PALE REIGN OVER GESHEM - by Abyss
CHAPTER 4 

DISCLAIMER; the following story contains characters and ideas
that are the property of Marvel Comics.  They are used here
without permission and only for personal enjoyment.  The author
is not being paid for this.  The material may not be resold for
profit.  The story idea remains the copyright of the author.
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     All comments extremely appreciated.  The story keeps
growing, and if there is someone from the Marvelverse you
would like to see in it, Email me and I'll see what I can do.
     Keep your hands outside the vehicle and do not remain in
your seat...
     Let the fun begin!
     - Abyss <s1039566@aix2.uottawa.ca>
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Pale Reign Over Geshem - Chapter 4
     
     It was a lovely castle.  Large towers, crafted ramparts,
ornate gargoyles, all the comforts and artistry the Pale Man
craved in a place of residence.  He had done some redecorating
though, but it was a definite improvement.  A simple preservation
spell kept the bodies from putrefying, and the servants had
learned to mop up the blood with alacrity, once he had fed a few
of them to the preyers.  A few servants that is, not bodies.
     Descending from the tower that looked out across the
realm, HIS realm now, he stopped and looked down where the
tower exited onto the walkway lining the walls.  Four bodies
hung in full view to anyone looking to the castle from the town
or surrounding hills.  Of course, one would have to be fairly close
to appreciate the fact that they were the bodies of the High Lords
and ladies.  Or just what had been done to them.  They were 
quite artfully displayed, in his opinion..  

     "Dread lord."

     Hiding irritation at the interruption, the Pale Man turned
to the guard, one of the bandits in his employ, or rather, one of
the bandits he owned, body and soul.  The man had his hood up,
but the slight crimson glow, from where his eyes used to be,
created a slight luminescence in the darkness of the hood.  The
Pale Man didn't bother asking what was the matter, he simply
waited.  The man had been working for him long enough to take
this for his cue to speak.

     "Some of the hunting parties have returned.  No sign of
the interlopers from the clearing."

     The Pale Man just waited.  It took the guard a moment to
realize his lord was waiting for more.

     "Marik and the others haven't returned yet."

     The crimson eyes stared at him. 

     "The city dwellers are keeping to their houses, no sign of
rebellion."

     The Pale Man turned back to his contemplation of the
landscape.  The guard didn't leave.

     "Dread lord?"

     He didn't turn this time. 

     "Yes?"

     "About the preyers..."

     Silence except the wind across the walls.  Then a
response that sounded almost amused.

     "You have an entire town."

     "Yes, dread lord."

     The man walked away.  After a moments additional
contemplation, the Pale Man returned to the staircase and
descended into the castle.  

                *   *   *   

     Her voice was impossibly soft, and it seemed to speak
directly to his soul.

     "Come with me if thou wishes to live."

     "Jean, what... how.... NO!"

     Pain, confusion, and the sheer impossibility of it all drove
through him like a red hot spike through his brain.  The command
to his visor's one lens was carried by a chip implanted in the base
of his skull by a man he had followed for most of his life.  It took
less than a tenth of a second for the thought and action to take
place, and a beam of pure concussive force over which he had no
actual control, ripped forth from his one eye and into the face of
the woman he thought he couldn't possibly see before him.  
     The beam passed right through her face and into the oak
tree behind her.  She was unharmed, though two branches from
the tree dropped into the stream.
     The woman fell back, and in the moonlight, he saw her
face clearly, and not at all.
     It was definitely female, its curves and shape catching the
moonlight and reflecting it like a fog.  Its face was an indistinct
form, like water shifting over stones, or... leaves... blowing in the
wind.
     He had hurt it, that much was clear, but it didn't flee.  It
did pull away though, and like a squirrel, moved up the trunk of
the tree, hovering, near the severed branches.  Prelate Summers
was on his feet, but barely, weak from his wound.  
     They looked at each other, a mutant with one good eye
and a creature with no eyes at all that he could perceive.  How
long they stayed like that, Summers couldn't guess, until a wind
blew through the trees of the forest and the creature turned  its
shifting features into the forest, then back towards him. 
Summers' gaze never moved.  The creature was like nothing he
had ever seen before, almost solid, but like fog given shape, like a
hologram of a woman made from mist.  Its voice was just as
passing, a telepathic contact, but drifting, in and out of his head
like the breeze from a moment earlier.  

     *...they're...coming...*

     "Get out of my head."

     *...not...danger...help...*

     He looked from side to side, nearly pitching over as the
motion reopened his wound.  He dropped to his knees.  The pain
was worse than ever.  The night lit forest was spinning.  He heard
voices calling out, harsh, threatening.  He knew he was in danger. 
Some part of his mind screamed at him to get up, to run, to fight,
but the pain was too much... and he felt consciousness fading. 
He saw the indistinct form of the creature moving in front of him,
and then nothing at all.

                *   *   *   

     When the soldiers arrived, there was no one there.  Their
leader was a thin, almost brittle looking man dressed all in
leather.  He had long, prematurely gray hair and his eyes flickered
from place to place constantly.  Unlike the six soldiers with him,
he wore no armor, or any weapon to see, yet they all deferred to
him.  

     "I thought he was here, you saw him here, I saw him
here." his voice was nervous, but his tone furious.

     "Sir, I saw him, and as instructed I summoned the rest of
the patrol.  I know what I saw, sir."

