I grew up thinking I was the dullest person alive living in the dullest circumstances imaginable.  It was suburbia.  It was school.  It was summer vacations where we all sat around and stared at each other, bored out of our minds.  Oh, we went away sometimes and did some things, but it was not much of a break from the dull, dull, dull.

            Some people (I dreamed) lived exciting lives in faraway places.  They had adventures.  They had fun.  I had never-ending math.  To be sure, it is perfectly understandable that I should have been drawn to science fiction and fantasy tales, like Lord of the Rings and Invaders from Mars.  But then I was always told a writer needs to write what they know.  And I thought, who would ever want to read about the things I know?  Twenty pages of my life would put someone into a coma.

            Have you thought this way?

            It was not until I aged that I began to make the connections and see that everything worth writing about was under my nose the whole time.  God alone knows why I could not see that in my youth.

            Now, if I want characters, I have known characters by the bucketful.  I grew up with so many of them.  All they wanted was what I wanted, to be put into an interesting situation.  Give Doctor Kline a shot of adrenaline, or maybe a couple of energy drinks, or maybe a few shots of whiskey and stick him at the foot of the stairs.  A monster is coming down the stairs?  It may be a literal monster, or it might be his spouse or boss or unruly child.  It could be anyone or anything.  How will he respond?

            If I want dialogue (conversation), well, I grew up talking.  We all did.  If I listened at all to myself and the person I was talking with, how could I not be able to write dialogue?  We all talk.  True, some only talk when there is something worth saying.  But others talk all the time whether there is anything worth saying or not.  I mean, come on!

            If I lack a setting, I just think of all the places I have been.  I can describe town halls, businesses, churches, schools, suburban settings, cityscapes, the wilderness, and on and on, and in rich detail because I have been there.  Where have you been?  And so what if your local forest suddenly shows up in that town you once visited on the other side of the country.

            They say, “Write what you know,” but now that I think about it, I know tons.  It is all grist for the mill.  I don’t have to keep everything in my dull situation.  I can add spice, and still be realistic about it, too.  With a little age, I have experienced tragedies of all kinds in my life.  I know what it feels like.  I know how it works.  I have seen joys and sorrows all around me in the lives of others.  I know how many people, perhaps hundreds of different people and different kinds of people react and respond to such things, and how they talk about it, and what they say.

            Oh, I can play with the circumstances and plot out a real adventure if I want.  Maybe Doctor Kline turns pirate, but then all I need is the right setting, characters to interact and converse with one another, and respond appropriately to the good or ill events that occur.  All that is already in my head, because it has been in my life, no matter how dull on the surface I believed it to be.

            I could not see it when I was young.  Now that I have aged like a good wine (though some might say vinegar) I see that everything I need to be a great storyteller is at my fingertips.  I believe it is also at yours.  As I say, it is all grist for the mill.

            Lockhart spoke as the door closed.  “I feel like I died.  I thought when I died I would get to be young again.”  Lincoln struggled to not throw up.  Boston looked around and grinned with all her might.

            “If we died, we went to Heaven.”  Boston pointed at the castle, rubbed her shoe in the green grass and reveled in the fresh air and glorious colors everywhere she looked.  Somehow the colors all seemed richer and brighter to her than they ever did back on drab old earth.  There was a field of ripe brown grain on her right and a small sparkling blue river on her left which flowed into the deep green sea not twenty yards to her rear.  It was all too wonderful, but the castle was the most wonderful of all.  It looked like a veritable tapestry of colors with more spires, towers and keeps than she could count, and some of the towers shot right up into the clouds.  “I feel like I’m in Oz, you know, from black and white to color.” 

            “If it’s any consolation, feel like I died too,” Glen said.  “But the feeling will pass, shortly.  And no, Boston, this isn’t Oz and it isn’t God’s heaven.  This is in the second heavens.” 

            “I don’t understand,” Lockhart admitted.

            “Very simple.”  Glen motioned for Mister Bean to proceed.  The Little One strutted up the path and the others fell in behind.  “The second heavens is my name for the place between Heaven and Earth.  It is where Aesgard, Olympus, the Golden City of the gods and all the other places of the gods used to be, including the places where the spirits of the dead were kept until the coming of the Christ, like Hades, you know.” 

            “This is the place between earth and heaven?”  Lincoln was beginning to feel better.  “It must be small.  Thin like a line?”

            Glen shook his head.  “Infinite, and eternal as far as I know.  The isles of Avalon are called innumerable, but they actually add up to very little compared to the vastness of it all.  Alice keeps the atmosphere and everything functioning well enough so we have a sanctuary for my Little Ones and others across the various islands of the archipelago.”

            “What do you mean keeps the atmosphere?”  Lincoln took a deep breath of that marvelously pure air and wondered.

            “I mean the natural state of the second heavens is chaos.  It folds in and back on itself and even time is uncertain and in flux.  In order to have anything here that approximates earth and the natural laws of physics, it has to be carved out of the chaos and sustained.  Otherwise we would all be floating through an airless, ever changing and swirling mass of stuff the color of rainbow sherbet and with the consistency of something like cotton candy.”

            “Hurry up.  Come on.”  Boston interrupted.  She was excited.  “The Castle gate is opening.”

            The others saw the gate opening but were presently huffing and puffing to get up the hill.  They paused to stare at the girl and Glen spoke.  “I’m fifty-seven, Lincoln is sixty-four, Lockhart is ready to retire.  We will get there.”

            Boston frowned and ran ahead.

            “I think it would be best if I let Lady Alice take it from here.”  Glen finished his thought and vanished from that spot.  Lady Alice met Boston as she ran inside the door to the castle courtyard.

