They had traveled that way before – by divine fiat – so the feeling of disorientation did not last long.  When they vanished from one part of the globe, they knew they would arrive elsewhere instantly and only had to adjust their mind and eyes to the change in scenery.  In this case it was easy because they remained on the undulating landscape, though a great forest was to their right and a man was nearby, down on his knees.  There was one thing, though, that caused all of them to wonder.  The field they were on was full of horses and a number of them had western style saddles and saddlebags. 

            “Oh, you just made it,” the man said as he got up from his knees.  “Mother must have sent you, and good thing.  I was just about to pass out.”

            “Nameless?”  Lockhart remembered the man, or rather the god from a past encounter.  It was the Kairos.

            “Good to see you again,” Nameless said.  “Good to see all of you, but now you must listen carefully before I go away and let Wlvn gift you.”

            “Gift?”  Lincoln asked.

            Nameless waved off the question and waved them in close.  “First, don’t go into the forest.  That area for miles belongs to the Titan at the center, and Loki assisting.  They have the territory ringed by forest and a one-way electric fence.  It is like a dog fence that keeps in dogs, but you don’t have to wear a collar.  It is keyed to humans.  You can pass through from this side, but will get scorched trying to pass through from that side.  You can see the old man,” Nameless pointed and some for the first time saw a man sleeping peacefully on a fine mattress.

            “Nice Mattress,” Katie whispered.  Her eyes were always on the technology of the times.

            “Compliments of mother Vrya,” Nameless nodded his head.  “He went unconscious racing through the fence on horseback.  The horse felt nothing, but the fence nearly killed him.”

            “And Wlvn?”  Lincoln asked.

            “He should be out cold,” Nameless admitted.  “But you first.  Now listen, here is the kicker, or two.  The Titan at the center has made an agreement, or Loki has, with the Gott-Druk.  They are his strong arm helpers and have the ships, shuttles and firepower to enforce the slavery of the people.”

            Several eyes looked around as Lockhart spoke.  “We may have a Gott-Druk from the future following us through the gates.  Maybe not.  That has not exactly been confirmed yet.”

            “We found him in Odelion’s time.”

            Nameless nodded.  “I remember, only it is the ones from this time that are your immediate threat.  They will be out in force looking for me – I mean Wlvn, and might pass on you, but no guarantees.  Then also, there are night creatures around.  They won’t bother you at all unless they are given your scent and you become their prey.  Then they won’t stop until they eat you.  And no, they are not native to this earth, though I have yet to fix a planet of origin.”

            “God help us if one of them starts after us through the gates,” Mingus said.

            “They can be killed,” Nameless assured them with a look at Captain Decker and Lockhart.  “But they are very dense creatures, almost all muscle and cartilage, so the bullets might not penetrate as much as you would like.  Also, they are smarter than any earth animal, so keep that in mind.”

            “And?”  Boston wondered if there was more.

            Nameless shook his head.  “Just the zombies chasing Wlvn, but I suspect they won’t bother you.  Oh, and watch out for Loki.”

            “Now the horses,” Alexis said.  She had her eyes on a gray.

            Nameless nodded, tossed some dust in the air and traded places with Wlvn so the dust fell on Wlvn’s head.  “Just a little godly magic to keep me conscious until we are finished.”

            “God of the horses?”  Lincoln was paying attention.  “But you are just human.”

            Wlvn nodded.  “Long story short.  When Poseidon lost the contest for Athens to Athena, he was not going to give the Athenians the horses for nothing.  He brought them to me.  He figured I would know what to do with them.  Then he laid hands on me and filled my mind with everything I needed to know about the care and handling of the beasts.  And he allowed that I could lay hands on others as well to spread that information quickly.  Knees, please.”

            No one understood what he was asking until Alexis got down on her knees.  Everyone followed her example.  Wlvn only said one more thing as he went from person to person and laid hands on each in turn.  “This is very draining.  If I was not due to go unconscious from the electric fence, I would certainly need to pass out after this.”  When he finished, he stepped back and let Nameless return in his place.  Everyone else marveled and tried hard to integrate this sudden influx of new knowledge.

            “Now don’t worry.  Wlvn already laid hands on the horses too.  They will recognize you all and know which of you they belong to.  Yes, Mingus,” Nameless spoke before Mingus could register his protest.  “You and Roland have horses as well, and you will ride with the others, so get used to it.”

            “But the saddles,” Lockhart started to speak, paused to consider his words, and spoke with sure and certain knowledge.  “They are from the nineteenth century.  Aren’t they a bit out of time?”

            “The horses are from the eighteen-seventies.  The saddles are a concession since hopefully you won’t be staying in a given time period for too long.  The horses are all sturdy mustangs, stallions from the old west – Marshal Casidy’s days.  He got them from a horse trader in the Dakotas.  Then Alice and I managed to bring them back here to this point.  Horses and the use of horses spread slowly across the old world, but begin here on the edge of the steppes.  These particular horses should not be startled by the sound of gunfire, hopefully never needed, and since they are also from the future they should be able to go with you into the future.”

            People went to their horses, also knowing which ones were theirs.  Lockhart got fancy.  He whistled and the horse went to him.

            “One more thought,” Alexis made everyone pause.  “How is Lady Alice?”

            “Confused.”  Nameless shook his head.  “My Storyteller is still missing, not dead so most everything is in confusion.  Avalon is whole,” he reassured the elves.  “But she can’t just bring you home and I can’t send you there.  I’m sorry.  You will just have to get home the hard way.”

            “Understood,” Lockhart said and he walked his horse north where Boston was waiting so he could check the direction.

            “Now, you all need to move on at least an hour from here,” Nameless continued.  “It would be better if old man Wlkn woke up none the wiser.  And me?  I have to pass out for a while.”  He watched the party mount, not expertly by any means.  “Good luck with your butts and legs for the first couple of weeks.  Knowing how to do something and doing it are two different things.  Good luck.”

            As they rode off, Nameless went back to his knees, traded places through time back to Wlvn who immediately went out cold and ate dirt.

What is your dream?  What is your ideal life?  What is your purpose?  Are you truly called to write?  The question of calling, purpose, dream is a perfectly reasonable question and one that I believe is worth every writer’s (if not every person’s) time and attention.  Is writing your calling in life to where you cannot dream of doing or being otherwise?

Church people know what I am talking about.  Church people talk about being called by God, touched by God, nudged into a certain work or ministry.  They understand calling.  But even secular people talk about inspiration, being moved by their muse, being inspired to write by nature or certain music or moods, like werewolves with pens unable to resist writing under a full moon.

The idea of calling is simple.  Why are you here?  I don’t mean this as a deep philosophical question, but a simple one.  You are who you are by nature and nurture and has that made you a writer more than anything?  Has that made you so you cannot imagine doing anything else?

Follow your dream, people say.  And I agree with them.

The reason I ask is because it took me 50+ years to really figure it out for myself.  I am a storyteller, yes, but my dream now is to put all of these stories on paper.  Once upon a time in my life, I might have been a painter, sculptor or actor, director, or musician.  I might have been a scientist examining the fabric of life or seeking to set my foot on Mars.  I might have been a preacher and teacher to actually tell my stories.  I might have been an athlete when I was young.  I was very athletic in my youth.  But it turned out now I am none of those things.  I am a storyteller, yes, but especially a writer and my dreams all live in the stories I put to paper.

Writing stories is what I was made for, as we might say in the church.  And you?  Or should I say, what are you made for right now?  You may have a number of dreams at different points in your life, but what is it now?

You see, I don’t believe calling is a static thing.  Earlier in my life I might claim I was made for all of those other things I mentioned; only that was then and this is now..

