Pale Reign Over Geshem
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     A story featuring characters and ideas that are the 
exclusive property of Marvel Comics.  The author is not 
receiving payment for this work, nor is this work to be resold 
for any form of payment.  All characters and concepts are the 
sole property of Marvel Comics, and/or its subsidiaries or 
parent organizations.  

     OK, so much for the legalese.

     This time around, rather than retell a story like I did in 
Black-ops (you DID read Black-Ops, didn't you?  It's 
currently occupying space on Hawk's Fan Fic page if you 
haven't, but it has no real connection to this story.), I decided to
 do something of my own.  At the absolute end, I note some of
 the background material some readers may not be familiar with.  
I didn't include it at the beginning because I would hate to ruin 
the surprise(s), and half the fun is going "Hey!  I know who/what/
where that is!", so if some of this seems confusing, remain calm, 
you don't need the background material to enjoy the story, and all 
will be explained as we go. 

     So, set your chair in the reclining position, get a nice 
beverage and some munchies (not too close to the keyboard though!),
 relax your brain, forget the schoolwork/housework/workwork/
starving child you should be taking care of at the moment, and 
allow me to entertain you for a while.

     I cannot emphasize enough just how much I need your 
comments on this story, even if it's just a simple "I liked it" or "I 
hated it.".  Please feel free to send me comments, criticisms, 
suggestions, recipes, etc...  I dearly love writing and I can only improve 
from your thoughts (and eat better from those recipes ;-] ).
     And once again, thanx to Hawk for posting this.
- Abyss

--------------------------------and now, without further ado....--------


     PALE REIGN OVER GESHEM

     by Abyss
     
Chapter 1
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     "Sheath your blade..."
     "...in the sinister heart."
     The door opened quickly and the cloaked figure rushed in, urged by 
hands that grabbed and pulled even as they hurried.  The door was 
slammed behind, and the new arrival felt a knife at her throat.

     She didn't move.  A hand reached out and pulled down her hood.  
Another pulled the sac from her arms.  Those around her were hidden 
under hoods of their own.  She knew they would remain that way until they 
were sure about her.  Mistakes had been made before, and blood had been 
the payment.

     A hand extended before her face, something shining in it's 
fingers.  She opened her mouth and the item was dropped in.  She 
waited.  The knife fell away from her throat,and a collective sigh of 
relief ran through the room.

     One tall figure stepped forward.  A tall, dark skinned woman.  
Thick leather made her vest and trousers seem like armour.  Certainly 
she looked ready to go to battle, the many knives bristleing frm her 
belt completeing the picture.  She was a definite presence in the room, 
and when she spoke, her voice was firm and clear.

     "Welcome back Tabitha.  Were you successful?  You were gone a long 
time."

     Tabitha shook out her blond hair, and gestured to the bag.  She 
opened her mouth and spat a single coin into her palm.  She tossed it to 
the dark woman, who caught it  and put it into a purse that hung on a 
belt between two braces of knives.

     "They took a long time dying, and the Pale Man's vassals took away the 
bodies almost instantly.  They left that one as an example, but I couldn't 
just... not right away...."

     The dark skinned woman stepped forward and rested a hand on the 
girl's shoulder.

     "I understand.  What we asked you to do couldn't have been easy, 
but you were the only one who knew the castle well enough."

     "I know, Hunter.  It's just, I had to..."

     "Shhh, I know, I know, and you were braver than we had any right to 
expect. Go, rest, you've done enough."

     The woman called Hunter gestured and two other people ushered 
Tabitha away.  She then turned and picked up the sack the girl had brought.  

     "Caleb, go arrange for horses at the bridge in one hour.  We don't 
have much time."

                           *   *   *   

     He knew when the horses were a mile off.  He knew how many there 
were, and he knew who they were when they were half again as close.  He 
also knew that had they been enemies, there would've been little he 
could do.  All his energy was spent on survival now.  Survival, and one 
other task, not yet completed. 

     He greeted them before they saw him in the darkness of the cave.  

     "Hello Stephanie, Tabitha."

     He turned slightly into the light.  Stephanie had seen it before, 
but Tabitha gasped out loud.  Last she had seen this man, he had towered 
over everyone around him.  A tall, powerful figure, not at all feeble 
for all his advanced years and scarred face.  She remembered him 
protecting her and the princess from the giant sorcerer who had tried to 
destroy the Land.  She remembered how he seemed to radiate power and 
control.