            “Thank you Mister Kalderoshineamotadecobean.  You did your job perfectly and brought them here safe and sound.”  Alice’s first thought was for her Little One.  The little Bean grinned more broadly than a human face could possibly grin and marched off across the castle courtyard with a real swagger.  “Hello Boston dear.  It is good to see you again.”  Alice stepped up and gave Boston a kiss on the cheek and Boston had a thought.  She spun around and saw Lockhart and Lincoln but no Glen.

            “Glen?”  For all of her reading, study and experience with the subject, she was still uncertain exactly how all of these different lives of the Kairos actually worked.

            “Yes, Glen is here.”  Alice touched her heart and responded with a very human smile.  “But not at the moment.  For now he thought I would be best to explain.”

            “Trouble?”  Lockhart picked up on something in Alice’s voice.  Once upon a time, he was a policeman and he still showed the instincts now and then.

            “Eh?”  Lincoln was originally with the CIA and had other virtues, though at the moment his thoughts were for his missing wife.

            “If you will follow.”  Alice waved them forward and they crossed the courtyard and tried hard not to stare.

            The yard was filled with bustling Little Ones, all about on some errand or other.  There were dwarfs, elves of light and dark all across the cobblestones and fairies and pixies of many different types and sizes fluttering through the air.  Two hobgoblins struggled with a barrel of something and tried to load it onto a wagon.  There was a big creature off in one corner, like an ogre or Troll.  The men did not want to look too close.  Boston, of course, was delighted with it all and even clapped several times at the sights that came to her eyes.

            At the back of the courtyard, they stepped through a gate and into a garden-like area.  It was big, well groomed, but more nearly the size of a small forest than a garden.  The trees were placed randomly like an old growth forest, but the paths were clean of debris.

            “One could get lost in this castle and wander for days without finding a door.”  Lincoln remarked.

            “It has been known to happen.”  Alice heard and threw the response over her shoulder.

            They traveled through several buildings, several courtyards, and several gardens – all different – and came at last to the spring from which the small river flowed.  Boston guessed when she saw the naiad sunning herself.  She would have been more taken by the sight, however, if the naiad had not been lounging in a plastic lawn chair.

            “Is nothing sacred?”  Boston asked with a click of her tongue.

            “Very little these days,” Alice sighed and opened a door to a building which might have been called a small cathedral.  There was only one room, all wood and stone, and it looked like a construction as old as time itself.  The wood was full of carvings, the walls and floor full of mosaics and the ceiling full of paintings all picturing the one hundred and twenty-one lifetimes of the Kairos, so far.  In the center of the room there was only one piece of furniture.  It was a three pronged table and it held in its grasp a crystal which throbbed with a discernibly bright light.  It was otherwise impossible to tell where the rest of the light in the room came from since there were no windows and no other doors but the one.  It seemed as if the building had been built around the light so as to trap the light inside for all eternity. Boston held her breath in that sacred space.

            The woman marine arrived in the lunchroom first.  She saluted Colonel Weber and the Captain who stood up to greet her.  The Colonel went straight to the introductions.  “Lieutenant Harper.  Captain Decker.” 

            The Captain stuck out his hand.  “Welcome to the monkey house.”

            “Katie.”  She shook the hand and responded with her name.

            “Sit,” the Colonel said, and it sounded like an order so both complied while one of the three men across the table spoke.

            “Decker and Harper.  Sounds like a couple of cops from a cheap television show.” 

            Colonel Weber pointed at the speaker and continued with the introductions.  “Robert Lockhart is the Assistant Director of the so-called Men in Black organization.  Ben Lincoln is the one with the missing wife.  Of course, you know Doctor Roberts.”

            “Sir.”  The Lieutenant acknowledged each man and kept it business-like.  “Mind if I ask a few questions?”  The Colonel waved as if to say be my guest, but good luck getting any straight answers.

            “I read the briefing but I don’t exactly understand it.  I have heard of people who claimed to be reincarnated, but this sounds a bit more extensive than that.”

            “And I hardly expected it to be in a briefing paper.”  Captain Decker agreed.

            “Not reincarnated,” Lockhart rubbed his unshaven chin as he spoke.  “He sometimes refers to himself as an experiment in time and genetics going back to the beginning of history.  And if the paper was accurate, you will find it says he also remembers the future.”

            Lincoln touched Lockhart on the arm to quiet him and spoke to the marines.  “May I ask your security clearance?”

            The Colonel answered.  “Both Captain Decker and Lieutenant Harper are cleared all the way to the top.”

            Lincoln rubbed his chin like Lockhart.  “That might not be high enough.”

            “That’s right.”  Lockhart grinned.  “There are some things it would be best if even we did not know about.  Isn’t that right, Emile?”

            Doctor Roberts looked up.  He was trying to keep a low profile in front of the Colonel who kept threatening to arrest him, but he could not resist.  “Like Santa, spry little elf that he is,” he joked.

            “Yes,” Lieutenant Harper thought they were kidding and tried to get back on topic.  “What does it mean when it refers to elves and dwarves?  I assume that is code for something.”

            Doctor Roberts went back to hiding and Lincoln said nothing, but Lockhart grinned more broadly and shook his head slowly.  The Lieutenant reacted.

            “You must be joking.  I stopped playing Fairy Princess when I was five and found out there are no such things.”

            Before a more reasonable response could be made, they were interrupted by the entrance of the women who were laughing and having a wonderful time.  Colonel Weber and Captain Decker stood.  Lieutenant Harper also stood, though after what she just heard, she felt like it might be safer to stay seated.  The Colonel at least got to introduce the Director, Roberta Brooks.