I often imagine a ball player who might retire at age 35, but to what?  After the required number of years, he might make the Hall of Fame, but what does that mean if he believes his life and dreams are behind him?  So many such people fade away, and that is sad.  John Glen, on the other hand, aged out of the space program and went on to serve honorably in the Senate before he retired to the position of elder statesman.

Sad are those who outlive their dreams.  They are sad because so many don’t know what to dream next or even that they are allowed.  No one ever told them that dreams never go out of fashion.

And me?  At this point I don’t expect to be counted among the sad.  I expect my dreams will outlive me because they are all so much bigger than I am.

Listen, it took me fifty plus years of wilderness wandering just to figure out my calling.  I am called to write, to write these stories.  I am called to tell and share my stories, and I take my strength in this rather late day from the words of one of my favorite authors of all time.  He said, “You are never too old to set another goal or dream a new dream.” (C. S. Lewis).

Keep that in mind.  Where there is life there is hope.  It is never too late.  Is writing what you are called to do?  If not, I urge you to find your own dream and live it.

###

Of course, knowing your calling and doing it well may be two different things…

After 4026 BC in “Russia,” near modern day Moscow.  Kairos: Wlvn, god of the horses

Recording…

              Lockhart, Lincoln, Captain Decker, Alexis and Katie all collapsed after passing through the gate.  It was only noon, but they were not going any further that day, and maybe the next.  Mingus and Boston set up the camp and got the fire started while Roland went out to hunt and gather what he could.  That evening over the fire, the five were still caught up in exhaustion.  They ate, not so frantically now, and spoke in quiet whispers.

              “When I fantasized about dancing naked under the moon, I imagined something a bit more romantic,” Alexis said as she snuggled up to Lincoln’s side.

              “I never imagined such a thing,” Lincoln admitted.  “Now even less.”

              I feel like I lost ten pounds,” Katie said.  She was young and in marine shape and hardly had ten pounds to lose.  “Not the way I imagined going on a diet.”

              Alexis nodded.  “The dance and starvation diet.  Not recommended for anyone over thirty.”  Captain Decker chose that moment to snore.

              “What about you, Lockhart.  You are very quiet.”

              Lockhart shook his head.  “Just tired.”  He looked at Roland who was sitting close to Boston.  They were not holding hands, but they should have been.  “You saw signs of no one,” he repeated an earlier question.  Roland had reported when he returned from the hunt, but he did not mind repeating himself as well.

              “No one,” he said.  “At least not recent.  People certainly passed through this valley at some point, but the fires are very old – perhaps fifty years or more.”

              “I imagine the earth population is still rather thin after Shinar,” Katie said.  “That was only five hundred years ago.”

              “Not even,” Lincoln spoke up.

              “Not even,” Katie nodded.  “Why?”  She directed that at Lockhart.

              Lockhart took a moment to look around, though he really could not see much in the dark beyond the firelight.  “Nothing,” he said, though clearly it was not nothing.

              “Never fear,” Mingus interrupted.  “My son and I will watch in the night, all night.  Elves can handle a night without sleep better than humans.  Besides, you went three days and two nights without any rest.  You need to recover or we won’t get very far.”  Lockhart nodded his agreement and thanks for the offer.  Roland objected.

              “Father.”

              “Besides,” Mingus finished his thought with a hard look at his son.  “Roland and I have some talking to do.”

              Alexis stole a glance at Boston, smiled and settled down beside her husband.

              No one and nothing bothered them in the night.  The moon was not right for the wolf.  They saw no orange clad Neanderthals sneaking around.  And probably because two elves working together could be a problem, the ghoul scout, if out there, and the bokarus, if still following them despite Faya’s bargain did not show themselves.  That did not mean the night was absent of fireworks.  By morning, Roland was not talking to his father which was fine because Mingus was not talking to his son, either.

              “We have to move, today.”  Lockhart decided.  There were several groans, but he knew, as did Captain Decker, that another day of just rest could be psychologically damaging.  They had a long way to go to get back to the twenty-first century and they did not need people dragging their feet.

              “Besides,” Captain Decker added.  “People are always capable of more than they think they are.”

              They walked slowly in the morning over rolling plains, pastureland and through occasional bits of trees.  Everyone thickened their fairy weave clothes and Lincoln made the only substantial comment in the group.

              “It says European Russia but it feels like late fall in New England.”

              Other than that, the only conversation was the whispers between Boston and Roland and everyone assumed that was private.  The others were too busy to talk, conserving their strength for the walk, except Mingus who was steaming about something.  They guessed it was Roland and Boston.

              Lunch was also a quiet affair.  People were still recovering and gathering their strength, but all thought the walk did them good.  Roland and Boston sat apart from the others and continued to talk softly and it looked to be getting serious.

              “So you finished school in record time,” Roland said.  It was something of a question.

              “I don’t know about record time,” Boston responded.  “I went to college when I was sixteen, after my junior year in high school, but I am not the only person who has ever done that.”  Boston looked down at her legs.  They were sitting on a bolder where she could let her legs dangle off a flat edge that dropped three feet to the ground.  “I finished college in three year which is not unusual either.  Then I got into a program where I could do both my master and PhD classes in another three years.  It was set up that way.  True, most people take four since they take a year to write their Master Thesis between the first and second year of classes.  I wrote mine over the summer.  Or actually, most people take six years since it is two years after the last classes to do a dissertation.  I did that in one year so I really took four to go through that program.”  Boston suddenly stopped talking.  She was babbling, and about herself.  She never did that.

              “And you never got involved with any boys during all that time?”

              “Boys?  I had – have some friends, sure.  I went out a few times, but who had time for that?  I was too busy studying my little brains off.”

              “If you had your PhD by the time you were twenty-three, I would say your brains are not so little.”

              “Twenty-four,” Boston said.  “I guess I am a smarty-pants.”  She slapped her palms against her thighs and Roland followed her hands with his eyes.  Boston watched him and her eyes got big when he smiled.  She slipped off the rock.  “I think I better go,” she said, and sought the security of the other women.  The kind of thoughts she was having scared her, and at the moment it was doubly bad since Roland was obviously having the same sorts of thoughts.

              “Hi, Alexis,” Boston said.

              “Sit down,” Alexis said.  “We need to talk.”  She made Lincoln go over and sit by Lockhart and the marines, all of whom snickered.  Lincoln just shrugged and pulled out the database.

              “I think you and I can be good friends.”

              Boston’s eyes got big.  “Oh, I don’t know.  I’m totally conservative and you’re totally liberal.  I don’t think we could agree on anything.”

              “What are you feeling?”  Alexis asked.

              “Scared,” Boston admitted.

              “It is totally scary and wonderful at the same time,” Alexis agreed.

              “But –“ Boston was not sure what to say.  She looked at Roland and thought of nothing bad, only, “he can be such a doofus.”

              Alexis also looked at Roland and then back at Boston.  “He’s my brother.  It wouldn’t be fair for me to comment.  But look at what I married.”  She nodded in Lincoln’s direction.  Boston looked briefly and had a question.

              “What is wrong with us?”

###

              They stopped a couple of hours early, but the point was made for them all.  They would move in the morning and get back to the routine of regular days soon enough.  It looked like a good site, being in a sheltered hollow with trees on two sides.  The wind had picked up and it was chilly.  The boulders made a good windbreak.

              “And plenty of fuel for the fire,” Mingus said.  It was about the first thing he said all day.

              “So we stop,” Lockhart agreed and he just got his backpack off when they had an unexpected visitor.  A woman appeared out of nowhere.  No one doubted she was a goddess, though she had her divine nature toned down sufficiently so no one felt obliged to drop to their knees.  What is more, she held a young girl in her arms and had two young boys of maybe nine and eleven years in tow and they all looked human enough.

