, and the overhead light had dimmed a great deal, enough to show that there was a ceiling up there after all.

“But who is this Angel?” James heard Beth ask, and he wanted to hear. He thought that might help him get the picture of Lydia out of his mind.

“She is one of the first and greatest of all of the spiritual creatures,” the fairy answered.

“He,” Inaros objected.

“It,” Deathwalker said, and added, “Now go to bed.”

“No wings,” James whispered, and Mrs. Copperpot hushed him, pulled up a chair, sat down beside his bed, and brushed back his hair as he curled up under the covers.

“Come on, boy. You go to bed, and I’ll stand guard,” Inaros intoned. David crawled into bed, but he did not feel too certain about the arrangement. Sure enough, the minute Inaros sat in his chair he started to snore, and David found himself staring at the ceiling and trying not to remember Lydia’s face. Then he remembered that Angel said do not be afraid, and with that thought held firmly in his heart, he slept, despite all the snoring around him.

Golden Door Chapter 7 Explanations, part 1 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, yeah.” Beth sounded exasperated.

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

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

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

“Everything off,” Mrs. Copperpot insisted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I thought reincarnation—”

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

“But…”

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

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

“Like Tinkerbell.” David suggested.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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MONDAY

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

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