PALE REIGN OVER GESHEM - CHAPTER 7 DISCLAIMER; the following is a work of fiction using characters and ideas that are the property of Marvel Comics. They are used here without permission for personal enjoyment only. This work may not be reproduced or sold for payment. It may not be changed without the author's permission, though it may be distributed freely. Rights to all original story ideas remain with the author... so there! Hi! Abyss here again. Here is chapter 7, and I have to say it's one of my favorite's so far. Please, Email and let me know wat you think. Even a short little note is appreciated. Enjoy, keep the faith, stay crazy... Abyss **************************************************** Pale Reign Over Geshem - Chapter 7 Scott Summers held his breath. The guards hadn't even looked his way yet. A bit of motion of the edge of his vision made him stop, then walk off the main road and into the collection of huts as if he had a purpose. No one stopped him. He passed through two rows of the wood and mud structures, really little more that boards and stones shoved into a boxlike shelter, with mud holding it all together and filling in the cracks in the walls. Smells of smoke and cooking and garbage drifted all around him now. He blinked his eyes as the ashes from a deserted cooking fire stung them. There was something else, though he couldn't say exactly what is was. More a feeling than a scent. It was familiar, but he couldn't quite catch it. His goal was ahead. Laundry, flapping slightly in the breeze. Little more than rags really, but at least it would allow him to blend in a little better. A light, threadbare cloak swung on the line. Scott reached for it and a forcefull, but high pitched voice stopped him. "Hey, that's ours!" He looked down. It was young girl, maybe nine years old. She was wearing a long tattered shirt that had been tied into a rough skirt at her waist with some rope. Her blond hair was ragged, her face was dirty, and she was doing her absolute best to look threatening, fists on her hips, frown firmly in place, eyes staring him right in the face. Scott berated himself, even as he looked around to see if anyone was rushing to the rescue. Apparently not. Whatever had driven these people to live like this, it had also made them more than a little nervous about getting involved in other people's problems. He looked back at the girl. She met his eyes evenly, though a slight shaking in her knees told Scott she was forcing herself to do so. "That's my mom's cloak. You can't have it." She said this with so much determination, Scott had to force himself not to grin. He wouldn't be half surpirsed if she tried to stop him herself too. He didn't want that. He kneeled down slowly and faced her, eye level, only a small distance between them. "Well, I'm certainely glad you told me. I thought someone had just left it there." "My mom put it there, and she'll be right back. Go away." "Didn't your mom warn you about strangers?" "She also warned me about theives." Scott was helpless. He couldn't just rob her, and he needed that cloak. "Well, little girl, I'm no thief. Do you think your mom would sell me her cloak?" She seemd to consider this. Her eyes never left his face, her fists never unclenched. "Maybe. What do you have to buy it with?" Now Scott was on the defensive. What did he have? His sunglasses, his jacket, and the contents of his pouch. He opened the pouch and checked. A small first aid kit, his keys, a penknife, and some money. He pulled out a five dollar bill and showed it to the girl. "I suppose this is useless to you, isn't it?" She was clearly unimpressed. "Funny leaf, it's not going to keep my mom warm." Scott sighed. He unrolled his windbreaker. "This will though." She was clearly curious. She took a few steps towards him, and a woman rushed around the side of the hut and grabbed her under one arm, brandishing a small knife with the other. "Julie!" Scott was back on his feet and stepping back instantly. The woman looked at him, and the look in her eyes reminded him of what he had sensed before. The same look had seen as the convoy that had recovered him in Iraq was rolling back to the staging base. The same look on the face of every villager who watched them pass. Fear. Hopelessness. Anger. "Ma'am... I wasn't..." "I don't care! My husband will be here in moments. Get away. Now.." Scott held up his hands. "I just wanted to..." "I said get away!" The little girl, Julie, squirmed in her mothers grip. "Mom, its okay,... mom..." The woman didn't move towards him, or away. Her daughter had to be protected, but her few possessions were precious to her. Scott saw all of this. "Ma'am. I'd like to buy that cloak. I can pay." Suspicion was clear on her face. She let the girl down, but kept a very firm grip on her arm. "I have nothing to sell. I need the cloak. Go. My husband is coming." She was almost pleading. Scott was fairly sure no husband was coming. There was too much pain in this woman's eyes. She hadn't shared it with anyone in a long time. "I really need that cloak, ma'am." She looked at him, closely. "Do I know you?" "I highly doubt it." "You seem... familiar. Did you ever attend the Queen Rain, before the troubles started. You have the bearing of an courtier... or an officer. I worked in the palace long enough to know it." "No ma'am. I've never been here before." Her musings seemed to have taken some of the wariness from her. If he was going to be a threat, he would've already. She addressed the little girl. "Julie, go get one of your fathers cloaks from the chest. Quickly now." The little girl threw one last look at Scott, half warning, half pleading him not to hurt her mother. Her hands opened, and he saw she had a small piece of pointed metal in each. Easily