            “Bobbi,” she said as she shook their hands and took her seat.

            Boston butted in front and took each hand in turn.  “Mary Riley, but everyone calls me Boston.”  She said it twice and went to sit next to Lockhart.

            Mirowen nodded shyly at the marines.  “Mirowen.”  She went to sit beside Doctor Roberts.

            “Mirowen?”  The Captain asked like he was searching for a last name.

            “Soon to be Roberts, I think.”  Lincoln sounded morose.  Mirowen’s presence underlined for him like nothing else that Alexis was missing.

            “For now just Mirowen.”  Lockhart was still grinning and raised his hand to point his thumb at the couple.  “She is an elf.”

            Mirowen blushed, but she brushed back her hair to reveal her pointed ears.  She turned quickly to Doctor Roberts and he gave her a peck on the lips to reassure her.

            At the sight of those ears, Lieutenant Harper sat, and when she sat, the Captain sat with her.  It was barely in time to deal with what happened next.

            “Hi, I’m the Princess, but people call me –“  The Princess paused and pretended to think about it before she concluded.  “Princess.”  She smiled her most dazzling smile.  “Right now I have to go home.  My husband owes me a foot massage or something.”  She reached to take both the Captain’s and the Lieutenant’s hands.

            “And where is home?”  The Captain asked while he unsuccessfully tried to keep his eyes from wandering up and down her curves.

            “204 BC,” the Princess answered with a straight face.  “Now don’t let go,” she added and vanished from that time and place so Glen could return to his own time and face his own dilemma.  The Captain let go, but it was only for a second.

            “Now,” Glen smiled at the military people.  “Lovely to have you here.  Lovely to meet you both.  You can’t come.”

            “Now, wait a minute,” Colonel Weber wanted to protest but Glen cut him off.

            “Despite your soldiers, you have no authority and no real power here.”  Glen walked around the table to the far wall which was the only big, blank wall in the room.  “Begone,” he mumbled.  “Before somebody drops a house on you.”

            Once at the wall, Glen turned and looked around the room.  He had instructions.  “Bobbi, I guess you will have to play hostess to Mister Smith when he gets back here on the Kargill ship, at least until I get back.  Emile and Mirowen, make a decision already.”  He took a deep breath and then paused to consider what he was about to do before he spoke.   “Letting ordinary mortals other than me and my immediate family into Avalon is not a common occurrence.  But Lincoln, you can come and fetch your wife.  Lockhart, you need to come to be the boss and keep a tight rein on Lincoln.  Boston, you need to come to keep Lockhart from freaking out, and you need to behave yourself.”  Lincoln, Lockhart and an excited Boston got up to stand beside Glen.  “That’s it.  Colonel Weber, Mirowen and Roberts better be here and untouched when I get back.”  And with that said, he turned again to the wall and spoke softly

            Emile Roberts took Mirowen’s hand and she looked at him, smiled broadly and repeated a rhyme.  “How many miles to Avalon?  Three score miles and ten.  Can I get there by candlelight?  Yes and back again.”  There was a momentary darkening in a part of the wall seven feet tall and seven feet wide before it suddenly became as bright as a window facing into a sunny day.  An archaic archway formed around the space and it became an opening to another place, altogether.  There was grass there, and a castle in the background, high on a hill.  The aroma of life filled the stuffy lunchroom.

            In the foreground, there was a little creature who bowed most regally in Glen’s direction.  Several eyes shot toward Mirowen.  Mirowen kept up a glamour that made her look nearly human with only the pointed ears to give her away.  This creature in the archway was clearly not human. And Glen did not help when he named the thing.

            “Kalderoshineamotadecobean.  Lovely to see you.”

            “My Lord is always gracious.”

            “Speaks sort of human,” Decker whispered to Harper who did not hear him because for some reason she was crying.  “Bit of a shock though.  I can’t imagine an ogre.”

            Glen invited his fellow travelers to cross the threshold and watched them closely as they crossed over.  Then he turned once more to the room and spoke.  “Oh, and Mirowen, don’t worry.  I should be back long before the baby is born.”

            Mirowen turned as red as Boston’s red hair before Glen stepped through the wall and the entrance to Avalon snapped shut with a bright flash of light.

Present day Washington DC.  Kairos: Glen, the Storyteller.

Recording…

 

            Lockhart stepped out of the plane on his own two feet, took a deep breath and let it out slowly through his smile.  He couldn’t help it.  He spent the last fifteen years in a wheelchair and was dreading retirement.  Now he was healed and free.

            Glen scooted past and paused only long enough to comment.  “Don’t start depending on those Gaian healing chits.  That is a good way to get killed.”  Lockhart nodded, but then they saw Lincoln coming to the door as Glen hurried off.

            Boston followed Lincoln and lugged the folded-up wheelchair.  “I guess this goes back in storage.”  She groaned as she lifted it over the lip to the ramp.  Then the young woman and the old man walked side by side toward the building until they saw people running toward them.  Boston thought to say one more thing before they got swallowed by the crowd.

            “I will miss pushing you around in this thing.”

            “Me too.”  Lockhart responded in all seriousness before he had to stop walking and hug Bobbi.  She was crying, and he had to get touched, praised and congratulated for getting his legs back by any number of others as well.

            Glen got as far as the door to the main building of the Men in Black before Lincoln grabbed his arm and spouted again.   “But My wife has to be out there somewhere.”

