PALE REIGN OVER GESHEM CHAPTER 3 DISCLAIMER; the following contains characters and ideas that are property of Marvel Comics. They are used here without permission. The author is not receiving payment for this, and it may not be resold for money. Recap; Cyclops (of the X-Men), Prelate Summers (of AoA), and Scott Summers (who you've never seen before) have all been pulled into the magical world of Geshem, by that world's version of Cable; The Mage. Something went wrong when the Pale Man (the bad guy) showed up. Now everyone of importance is scattered all over... Remember, your comments, critiques and suggestions are most welcome... Hang on... here we go again! - Abyss ----------------------------------------------------------------- Pale Reign Over Geshem, chapter 3 * * * The Pale Man was quite upset. Two of his chosen followers defeated, five or six lesser servants injured and useless, and the Mage was proving to be far more of an annoyance now that he was taken. The man looked over at the still form, lying on the ground before the golem, who stood motionless, awaiting his commands. A pale, blue aura had come into being around the Mage, protecting him from any enchantment the Pale Man might try. It was clearly a protective spell set in place long before the virus had infected the Mage, because its strength was nothing short of impressive. Still, the rotting enchantment continued its work, and the Mage would fall soon enough. The Pale Man was more concerned with the reports from his soldiers, about the man who had loosened fire from his one eye, and the other strangely garbed man who had been fighting with him. He had sent Crawler and some of the bandits in his service to sweep the area for rebels. What they had found was an unknown. A factor in his plans of conquest that he would have to deal with quickly and completely. Things were too far along now to let anything interfere. Resistance fighters? Bandits? Or something else altogether? * * * Tabitha had no idea how long they had been fleeing. The Hunter had just barely regained enough consciousness to stumble along, and Tabitha had been determined to put as much distance between them and the Pale Man as possible. If she was right, they were coming up on the river that passed east of the capitol. *Of course, if I'm wrong, we could just be hopelessly lost.* The sound of running water was the best thing she had heard all night. The low groan of her semi-conscious companion was the second. "Where are we girl?" Tabitha explained the events, including the Mage's message. Her tone made her frustration evident. "We have two problems, Tabitha. First, I have no idea why the Mage would want us to find a dead man's mutilated body,..." She ignored Tabitha's pained look and continued, "...and second, while I see the logic in path our flight has taken, how long do we have before the Pale Man's men pursue us." "Why should they? The resistance was broken when the Mage was taken." "Not quite, and that corpse-skinned bastard knows it. It's only a question of time before the prince-consort returns with the army and those knights still with him. The Pale Man cannot risk us getting word to them before he is prepared." "You mean he'll ambush them?" "Girl, he has seized the castle that is the heart of the Land, decimated the High Lords and Ladies and imprisoned the Queen and the Shaman. The Consort's forces are the only thing lying between him and total control of Geshem. And the resistance is the only barrier to him and them." "Well, then what lies tween us and warning them?" " A few hundred leagues, easily covered on a good horse..." "And us." Another voice, harsh and amused all at once, broke in. Stephanie hurled herself from where she lay and tackled Tabitha to the ground, just as a crossbow bolt struck the tree where her head was moments earlier. There was the sound of shattering wood, the tree exploding and splinters spraying across the two women. Tabitha heard Stephanie hiss in pain as some of the wood fragments drew blood through her leather. "You're as nimble as ever, milady Hunter." No attack followed, and the former serving-girl and the Mage's Hunter looked up. There were three of them. Two men and a woman. The man who had spoke stood in front and slightly forward of the other two. He was dressed head to toe in chain-link armor that was so covered in weapons they practically formed another layer of blades and points. He held the largest crossbow Tabitha had ever seen, and he was calmly fitting another bolt into it. His hair was long and black and his face all hard angles and cruel dark eyes. The other man was dressed in the dark leathers of the hill-tribes, covered completely except for his throwing arm. He held a javelin casually in one hand, and the quiver at his back fairly bristled with more. Tabitha couldn't be sure, but the weapon in his hand seemed to glow slightly. His face was tanned from long hours in the sun and his eyes, if not as cruel as the first man's, were just as hard. The woman was taller than the other two. She