              “You can’t stop yet,” she said.  “My son has something to give you.”  She raised a hand and everyone vanished from that spot.

              The travelers with Silenus did not have to knock on the giant door.  Kartesh appeared in their midst and said Saturn was sleeping some of it off.  “But he will be right back at it if we don’t administer a cure.”  She curtsied to Silenus.

              Silenus said, “Tut, tut woman,” and held out the jar.  Kartesh took it, opened it without asking permission, put a touch on her finger and touched it to her tongue.

              “Ipecac,” she called it by name though no one had mentioned that name.  “This might help.”

              Silenus raised his eyebrows.  “You are as bright and insightful as I have heard, indeed.  And by the way, you have very nice friends.”

              “Actually, she’s my boss,”  Boston said.

              “Our goddess,” Mingus added with his hat in his hand and an elbow in Roland’s ribs.

              They looked at the centaur, but he was clearly having a hard time just keeping up with what was going on.

              “I thought we might get him to take it in some of this lovely wine young miss Boston told me about,” Silenus suggested.

              Kartesh gave Boston a hard look, but Boston shrugged.  “I had to bargain.  Was I wrong?”

              “No,” Kartesh said.  “4000 BC is about right for wine, but I’m not sure it appears in this part of the world for another two thousand years or so.”  She looked at Silenus.  She saw him rubbing his hands.

              “A secret.  I like secrets, and I am very good at keeping them.”  He grinned as broadly as he could, and it was much too broad for a human face.

              Kartesh said no more.  She lifted her hand and a goblet of wine appeared.  She poured the ipecac into the wine and stirred it with her finger much as Boston had.  Then she said, wait here, and vanished.  It was only a few moments before they heard a roar.  “Woman.  What have you done?  You have poisoned me!”

              A moment later, the giant hovel vanished and left two elves, one centaur and one young woman staring at each other because Silenus had, perhaps wisely vanished as well.

              “Now what do we do?”  Boston asked, but no one answered as they waited in that place for over an hour.

              “I’m hungry,” Boston finally added, and they trudged back to their camp where they had lunch in silence.

###

              Saturn was regular, human size when he threw-up, thank God, Kartesh thought.  She made a wet washcloth in her hand and then risked everything.  She traded places through time with a woman – an ordinary, human woman with long red hair brushed back from her forehead to keep it out of her eyes.

              “There, there,” the woman cooed to Saturn and she gently wiped his forehead and cleaned his face.

              “Woman.”  Saturn looked up expecting to find Kartesh but instead he found someone else, someone he had never seen before.

              “Valencia,” the woman gave her name softly as she put her free hand to Saturn’s cheek and put her lips to his in an equally gently kiss.  Saturn’s eyes went wide for a second.  He saw the look in her eye and suddenly wanted to do more with this woman than merely kiss.  Sadly, vomiting took precedence.

              The woman never left him, and Saturn was never so grateful.  In fact, he never had reason to ever be grateful to anyone or anything ever before.  It was all new to him as was being sick to his stomach, even if every feeling he was feeling was not new.  She held his sides to keep him steady.  She wiped his face and cooled the back of his neck with her soft breath, blowing away the rise in temperature he felt as he emptied his guts.

              When she leaned over him to wipe his brow once more and coo in is ear, Saturn caught sight of her young, full and inviting breasts and decided he had enough of this throwing-up business for a while.  “Who are you?”  He only thought it polite to ask.

              “I am a woman you will know and have many centuries from now after I am born.”

              “But you are human.  Wait, after I am born?  You are the Egyptian?”

              Valencia let her lips turn up just a little.  “I am the woman Kartesh will become some day if you let her go.  There is no telling who I will become if you keep her trapped here much longer.”  She could almost see the gears grinding in Saturn’s head.  He put a hand to his head and squinted.

              “Why does my head hurt?”

              “That would be the hangover, lover.”  Valencia raised her free hand and gently brushed back the hair from his eyes.  He looked at her again.

              “I think I’m in love.”

              “We may talk about love some day,” she conceded that much.  “But right now I think you are in lust.”

              “That too,” he said.  He leaned forward to kiss her and the hand in his hair went to the back of his head so Valencia could draw him in and kiss him back with all the passion in her heart.  Saturn responded as any man would.

###

              Back in the camp, five people appeared, laid out on their own blankets, unconscious, but alive.  No one dared to wake them nor could they if they tried.  Those five remained unconscious and passed into a deep sleep as the sun set.  It was close to ten the next morning before the first one woke.

              “Food.”  Captain Decker reached out.  Boston and Roland were cooking up a feast and the smell of it had finally opened some eyes.

              “Slowly.  Chew slowly,” Boston scolded.  “You haven’t eaten in three days.”

              “That was the strangest dream,” Lockhart said with a quick glance at Katie.  Roland and Boston had turned everyone’s clothes back to the way they had been before the incident, so there was no embarrassment from nakedness.  What they might remember from what they saw when in the dream state, though, was hard to tell.

              “Like a dream,” Mingus nodded.  “But completely real.”

              Alexis gasped.  “What power could do such a thing?  That would take enormous, almost ultimate power to completely overwhelm me – no offense to Katie and the men.”

              “She does have the magic,” Roland reminded everyone before Mingus answered his daughter’s question.

              “Pan.”  He only had to say one word.

              Alexis nodded.  That had to be it.

              “So what is it with Saturn?”  Lockhart asked.  He was still processing his experience.

              Mingus answered him.  “As I understand the story, When Zeus and his siblings rose up and killed Chronos, Saturn was trapped.”

              “I thought they were the same person, Saturn and Chronos I mean,” Boston said.

              Mingus shook his head.  Saturn is Zeus’ grandfather, he is the father of Chronos.  Anyway, he was given Italy since it was relatively depopulated, but he is trapped here.  He is the master of passive-aggressive behavior, though.  He insists when anyone comes to Italy, they have to have different names.  Zeus he calls Jupiter.  Poseidon he calls Neptune.”

              “Hera is still Hera,” Katie pointed out.

              “I said he was passive-aggressive,” Mingus responded.  “I did not say he was stupid.”

              Kartesh chose that moment to appear in the camp.  “Can you walk?”  That was her first question.

              “I don’t honestly know,” Lincoln said and dragged himself to his feet.

              Kartesh waved her hand and everything was packed and ready to go.  “Unfortunately, you have to walk,” she said.  “No, Boston, I didn’t miss anything.  Lest you forget, I was the one who packed your things in the first place – or Alice was.  Anyway, Saturn and Silenus are plotting.  I am going fifty miles south to be beyond Pan’s reach and that should bring the gate fifty miles in your direction.  Boston?”

              Boston pulled out her amulet.  “That should just about do it,” she said.

              “Good, hurry,” Kartesh finished her thought.  “Before Saturn changes his mind.  And I can’t escape this place until after I am sure you are all safe.”  She vanished again.  Boston kept an eye on the amulet as it adjusted the distance.  She stood when the gate was only a hundred yards off.

              “Come on,” she said, not removing her eyes from the amulet.  “I think we better hurry.”

              There were groans, but everyone got up well enough to stumble, and Truscas had a comment as they walked.  “I am sorry I won’t be able to go with you.  But I have more than enough to think about and teach to my younglings.”

              “You mean about being so close to the gods?”  Mingus asked.

              “You mean about the wine, or about the Kairos?”  Roland wondered.

              “No.”  Truscas lifted his head and looked at Boston.  “About the wisdom that can come from the human mind and heart, even a very young woman.  You are Sophia.”