            Once again Glen tried to reassure the man.  “Don’t worry.  Up until now there were a few other things pressing, like finding you for instance.  But Alexis is now my top priority.  Oh no.”  He said that last because he saw Mirowen and Doctor Emile Roberts racing toward him.  “Lincoln is one.  This is two.  Trouble does come in threes,” he mumbled.  “I can’t wait.”

            “Hey you!”  The shout came from further down the hall as Mirowen and Doctor Roberts hustled up to the front door to hide behind Glen.  A marine followed.  Glen held up his hand like a traffic cop.

            “Go tell Colonel Weber to meet me in the lunchroom in thirty minutes.”  The marine looked ready to object so Glen repeated himself.  “Go.” 

            That just made the marine mad.  It looked like he was going to say “Who the Hell are you?” but when Glen vanished from that world and was replaced by an absolutely stunning young woman in an outfit that was both tight and short, it came out, “What the f***?”

            “Princess,” Mirowen lowered her eyes.

            “Crude.”  The Princess responded to the marine before she gave both Lincoln and Doctor Roberts a sharp look.  She grabbed Mirowen by the elbow.  “We will be in the ladies room so too bad for you Lincoln.”  It was the one place Lincoln could not follow and she could get some peace even if Glen could not.

            Once inside the women’s room, the Princess turned immediately to the mirror.  It was reflex, an automatic reaction to see how she looked.  The main part of her mind was focused on the elf.  “So Mirowen, what have you and Emile decided?”

            Mirowen curtsied, and gracefully despite the fact that she was in greasy overalls.  “Lady.  Emile is reluctant to become elf kind, and we have researched it and it has not seemed to us that you have done that very often.”

            “Not often,” the Princess responded.  “But one of my godly lifetimes like Danna or Junior or Nameless or Amphitrite might arrange it.” 

            Mirowen curtsied a second time and looked at the floor.  She spoke softly.  “I understand.”

            “But Mirowen, what about joining Alexis in the human world?”  The Princess turned from the mirror to look at the elf.  She was a lovely elf and the Princess had no doubt she would make an equally lovely human woman.

            “I am prepared for that.”  Mirowen dropped her eyes again but she did not sound convinced.  “Oh, but Colonel Weber is threatening to drag Emile back for trial for stealing property from area 51.  But it was my unicorn.  I was just getting her back!”

            Boston came to join them at that point and also went straight for the mirror while the Princess turned again to face Mirowen.  “You know if you stay as you are, he will grow old more rapidly than you can imagine while you will hardly change at all.  You will lose him and he will lose you in the end.”

            “One of us will likely go first in any case.”  Mirowen would not look the Princess in the eyes.

            “I could do that,” Boston interrupted.  “With Lockhart, I mean.  He is such a snuggle bear, and a good kisser too, I bet.  If only he wasn’t such a father figure.”

            “Grandfather figure.”  The Princess corrected her, and Boston did not deny that truth.

            “Oh, but did you hear Lincoln’s concern for his missing wife?”  Boston said.  “I never met her, but I understand she was an elf once.  He must really love her.”  The Princess nodded for Boston but she spoke with an eye on Mirowen.

            “And she really loves him and would do anything for him.”

            “Two peas in a pod.”  Bobbi the Director came in, a marine on her heels.  The Director caught the tail end of the conversation.  “And that is why we need to find Alexis if we can.  Is it crowded in here or what?”

            “Women’s conference,” Boston suggested.  The marine grimaced as she set down her briefcase and took a turn in the mirror.

            “Yes, well Mirowen, we will talk more later.”  The Princess took back the conversation.  “Meanwhile, I had a hard time at first getting a lead on Alexis.  She became too human, I think.”

            “She still has the magic,” Bobbi noted.

            “Yes, but so do a number of humans, and the more so as the Other Earth waxes toward full conjunction.”

            “What about the Lady of Avalon?”  Boston suggested.

            “Alice?”  The Princess closed her eyes.  “Yes, that is how I found her.  Alexis was there in Avalon, and I suppose I knew that all along.  She was just not the priority because she did not appear to be in any danger.  Her father Mingus took her out of fear that she was getting too old and would soon die and leave him grieving.”  The Princess sighed.  “I guess we have to go fetch her.”

            Bobbi touched the Princess on the arm and the Princess started to move over, but Bobbi had a request first and only glanced briefly at the marine before she spoke.  “Can I go to Avalon?  All these years I have worked this operation and in these last few years I have kept it all running, and I have never been to Avalon.  Not even once.”

            The Princess smiled and hugged her friend.  “Soon.  Not this time, but after you retire, and no, you cannot retire today.  I need you to keep Colonel dipstick away from Mirowen and Emile while I am gone.”  The Princess turned toward the marine.  “So, do you work for Darth Weber?”  The marine picked up her briefcase and smiled, but just a little.

            “I don’t do typing pool gossip,” she said and left.

            “Humph.”  Bobbi harrumphed, but not in a sour way.  She stepped up to the mirror and touched her gray hair, looked at Boston who was maybe twenty-five, the beautiful elf and the incredible Princess and harrumphed again.  “What am I looking at?  I am way past the age for mirrors.”

            All of the young women paused to give Bobbi love hugs before they exited the Women’s Room together.  They had a conference to attend and they had to get Lincoln’s wife back.

            The character of the Kairos is one person who has moved through history, birth after birth, and has struggled mightily against the forces that would rewrite history and destroy the human race in the process.  There are many stories here, some of which are already written and I hope will be available in the next several years.

            The heart of time is a glowing crystal, an instrument created at the beginning of history by the Kairos and the ancient God Chronos.  Its purpose is to track the progress of the human race through time, but it has a property that allows access to the many past lives of the Kairos.  These time gates permit a person to travel through time from one lifetime of the Kairos to the next.  Because of this, the Heart of Time is off limits to everyone.  The risk of changing history is too great.