     The soldier was edgy, he had seen this man kill small
groups for one man's failure.  The master had punished him for
it, but the master wasn't there.
     The leader's eyes narrowed to slits, then he laughed,
giddy, piercingly.  Some birds resting in a nearby tree exploded
into the night sky.

     "Are you sure?  You are sure aren't you soldier?"

     "Yes sir, very sure sir."

     "Well, just as long as your sure, would you care to tell me
where he went?"

     "I don't know sir.  Up the stream maybe, towards the
river."

     "What an absolutely brilliant idea soldier.  So I suggest
you begin trekking up the water to find him, and now."

     The soldier all but ran, looking for signs of their quarry's
passage, but far more interested in putting distance between their
leader and himself.
     The grey haired man gestured to two others.

     "Follow after.  Look carefully.  And if you get to the river
and still don't find him, kill that man and head back to the castle."

     They didn't even hesitate.

     "Yes sir." 

     And they left.  The other soldiers, former bandits to a
man, soulsworn to the Pale Man  one and all, tried hard not to
look nervous.  The thin man leaned back against the large oak
tree that hung over the brook.  His eyes kept shifting, from man
to man to the forest around them.  Suddenly he laughed, a
nervous, loud cackle that caused all the men to jump.  Without a
word, he set a quick pace towards the castle.

                *   *   *   

     "You should have let me kill them."

     Cyclops tried not to let his distaste for the idea show in
his voice.

     "I don't murder people in cold blood, and I won't stand
by and let it happen..."

     "Then the Mage brought your here for naught, because if
you won't kill, you WILL die."

     "Maybe you could start by telling me why he brought me
here in the first place.  And this is Geshem, isn't it?"

     "You know where you are?  How...?"

     "A friend of mine has been here before.  He didn't discuss
it the first time, but after the second..."

     "Your friend was the clawed-one, the knight called
Logan.  He was a true champion of the realm, not afraid to act
when called on."

     "I am not Logan."

     Tabitha broke in.

     "And you are definitely not Lord Summerisle.  For that 
matter, I'm not even sure you're human."

     The Hunter looked at the girl.

     "Tabitha..."

     "How do we know, he is who he says he is.  The Mage
didn't finish the spell, he could be  a spy..."

     "Enough.  Here."

     The Hunter reached into a pouch, and pulled out a single,
silver coin.  She looked at Cyclops.

     "Put this in your mouth."

     Cyclops was confused, but he knew if he was to get
home, he needed information, and this woman seemed to have it. 
His hand reached out and took the coin.  He studied it for a
moment, surprised to see the likeness of Rahne Sinclair,
Excalibur's Wolfsbane, on one side, and a sigil resembling a wolf
on the other.  The coin was silver.  His eyes, hidden behind the
visor, watched Tabitha and Stephanie's faces as he put it in his
mouth.  Their expressions were different from those of these
same women in his own world.  Just as hard, in their own ways,
but different.  Stephanie seemed to relax after a moment, Tabitha,
oddly enough, didn't.
     He spat the coin back into his palm.

     "Do I get to find out what that was about?"

     "The coin was silver.  The metal is anathema to dark
magic."

     "So I passed."

     "Perhaps... take off  your visor."

     "I can't do that."

     "The Pale Man's servants are known by certain signs.  
Those soulsworn to him show it in the eyes.  Take it off."

     "If I do that, someone is liable to get hurt."

     Their reactions were definitely not what he expected.  Though he had 
made no threatening moves, the Hunter had two knives out and pointed at 
his body in seconds.  Tabitha, standing further back, had one hand drawn 
back, and though the moon had set and a false-dawn was just beginning, 
there was enough light to see the glint of metal in her hand.  Cyclops didn't
move.

     "You don' t understand.  In my world, I'm what we call a
mutant.  We have... magic, I suppose you'd call it.  My magic, is
in my eyes.  You saw it when I fought the marauders before.  I
can't control it without my visor."

     Surprisingly, it was Tabitha who lowered her weapon first.

     "I believe him."

     The Hunter didn't take her eyes off Cyclops, but she
sheathed her weapons as well.

     Cyclops released the breath he hadn't known he was
holding.
     
     "Now, can you tell me just what exactly is going on?"


                *   *   *   

     It was definitely a city.  Moreover, as medieval
architecture went, it was a big city.  
     Scott stood at the top of a small hill, where the road he
had been following rose up slightly.  The newborn sun framed the
distant hilltop in a way that he would've considered breathtaking,
if it wasn't so... real.
     He had stopped trying to understand what was happening. 
It was common knowledge the government was experimenting
with teleportation, and time travel as well it was rumoured.  At
least that offered him a semi-logical explanation for what was far
to real to be a dream.  And the alternative... well, the alternative
meant he was insane, none of this was real, and sooner or later he
had to snap out of it.  Sooner, he hoped. 
     In the meantime, he was willing to go ahead on the
possibility he might eventually figure this all out.  He had been
wandering since the fight in the woods.  Coming upon the road
by accident, he had followed it, and it had led him here.. 
Wherever here was.  
     The distant city was surrounded by a wall, though it
seemed various small buildings dotted the periphery, like rocks
washed up against a dam.  The tops of taller buildings were
visible over the outer wall, and in the centre of it all was... a
castle.  A real, honest to god, towers and ramparts and flags in
the wind castle, towering over the entire valley.  

     *Well, if I'm going along with this, that seems to be the
place to go.  I hope.*

     The rising sun was shining on him, and he unzipped his
blue windbreaker, put on a pair of sunglasses against the glare,
and jogged down the road, towards the Castle.

END CHAPTER 4