"Come put the firewood down and talk to me. You are getting too old for this."

"Yes, dear." She stooped down and placed it by the fireplace.

"We have had a good life together, have we not?"

"Yes, dear."

"You have forgotten all about that dreadful highwayman?"

He was gratified to see the anger rise to her eyes and hold there before fading, like everything else had.

"Yes, dear."

"It was so sad that I had to execute him for treason."

"Yes, dear."

"That he came too late to prevent our marriage."

"Yes, dear."

"That your pathetic attempt to kill me failed."

"Yes, dear."

He grabbed her wrist, feeling the fragile bones beneath his hand. Bird-like and delicate, despite her best attempts to the contrary. A sparrow trapped by a hawk.

"Did you really think I could be killed by iron like any other sorceror? Iron is the source of my power - it only made me stronger."

"No, dear." Her voice caught, "Ah did not."

"Good." He released her and let her fall to the floor.

"But . . . ." She stood up straight, seeming to shed years as she did so, "Ah always suspected that lodestone would have th' opposite effect."

"What?"

Terror filled his voice. She smiled a smile from forty years ago and drew the slender dagger from her pocket.

"You will send me back, or Ah will kill you."

"Send you back?"

"Don't play coy with me. Ah've planned this foh forty years since Ah saw th' man Ah loved hang for darin' ta stand up against you. Since Ah was forced ta marry you, on th' day of his execution, in front of him before you murdered him."

"Send you back to when?"

"To th' day that Ah went ta see Destiny . . . a week an' a half before mah weddin'. . . ."

The small hut was smoky with herbs and fire. Scented with the usual incense and musk that everyone expected of a prescient. Hams and other cured meats hung from the ceilings, so low that you had stoop to avoid being hit on the head. A table was cluttered with the implements of a fortune teller - the crystal ball, the Tarot, tea leaves and ceremonial knives for haruspicy.

In the middle of this room sat a small, wrinkled woman with grey hair and golden earrings which dangled to her chin. She was dressed in the robes of her office - a simple blue dress embroidered around the hems and sleeves with arcane symbols and the signs of the zodiac. Around her neck hung a beaten silver pendant in the shape of a disc, set with four stones to represent the four corners of the world.

The door opened with a creak and two people entered.

"I have been expecting you, Sabrina. Child of Sorrow." Destiny did not look to see who had entered the room, "And you, Jubilation, apprentice to a sorceress."

"Grandmomma Irene." The woman inclined her head, "Ah need your help."

"Although your father has rejected me since becoming a fine gentleman, I am pleased to see you have not."

The younger woman sat on a cushion next to her grandmother with the apprentice beside her.

"I know you are to marry the one who has taken over our valley."

"Magnus." Sabrina supplied.

"I also know you are in love with the one who is to be its savior. Who is its rightful ruler."

"Who? Remy?" She cocked her head inquistively.

"There is much which I tell you and so little time for you to learn." Irene smiled, fetching her crystal ball from the table and placing it in front of her grand-daughter. "Perhaps it is best that I show you."

The crystal ball clouded . . . .

"The story I am about to relate takes place a long time ago, before the great plague, before the Mage came to the village. It is the story of one man's courage and how dearly it cost him.

The village was under the rule of a lord, Jean-Luc leBeau, who was both just and kind. He believed in equality, a rare thing indeed for lords to believe in, and he treated the peasants accordingly. Taxes were low and each peasant gave only that which he or she could afford as a tithe. Naturally, as a result of this, Lord leBeau was well-loved by all but the King."

"Why not?" Jubilation asked.

"King Sebastian was a miser who loved nothing more than the color of money. He saw his subjects as easy ways to fill the royal coffers and storehouses and cared little for their situations."

"Like th' mage."

"Exactly. He ordered Jean-Luc to raise the taxes but he refused as he felt that the King was claiming what was not rightfully his. This did not sit well with the King who sent his army to ride against the village."

"The village was crushed." Jubilation exclaimed breathlessly.

"On the contrary, the army turned back after claiming to see monsters and demons. They believed the village was under the protection of a powerful mage."

"Magnus?"