            But when Lincoln’s wife – an elf turned human – is kidnapped by her father and dragged into the past, others are forced to follow and save her.  The current Kairos takes them through the crystal Heart to the beginning of time where the elder elf has dragged his daughter into the primordial chaos before history began.  The only way to retrieve them is for the Kairos to follow into the chaos and, in effect, exchange his life for theirs.

            Lincoln’s father-in-law and wife are returned to the beginning of history, but now with the Kairos gone there is no quick and easy way home.  They have to travel through time the slow way, through the time gates, from one lifetime of the Kairos to the next, and only hope to be able to get home in one piece.  That won’t be easy.  For one, the lives of the Kairos tend to be filled with struggle and danger.  For two, they learn they are not the only ones using the time gates.  Others have discovered the way through time, and they are not the kind of people or creatures you would want to meet on a dark night.

            Avalon, season one is complete.  Avalon season two will begin sometime this summer.  First, there needs to be some telling of what exactly happened to the Kairos when he sacrificed himself.  The primordial chaos is more complex than it appears.  The Kairos who is still linked to all of those other lifetimes in history might yet be able to navigate the wilderness and find the way home.

###

            I hope to play a bit with this confidential idea, and then plan to rerun the pilot episode up to the disappearance of the Kairos as a lead into the story I am calling, “Forever.”

My quote for the month.  I don’t know who said it, but it is worth repeating for anyone who is struggling against the tide to write – to do anything positive in their and with their life.

 

People too weak to follow their own dreams will always find a way to discourage yours.

 

I just thought you might like to know.

            Three in the morning, the lights came on.  It looked like several spotlights and strong enough to cast light over the top of the hill and boulder.  The light was white and bright and made their campfire look pale and yellow.  Then they heard a repeated sound which Boston identified.

            “Some kind of energy weapon.”

            “But what are they shooting at?”  Everyone wondered and went to the top of the hill where they could lie down and peek over.

            “I don’t see anything,” Lincoln confessed.

            “They are firing at something,” Captain Decker said.

            “I can smell them,” Mingus turned to Alexis.  “Eldrich fire.”  He pointed at the dark night sky.  Alexis nodded and got out her wand.  Both she and her father let globes of light rise in the sky, out over that long open field.  At once, under that magical light, eight figures appeared.  One of them was almost in their faces, and Lockhart barely rolled and fired his shotgun in time.

            The ghoul was knocked off his feet, and left only a puff of smoke and a green stain where it had once been.

            “Looks like four, now three headed our way and the other four going after the Gott-Druk,” Roland said.  The humans were all squinting in the light from the shuttle.  It was like looking into high beam headlights..

            “I can’t see a thing,” Boston admitted.

            “Decker and Harper, go to the sides and down the edge of the field.  You should get a shot when they pass your position.”

            “Sir,” Katie said and scooted off.  Decker was already gone.

            “Like here, there is one out front and three following about a hundred yards behind.  Wait.  One stopped.”

            A thin black line stretched up from the ground and put out the eldritch lights.  Fortunately, that was all Lincoln needed to fire at the bottom of the line – at the origination point.  Alexis and Mingus quickly put up two more lights.  The ghouls who had blinked into invisibility came back into focus, at least for the elves.

            “The Gott-Druk appear to be turning their weapons on each other.” Roland shouted and at the same time, the lights on the shuttle shot to the ground.  Suddenly, they could see, and Lockhart pulled his pistol.  It was a long way, but he fired, twice.  The ghoul nearest the Gott-Druk collapsed, and the Gott-Druk turned again to fire on the three still coming on.

            All that while, Lincoln, Boston, Roland, Mingus and Lockhart had the distant battle in sight.  Alexis alone saw the ghouls drawing closer.  They all jumped when they heard the crack of the rifles, and sighed.  At least the threat against them was neutralized.

            They looked again in the distance.  For whatever reason, the energy weapons of the Gott-Druk did not appear to have any effect on the ghouls.  Lockhart was inclined to help them, but there was a sudden flash of terrifically bright light and the ghouls vanished altogether.  At least, so Mingus and Roland said.  Again, the humans squinted, rubbed their eyes and saw spots.  It felt like they just looked directly into a professional photographer’s heavy duty flash bulb.

            When it was over and he could see again, Lockhart stood.  Boston wanted to pull him back down for a second, but that would have been pointless.  Certainly the Gott-Druk now knew where they were.  Lockhart raised his hands like in surrender, but he held the pistol in his hand so it was more a position of truce.  Boston jumped up to walk beside him.

            “Boston!”  Lockhart only got the word out before Roland joined them as well and he changed his words.  “No one else!  Harper and Decker, stay where you are and cover.”  Somehow, those two had found some cover – bushes or boulder, so they were not easily seen.  Then Lockhart walked, Boston and Roland beside him.

            It was not many steps before three Gott-Druk came out from the other side to meet them in the middle.  They all stopped ten feet apart.  The first word from the Gott-Druk was telling.

            “You belong to the rebel.”  He pointed at Roland.  Apparently, the Gott-Druk had been informed that certain Little Spirits were under the special charge of the Kairos.

            “He is with us, not the rebel,” Boston said and quickly stepped in front of the elf.  He gently moved her back to his side.

            “The rebel sent these terrible demons to attack us.  You sent them.”

            “They attacked us as well.  I am sure you saw,” Lockhart said.

            “The ghouls do not belong to the rebel.”