              Boston appreciated the compliment.  Katie Harper and perhaps Lincoln imagined that Sophia had not yet been born.

              Boston stopped when she bumped into Roland.  Roland looked down at her and agreed with the centaur.  “You are Sophia,” he said, and he kissed her, and she kissed him right back in front of everyone.  Some smiled, but Mingus turned red.  The words, not again lit his face, but at least they did not come out of his mouth.

            Roland got up early in the morning and salvaged as many of the vines he could from the wreckage of their box project.  He wove the vines together into a fine net and let his father Mingus and Truscas clear away their ill conceived trap.  By the time the clearing was once again relatively cleared of the debris, Roland was nearly finished with his weaving.  He sent the older men out to gather more vine.  In particular, he needed four long vines.

            “I think we’ve cleared a square mile of vines,” Mingus commented on his return.  Boston was there with the rope from Captain Decker’s pack and Truscas came in a short while later with the last of the long vines.  Then Roland got to work in earnest. 

            He needed Truscas to bend a bigger tree than he liked, but they had cut all the nearby saplings.  He tied the rope to the tree and the long vines to the rope on one end and the net on the four corners.  He held the tree down with a last vine that he found and stretched it tight across the center of the net.  Then he covered the net with leaves and made everyone keep back, especially the Centaur.  One trip on that vine in the center and the net would be pulled straight up, trapping whatever was inside.

            As a final precaution, Roland cast a small spell to ward off any innocent animals who might be tempted to cross the clearing.  Then they headed back to camp to wait.  Boston had a fine lunch ready, including some warm bread.  That was when they all felt better, and Truscas marveled at the bread. 

            “Magic?”  Truscas wondered about it.

            “Yes,” Boston lied like an elf before either elf could lie for her.

            Once again, they did not have to wait long before they heard “Aye-Aye, Yip!”  Then they heard Silenus in the clearing.  He shouted, “Ingenius!”  this time, the three men walked carefully to a position where they could watch.  They saw Silenus deliberately kick the trip vine.  The trap sprung and he was caught.  He swung wildly because the tree was too big, but the whole time he shouted “Weeee!”

            The three stepped out from the trees when the net stopped swinging, but then Silenus dripped himself through the spaces in the net like a glass of wine through a strainer and he reformed again on the ground.  He shook a finger at the three, grinned and waved at Boston and ran back into the woods faster than they could follow.  Mingus only had one thing to say.

            “Dig.”

            Boston shook her head while they used the lumber they had cut and some stones to dig a hole in the earth.  It took all afternoon with Truscas hauling the dirt away in a couple of baskets Roland hastily wove out of the net.  When the hole was six feet deep and about six feet long and wide, Mingus covered it over with branches and leaves.

            “I’m tired,” he said when he was done.  “I need a night’s sleep.”  And he did that.  In fact they all did that and without bothering to eat supper.

###

            By the end of the second night, Katie and Alexis could hardly keep moving.  Everything hurt, and while the pain helped clear their minds a little, they were so deep into the dance by then, they hardly knew what else to think.  Lockhart, Lincoln and Captain Decker were also up and moving, and without having any sleep in forty-eight hours, Lincoln felt he was hallucinating.  It was near noon on the next day, at about  sixty hours when he was the first to collapse.  Even unconscious, his arms and legs continued to move like a puppet to the music.  Two thing did happen before that, though.

            For one, Kartesh finally got Saturn to a sufficient sobriety, or at least awake state where she could talk sense to him and feel he honestly heard her.  Whether he would listen or not was another issue.

            “I don’t know how the centaurs and fauns and the others stand it for a whole month, but normal human flesh and blood is not made to go without sleep and without food for a whole month.”

            “But Kartesh.  The human element is adding such spice to the dance.  I have never heard Pan and his helpers play so well.  There is something truly great going on with your friends in the mix.

            “But you are killing them!”  Kartesh shouted.  Saturn heard but did not want to hear.  He wanted some more grapes.

###

            It was around eight o’clock, with the sun well up in the sky when they heard the “Aye-Aye, Yip!” followed by “Blithering Genius!”

            The less than enthusiastic men went carefully to the clearing and saw the branches over the trap removed.  They got excited to think that something actually worked.  They inched up to the hole expecting to see Silenus trapped in the bottom and were surprised to see it empty.  Suddenly, the hole got bigger.  Truscas fell in.  Mingus grabbed on to the lip, but it shook him off and he slid to the bottom.  Roland jumped back and began to run around the edge of the clearing while the hole followed him.  He got caught when the hole disappeared and reappeared in front of his moving feet.

            Boston came to the edge of the clearing and tried not to laugh, though it was a sight to see Truscas from the arms up and the top of Roland’s head.  Mingus was not tall enough to stick out.

            “Yip-Yip.” Silenus was across the clearing, staring at her.

            “Yippie!” Boston shouted back.  A serious expression crossed Silenus’ face before he smiled and shouted back.

            “Yappy!”

            “Yahooo-ee!” Boston responded appropriately.  The next thing she knew, Silenus was beside her, his arm around her shoulder.

            “I like you,” he said.

            After a brief moment of shock, Boston responded.  “I think I like you, too.”

            “I love your red hair,” Silenus continued.  “It is an unique color and I love what you have done with it.”

            Boston was growing it out, not that she had a choice.  It was not as short as it had been, but she thought for the moment it was rather scraggly.  She could only respond politely.  “Thank you.”

            “We could retire to my boudoir.”

            “Sir, I have a young man,” Boston looked down at her feet for a second.

            “Oh, I see,” Silenus responded

            Afraid she might lose him, Boston leaned over and kissed the man on the cheek.  “But I think you are sweet.”

            Silenus raised his eyebrows before he smiled again.  “I see.  Fatherly type.  To be honest, I might prefer a young man myself.”  Boston did not flinch.  “Grape?”

            Boston raised a hand.  “No thank you.  My mother does not approve of me drinking.”

            “Silly mother,” Silenus said as he turned them to walk toward the hole.

            “A little help here.”  They heard Mingus’ voice.

            “But now, I assume all of this is because you want something of me,” Silenus became as serious as the fat drunkard could be.

            “Yes,” Boston said, turning to the god.  “My friends are trapped in the dance and Kartsh says Saturn is the only one who can set them free.  She thought you might have some way of sobering him up, at least temporarily.”   She saw Silenus put his hand to his goat-skinned cloak as if feeling for something, but he said nothing so she said nothing.

            “Your friends?”

            “Humans like me.  Kartesh says the dance will kill them.  Please.”

            Silenus appeared to think for a minute.  “That Egyptian woman is said to be very smart.  She is…” he snapped his fingers as if trying to remember the word.

            “The Kairos,” Roland offered.

            “Exactly.  Goddess of time.  They say she knows the future.”

            “We are from the future and trying to get back there.”  Boston could hardly keep the desperation out of her voice.  Silenus put that serious expression on his face again.

            “You and the elves and no doubt the friends you want to save, but the centaur belongs here, I believe.”

            “A good person who was kind enough to help us in our time of need,” Boston said.

            Silenus looked down at the centaur.  He snapped his finger and the three in the hole shot up in the air while the hole closed itself up beneath their feet.  “At the risk of sounding like an elf, what’s in it for me?”  Silenus asked.

            “I need a cup to show you,” Boston said.  She was prepared for this possibility.  She lifted her hand and a crude wooden cup that was more like a bowl appeared.  She took the grapes from Silenus’ hand, squeezed them and allowed the juice to flow into the cup.  She stirred it with her finger while Silenus watched carefully.  Then she got the canteen from her side and added a little water and stirred it again.  When it was as ready as she could make it, she handed it to Silenus.  He took it carefully and sniffed it.