wore plate armor that seemed to cling to her skin. Her hair was cut nearly to the scalp and though her eyes were hidden beneath a slitted visor of crafted steel, Tabitha was sure they would be just as unforgiving as the other two. The Hunter slid off of Tabitha, her hands in plain sight. "So the Pale Man is reduced to hiring vile bandits for his followers, Marick?" "No mere hireling am I, milady. I lead the Marauders for our lord. And he wants you to cease being a problem. Dead or alive is your choice." "Some choice." Tabitha murmured. The Hunter ignored her. Hands still in front of her, she rose to her feet, slowly. The one she called Marick levelled his massive crossbow at her and spoke to the other two. "Javelin, Downfall, make sure they're disarmed, then bind them." The two moved forward. Stephanie waited until they moved just into Marick's line of sight. The slight motion distracted him, and when she saw his eyes reflexively blink, she exploded into motion. Her leg struck out, propelling Tabitha towards the trees. Even as she shouted, she was rolling forward, towards the enemy. "Move girl, run!" Stephanie came out of the roll in a crouch. Behind her in the woods, there was the sound of an explosion as the bolt Marick had just launched struck a tree and exploded. The leap and roll carried her right up to the two approaching Marauders. Her years of service to the Mage had trained her to deal with many opponents, and hard learned reflexes served her well now. Her right leg kicked out, taking Javelin in the knee even as he tried to bring his weapon to bear on here. To her left, she threw a powder the Mage had given her, hidden till now in a bracelet of her own making. The air around Downfall exploded in lights and tiny flames. The huge woman threw her arms up to protect her face. The Hunter's right arm came around from her hip and extended at Marick. The knife flew straight, lodging itself in the man's shoulder, slowed but not stopped by his armor. Stephanie barely cursed. She had aimed for his throat. Turning, she saw Tabitha hesitating at the edge of the clearing. "Stab your eyes girl, RUN!" The Hunter, her foes momentarily dazed, took her own advice and bolted. She was within moments of clearing the trees when she heard a hissing noise behind her. Reflexes saved her again as she dove to the side, but Javelin's weapon left a trail of energy in it's path, and she was caught in the wake of it. Every nerve in her body was lit on fire in an instant, and without meaning to, she screamed. She fell to the ground, gasping, all thought of escape gone. Tabitha had barely started running when she heard the Hunter scream. She turned and saw her fall. Indecision warred within her, to help her friend, or carry on. In that moment, Marick loosened another bolt, and her last decision was whether to scream or not as she died. She never had a chance to decide. A red swath of energy struck the bolt from the air. "Stay down." Her saviour was past her in a blur, rushing the Marauders. His voice had the same tone of command the Mage's always held, and it seemed familiar somehow. She had the briefest glimpse of a tall man, all in blue, with some strange apparel around his head. Then the clearing exploded in violence. Cyclops didn't know exactly what was happening, but he thought he recognized Meltdown, and the scream had proven to originate from Stevie Hunter, or at least that was who they appeared to be. That they were under attack wasn't in question. That he should get involved, even less so. The enemy was familiar as well. Marauders, Sinister's people. Scalphunter, Harpoon and Arclight, but all of them in weird medieval dress. The situation was beginning to resolve itself in his mind, but first things first. The armored Arclight-double was closing fast on him, somewhat unsteady, but still a threat. Cyclops kept her between him and the others, and the other two couldn't get a clear shot. Harpoon's doppelganger couldn't at least. The third man, Scalphunter apparently, was bleeding from a shoulder wound and had thrown aside his crossbow. Cyclops went low. A direct physical attack at Arclight would be wasted from anything less than point blank, so he took the indirect approach. He dove down, tackling her legs out from under her as she swung a punch that would have taken his head off. An optic blast sent Harpoon rolling across the clearing, then Cyclops turned and blasted Arclight point blank in the face. Her visor shattered and she screamed, falling on her back, cursing all the while. Scalphunter was on him now, a long curved sword coming down towards his neck. Cyclops moved inside the swing and brought his knee up into the other mans groin. His opponent jumped back, and Cyclops felt his knee go numb from the contact with the man's armor. He loosed an optic blast, even as Scalphunter pulled a throwing knife from a leg sheath and reversed it to throw. The Marauder ducked under the blast and brought his arm around... and a heavy branch crashed down on his skull and ruined his consciousness and