"No. Me." Irene looked embarrassed. "Simple parlor tricks, I'm afraid. No real magic behind illusions. Jiggery-pokery."

"So? What happened next?"

"There is an old saying that says you should fight fire with fire. The King hired a wizard of his own, the Mage Magnus, a powerful but evil sorceror. He cursed the village with a plague. Crops withered in the ground. Women became barren. Milk turned sour. All that was wholesome became noisome. The typical curse."

"An' he blamed it on Jean-Luc leBeau. Heard of leBeau's curse before."

"Are you telling the story or am I?" The rebuke was gentle and amused, "Suffice it to say, the villagers drove Jean-Luc out of the village of Salem and he was never seen again. People believed he died in the woods, torn apart by wolves or another wild animal."

"What does this have to do with Remy?"

"Child, has he not told you the truth?"

"What? That he's a highwayman? That he steals from th' rich an' gives ta th' poor?"

"That he is the son of Jean-Luc leBeau. That he is the rightful heir to the leadership of Salem."

"But his name isn't leBeau - it's du Melas."

"'Du' means of and, when reversed, Melas becomes Salem. Remy of Salem."

"When he came to our hut, he introduced himself as Remy leBeau." Jubilation added.

"All this time . . . .," Sabrina rested her head in her hands, "Why would he lie ta me?"

"You, yourself, mentioned leBeau's curse. The name is hated and despised in the village of Salem. What good would it do him to be known as a leBeau?"

"But *me*?! His fiancée?!"

"It is hard to understand but it was for your protection."

"How is that?"

"You would be a witch, working with him to curse the village. You would be sentenced and burnt at the stake."

"Curse that swine. He's hurt both of us so badly an' we can't strike back at him." Sabrina paused, "Which is why Ah came, Ah want ta know if there is any way we can kill th' Mage."

Destiny sighed, "I do not know enough of his ruling powers to be sure . . . ."

"Best guess?"

"Iron is the enemy of magekind. It disrupts the subtle balance of mind and body, destroying the conduit that flows between the two."

"An iron dagger might work." Jubilation suggested, "You could conceal it in your wedding dress and stab him with it."

The air shimmered suddenly and there was a bright flash as a portal opened and an old woman fell out onto the floor in a tangle of skirts and petticoats. The portal closed behind her, shutting off her means of return.

"What in th' name of th' Great Fire?" Sabrina exclaimed.

"Ah do not have much time." The woman lifted her head, "Iron will not work. It is th' source o' Magnus' power - he draws upon its strength from th' earth and sky."

"Two ruling powers." Destiny murmured, "That would explain his puissance."

"Here." The woman thrust a dagger into Sabrina's hands, "Lodestone. It is iron's complement, attracting it by the use of subtle fields and forces. This should disrupt the Mage's power long enough to prevent him from retaliating or healing himself."

"Will this work?" Jubilation asked, looking sceptically at the pointed grey stone.

"Yes, Jubilation. It will." The woman stood, dusting off her long skirts.

"How do you know my name?"

She smiled, "You know mine if'n y'all thinks hard enough."

"You're me." Sabrina stepped forward, touching the woman as if she could not believe what she was seeing and needed more proof.

"Yes, Ah am."

"Did we succeed? Did Remy find th' Horse?"

"Yes, but he was too late. Magnus executed him the same day for treason, after he was forced ta be best man at mah wedding." She sounded disgusted, "Ah tried ta kill th' Mage with iron but Ah failed. It made him stronger."

"So . . . Remy will be too late." Sabrina repeated, "It's up ta me?!"

"Maybe so, maybe not." The old woman smiled slyly, "He was delayed by a cadre of the Mage's elite guards and his companion killed."

"Ororo was . . . um . . . will be killed?" Jubilation yelped.

"If y'all stop th' guards Remy will be on time."

"Fine. How do you suggest Ah do that?"

"You're a woman. A beautiful woman. What do you think?"

Sabrina looked shocked and her older self shook her head, "Not that. Pretend that you are crazy 'bout th' Mage. That you want Remy du Melas dead. That you will do it yourself on the day of your wedding. That it will be his gift to you."

"Ah'll do that." She nodded.

"One more thing before I'm forced to return to the future . . . ."