            “Huh!”  One of the Gott-Druk huffed and turned to his companions.  He spoke in the Gott-Druk tongue assuming he would not be understood.  “These are not the one we are looking for.  They are useless to us.”

            “But maybe they are hiding the one.”  The first said.

            “I say we should kill them and move out.”  The second said.

            The speaker paused to consider before he turned to the travelers and spoke again in what he thought was their tongue.  “Where is the rebel?”

            Lockhart looked at Roland.  He was considering a lie when Boston perked up.  She checked the amulet and found the gate quite close,  That meant Wlvn had to have been moving to the south west as they circled around the forest to the northeast.

            “Northwest,” she said hastily.  “He said something about Thor’s hammer.”

            Lockhart changed tactics and thought hard about the Gott-Druk tongue.  “As for killing us,” he said in their language.  “You might not find that so easy.”

            The Gott-Druk said nothing as a man appeared in their midst.  He had a long, hook nose, a pointed chin and walked like one bent and broken, but with a subtle grace and fluid motions that belied his crooked looks.  They all knew it was Loki without the need for introductions.

            Loki shot to one side and stared at Lieutenant Harper.  He shot to the other side and stared at Captain Decker, and snarled.  He shot to the top of the hill and looked down on Lincoln, Alexis and Mingus who were holding the fort.  Mingus and Alexis immediately got up and went down the hill to begin to strike the camp.  Lincoln stayed where he was to watch,  Then Loki shot back to the three in the field and examined each one of them in turn.  He finally stopped moving in front of Lockhart.

            “I see no one in the southwest,” he said with a glance at Boston.  “But I see no one in the northwest either.  You don’t belong here.  Go away.”  He was not making a request.  He spun, then and stared at the three Gott-Druk.  “Forget these ones.  Find me the rebel.”  His words were as sharp as his looks, and he vanished.  The Gott-Druk were visibly shaken.  Boston, Roland and Lockhart would shake later.

            “As the Lord commanded, we are going away,” Lockhart said, and turned without a look back.  Boston and Roland were a bit behind, but caught up.  The Gott-Druk also turned and walked back to their vehicle. 

            When they reached the others on the hill, Lockhart sat down and appeared to let out his breath.  “We need to go, now,” he said.  Lincoln nodded and they went together  toward the fire to down their tents and saddle up. 

            Katie and Captain Decker returned at about the same time as the others, and no one noticed until Lincoln called out into the dark, “Alexis.”  There was no answer.  “Alexis.”  He tried a little more volume, but still did not see her.

            Boston looked to the horses and spoke in a hurry, “Her horse is gone, and Mingus’ horse, too.”

            “What?”

            “Their horses are already gone.”

            “Not again!”  Lincoln yelled at the sky.

            “What do you mean?”  Captain Decker did not get it right away.

            Lockhart explained.  “Mingus.  He feels he has lost his daughter, and now he thinks he might lose his son in the same way.”  He nodded at Roland and Boston.

            “No, I would never…” Boston stammered and looked at Roland.

            “I,” he did not know what to say.  “We are not talking that way.  We just get along that’s all.”

            “Yeah, that’s all,” Boston agreed with Roland’s statement even if everyone knew that was not all.

            “Shit!”  Lincoln rarely swore, and after that word he said no more.  They hurried to collect their things and get up on their horses.

            “They can’t have that much head start,” Captain Decker said.

            “This way,” Roland read the signs and lead the group.  The trail lead straight to the gate.  When they arrived, it was clear Mingus and Alexis had gone into the next time zone ahead of them.  Lincoln did not repeat his word.

            “I don’t like going into the next time zone in the dark,” Katie said, honestly enough.

            “Only eighty left,” Boston was thinking of something else.

            Captain Decker and Roland still thought they might catch them.  It was hard to tell what Lockhart thought.  No one was really paying attention as they nudged their horses through the gate and an orange-clad Gott-Druk stood from behind a boulder and followed them.

 

END OF SEASON 1

            The next day they traveled in a slow but a steady pace.  The horses walked, and sometimes they walked the horses.  Boston commented that it looked to her like the Kairos was moving south because they were getting closer to the gate faster then she calculated they should.

            Mingus said nothing that day.  He stole occasional glances at Alexis who rode contentedly beside Lincoln, and Roland, especially when he nudged forward to ride beside Boston.  Lockhart noticed, but he was quiet as well.  In fact, since Captain Decker had taken the mantle of occasional quips, he found he had little to say.  He did not mind the conversation when Katie rode beside him, but otherwise he was as quiet as Mingus and so he did not think much about it.

            For lunch, they sheltered in a hollow full of trees.  The horses were let to wander for the first time, but they needed the grazing time and at some point they had to trust their instincts.  They knew they were each tied to their horse.  The horses would not wander off on their own, and since all around the hollow there was good pasturage and open fields so no predator could sneak up on them, they let them lunch as well.

            “I’m only sorry we don’t have something more scrumptious, like oats for them to munch on.”  Katie felt like talking, though she directed most of it toward Lockhart.

            “Apples would be nice,”  Boston suggested.

            “Or a sugar cube,” Lincoln decided.  “I could really go for a chocolate bar right now.  Alexis?”

            “I think you’re mean even bringing up chocolate.  I’m trying to break the habit.”

            “Well, I think I’ve decided,” Captain Decker said.  When they all looked at him, he spoke again.  “I think I’m going to call my horse Weber.”  Everyone understood that was commentary on the man, but Mingus spoke first.

            “You are naming your horse?”

            “Why not?  The women have all named theirs.”

            “Misty,” Alexis said of her gray.