throw at the same time. Tabitha looked down, happily surveying the results of her handiwork. She had seen the stranger take out Javelin and Downfall, but she simply could not stay aside and risk letting someone else who helped her get hurt for it. She dropped the branch and looked up at the man, and promptly fainted dead away. A fair enough reaction, when confronted by someone whose body she had desecrated only a day before. * * * Scott Summers had no idea how long he'd been running. All he knew was that something was very very wrong here. He was positive he wasn't running in a circle, yet he was still in the park, or forest, or wherever the hell he was. The fight at the road had shaken him badly. Men with swords and glowing eyes, people appearing out of thin air, a near identical twin who shot lasers out of his one eye... insanity, he must be going insane. He stopped running and leaned against a tree, slowing down his breathing and listening for the sounds of pursuit. His airforce survival training seemed very far away, but it was all coming back to him now that he needed it. Only the normal sounds of a forest greeted him, and he shivered slightly at the fact that normal was the complete absence of cars, or radios or jets overhead. Even at night, the city was never THIS quiet. *Okay, first step, get my sense of direction back.* He looked up to find the position of the stars, and froze like a rabbit in a wolf's sight, as a huge form blocked out the moon as it flew overhead. In the night sky, it was just a place where the stars disappeared as a huge shape passed between them and the forest. Summers wasn't even sure it was anything but a cloud, but no cloud ever moved that quickly. Even as he stood there, more stunned than afraid, the only image the silhouette conjured in his mind was just too farfetched to be believed. *Mutants, men with swords, one-eyed twins... and now a... a dragon.?* * * * Prelate Summers collapsed against a tree. He had been running through the darkness for ages. He had no idea where he was, and his chest was hurting to the point where every breath was a new lesson in agony. His one good eye closed in pain, he fumbled at the equipment harness, and came up with nothing but a power-suppressing collar and a spare visor. Everything else was lost in the battle to escape the citadel in New York, and his mad flight through the forest. The forest... where in the name of Apocalypse's bloody hands was he? And how? And why? Trying to distract himself from the pain, he considered the possibilities. This wasn't death, because he was in far too much pain, and if it was an illusion or hypnosis, it was far more intricate and random than anything he had ever encountered before, which was saying a lot. In the course of his service with Sinister, he had encountered clones, rebel mutants, aliens and such. So basically, anything could be happening. The thoughts served their purpose. He managed to dull his awareness of the pain somewhat. With that, his sense of the forest returned, and with it, the sound of running water. He turned his head to the side and saw moonlight reflecting off liquid, a few metres away. Slowly, ever slowly, he began to crawl. Thirst invaded his mouth, and dehydration wouldn't help him stay alive any longer. It seemed the minutes it took to crawl the distance stretched like hours, but he made his way to a large oak tree that extended it's branches over the small brook. Holding onto the roots for support, he cupped water in his free hand and drank deeply. Then, slowly and painfully, with a torn piece of his uniform, he began to clean the blistering wound his brother had given him. Thought of Alex made him consider home for a moment, and he focused on it to distract himself from the new waves of pain every time he passed the cloth over his chest, just gently enough to clean away dirt without tearing at the wound. His brother was dead, at the hands of the same man and mutant that had taken his eye. Summers didn't really feel anything. It was hard to associate the hard eyed killer who had blasted Jean Grey with the little boy he had held in his arms as they plummeted towards the earth under a burning parachute, an eternity ago. Jean Grey did strike a chord though. She was dead, by the bombs if not by Alex's blast. That thought wrenched at him. An emptiness formed deep in his soul. One he didn't know could even exist. He cared about her, not like he had for the desperate mutants he'd saved from the pits, not like for Sinister, the only person who ever really took an interest in him, but like someone who could have made him whole... and now she was gone, just like everything else he had ever known. His ministrations done, he leaned back against the tree and began to doze off. It was still night when a gentle touch at his cheek awakened him with a start. A thought away from blasting the person before him, only the slightest look at her face in the moonlight held him back... it was HER face... her name on his lips in disbelief... "Jean." * * * END CHAPTER 3