Sabrina looked expectantly at herself, "Yes?"

"Love Remy with all your heart. Ah know how painful it was ta lose him. Make sure that it doesn't happen."

"Ah will." She grasped the old woman's hand and looked into the blurred green eyes, "With all mah heart."

The woman smiled and vanished, whirling into disincorporated atoms which slowly blew away on the wind of time.

"That was strange." Jubilation commented.

"You know what you must do." Destiny said, "I shouldn't delay you any longer."

"Ah can't return ta th' village."

"You will and must. For Remy's sake."

"Do you want me to come with?" Jubilation asked.

"No." Sabrina shook her head, "Find your mistress an' tell her ta stop searching foh th' Horse. That Ah know how ta kill th' Mage an' that Ah might need their help."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah." She nodded, removing a simple gold ring from her finger. "Give this ta Remy. Tell him that Ah love him an' that Ah'm thinkin' of him."

"Sure."

"Then go and take with you the blessing of Destiny and the assurance that you will succeed."

The apprentice nodded and opened the door, stepping into the crisp air. The sky was a brilliant shade of azure and white clouds drifted lazily across it, metamorphosing into different shapes as they did so. The trees formed green avenues, soft carpeted with humus and rotting wood, and it was down one of these that Jubilation began to walk. She watched the floor, as she often did when looking for the herbs and flowers which Ororo used in her magic. A habit which was to cost her dearly - she did not see the guards which stood in front of her. The tall men dressed in black who had dedicated their lives to the service of the Mage.

"Where are you going, little one?"

She looked up, startled, like a rabbit before a hunter. She smiled, resorting to the lisp which had served her well in the past.

"Nowhere, thir. Thimply going to thee my aunt and uncle."

"Where is your travelling permit from the Mage?"

"Mom thaid that she packed it in my pouch." Jubilee scrounged in her pocket, feeling around for a small bag of powder. "Will this do inthead?"

She flung the powder into the Guard's face, covering her eyes instinctively against the flash which should have accompanied it. Nothing and she realised, heart in her boots, that she had thrown the wrong powder. A simple compound used to treat wounds.

"Come with me," the guard grabbed her arm roughly, "I'm sure the Mage will have plenty to say about you."

Jubilation screamed and kicked, scratching and clawing at the guard's arm, as she was dragged up the hill to the Mage's castle.

"How much further?"

"About a league." The elegant sorceress replied. The journey had not been kind to her and her long white robe, indicative of her status as a weatherworker, was torn and filthy around the hem. Sweat glistened on her forehead and upper lip, and she occasionally wiped it with a browned hand.

He nodded and resumed his whistling.

"What song is that?"

"An ol' French one dat Pere used t'sing,"He added self-deprecatingly, "Ain't very musical though."

"You have not spoken much about your father."

"He was killed by de Mage when I was a kid, f'r opposin' King Sebastian's laws."

"Oh. A highwayman like you?"

Remy laughed, "Non. Mon pere was de Lord of Salem an' all de surrounding lands. Lord Jean-Luc leBeau de First."

"LeBeau's curse?"

"Dat's de one." He grimaced, "De superstitious villagers bought every word of de propaganda dat Magnus toted out 'bout ma famille being cursed. Dey drove him out an' den killed him under de direction of de good Mage."

"So then you are the righftul ruler of the village? Not Magnus?"

"Oui." He kicked a pebble, "Either way Sabrina's gonna end up bein' a lady."

"Does she know of your heritage?"

"Non. Can't bring m'self t'tell her."

"Why not?"

"Chere, my name is worse dan poison around dere. People spit after sayin' it, like it leaves a bad taste in deir mouths." Remy said, "I know Sabrina will unnerstan', but de rest o' de villagers would drive her out f'r darin' t'love a leBeau."

"Oh." She paused, "Could you sing the song for me?"

"Ya would'n appreciate it - don' t'ink ya speak french."

"No, but I would still like to hear it."

"Bien." He cleared his throat, "Don' have much of a singing voice t'speak of."

"Nor do I - my Master said that my chants sounded more like curses when I sang them, I am sure that I will survive."