            “Nice bouquet,” he said before he put it to his lips.

            “It’s called wine and it has no seeds or stems.”

            “Interesting,” Selinus liked it and stood still while Boston thought through the wine making process, what she knew of it.  She knew Silenus was following along in her mind.  “Interesting,” Silenus said when she was finished.  “You humans are very clever.  Sometimes I think the gods don’t give you nearly enough credit.”

            “So you will help us?”  Boston tried not to plead. 

            Silenus looked up at the centaur once before he looked back at Boston.  “Never let it be said a centaur was kinder than the god.”  He smiled and pulled a clay jar from his clothing.  “A formula I developed in case I ever got drunk.  I call it Ipecac.  It may do the trick, but I think I had better administer it.”  With another snap of his fingers, they found themselves once again standing outside that giant door.

            “Kartesh.”  Roland figured it out, though Boston was about to say the same thing.

            “Truscas,” Mingus introduced the centaur who bowed royally before the goddess.

            “No need for that,” Kartesh waved him to stand.  “You have my thanks for bringing my friends, but where are the others?  Oh no!”  She said it before Mingus could explain.

            “Prisoners of the dance.”

            “But that will kill them,” Kartesh said, and the centaur smiled for thinking he had been right.  “The dance will go on until the next new moon, and they won’t stop to so much as eat or sleep for the full twenty-eight days.  If they don’t collapse from the strain, they will starve to death.”

            “But what can we do?”  Boston asked the question she asked earlier in the day.

            “I thought his Lordship might help,” Truscas said.

            Kartesh  looked back at the door.  “You were right to bring them here.  He is the only one who can help, but in his present condition.”  She shook her head.  “Listen, there is only one who might help us.  Silenus.  He may have some way of sobering up Saturn.  I don’t know.  All of my remedies are folk remedies of dubious value.  Even Doctor Mishka has nothing to suggest in this time period.”

            “Silenus?”  Roland jumped.

            “What.  Are we supposed to just walk up and ask for his help?”  Mingus asked.

            “Oh, that might not be so easy,” Truscas admitted.

            “Seriously.  I would have to strip Brazil bare to get enough coffee, and then no guarantee he would drink it.”  Kartesh said.  “But I am sure you will work things out.  You must if we hope to save Lockhart and the others.  Meanwhile, I have to go.  It isn’t safe to leave him alone for too long.”  She vanished, and Mingus, Roland and Truscas looked at each other, dumbfounded.  Boston did not know what to look at

###

            Truscas argued hard for his idea and in the end, since the centaur would be doing most of the heavy labor, They thought it only fair to give it a try.  Roland still had his sword, and though it was not designed to be used as an ax, it made it possible to cut through small and young trees.  Turning them into logs, though and lashing them together into walls and a roof was not easy.

            Truscas dragged the trees to the clearing.  They did not want their work seen too near the clearing itself.  Mingus found and used the vines to tie.  It took the rest of the day.  When they were at last satisfied they had pieced together a reasonable bottomless box that would not fall apart the minute it dropped, they propped up one end of the box with the most sturdy sapling they could find.  They had a strong vine tied to the base of that sapling and cleverly hid it under leaves as they stretched it back to their camp.

            “I used to catch rabbits that way when I was young,” Mingus said.

            “Me, too,” Truscas said.  His flanks were full of sweat, and when a centaurs sweats, it is something to see.

            “I think we need better bait than carrots, though.”  Roland was thoughtful as he nibbled on the deer they had for supper.

            “Yes,” Mingus agreed.  “But what kind of bait would be appropriate for a donkey-eared drunkard?”

            “Speaking of which, don’t eat too many of those fermented grapes,” Boston pointed at the cluster in Roland’s hand, though she made a point of looking at all the men.  “You’ll never catch anything if you get drunk yourselves.”

            Roland smiled and set his down.  Truscas swore the grass was sweet enough.  He didn’t need any more grapes.  “Yes, well.”  Mingus frowned and put down the handful he was about to enjoy.

            “Yip-Yip!”  They had heard that all day, and though it gave them all headaches, they never caught sight of the old man until just then when they heard a loud voice.  “Very interesting!”  It came from the clearing with the box, and it echoed like someone was standing beneath the box.

            “Quick!”  Mingus yanked the rope and Roland pulled with him.  They heard a great crashing sound and ran to the clearing.  Truscas, still frozen in mid-chew at the sound of that voice was only a moment behind them.  When Roland and Mingus arrived in the clearing, they saw the box was still standing, being supported by the sapling.  They ran underneath to see if there was some defect in the box or the set-up.  Of course, when Truscas arrived to join them, one of his big back hooves struck the sapling and the thing came down and trapped the three of them on the inside.  Boston did not laugh too hard.

            Someone whistled, and Boston looked to the side.  Silenus was just dancing off into the bushes, wiggling his butt and his ears in rhythm to some unheard music.  The trouble was, when Boston concentrated on the god’s ears, he looked remarkably like Bugs Bunny, but when she took in his belly and remembered the one glimpse of his face that she caught, he looked more like Elmer Fudd.

            Boston yawned, said good night to the boys and went back to the camp.  She found all of her things there, and everyone else’s as well.  She assumed Kartesh must have managed that much, somehow.  She called out for her, but got no answer.  Still.  She put a big log on the fire, got the fairy weave blanket she called her own and curled up beside the light while the men spent the next hour cutting a hole big enough in their box to escape.

            Boston was asleep when the others came back to the camp, hot, tired, cranky and sweating more than ever.

###

            Alexis and Katie danced all through that day and night, except when they ran from one Satyr or another. They were not Nymphs to give their sexual pleasure on a whim, and the Satyrs knew this and did not press themselves, but they had fun now and then chasing the women, and the women dutifully laughed and ran and hid.

            Alexis found the dance of the fauns too complex for her taste.  The dance of the centaurs was too stately and she felt dangerous for her lest she be stepped on.  The dwarfs, on the other hand, simply wiggled and jumped like young children at a rock concert.  My, how they enjoyed themselves.   And Katie danced, often in circles like a prima ballerina.  Alexis guessed Katie had studied ballet when she was young, and then she wondered where these stray thought were coming from.  She wished she could get rid of them.  They were interfering with her enjoyment of the dance.

            Katie simply enjoyed, and all the more when the sun set and the stars came up and the thin sliver of a moon.

            To be sure, Lockhart, Captain Decker and Lincoln did not spend all their time dancing, though they did not sleep or rest and did not eat anything other than grapes.  The Nymphs corralled them early on and made them lay down on the grass so they could feed them the grapes and giggle.  The more drunk the men got, the more the Nymphs giggled.

            Lockhart was nagged from somewhere in the back of his mind that he ought to be doing something.  He did not know what, but it was something.  Unfortunately, he also did not care to think about it.  He looked at Decker and Lincoln occasionally.  At first he remembered something about them.  By the end of the day, he was having trouble remembering their names.  By the following morning, he was surprised that they actually let humans participate in the dance.         

            They entered a valley of the Tiber river and the music cut off as soon as they got far enough down the hill to lose line of sight.  They heard another sound, “Aye-Aye-Yip!” and the elves wondered what it was.  “Yip-Yip!”

            “Silenus,” the old centaur spoke.  “Probably fermenting the grapes even while they are still on the vine.”

            “As long as it is not hypnotic,” Roland used a word the centaur did not understand.  He set Boston on the grass.  She had passed out, and he had been carrying her.  Meanwhile, Mingus approached the centaur.

            “Mingus, my son Roland and Boston,” Mingus introduced everyone.

            “Truscas,” the centaur gave his name.  “And I owe you my thanks, elder elf.  One more dance would have killed this poor old body.”