     "I'm sorry Tabitha, I no doubt looked better last we met."

     "No kidding."

     His voice was a boot dragged through sand.  His face... the 
corruption had covered about half his face.  The flesh had taken on a 
grey sheen, and seemed to be plastered to the bones.  One eye was so far 
back in the socket it could barely be seen for the shadow.  He stood up, 
and Tabitha saw his right hand was similarly affected.  In contrast, the 
left side of his face was still healthy, except for the fact that the 
eye was providing most of the illumination in the cave.

     "The Mage of the Land of Geshem has seen better days, my young friend. 
The fight against my affliction goes badly."

     "Your face... you look..."

     "I'm dying Tabitha.  I'm fighting to keep the infection down," the 
light in his eye pulsed for a moment, "but the battle is a losing one."

     His gaze turned to the taller woman.  

     "You have what we need."

     It wasn't a question.

     "We have it.  Are you sure...?"

     He didn't answer, merely held out his hand.  Stephanie, called the 
Mage's Hunter, held forth the bag.  The Mage took it from her, and his 
eye glowed softly as he looked into it.  He heaved a sigh.  

     "This will do.  If anything, this will do."

     He tipped the bag and three items fell out onto a mat on the 
floor.  There was a wet sounded as they landed.  Tabitha repressed a 
shiver as the memory of gathering the items came to her.  The Hunter 
looked at the Mage.

     "I hope you know what you're doing."

     The Mage almost grinned on the unafflicted side of his face.

     "Oh yes, I'm sure.  You could say I have an affinity for this."

     He gestured towards the items on the mat; a human hand, severed at 
the wrist; a heart, purple and brown with dried blood; and a single eyeball.

                            *  *  *   

     Cyclops was dying.  It had seemed simple enough at first.  Give 
some lectures at the Xavier Institute, plan a training session or two, 
meet the students and talk about  old times' and recent missions with 
the school's headmaster, Sean Cassidy, also known as Banshee.  At least, 
that was the original plan.  Instead, it had been one disaster after 
another.  

     First a simple  meet the students' party had been something akin to 
hero worship, with Jubilee insisting he tell the others about every time 
she had  saved the entire team from certain death'.  Then, a routine 
hand-to-hand fighting exercise had almost sent a student to the hospital 
when Synch, while sparring with him, had accidentally copied his powers 
and fired a force bolt across the room.  Fortunately, he had only hit M, 
who had only been shaken.  Even so, Cyclops hadn't been sure whether to 
lecture the boy about control, or himself about carelessness.  And then 
there was Emma Frost.  

	He had heard the former White Queen had reformed, and Banshee had 
insisted she had toned down, yet it seemed every time Cyclops turned a 
corner, there she was, in outfits that made her days in the Hellfire 
Club seem like a teenage stage.  And she was always...looking... at him.  

     Scott Summers shook his head ruefully at the attractive female 
telepaths of the world.     

     A hesitant voice broke into his musings.

     "Umm... Sir?  Mr Cyclops... umm Summers?  Sir?"

     Scott looked up.  He was sitting on the front steps of the 
institute, winding down after a run around the grounds.  He generally 
didn't make a habit of jogging, but it had seemed like a good way to 
inspect the security, and get away from Emma Frost.  The speaker was 
Paige Guthrie, the younger sister of the newest X-man, Cannonball.

     "Hello Paige, Scott would be fine."

     "Yes sir, ah mean Scott, ah... I was wondering, about Sam, well, 
how's he doing?"

     "Paige, your brother is a good man, and a good x-man.  I'm proud to 
have him on the team.  He talks about you a lot, you know."

     "That's good to hear sir.  Ah suppose ah just..."

     *CYCLOPS, THE BIOSPHERE, NOW* 

     Scott gasped as Emma Frost's telepathic  voice' rang out in his 
head.  Paige looked at him in confusion as he stopped in mid-sentence.  
The contact wasn't like Jean's warmth even at the worst of times, or 
even Psylocke's electric contact.  Her touch in his mind was like a 
blade of ice through water, a voice accustomed to being obeyed.  
Gritting his teeth, Cyclops, co-leader of the uncanny X-Men, ran into 
the building.