He nodded and began in a surprisingly rich baritone:

"C'etait une journee oubliee, (It was a forgotten day,)

un jour perdu dans les vents de temps, (A day lost in the winds of time.)

quand il est arrive au village. (When he arrived at the village)

Le mal qui etait bienvenu. (The evil who was welcome.)

Et a cette journee, le droit est mort (And on that day, right died.)

et a ete chasser dans le bois. (And was chased into the forest)

Et les hommes ont dit avec bonheur (And the men said with gladness)

que les loups le mangeaient. (That the wolves ate it.)

Maintenant, dans le village triste (Now, in the sad village)

ils attendent pour un homme d'autre (They wait for another man)

qui les sauvera et le mal tuera, (Who will save them and kill the evil.)

donc le droit peut vivre encore." (So that the right can live once more).

Part 6

The road stretched off into infinity, a long line of brown that cut the green as far as the eye can see. Clouds of dust puffed up as Remy's feet hit the sand and then again as Ororo's did.

"Dis is easier dan I t'ought." He grins, "Expected a bit more opposition dan we've had."

"Perhaps the Mage is saving his strength for a single attack."

"P'rhaps de Mage is playin' fair f'r once."

"Indeed." She pointed, "But that seems to bely that notion."

Ahead of them, a group of warriors stood, dressed in the traditional colors of Salem - red and green - with the heraldic fox on their shields.

"Remy du Melas, you have been found guilty of larceny and treason. Come quietly and all will go well with you."

"Jamais." His eyes snapped fire, "Ya'll have t'kill me first."
[Never!]

"The Mage is not as adverse to that as you may think." The man, who seemed to be their leader, drew his sword.

"Such honor an' courage t'fight an unarmed man."

"Here." One of the soldiers gave him a sword, "Now you are no longer unarmed."

"Ah, but you are, mes braves."

"What?"

The borrowed sword flashed through the air, knocking the leader's blade to the ground where it embedded itself.

"Pick it up." Remy said.

Keeping one eye on the highwayman the whole time, the leader stooped and retrieved his sword.

"Now we'll fight proper." Remy told him, "A duel."

"Fine, thief. We shall - winner lives."

"Bon - we'll see how well ya momma taught ya t'fight."

[Good]

"Dog."

They touched blades, metal grinding metal with a sickening sound. The shrill whine of an insect as the swords drew apart and then a clang as they met in a shower of blue sparks. Ororo watched, hands clasped together in supplication to her goddess. Both men fought with consummate skill, although their training had been considerably different. Thrust. Parry. Lunge. Weave as the blade slips past your defense and tears the cloth of your black shirt. Duck as a blade cuts closer to your skull than you would like. Slash. In desperation, hack wildly as skill seems to avail your nothing. Do not stop, even as the sweat from your forehead blinds you. Let instinct be your guide. The blades danced, silver-blue in the fresh afternoon air, resounding as they met, like gongs. The air was intricate with their pattern as they wove a silver web of
strokes and counterstrokes; of thrusts and parries. The balance tenuous as one man moved forward and then back, attacked then defended . . . . So tenuous as to slip at any moment . . . . A blade flew through the air, knocked out of a hand, embedded itself in a tree - amber sap running down the blade in lieu of blood. The highwayman sheathed his own sword in his belt
and looked at the now unarmed leader of the guard.

"Looks like I won."

"Kill me then."

"Non." He shakes his head, "Go back t'ya master an' tell him dat Remy leBeau is comin'."

"LeBeau?" The guard recoiled as a body, looking as if they had been in close proximity of someone with the plague.

"Oui. De son of Jean-Luc leBeau."

One of the soldiers made the sign against evil. The rest relieved their feelings by spitting.

"Now, me an' Ororo are going t'carry on along dis here road. If any more o' ya men', see fit t'stop us, I'll have t'stop dem. Permanently."

"No fear of that."

The highwayman slowly turned around, keeping one eye fixed on the cadre of warriors as he began the slow walk down the road.

"Never mind, we have that for which we came." The leader stooped and picked up the fragment of black silk that had been torn from Remy's shirt.

"Sir, I wouldn't touch that if I were you . . . . He's a leBeau." The soldier pronounced the last word in the hushed tones of a child caught swearing.