            “Beauty,” Katie said.  “I liked Black Beauty when I was a child.”

            “Honey,” Boston said.  “Because he’s sweet.”

            The women looked at Lincoln.  “Cortez,” Lincoln mumbled the name before he spoke up.  “It was the name of a horse I once rode.”

            “Valiant,” Roland said with a look in Boston’s direction.  Mingus erupted.

            “Elves don’t name their horses.”  He stood.  “What is wrong with us?  Alexis, what is wrong with you, and Roland, too.  We are elves, not stinking mortals.  What are we doing here, hanging out with humans?  We are becoming just like them, foolish, stubborn and stupid.  I studied them and their history for centuries, and sure, some of them had to rub off on me.  Not to my betterment, mind you.  But I never expected it to pass on to my children.  Okay, so everything I studied was wrong –“

            “Not wrong, father,” Alexis interrupted.

            Mingus raised his hands.  “Okay, but terribly incomplete.  Most of what I learned is in the database there that pinhead is carrying.”

            “Father!”

            “He was a pinhead when you married him.  I don’t see any great changes since then.”

            “Father!”

            “Oh, Alexis.  Someone needs to wake you up.”  He threw his hands down and stomped off.

            “Roland,” Alexis spoke sharply and Roland hesitated half-way through standing up.  “He just has some steam to blow off.  Leave him alone.  It will pass.”  Roland sat down, and they were all quiet until Katie nudged Lockhart.

            “So, what are you naming yours?”

            “Dog,” Lockhart said.

            “Dog?”

            Boston laughed.  “You can’t name a horse dog.”

            Lockhart whistled and Dog came trotting right up to him.  “Any questions?  Time to go.”

            That afternoon, they paused at a distant sound, and Lockhart thought they had better play it safe.  “Cover,” he said, and they made for a stand of trees.  They dismounted and walked their horses into the stand and waited, eyes on the sky.  After a moment, they were not disappointed.  A shuttle of some kind passed overhead.

            “A step up from the one we saw in Odelion’s time,” Lincoln whispered, though he hardly had to whisper considering the whine the shuttle was making.

            “What do you think?”  Lockhart turned to the marine Captain with something else on his mind.

            “Definitely landing.  It is coming down somewhere ahead of us.”

            “Probably intend to cut us off and catch us just before dark,” Katie added.

            “So they have made us,” Lincoln said and stepped out from among the trees.

            “I would guess, yes.” Lockhart said as he followed and mounted.

            “So Roland and I need to take the point to try and find them before they find us,” Lincoln finished his thought, and added another.  “I’ve done this kind of work before.”

            Lockhart looked at Captain Decker, but the Captain shook his head.

            “I would be no help on horseback,” he admitted.

            Lincoln nodded, leaned over and gave Alexis a fat kiss on the lips and started out.  Roland stared back at Boston, but waited for Lincoln.  “The man is full of hidden talents,” Alexis said with a grin.  Mingus looked like he was not finished steaming yet.

            Lincoln came galloping back after only two hours.  There were still a couple of hours before dark, but he had a report.  “They are up ahead at the end of a long, open space.  At this end is a small hill and a great boulder.  Roland and I figure we can camp there, on this side of the hill.  We can tie off the horses with their backs to the boulder to protect them better in the night, and the hill should hide our camp and campfire.  Maybe we can meet them in the morning.”

            “Maybe when we don’t show up, they will come out to find us,” Captain Decker suggested.

            “And maybe they will leave because it isn’t us they are looking for anyway,” Lockhart countered.  “It’s a good plan, as far as it goes.”  So that is what they did.

            Of course, Lincoln had to have the final say for the night.  “You know I won’t sleep a wink knowing that they are there.” 

            Alexis just pulled him down to the blanket, pulled her blanket on top of them, curled up half on top of him and said, “Good night,” thereby getting in the actual final words.

            “Neither man nor God is going to tell me what to write.” – James T. Farrell, author of the Studs Lonigan trilogy.  That sounds high and mighty.  It is also naïve.  Creativity does not happen in a vacuum.  There are external forces at work.

            Christians might talk about being nudged by God or the divine or being inspired.  Secularists, even atheists might also talk about inspiration, though from another source.  That source might be nature or music or some mythical muse, but the point is creativity requires an external component. 

            All at once, something is seen in a new way.  It is serendipity.  There is an eureka moment, a kind of epiphany when the proverbial light bulb goes off.  Just like a story, there must be a spark to get things rolling, and that spark must be strong enough and sustained enough to see the project to completion. 

            Maybe Farrell never got his spark from the divine or from man, but I can assure you he did not create ex-nihilo.  The only thing that comes out of nothing is nothing.

            On the other hand, clearly there is also an internal component to creativity.  This is what bubbles up from our subconscious or unconscious mind.  It invariably looks very much like us, and if I may speak of writing for a moment, it is us that goes down on paper.

            That may be why so many writers treat their manuscripts like children and feel obliged to defend them to the death.  It is ourselves exposed on the page, in the painting, in the performance, in the building of the future, and any writer or artist or creative soul who tells you otherwise is either lying or ignorant.

            Creativity may need an external spark, but it never remains untouched by us – the creators.  Indeed, as I said, we invariably make it look like us.  Still, I would say creativity happens when something external and something internal bond in a new and unprecedented way.        What do you think?

            It was nearly dark when the travelers stopped for the night.  There was just time to build a fire and rub down the horses, using Captain Decker’s rope to tie them off for the night.  Everyone was tired, but excited about the horses.  The women had all ridden before.  Lincoln had ridden some during his time with the CIA, though he was not at liberty to say where or why.  The elves, of course, were more than capable riders though they preferred their own two feet.  Only Captain Decker and Lockhart had never ridden other than Lockhart’s one trip down the grand canyon on a donkey’s back.