                           *   *   *   

     Scott Summers was dying.  His first Sunday away from the airstrip 
in weeks, his first chance to get some work done around the house, and 
spend some time just relaxing at home, and it was raining!  He looked 
mournfully at the grass outside the window, desperately in need of a 
clip, and the fence in need of a paint job, and the treehouse, with it's 
loose step he had promised Christopher he would fix.  Lee had taken the 
kids to visit his parents in Alaska, and he had already spent the 
morning fixing various things inside the house, and his beautiful plans 
to spend the afternoon outside were ruined. 

     A sudden touch at his knee made him spin around, and look down into 
his dog's eyes.

     "Yeah, I know, Havoc, you wanted to be outside too." 

     He scratched at the Wolfhound's ears, almost level with his stomach.

     "Well, boy, I suppose we could just get wet.  Waddaya say?  Are we 
stupid enough to go run in the rain?"

     The animal picked up on his master's excitement.  It's ears stood 
up and it looked at the door.  Summers grinned.

     "Ok boy, just let me get my stuff."

     The animal frisked towards the door.  Summers sprinted up the 
staircase to the bedroom he shared with his wife.  He felt a twinge in 
his knee, as the old injury reacted to the damp weather, but he ignored 
it.  Havoc would just have to slow down for him today.  In the room, the 
radio was on.  He had set the alarm, but as usual, woken up before it.  
The news was just wrapping up.

     <"...and later today we'll have the highlights of the Xavier - Grey 
debate on evolution.  Professor Charles Xavier defended his theories on 
a strain of mutation inhumanity that may appear in the next millennium, 
while Dr Emmet Grey...">

     Scott turned off the radio as he grabbed his windbreaker suit and 
dressed.  He threw some change and keys into a side pouch, as well as a 
small first-aid kit.  He debated grabbing a pair of sunglasses, then 
finally threw them in as well.  At peace with the world, Scott Summers 
ran down the stairs to go jogging.

                           *   *   *   


     Prelate Summers was dying.  Dimly, around him, he heard sounds.  
Screams, the whistle of falling bombs, a howl of pure rage that seemed 
somehow familiar.  The pounding in his chest was infinitely louder, the 
pain far more attention demanding.  Visions passed before the darkness 
of his remaining eye.

     *...leading the refugees across the bridge, Jean Grey by his side, 
     somehow feeling right even with the certainty of death all around 
     them...*

     *...Jean like a force of nature, holding back armageddon, and 
     falling as his brother Alex struck at her...*

     *...Alex, doing the unthinkable, striking at him, hurting him with 
     his power, something that should have been impossible...*

     *...Alex falling, three familiar blades forcing their way through 
     his body...*

     *...the ground rushing up to meet him as he fell...*

                          *   *   *    

     The Mage spoke as he worked, partly to Tabitha, partly to himself.  
The hunter was gone, into the woods to find some items needed for the spell.

     "I'm sure you remember our friend with the blades in his hands, 
Tabitha, and the time it had been necessary for me to regretfully move 
the princess..." 

     He saw the pained look in Tabitha's eyes.  He paused as she 
collected herself, and cursed his own carelessness.  He continued.

      " The other world.  Twice now it has been a source of salvation to 
us.  Perhaps it will be again.  It, and it's sisters."

     She watched as he drew symbols in the sand.  She tried to follow 
them, but even in the unnatural light of the Mage's eye, they seemed 
hazy and indistinct.

     Tabitha had no idea how long she'd been staring when the Hunter returned.
She was clearly upset, the sheen of sweat across her face testifying to 
her speed and effort.  Her free hand kept straying to the knives at her 
belt.  Her other hand passed a sack to the Mage, who waited 
expectantly.  Tabitha saw him take the sack and busy himself with it's 
contents.  She noted he left the...  other materials where they lay on 
the ground. The Hunter interrupted her observations.

     "We don't have much time.  You should go."

     "Forget it.  I have nowhere better to be.  What's the rush?"

     "I think the Pale Man may be onto us."

     "What, a spy?"

     "No.  But the Mage is about to attempt a powerful working, and when 
he does..."

     "...the bad guys'll be on us like ugly on a swine."

     "In a manner of speaking, yes."