"Are you superstitious, soldier?"

"No, sir."

"Good, then let's begin the walk back. The Mage will be very pleased with us."

The Mage palmed the small, gold ring, rolling it over in his fingers, watching it catch the light and sparkle. His Guards had brought it to him, claiming to have retrieved it from a girl. A spy.

"I know this ring."

"Sir?" His closest advisor, a broad man with dark, long hair, asked. "It belonged to Jean-Luc leBeau, Paris."

"Isn't he dead?"

"I thought his line had ended with the death of his daughter, Claire deLuc-leBeau. Obviously, it has not." Magnus raised an eyebrow, "Still I have more important things to worry about than some petty vendetta of an angry child. I am to be married in a fortnight's time to the most lovely woman in the world."

"You love her then?"

"No, but I would have her as a jewel beyond compare. The rarest item in my life of collection."

He gestured with a hand at the works of art that hung on the wall of his chamber of audience. Women smiled down at him, vague and enigmatic. Men were involved in an eternal and bloody pursuit of a boar. A child fed a dog that was never satisfied. Neptune rose and fell in bronze waves. Tapestries that glowed with color lit the room.

"She is one more masterpiece, lord Magus?"

"Certainly. I wait on her now - she said she would speak with me."

"What of her fiancee?"

"What of him? There is no Horse of Another Color nor is there likely to ever be one. Even if he does succeed, I will order him killed on grounds of treason and of larceny." The Mage shrugged, cape moving as he did so, "Can I not offer her a better life than some peasant? Does she not deserve to live as a lady?"

"Indeed. You are doing right, Magus."
"I know. I will deal with this leBeau as well when the opportunity presents itself."

"I have already taken the liberty of dispatching guards after your wife's lover. They should ensure his failure."

"Thank you, Paris. You serve me well."

"Indeed, Lord. I only wish the best for you."

A flourish of trumpets from the uniformed pages and the door swung wide open, held by two young boys with earnest expressions.

"Presenting the Lady Sabrina Parker."

Paris Bennett looked at her approvingly, noticing the pride with which she walked. The gentle curves beneath the rich, velvet dress. The curls taken high on her head that escaped in wisps over her face. The red lips which curved in a half-smile. The look of love in her large, green eyes.

"Mah Lawd." She curtsied, dropping to the floor in a whisper of petticoats.

"You need not bow to me, my love."

"Why? When you are so worthy o' respect?"

'This piece is up to something.' Paris thought suspiciously, 'She's changed too soon, unless the Mage has enchanted her.'

"My lady, you belong at my right hand, not at my feet. Stand and take your place."

"Ah don't come here as your lady but as a supplicant askin' you a favor."

"Ask. It shall be my pleasure to grant your fondest desire."

"Ah want Remy du Melas's head on a plate."

"What?!" The Mage looked surprised and pleased.

"Th' pig was . . . ." Here the green eyes filled with tears, "Unfaithful ta me. Ah saw him th' other day with another woman an' a witch ta boot."

"Certainly. I shall send my praetorian guards after him immediately."

"Tell them not ta kill him."

"Why? I thought you wanted him dead."

"Ah do. Ah want ta kill him mahself."

The Mage smiled, a sadistic grin that never reached his icy blue eyes.

"A woman after my own heart."

What there is of one inside that chest.' Paris thought in disgust, And this little baggage doesn't seem much better.'

"If mah lawd will excuse me, Ah need ta go an' make preparations foh mah wedding."

"Certainly, my love. I have preparations myself to make to ensure that all goes smoothly." He clicked his fingers and a page raced to his throne, "Escort my lady to her tower room."

Sabrina left in a swish of velvet and silk, the faint scent of musky perfume remaining after she had gone.

"I do not trust her." Paris said, "She is planning your downfall."

"Do not be ridiculous, Paris. Remember what the books say: hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

"She has not been scorned."

"But she feels she has. They are much the same thing." Magnus sunk deeper into the throne, "Soon you will learn that all reality is subjective and, when you do, I will make you more than a simple counsellor."

"What preparations must you make?"