            “Mine, too.” Mingus agreed, while the Centaur stepped over to Boston.  He looked long and hard before he came to a conclusion.

            “She is human.”

            “Yes,” Roland confirmed as Boston opened her eyes and put a hand to her head.

            “Splitting headache,” she said.

            “I’m just glad you are alright,” Roland said.  Boston sat up slowly.  “Truscas,” Roland gave the Centaur’s name as Boston looked around.

            “Where is the camp?  Where is all of our stuff?  Where are we?”

            “A curious one,” Truscas noted.

            “Yes,” Mingus agreed as Roland explained what happened.

            “But what can we do?”  She wanted to know.

            “Nothing, for the moment,” Mingus answered.  “They are trapped by the dance and the Satyrs and Nymphs that lead the dance are far more powerful than our meager elf magic.  And Pan is a god.  We cannot fight that.”

            “Pan is a lesser god,” the centaur corrected.  “But come, it is still dangerous as long as we remain on this side of the river.”

            The centaur set out and the other fell in behind.  “But father, I don’t know if Boston is strong enough to swim a river,” Roland said.

            “Isola Tiberina sits in the center of the river and the river may be crossed there,” the centaur responded.  With a turn of his head, he added a thought.  “If it is too deep at the ford and she cannot swim, I can carry her.”  Roland thought that might work.

            “What is Isola Tiberina?”  Boston wondered, just before she saw it.  It was an island that split the river in two.

            It was another hour before Truscas brought them to a gigantic hovel in the woods by the river.  He explained nothing until they arrived.  “If your friends are captive of Pan, as are my people, I believe the only way we may set them free is to visit the master of this land.  Am I wrong?  I judge if these other humans are as fragile as Miss Boston, we may need help to save their  lives.”

            Mingus looked down the side of the house.  It appeared to be a single room dwelling.

            Boston looked up at the door.  It was ten times her height, at least.

            Roland defended Boston.  “These humans are far sturdier than many think.  Boston was attacked four days ago and beaten close to death.  You see how well she is recovered already.”

            “I think you have the right idea,” Mingus turned to the centaur.  “By the way, who lives here?”

            Boston found a knocker on the door that she could just reach by standing on her toes.  It was heavy, but it only needed to be struck once.

            “Saturn.”  Truscas got the word out before the sound of the knock rose in volume to prohibit further conversation.  After a moment, they had to cover their ears against the sound.  They, and perhaps the earth began to shake from the vibrations before the sound fell away again and they heard the door handle being turned.

            Boston, Mingus and Roland fully expected to see a giant, but Boston discovered it was quite another thing to actually see one.  Her mouth opened and she tried not to scream.  The giant got on his knees, but finally had to lie down on his stomach and put his chin on the ground to see his visitors eye to eye.  And such big eyes they were!

            “Your pardon,” Mingus tried to speak but he seemed to have trouble forming words.

            “Lord,” Roland managed that much when those eyes fell on him.

            Boston said nothing.  Her mouth would not close.  The giant looked at her most closely and even closed one eye for an extra stare, like he was having trouble focusing.  The centaur he hardly looked at before he smiled.  It was a doofy smile, but everyone breathed.  Then the giant opened his mouth and belched, loud and long.

            Mingus, Roland and Boston were blown back a good ten feet and landed on their butts.  Truscas managed to keep to his four hooves, but he backed up several steps and made a face, having caught the full aroma of that burp. 

            They heard a scraping sound from inside the house and saw a hand come out beside the face.  Saturn tapped the centaur, and the centaur fell to his side.  That way, all four visitors were knocked over like so many tin soldiers.  With a self-satisfied smile, Saturn got up and closed the door.

            “Saturn!”  They heard a woman’s voice inside, complain.  The next thing they knew, they were standing inside the house beside the woman.  Saturn had gone back to sitting at the one chair at the big table, but the woman was not finished speaking.  “These are friends come to visit.  It is impolite to leave them standing outside in the cold.”

            Saturn dropped his smile at the scolding.  He raised a finger and studied it for a second before he spoke.  “It’s not cold out.”  His doofy smile returned, and he reached for the only thing on the table.  It was a primitive bowl full of grapes.  He grabbed a handful and stuffed them in his mouth and chewed, with his mouth open to be sure, grapes, seeds, stems and all.

            “He’s plastered.  Drunk out of his gourd,” Boston whispered.

            “Am I?”  Of course Saturn heard.  “Is that what I am?  Ish that a good thing?  Issshhhh.”  He laughed at himself.

            “Lord,” the woman got Saturn’s attention.  “These fine travelers need a chance to refresh themselves and rest from their travels.  Let me take them to their rooms.  Maybe they need a nap.”

            “A nap!”  Saturn perked up at the word.  “What a wonderful…” He began to snore.   

            The woman snapped her fingers and they all found themselves outside again.  They could still hear the snoring, and heard when it abruptly stopped.  The big voice boomed.  “I got rooms?”  Then the snoring returned.

After 4086 BC in the Italian Peninsula.  Kairos: Kartesh of the Shemsu

Recording…

            “It says here Kartesh was originally from Egypt.”  Lincoln summarized the information from the database as they walked.  “It says she genetically altered the Shemsu people for the sake of the Agdaline, whoever they are, and had her Shemsu people spread around the globe.  It doesn’t explain.  I could look up Shemsu and Agdaline.”

            “No, finish about Kartesh.”

            Lincoln nodded.  “So the gods collectively decided that she needed to be responsible for her work and made her a lesser goddess over the Shemsu.  Then they moved her to Rhodes to protect her from the god Set.”

            “Sounds complicated,” Captain Decker said.

            “Real life usually is,” Alexis countered.

            “Anyway, hey!  It says it was this lifetime that the gods collectively first recognized her as the Kairos and formally invested her with her Little Ones.”

            “Little Ones?”  Lieutenant Harper asked.

            “Us,” Mingus answered.  “This is the life when she became our goddess, or god as the case may be.”

            “But wait,” Lockhart interrupted.  “You just said in this life she was made goddess over the Shemsu people.” 

            Lincoln nodded.  “That, too.  Maybe that is why they made her an actual goddess, lesser goddess anyway.”

            “Sounds complicated,” Captain Decker repeated himself.

            “Real life usually is,” Alexis gave the same response.

            “Hold on,” Boston interrupted.  “I need to stop for a bit.”  She rested several days after her ordeal in Faya’s time, but she was still far from perfectly healed.  Now, she was exhausted and aching everywhere from having walked all day.

            Lockhart looked at the sky and thought they should all stop for the night.  “Make camp,” he said.  “We have a long way to go tomorrow and the next day as well.  No reason to push it.”

            Roland stayed near Boston the whole time with plenty of cursory looks toward his father.  Lockhart, Alexis and Katie thought it was cute.  Lincoln had no opinion.  Captain Decker did not notice.  Whether Mingus noticed or not, no one could say.

            Roland found the hunting good, and came back with a better notion of where they might be.  “North of what will one day be Rome,” he said.  “We spent the day moving through the seven hills and the Tiber river is not far.”

            After that, it was supper and early to bed.  For their supper, Alexis found a real treat.  There were more ripe grapes on the nearby vines than they could possibly eat.  Before bed,  Lockhart went back to two on watch through the night.  Everyone knew the easy days of Faya’s mountain village and sleeping in were over. 

            Roland and Captain Decker took the wee hours.  They would wake Boston and Katie just before dawn, though Roland said he would take Boston’s turn.

            “Suit yourself.”  The Captain did not argue.  He went to one side of the camp while Roland went to the other.  An hour went by and the moon finally rose, the tiniest sliver just past new.

