PALE REIGN OVER GESHEM - CHAPTER 30
by Abyss <LAbyss@hotmail.com>

apply any previous DISCLAIMER here, or create
your own, as long as it applies.
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     For as long as she could remember, the
Land had sung to her.  It had only been when the
Mage and the Shaman had begun her training that
she had recognized it for what it was.  A bond
forged long centuries ago, between the wild
magic of Geshem, and her family, that had come
to fruition in her.  Her's was the honour and
duty to tame the magic, and so keep it in check. 
     The song had taken on a new note now...
fury and longing and confusion... the Pale Man's
spells were fraying the bond, seeking to
redirect it... and the magic was slowly being
drawn away from her, though she struggled to
hold onto it.
     Again and again, she had sought out the
familiar energies of her teachers, but they were
muted, and closed off.  She had reached out for
her high lords, who possessed some fragment of
the magic themselves, but they were gone,
probably dead, though she had felt
curious...echoes... of Lord Summerisle.  Her
knights, and her beloved Douglas, had been too
far, and so Queen Rain of Geshem had been left
with only herself for salvation.  Now, the pull
on the magic was becoming too strong to resist,
and she gathered every bit of her will for the
struggle.  He body was denied to her, but her
Land, her people, and her unborn child were in
danger, and she would burn in Hades before
letting the Pale Man have them all without a
fight.
     *         *         *
     His body ached... he ignored it.  This was
nothing compared to walking though a desert on a
broken leg, he told himself.  He was tired and
thirsty from the climb, but reminded himself of
the dehydration and sunburn he had faced, and
went on.  Hopelessness and confusion warred
within him, and as he had done in Iraq, he
remembered his wife and children, and forced
himself to keep climbing.
     The crevice had shrunk to little more than
a ledge, circling the cavern walls about the
Heart, and moving ever upward.  The call in his
head was urgent now... but he found that when he
moved towards it, its was less distracting...
more... encouraging?  Regardless, he had been
climbing for what seemed like hours, but really
he knew it couldn't have been all too long, 
since the dragon had taken the others, and he
had barely saved himself by cowering as deep
into the rock as he could.  Helplessness and
terror had warred with the desire to help, but
dieing hadn't seemed like it would help anyone
at the time, and so he had pulled his cloak over
his face as the flames rushed in, and shoved
himself as far back as he could go.  Luck had
provided enough of a shelter to keep him alive,
though his shoulders felt blistered from the
heat.
     Without warning, the call in his head
changed, and Scott Summers looked around at the
rock face with new interest.  The crevice had
turned inwards, and opened somewhat.  His
exhaustion seemed to intensify as he pulled
himself forward.  A rough balcony  had been
formed in the rock and crystal, and a small
dais, seemingly drawn up from the rock itself,
stood at the centre.  At the far end, a wide
series of flat rocks formed a staircase leading
up almost ten metres.  
     Scott Summers started to stand up, and the
song in his head took on a sudden crescendo of
warning.  He froze, and looked around.  There
was a distortion in the air directly above
him... a line of... power?, that looked slightly
different... like a heat distortion rising off a
fire, but in a perfectly straight line.  He
shuffled slightly sideways and stood up.
     The distortion was a straight as the beams
of power his double, Cyclops had generated.  It
ran from the dais directly to the Heart.  Scott
looked closer at the Heart, its massive gemlike
surface pulsing with power... there was
something embedded in it... a sword.  It seemed
impossible to Scott that anything could
penetrate that monolith, yet there it was, and
the line of power ran directly back from the
sword to the dais...
     *No... there's something on there... a
helmet?*
     He walked back, careful not to touch the
distortion.  It was a helmet or perhaps a mask,
like the visor Cyclops had worn... moulded gold,
shaped to circle the wearer's head, with two
red, square lenses where it would cover the
eyes.  Above where the ears would be, long
pieces of gold shaped like dragon's wings
extended upwards.   
     *It's beautiful...*
     The distortion extended from the lenses
out to the sword in the gem.  Looking closely,
Scott could see the slightest hint of motion, as
if the power was flowing from the Heart into the
mask.
     The song in his head was muted now, urging
him to do something, not telling him what. 
Scott held out his hand, passing it near the
distortion...
     The song rose, loud enough to send him to
his knees, hands at his temples, eyes shut in
pain... then abruptly as it started, it ended,
subsiding to a muted echo again.
     Scott stood shakily.
     *Okay, I can't touch the channel... what
about the link?*
     So very slowly, he held out his hand, and
placed it on the mask, just behind the stylized
wing... and the memories of a dead man came
flooding into his head...
          *         *         *
END CHAPTER 30