Magnus opened his mouth to answer when the door opened again, without a flourish of trumpets or pages, and a soldier walked into the
room. He was tall and proud, dressed in tattered red and green uniform.

"My lord. Paris." He saluted, "Your highwayman has escaped."

"How? You had him outnumbered!"

"He invoked a duel of honor - I could not refuse it in accordance to my vows to the God of War\Peace."

"He defeated you in a duel? A highly trained soldier who has studied under the greatest swordsmen in the world and you lost to a rogue highwayman?"

"No, sir. I did not."

"Don't tell me that the witch fought for him!"

"No, sir. I lost to the son of Lord leBeau."

"By the darkness! Are they then one and the same - this highwayman and this second child?"

"Yes, sir. I was able to procure this for you though."

He dropped a scrap of black silk into the Mage's hand. It was stiff with blood and Paris looked at it with disgust.

"You presume to give this to the Mage, ruler of Salem? You have overstepped your mark, soldier."

"Silence, you fool. Is this from the leBeau?"

"Yes - if he is to be believed and I believe he is."

"Perfect. All the elements required for a spell of binding. LeBeau will have no chance."

"What do you mean?"

"The family ring for inheritance and possession. Flesh for his flesh. Blood for his spirit. Cloth for binding."

"Then you will cast this spell on him . . . ."

" . . . and give him to my beloved as a wedding gift. To the village as yet another proof of why they need me to protect them from the curse."

"Well done, Mage."

"Thank you, soldier. You are dismissed." The Mage stood, "As are you, Paris. I need silence and solitude to prepare for this most difficult of rituals."

They left and the Mage closed his eyes, beginning the mental preparation for the ritual which would bind Remy leBeau forever.

"You have been silent ever since you returned from the Well of Souls." Ororo said, "May I ask the reason?"

"Mon soeur - Claire. I saw her among de dead."
[My sister]

"I did not know you had a sister?"

"I did. She was killed by de villagers on de charge of witchcraft. Burnt at de stake right in front o' m'eyes."

"How old were you?"

"Not much more dan quatorze ans."
[14 years.]

"It must have been devastating for one so young."

"Dey wanted t'kill me too. Said I was a demon, or demon-possessed at de very least, on account o m'eyes."

"They do not condemn when you go into the village now?"

"Non. I cast a maskin' spell over m'eyes so dat dey look relatively normal."

"Then you know magic?"

"A little. What I picked up from stayin' wit' Madame Destiny f'r a few months after mon pere was killed. Not enough t'challenge de Mage."

"But if you were to learn more, could you?"

"Peut-etre. But dere wouldn't be time - de Horse of Another Color is our only hope."
[Perhaps.]

"May I ask your ruling sign of you?"

"Cert'nly, but I couldn' give ya an answer."

"You do not know?"

"Non, I don' t'ink I have one." Remy paused, "In m'family dere is a tradition dat we undergo an initiation. De local votaries of de four powers come an' administer tests t'determine what sign rules us. I failed all four."

"That is impossible - every man is ruled by an element. Mine is water for healing and life." She looked confused, "Where do your magic talents lie?"

"I don' know, belle. At de time, I didn' much care what magic I used so long as it kept me alive. Dat was what Destiny taught me - survival magic. Not anyt'ing else."

"Then it is a mystery which we must solve."

"After dis fool's quest." He sighed, "How much further is it, Ro?"

"A few day's walk. We should be there by next week, provided that we run into no interference."

"How will we get back in time, chere?"

"Do you not know the legend of the Horse of Another Color?"

"Non, I don'. Didn' have much call f'r it, livin' in de forest."

"Very well . . . ." Ororo cleared her throat, "Once, when the gods still lived among man in their various aspects, there lived a beautiful woman. She was so beautiful that where she stepped flowers sprung out of the ground to please her and the sun shone gently upon her so as not to hurt her. One day, while she was walking in the forest, she came upon the god of the earth and sky. (Fire and water being the realm of dragons and leviathans respectively.)
He said to her: If you will not marry me, I will raze the forest to the ground and cause the sky to split open and unleash the forces of evil that lie behind it.'
The poor woman had no choice - she had to capitulate to the cruel god's demands. After he had left her to return to the home of the gods in the Synergy, she fell to her knees and prayed to the goddess\god of hope\despair to save her. The androgynous deity appeared before her in robes of shimmering white and crowned with a wreath of poison ivy: 'I will grant
your prayer and send you an avatar, for one as beautiful as you should not feel despair.'