            No wolf, Roland was glad to think when he heard a fascinating sound in the distance.  It sounded a bit like the wind whistling in the trees, but it gradually grew louder and more sustained.    He strained his ears and all at once he realized the whistling was changing pitch and tone.  Someone was making music.

            Roland stood and moved a short way into the woods.  It was definitely music, and like the best music of the little ones, he recognized that it had a magical, hypnotic quality.  As he thought about it, his eyes opened wide.  He spun and ran to the camp, but it was too late.  Lockhart, Decker and Lincoln had abandoned everything in camp and were running off.  Katie Harper paused to change her fairy weave from military style to the sheerest, see-through nightgown that barely came below her hips and otherwise showed her as naked.  Alexis was a bit behind, but danced off with Katie into the woods before Roland could stop her.

            Boston was fighting her stiffness, trying to get up and join them.  She was in pain, and Roland thought the pain might be helping her.  He tackled her.  She fought back.  “Father!”  Roland yelled.   Mingus sat up and shook his head like he was trying hard to clear it.

            “Father!”  The music was getting stronger, coming nearer.

            “Son?”  Mingus appeared to break free of the spell for the moment.  He quickly gauged Roland’s struggle and put his hand to Boston’s forehead.  She passed out as he spoke.  “Quick.  We must get away from here before we get caught up in the dance.  Hurry.”

            It was a struggle to walk, drag and carry Boston between them.  Mingus shook his head several times as they went, and Roland agreed with him, but his mind was occupied with saving Boston.  The music decreased slowly in volume as they added distance.  It was amazing to Roland how one simple set of pipes could carry for so many miles.  But then, it was no longer one simple set of pipes.  Other musicians were joining in.

            Boston woke and struggled for a moment before she realized she was trapped.  She kept her mouth shut and dragged her feet.  Only the pain made her feet move again, and by then she was fascinated by the creatures that were streaming by to join the dance.  She saw fauns, shy goat legged people with small horns that adorned their ruddy faced heads.  The fauns tried to move through the trees, but they could not help but be seen.  She saw dwarfs, or perhaps they were gnomes.  They were quite small, and cute.  Some of the last were the greatest of all.  They were Centaurs, majestic and stately creatures that galloped toward the music.

            The music was faint by then and Boston spoke up.  “I’m fine,” she said calmly.  Mingus and Roland stopped and eyed each other.  They let go and Boston made a dash for it, but the elves were much too fast for her.  They grabbed the arms and lifted her off the ground as they turned her back to the path.

            “Let me go,” she struggled again, but again she soon gave it up.  It hurt too much to struggle.  Then they saw the last of the centaurs.  He was old with gray hair around his hooves and on his head.  He was shaking his head, much like Mingus, and Mingus had a thought.  There was no telling what lay ahead and they could use an ally.

            “You can fight it,” He told the Centaur.  “You can win against it.”  The centaur stopped and looked at them with eyes that said he did not grasp what they were saying.

            “Come with us.  This way.”  Mingus said, and they began to drag Boston further from the music.

            “But –“ the Centaur pointed in the direction the other had galloped.

            “This way.  Short cut,” Mingus lied like an elf.

            The centaur slowly turned and followed.

            The boat floundered a little in the water.  Bruten sat in the back, but he was loathe to set down the amulet in order to paddle.  He was a little afraid to put the amulet around his neck, but in the end he did that in order to keep himself from drifting into the shore.

            As soon as the boat stabilized, Faya came down in slow circles while her friends continued to circle above.  She landed on the bow, out of reach of the paddle.  Bruten stared at the owl and for some reason he did not dare do anything.  When Faya changed back into a woman, Bruten shouted his fear and surprise.

            “The red hair.  I thought.  But you cannot.”  He dropped the paddle and fell to his face.  “Please, mercy.”

            Faya spoke without emotion.  “These Neolithic days are brutal and you have certainly shown your worst.  Now it will end.”

            “Please do not kill me.”  Bruten’s voice shook from his fear.

            Faya simply stretched out her hand and the amulet vacated Bruten’s neck and flew to her.  For some reason, and it may have been an unconscious reaction, Bruten made a grab for the amulet in mid air.  It was too quick for him, but Faya lost all sense of mercy with that.

            Bruten snatched his hand back with equal speed and begged again.  “I am sorry. Please let me live.”  Faya heard no sincerity in the man’s apology.  And she spoke.

            “You were driven out of your own village for raping and killing a young woman.  You did the same in the village where you traded, and while you tried to cover your tracks, you were found out and had to flee for your lives.  Now you have tried the same with my friend.  It is clear to me if you did not learn after the first or second time, you will not learn after the third.  You are a danger to yourself and others and in this age there is only one remedy.”

            Bruten was not exactly listening, he was muttering, “Please, please, please and mercy.”

            Faya raised her voice to unearthly proportions.  “Bokarus!”  The word echoed off the water, sounded through the forests, spread across the plains and bounced off the mountains, and the bokarus responded.  It came in ghost fashion and stared at Faya who called it to come.  “I have need of the boat,” Faya spoke in a normal voice.  “You may have them man to satisfy your hunger and thirst, but then leave my friends alone and stop following them.”

            The Bokarus circled the boat twice and twice few up to Faya’s face  as if considering the proposition.  It said nothing, but Bruten found himself standing and shoved over into the water.  He had no time to scream before his mouth filled with water.

            Faya called to her friends who came down to listen.  “Bears,” She said, and the birds became bears and plopped into the water.  She handed the rope to the lead bear with a word.  You must bring this upriver to the place where I will be waiting.  With that she resumed her owl form and grasped the amulet in her claw.  She took off into the wind and arrived back with Raini and Roland about the same time Boston showed up.

            Faya landed when the unicorn was still keeping its distance and pawing at the ground.  Boston kissed the beast behind the ear and slipped off.  She was not strong enough yet to stand, but she was awake enough to motion that she was alright.

            Faya resumed her female form and smiled for the unicorn, though she knew better than to approach the beast.  It would have nothing to do with her or Raini, being mothers as they were.  The Unicorn did dip one leg as it had back in the days of Keng when it bowed to the goddess, Nagi.  But then it turned and raced off into the distance and disappeared in the dark.

            Roland ran forward, picked Boston’s head off the ground, and held her gently.  She looked up at him and smiled since it did not hurt too much to do that.  He looked ready to cry, but she was really feeling much better.  She was fairly sure her ribs were healed and she no longer had that concussion.  She imagined her nose might be fixed as well, though it felt like she still had the black eyes and plenty of bruises.  Most important, she was no longer bleeding, even if the wounds were not completely healed.

            “I knew you would come,” Boston said through her smile.  Roland said nothing so she nudged him from behind and he bent closer until their lips met.  Faya and Raini just watched and Raini smiled like Boston.

            “There, that’s better,” Raini said.

            “Poor Mingus,” Faya responded.  “And you leave my children alone.”

            Raini looked ready to protest, but changed her mind.  “And mine,” she said.  “There is nothing a child hates worse than having her mother fix her up with someone.”

            “Don’t I know it,” Faya said, and the two women hugged again like sisters and waited for the boat to arrive.  They would need it to get Boston across the river.  Faya had imagined she might carry the girl across in bear form, but she had no way of gauging how badly Boston might still be hurt, and she could not surround the girl with healing power as she carried her the way the unicorn did.

###

            Roland and the Were made a stretcher for Boston and all of them took turns carrying it back up to the mountain village.  When they arrived, Faya found her husband, a big man, telling dirty jokes to Koren, Lockhart, Mingus, Lincoln and Captain Decker – and they were all laughing, and drinking beer.  Alexis and Katie Harper escaped to the children with whom they appeared to be getting along well. 