            “I expect we will all feel it tomorrow,” Lockhart said.

            “Why wait for tomorrow?” Captain Decker asked and rubbed his backside.

            Still, they were happy knowing they would not have to walk all the way back to the twenty-first century.  All seemed well with the world, and though Lockhart insisted on the two man watch, they all felt they would get a good night’s sleep.  Naturally, they got nothing of the sort.

            It started about midnight when Alexis woke up to the sound of a baby crying.  It was far away and faint, but she heard it clearly.  She had just gone to sleep an hour earlier from first watch, so she knew it was not a dream.  There it was again, and she shook Lincoln.

            “What?” Lincoln was groggy.  He was just falling into a deep sleep.

            “Listen,” Alexis said.  “Can you hear that?”

            They listened but heard nothing.  Just before Lincoln said, go back to sleep, you were dreaming, the sound came again.  It was louder and still sounded like a baby’s cry, but there was something different about it – something off.  Alexis jumped up and found the two on watch, Lockhart and Mingus had heard it too.  They were side by side, staring at the line of trees in the distance.

            “It’s coming from inside the forest,” Lockhart pointed as Katie and Boston came up from the horses and Roland jogged in from the dark.

            “Night creatures,” Mingus named them.  Roland only had to nod to confirm.

            “They appear to be guarding the perimeter of the trees,” Roland reported.  “But whether that is to keep people out or keep the slaves in I cannot say.”

            “Let’s hope they don’t catch wind of us or the horses,” Katie spoke from behind.  “So far the horses don’t appear spooked by them.”

            “I don’t think they recognize that sound as a danger,” Boston suggested.

            “Catching wind of us won’t matter,” Lincoln said.  He read about them in the database earlier that evening.  “I skimmed through their information when I was on watch.  It appears they eat what is handy, like scavengers.  I’m glad we did not camp near the trees.  They only kill what is handy when they get hungry enough, but it also said they can go for a long time without eating.  Mostly it said they get or are given a scent and then they hunt, and they don’t stop hunting that one thing until they catch it or die.”  He looked up.  “When they are on the hunt, they ignore everything else.”

            “Given a scent?”  Alexis had to ask.

            “The text was unclear about that,” Lincoln admitted.  “My guess is whichever god brings them here from wherever they come can lay out what or who they want hunted.”

            “And god help the hunted,” Mingus concluded as the sound appeared to fade again in the distance and people returned to their beds.

            It was two in the morning, just when Lockhart was waking Roland and Captain Decker to take their shift, the horses did get restless.  Boston and Katie jumped right up.  “Better than watchdogs,” Boston said as she started with her own horse and worked her way down the line.

            “Something is moving around out there,” Mingus reported.  Lockhart  nodded and spoke.

            “Decker, that side.  Roland, this side.  Mingus and I will watch from the camp.  Don’t engage, just try to find out what it is and where it is headed.”  He knew Decker, the marine ranger and Roland the hunter were the two best suited for the work.  They nodded, both instantly wide awake, and headed out, silently.

            There was quiet for a few minutes which felt like hours before something stood only a few feet from Lockhart.  It was a bear, an exceptionally big one, and it looked like it wanted their leftovers.  Lockhart had his shotgun and did not hesitate, but it only appeared to make the bear mad.  It roared.  Alexis shouted.

            “Get out of there!” 

            Boston grabbed two horses to keep them from running off.  Lincoln shrieked and shuffled away from the beast.  Mingus ran back as several shots came from a marine rifle and put the beast down.  Lockhart needed to empty another shotgun slug to finish the job.  Then he looked around.  Boston, Lincoln and Alexis had the horses.  Katie Harper was right beside him with her rifle.

            “Thanks,” Lockhart said.

            “Anytime, Robert,” Katie responded with a look up at his face and in his eyes.

            Roland and Captain Decker immediately came back, of course, but their reports brought no comfort.

            “I guess this is what I heard,” Mingus pointed at the bear.  Both Roland and Captain Decker shook their heads in response.

            “I saw a man, essentially naked, who ran off into the distance at the sound of the gunfire.  I could not catch him and come back here at the same time,” Roland said.  “My guess is the wolfman.”

            “I saw movement near the trees,” Decker said flatly.  “It appeared to be human in shape but I could not get a good look.”

            “Great!”  Lincoln said once they dragged the bear carcass downwind and the horses were settled again.  “Something to look forward to running into tomorrow.”  Mostly, they ignored him.

            Everyone went to bed after that, except Captain Decker and Roland who went on watch.  The Captain headed to the tree side of the camp so he could keep an eye on the forest.  He got out his night goggles just in case.  Roland pulled his knife to skin the bear  and cut what he could for the next day.  The bear turned out to be a tough old beast, so they left most of it for whatever animals might stake a claim.  Probably the night creatures, he imagined, if any of the bear was still there the following night.

            It was four-thirty when the horses became unsettled again.  Boston huffed, “Now what?”

            Captain Decker was out on the perimeter.  He felt something he felt before and growled silently, slammed on his night goggles and headed out toward what he believed was the source.  Almost at once, he dropped to a knee and fired.  He felt fairly sure he did not hit anything, and then it was gone.  Naturally, when he got back to the camp he found everyone awake.

            “Ghoul.”  That was all he had to say.

            “Good, that’s everybody,” Lincoln said.  “Now I can get some sleep.”

            “That’s the trouble with being so popular,” Alexis said.