PALE REIGN OVER GESHEM - CHAPTER 14 Ahhhhh, fan-fic... last refuge of the x-asperated... DISCLAIMER; If it's Marvel's, its used without permission for no profit. If its mine, it can be passed on freely, but not changed in any way without permission. Commentscommentscomments... 'nuf said. -Abyss, now at ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- The throne had been designed by the Queen's father, who had been a huge man. The Pale Man found it quite comfortable. The throne room wasn't as large as the great hall, but that was being used to restrain the preyers, so he could hardly hold an audience there. There was also the pleasant decor. He turned his head slightly and inspected the large alcove in which his favourite decorations were kept. There was a slight haze in the air around them, as a result of the temporal spell he had used to immobilize the Queen and her Shaman. They stood there now as they were when he had cast his spell from the depths of the caverns under the castle. It had been no easy feat to harness the magic of the Land and send it spiralling to its greatest wielder, the Queen herself. The casting had been painful and dangerous, but worthwhile. Harnessing the magic of the Land was always dangerous, but soon it would no longer be a problem. The Queen Rain sat on a plain bench. She wore a simple golden tiara and a blue dress that flattered her short red hair wonderfully, in the Pale Man's opinion. One could barely tell she was in the fourth month of a pregnancy. She was watching the equally immobilized Shaman, who had his arms extended outwards, no doubt attempting to cast a protective spell when the Pale Man had struck. Not for the first time, the Pale Man wished there was a way to kill the Shaman and not break the spell. The Queen was necessary to harness the power of the Heart. The Shaman, he was just trouble. A fierce looking man, he wore a gem lined skullcap on his bald head. His eyes were fierce even through the spell. The Pale Man turned from the prisoners to his servants who were waiting for his notice. He looked at each one in turn. The slim red-haired woman was called Pyre. Her village had burned her as a witch. The fools had unleashed a far more dangerous creature in the act. The Pale Man enjoyed watching her incinerate herself and others time and again at his behest. Crawler was simply a goblin from the North, who had been born different from the rest of his ilk. His tribe had given him to the Pale Man as tribute. He could teleport himself from place to place with a foul odour and deadly effect. He was also fiercely loyal. Then there were Marik and Javelin. They were in disfavour, following their failure to bring in the Hunter. They were still better off than Downfall. She had needed time to recover her damaged vision. The Pale Man hadn't felt so generous, so she was now being digested by the preyers. With Hairbag and the blade-thrower elsewhere, possibly dead, these four were his most useful servitors. The Pale Man sighed inwardly... *Good help is SO hard to find.* They all stood straighter when he spoke. "Word has reached me that one of my troops was taken while purging a village. I am not pleased. We must keep these weaklings pacified until I need them. Marick, I do believe the Lord-Consort will shortly be returning to the Realm, as my associates in the far provinces were unlikely to have kept him occupied for very long. Send word to our troop near the Great Road to see to it he doesn't return alive." "I would lead them myself, dread lord." "And let you make another mess of it? I think not Marick. Sounder is there, and he has yet to fail me, now be on your way." The Pale Man found it amusing to watch the fury burn in the bandit's eyes as he bowed and left the room. He turned his red eyes on Javelin. The hillman carried a broken haft from his namesake, a sign of his disgrace as was the custom of the his people. He kept his eyes downcast and the Pale Man turned to Pyre. "My dear, I have a job for you." Her reply was instant. "Anything, dread lord." "How did they deal with a nest of thieving rats in your village?" She raised her hand and formed it into a fist. Though it must have hurt her to do so, she caused most of the flesh on her fingers to ignite into flame. "They burned them out, dread lord." * * * Cyclops watched the Gambler bounced from his perch on the stairs to land at Stephanie's feet with a leap that would do a jackrabbit proud. With a sweep of his cape and an exaggerated bow, he pulled her gloved hand to his lips and kissed it. "Lady Hunter, you honour this humble thief with yo' presence. Have you come to join me finally?" "Not in this lifetime, scoundrel, and besides, your lady might not enjoy having me around... I get possessive about my... toys." There was no doubt about it. The man was Gambit. The eyes were normal, the accent was more that of a New York gangster than a Cajun, but the moves, the style, they were all there. The Hunter was proving again and again however, that she was far more aggressive than the Stevie Hunter of his own world, which was saying a lot. Cyclops glanced at the Prelate. The man looked wary, and he watched the Gambler the same way he watched everyone... with suspicion and distrust. *Did his world make him that way, or is that just some part of me that I don't like to think about?