concealed even in her small hands, they could still hurt someone, especialy an unwary stranger who thought a little girl would be no threat. Her weapons in hand, Julie ran into the hut. The girl's mother continued to watch him. "You'd be best off moving on stranger. The city is no fine place nowadays." "What do you mean?" She shrugged, clearly not willing to say more. Scott tried anyways. "Are there always guards at the gate?" She looked at him. "You be either a fool, or truly new here." He shrugged his shoulders. "A little of both I suppose." "Then I will say this. The city is no place for either, fool or stranger. The Pale Man rules in Geshem now. His men walk the streets, and any who cross them be gone..." Julie ran back out at that moment, a heavy cloak clutched in both hands. "Momma, Katie's coughing again." Sorrow passed across the woman's tired face for a moment. She hid it as quickly. Her eyes bore into Scott's. "My other daughter. She's been sick. Her brother Alex is looking for a healer in the city. He's been gone for two days." Scott had nothing to say. She took the cloak from Julie. It was a large, heavy cloak, well worn, but sturdy all the same. "What do you have to pay with?" Scott pulled out all the coins he had. Mostly quarters. He held them out in his hand. "It's all I have..." Her eyes widened slightly. "Other would cheat you without a second thought. I shall not." She reached out and took three quarters from his hand. "That is more than enough silver, even with these strange markings." Scott started to object, then caught himself. Instead, he took the cloak and put it on. He leaned down and placed three more quarters on the ground, then picked up his windbreaker and rerolled it. "Thank you, ma'am." He turned to leave. Her voice stopped him. "Sir." He turned. "My son Alex, he's..." "If I see him... I'll tell him to come home." "No sir. Tell him I love him. Tell him he has my blessing." Scott paused. She spoke one more time. Her voice trembled on the edge of tears. "He has my blessing to avenge his father." And then she was gone, back into the hut, pulling Julie with her. The little girl's eyes followed him all the way. Scott turned and walked back towards the road into the city. *No dream could ever be this sad.* One more set of eyes, unseen, watched him go. * * * Prelate Summers moved through the forest. He was feeling better than he had in a long time, and his skills were at a fine edge. The dark-skinned woman in leather and the blond girl were moving quickly away from the bridge. There had been an arguement, brief and fierce, between going downriver to look for their lost companion, and moving on to some village. The village apparently won out, because they travelled away from the water. He followed them from what seemed a safe distance. They thought their pursuers stuck on the far side of the river, and they had no idea he was there. The prelate wasn't even sure he should make contact. He might be better off findidng whoever led those men in the hoods. After all, they had been working with this world's version of an x-man. Prelate Summers recalled the feral, vicious version of Nightcrawler he had been forced to fight, and reconsidered the idea. He remembered the men with glowing eyes who had attacked him... these were two women were definitely competent, and they hadn't attacked him... yet. He would make contact with them first. At about noon, they stopped. The blond girl sat down and pulled some dried meat from a pouch. The older woman moved off into the forest, apparently to answer nature's call. Years of service to Apocalypse and Sinister had bred innate suspicion into the most innocent of things. Prelate Summers quickly moved from his hiding place to another, further back in the woods, but turned slightly towards the travellers, on an angle. Then he prepared to settle down. * * * They were being followed. Of this Stephanie, called the Mage's Hunter had no doubt. She had explained her intention in a low voice to Tabitha, and then moved off into the woods. When she judged herself to ba far enough off, she ran, making less sound than a squirrel, back the way they had come. Moments later she crossed the road and began to move back towards Tabitha, but at an angle. Moving in utmost silence, she watched the forest... there. *One man, cloaked, watching... easy prey.* She drew a long knife from he belt and slid towards the watcher. Still quite a distance away, she realized something was wrong. Another moment and she realized what it was... that was just a cloak proped up. She had used the trick herself many times. This was a trap! Realization and action were one. She spun around, blade out. The man coming up behind her got an arm inside her guard and blocked the knife. She kicked out, and he turned enough to only be brushed by her boot. He moved in, trying to grapple her. She dove backwards and cartwheeled into a fighting stance, blade held out, legs apart. * * * She seemed confused now that she saw him. Prelate Summers took advantage of her hesitation. A low level blast struck the blade from her hand. Then he realized she wasn't even trying to fight him any more. He stepped back, still in his fighting stance. "I don't want to fight you." A small blade struck the tree next to him, slightly lower than waist level. He felt a small shiver as he realized where it would've hit if he had been its target. The blond girl moved forward, another blade held up to throw. She got a good look at him, and fainted. Prelate Summers looked at the prone figure, then at the first woman. He waited. It was her move. She studied him carefully, her eyes widening slightly, and then she did something he absolutely did not expect. She said his name. "Scott Summers, I presume?" * * * END CHAPTER 7