            They were by the upper wall, the one that divided the village from the plateau and was as much to keep the villagers from infringing on the Highlands as it was to serve as a barrier to the wolves and others.  It was the place where the villagers and the Were sometimes met to discuss matters of mutual concern.  There were two campfires lit that night, and two guards to watch during the wolf moon. 

            “Boston!”  Alexis was the first to notice and jump up to help her friend.  She guided the stretcher to a place between the two fires where Boston could stay warm in the chill spring night and so she could have light to examine her.

            “Alexis.” Faya spoke sternly after she thanked her friends and allowed them to run back up to the plateau.  “You will only check her internal organs and for broken bones or a concussion.  Her cuts and bruises must heal on their own in the old fashioned way.” 

            “Yes, Lady,”  Alexis said, humbly.  Faya’s voice was so commanding at the moment, Alexis hardly knew what else to say.  This was the Kairos speaking, and she had been an elf far longer than she had been a mortal woman.  Also, though not an actual goddess, this was a demi-goddess and more than worthy of respect for her father’s sake.  With that, she got to work and Faya turned to Raini.

            “If I let her, she will drain herself to exhaustion trying to heal every nook and cranny by her art.”

            “I see that,” Raini said.  “She is very full of love, though sometimes it interferes with her good sense.”

            “Very true,” Lincoln nodded to the women and went to kneel beside his wife.

            Raini watched them and sighed.

            Faya turned toward her husband, and the look on her face was not so good.

            “Don’t worry, dear.  Nurse and Bain are both with the children.  I expect by the time we get home, they will just about stop laughing.  You know good old Bain.”  He grinned for her, a real pleading bit of a grin.

            Faya slowly let the smile cross her lips.  “Don’t stay out late,” she said.  “Children.” She clapped.  “Back to the heights and then back to the hunt.”

            The boys jumped up.  “Yea!”  The girls were a bit less enthusiastic.  They were enjoying the adult conversation with Alexis and Katie, especially the fifteen-year-old.  But when Faya returned to redbird form, they followed suit and soon all disappeared in the sky.

            “Well,” Faya’s husband spoke softly.  “She is a keeper, for sure.  I knew that when I first saw her.”

            “How many children have you got, if you don’t mind my asking,” Lockhart was curious.

            “Eight, working on nine”

            “Oh, you poor man,” Mingus commiserated and Captain Decker appeared to agree with him. 

            Roland and Raini came to the river and paused.  “I thought we would catch that werewolf,” Raini said with a quick look around.

            “It must have run a different route.  We were not following the wolf,” Roland said.

            “Yes, but I imagined the wolf would pick up the spoor of the three men and young woman.  I was thinking we might follow the wolf straight to them.”

            “After you, it might have felt safer going after a deer,” Roland said, but he was not really in the conversation.  He was examining the bank of the river and came to a conclusion.  “They have a boat.”

            “I don’t see it across the river,” Raini said as she extended her senses to take in the far side.

            “They may have pulled it up on the bank and covered it with branches and leaves to make it hard to find,” Roland suggested.

            “But that would imply they are intelligent.”

            Roland almost smiled.  “Not intelligent, but clever, perhaps.”

            Raini returned the smile to the elf and then some.  “So when are you going to tell this girl that you love her?”  Roland paused to look at the woman.  “I can’t help it,” she apologized.  “My mother’s blood shows me things about love that others cannot see.”

            Roland bowed his head to the demi-goddess before he responded with a word.  “Never.”

            “Oh, that would not do at all.”  Raini was playing with him now.

            Roland took a second to explain about his sister Alexis and Lincoln and how they ended up so far back in time.  “I could never do that to my father.”

            “Give love a chance,” Raini encouraged.  “Your father is grown and can handle more than you think.”  With that, she raced across the top of the water, hardly getting her feet wet in the process.  After a moment, Roland did the same.

###

            Thag held the boat while Bruten shoved Boston to the shore.  “Grogor.  You and Thag need to cover the boat with branches so it is not seen.”  He shoved Boston and kept shoving her to keep her feet moving up the small hill.  He only paused when he imagined a great splash on the other side of the river.  He looked, but saw nothing in the dark and finally decided he was being paranoid.

            By the time they started down the other side of the little hill, Thag and Grogor had caught up.

            There was a flat rock at the bottom of the hill, something like a stone of sacrifice.  Boston thought she saw some dried blood on the stone.  She also thought that now she would add her blood as well.  She was bleeding from any number of places and feeling weakened because of it.  Bruten made her sit on the rock and hit her several times just because he could.  She became dizzy and fell back.  Her head struck the stone as she fell, but it was no harder than Bruten’s fist.  Boston went unconscious for a time.

            “Now we will take the source of her power,” Bruten said, and they pulled off Boston’s clothes, starting with her top.  Bruten immediately took the amulet from around her neck and stepped into the clear to get a good look at it in the moonlight.  Thag and Grogor finished undressing Boston, and got excited.  Thag only paused and turned away when he thought he heard something.

            “Father.  I want her.  Can I take her, Father?  I want her.  Please father.”  The young man could hardly contain himself.

            “What was that?”  Thag spoke at the same time and took two steps toward the way they had come.

            Bruten ignored them both, his eyes focused on the amulet as if staring at it might suddenly make him understand it.  “Yes, son.”  He spoke without thinking.

            “No, please.  Help me.” Boston said weakly as the young man got close and slapped both hands to her breasts.  Then he appeared to stop.  He turned away before he could do anything else, and Boston could not focus well enough to see what was happening.

            Grogor faced his father, lifted a foot off the ground, a horn stuck right through his middle where it made a big hole in his chest.  “Father,” he managed the word and Bruten looked on in horror as the unicorn tossed Grogor from his horn with a flip of its head.  Grogor crashed into a bush like a rag doll.  No one imagined he was still alive.

            Thag might have done something then, but he was occupied by the snarling, drooling creature that came down the hill.  The unicorn backed up to protect Boston while the werewolf paused to take in the scene.  Thag panicked as the fear took him, and he turned and ran off into the wilderness.  Bruten kept perfectly still and watched.  The werewolf continued to stare at the unicorn for a moment.  Then once again, whether it was by some inner knowledge that it was outmatched or because it saw Thag as easier prey, it ran after the man.  Again, no one imagined that the wolf would not catch the man.

            When the unicorn turned again to look, Bruten was climbing the hill as fast as he could, making for the boat.  The unicorn let the man go and turned to Boston.  It used its horn to toss Boston’s clothes back to her chest.  The fairy weave clothing reformed around Boston’s body.   It covered her in a dress from neck to ankles, and with long sleeves.  She had ballet slippers on her feet, but hardly was aware enough to notice any of it.  Then the unicorn got down on its front legs and Boston slipped off the rock and on to the unicorn’s back.  It started out at a gentle walk, and carried her down along the river bank.  All the while, the virtue of the creature seeped into Boston and began to heal her life as well as her body.

###

            Faya arrived where Raini and Roland were searching and frustrated.  “They had to take her downriver,” Raini said as Faya landed.  “Faya!”  Raini recognized her even in bird form.  Faya quickly transformed back into a woman so she could hug her cousin who was really more like her sister.

            “Boston?”  Roland’s worry came out in the word as he dipped his head in honor of the two deim-goddesses.

            “She is safe.  I have seen her from above.  She will be here shortly, only the one man has escaped in his boat and I must go after him.”

            Roland relaxed and Raini smiled.  “The good elf has pursued her with his whole heart,” she said.  Both Roland and Faya looked at the woman.  Raini apologized again.  “I can’t help it.”

            Faya just smiled, returned to her red owl form and took to the air.