     Tabitha stepped forward, closer to the Hunter.  The older woman was 
taller than her, and met her eyes with an unblinking stare.  Though her 
look didn't leave Tabitha, she raised an eyebrow appreciatively.

     "Very nice, maid-girl. I hadn't noticed the knife, or should I say 
knives?  But, can you use them?"

     Tabitha stepped back.  Her right hand held a short, but wide bladed 
knife.  

     "I failed to protect someone important once, hunter-lady.  I've 
felt like an explosion waiting to break loose ever since."

     "You might get your chance, Tabitha.  You might just get your chance."

     Stephanie, the Mage's Hunter, turned and went to keep watch at the 
door.  Tabitha replaced her knife in the folds of her skirt and returned 
to watching the Mage work.

                          *   *   *    

     The rain had lightened up, though Scott's knee felt every drop of 
moisture all the same.  The dog bounded along beside him, sometimes 
ranging ahead, always returning.  Scott felt at his best at moments like 
this.  All the responsibilities of being a father and a husband and 
running  a small airline seemed very far away indeed.  If not for the 
reoccurring ache in his leg, he might even be able to put the past out 
of his mind for a while. 

     A squirrel crossed their path and Havoc gave chase.  Scott watched the 
huge wolfhound pursue the small creature ahead of him.  The squirrel 
made it to a tree and Havoc stopped at the base, looking up.  The dog 
barely spared a glance for his master as he ran up and came to a stop, 
looking amused.

     "Sorry boy, looks like he was..."

     The dog turned, hackles rising as his master's scent changed suddenly. 
And looked... and looked... the Man was gone.  Not just run off.  Gone.  

     Havoc whined slightly, looked around one last time, then began to 
trace his path home.

                           *   *   *   

     "What's the situation, Banshee?"

     The Xavier Institute's headmaster didn't glance up from the console.

     "It appears Scott, that a problem we thought was gone has returned."

     Emma frost was standing to one side, her eyes closed, hands 
clenched into fists by her sides.

     Cyclops leaned over Banshee's shoulder and looked at the screens.

     The Biosphere was in turmoil.  Trees whipping from side to side, 
grass and earth being torn out of the ground and hurled into the air.  

     "One of the students?" Cyclops asked?

     "Nae, worse.  A creature Wolverine tangled with a ways back.  
Called it a Weird or some such, nature-spirit, nasty as all get-out. 
Logan chased it off, but apparently it wasn't convinced."

     "Are any of the kids..."

     "Found them!"

     Emma Frost's exclamation answered Cyclops' question.  There were 
students in the grotto, with the spirit.  His reaction was instinctive.

     "Where, Emma?"

     Though she answered with her customary tone, concern for the students 
still showed in her eyes.  Cyclops noted this in passing, but he was 
pleased.  He hadn't supported Frost's placement as co-headmaster.

     "Artie and Leech are in the tree-house.  Penance is trying to reach 
them.  They are scared, she is as difficult to read as ever, but seems unhurt."

     "I'm going in, Sean?"

     "Right wit ya lad."

     "Emma, monitor the situation, and keep the others out of there."

     "This isn't the X-men, Summers."

     "You have a better idea?"

     Her silence was all the reply he waited for.  Banshee and Cyclops 
ran for the door of the biosphere.  They arrived at the same time as 
other members of Generation X. Chamber, psionic fire roiling where his 
chest used to be.  Husk, her outer skin shedded for a stone-like form.  
And Jubilee, already steping through the door.

     Banshee and Cyclops spoke at the same time.

     "All of ye..."

     "Hold it right..."

     Only Banshee finished the sentence.  

                           *   *   *   

     Prelate Summers felt very very cold.  The cold was leaving him 
though.  He could barely feel the concrete beneath his cheek, barely 
feel the dull ache where his brother had blasted him...

     He had long since stopped smelling the blood and smoke and ozone, 
and he hadn't heard an explosion in ... seconds?... minutes?...

     He was sure he was dying.  Alex had actually hurt him that badly.  
Already, a tingling sensation was building in his face and arms.  It 
reminded him of lying in the grass, a lifetime ago..  Before Sinister, 
and Apocalypse, ... he could almost smell it... and then he realized he 
COULD smell it...

END CHAPTER 1