* He returned his attention to the exchange taking place. "So, lady Hunter, if ye don't be here to let me make a dishonest woman of you, what then?" "Don't play games, thief. You received the message." "I might've, if the messenger hadn't bled on it so." "What?" Her voice didn't betray her concern, but her eyes went hard. "It appears he ran int' some friends on the way. The murdering kind o' friends. Your man was good, gotta say it. I hear ol' pasty face was quite vex ta find three dead bandits." The Hunter's voice was cool. "And Thomas?" "I am sorry, but y' friend Corsi was in right bad shape when he got here. And so, y'see, was the message." "Fine. Take us somewhere we can talk, Gambler. We don't have much time." "We got time enough fer you t'explain these two, before we go nowhere." He indicated Cyclops and the Prelate with the end of his staff. "I know the High Lord Summerisle's dead, lady. I saw the body, and I know he ain't go no twin brothers. What's the deal?" "The deal is they may be the only thing between the Pale Man and you never sneaking into the Queen's bedchamber to sneak a kiss ever again, thief. Now let's go." The Gambler did another bow. Cyclops turned to pick up his pack, and a flicker of motion in the shadows caught his eye. It was gone almost as quickly. Most people would have discounted it, but most people didn't lead a mutant strike force for most of their adult lives. "Gambler." "Yeah?" "Did you bring back-up?" "Say again?" "Is someone watching your back?" "D'ya think I need a shadow, friend?" "If you don't, then we have a problem. There's someone else here." Stephanie and the Prelate were on guard in an instant, eyes scanning the shadows. The Gambler grinned and walked over to Cyclops. "The late Lord Summerisle had a magic helmet. It let him see things most of us don't. That what yo' little headpiece there does?" The Hunter and the Prelate had stopped their scanning. "Not even close. He is with you, isn't he?" "How'd you know?" "Thieves work alone, but they always bring backup if they might be walking into a trap." The dark eyes danced merrily, the grin never faltered. Cyclops kept his own face straight, but inside, he was just a little smug at out-guessing Gambit, even if this wasn't the Gambit he was used to. "This a trap then?" "If it was, you'd already be taken." The response came from a dark corner of the room. "Or perhaps not." The Prelate whirled. "You!" The voice shocked Cyclops as much as his double, but he kept his reaction to himself. He couldn't help but wonder what relationship the Prelate had to the speaker in his own world. "I would have thought you'd had enough of this fool, girl." the Hunter said. "He keeps paying me more every time I start to leave, Hunter. It makes departing difficult." Cyclops turned from the Gambler to watch as the girl flowed out of the floor. She was dressed in a knit black bodysuit that covered every inch of her slim figure like a second skin, soft leather shoes, and she wore a dark leather vest lined shoulder to hem with pockets that bulged with their contents. A belt of the same material circled her waist. Adorning the belt at intervals were small three pointed throwing stars. A long dagger completed the garb. Her hair was bound tightly back from her face, which he recognized instantly, and her eyes took in everything about everybody in the room, even as she turned towards the Prelate. "I knew Lord Summerisle before he died. You're not him." she turned towards Cyclops. "And neither are you." The Gambler swept his arm out towards the girl in a grand gesture. "May I present my sometime partner and all time pain-in-the-neck, lady Katherine, pride o' the thieves of Geshem, also known as The Cat." "Can she be trusted?" Cyclops almost answered the Prelate's question himself. The Hunter beat him to it. "Well enough Prelate, well enough. Shall we be going now?" The Gambler bowed almost formally and led them up the stairs. The Hunter and Cyclops followed. * * * Prelate Summers watched the others move up the stairs. He waited for Katherine to follow. She waited for him. They stared at each other. He indicate the stairs. "After you." "And have you at my back? I think not, faker." "Funny. I was thinking the same thing." "My territory, my rules. You go first." "Or what?" "Or we find out how well you can imitate the dead High Lord when my shadowsuit lets me shove you into the floor and leave you there." *Katherine Rasputin damned near killed me once. This one is just as bad.* And with that thought, Prelate Summers walked up the stairs. He was lost in thought of a world that had ceased to exist, so he didn't hear the girl murmur behind him. "Hades. Three of them." * * * "How many of them are there?" "Maybe three hundred. Hades, they must be the Pale Man's entire reserve force." "Which means we can't waste our time here staring at them. We have to warn to Lord-Consort. Let's go." Tabitha started to climb down from the rocks, but Lillian didn't follow, and Tabitha made her way back up to her. "Why are we still here? "Think about it, girl. They're waiting for someone. Who is the only person you know who would have a force big enough to make the Pale Man go through this much trouble?" "Fine, I see your point, and don't call me `Girl', I am probably older than you." Lillian didn't respond. She stared hard at the line of hills below the peak they were watching from. "We cannot let them ambush the Lord-Consort's force." "Well then, what do you suggest we do about it?" Lillian grinned and reached back to loosen the longsword sheathed at her back. "We attack." * * * END CHAPTER 14 ..