Soon the god of earth and sky returned in a bronze chariot drawn by five great ravens.

'Come with me - I have prepared a wedding feast that will put all others to shame.'

'I will not.' She refused, I cannot be a wife to a man I do not love.'

'You defy me . . . . See the fruits of your disobedience.'

The sky cracked open and the woman cowered in fear, dreading the consequences of herrefusal. But no demons from beyond the ether appeared. No dark monsters. Nothing save a man riding a winged horse - it was the color of rich moss with a diamond horn that spiralled like a lance. Hooves like diamond flashed and sparked as they touched the floor. The man dismounted, dressed in armor of gold that shimmered with energy. For that was his ruling power, you see. The god of earth and sky drew his sword of lightning and the avatar his sword of energy and they fought for five days and five nights. Eventually, the god grew weary and let down his guard - if you will excuse the pun. The avatar struck, decapitating the god in a single blow, staining his sword with ichor." Ororo paused for breath, "Which is why, to this day, earth and sky have no god to rule over them."

"Seems like we need de avatar more dan de horse."

"I believe we already have found him . . .

Part 6

She stood at the tower-window watching the bustle of the village down below in the valley. Houses were being festooned with ribbons and banners. Flowers were being picked by giggling maidens who blushed and wondered who would catch the bouquet. Young men were out hunting for the wedding feast. An eager priest was going through his preparations. Yet none of this moved her to anything more than a sense of dread and of anticipation. The lodestone knife in her stockings was cold against her bare skin and served as a constant reminder of her mission. To kill her husband-to-be. She had been forced into this marriage, given as a tithe to the cruel mage who held the minds and spirits of the villagers hostage, yet she would fight. Her mind went back to the old story of pain and loss that she had loved as a child. She could still hear her grandmother's voice telling it to her.

"Once a upon time, there lived a young girl about your age, called Claire deLuc-leBeau. She had done nothing wrong except be born into a cursed family."

"Why were they cursed, grandmother?" She had asked.

"The villagers thought that they had brought misfortune to the village, but really, it was the doing of a dark magician. They were cursed because they were hated by all the villagers. Nevertheless, the villagers decided that Claire should be burnt at the stake as a witch."

She had shivered at the time, terrified and rapt all at once.

"They dressed her in white, saying prayers to the god of Light\Dark to deliver her soul. On her head, they placed a wreath of belladonna."

"Why belladonna?"

"Deadly Nightshade - it was burned to appease the dark half of the god in ancient times." The old woman had laughed, "But why it is called belladonna is quite another story."

"Carry on."

"They dragged her younger brother, the One-without-Power, to watch her execution and would have killed him too, had the old fortune-teller not intervened and set him free."

"What did he do?"

"He ran forward into the flames, screaming wildly, but the fire did not hurt him."

"How is that?"

"The young boy was special. He was ruled by a fifth more-powerful force."

"What force?"

The fortune-teller had placed a card in front of her from one of the Shi'ar sets. On it was a man dressed in bright armor and wielding a sword of flame.

"Energy."

"Energy." She whispered now, echoing the memory.

She had not thought much of the story then, but it took on great significance now. Was Remy the young boy? Had he lost his sister to the flames and then not died himself? If so . . . what was that old legend about the woman and the god of Earth\Sky . . . was he the Avatar? And, if that was true, then what was her place in the piecemeal of history and prophecy? Who was she?

"And so, Sabrina, the young boy grew up to become strong and handsome. To defeat the dark magician who had brought the curse upon the village. Yet . . . he did not do it for revenge but for love. The love of a beautiful woman whose deeds are still sung about in the villages around the fires. . . "

The Mage smiled as he placed the slender gold ring on the charcoal brazier.

"I bind you. Erif. For a time that is circular, infinite. Ekoms. Until this ring is broken. Nrub."

The piece of stiffened fabric was to follow, hissing as it touched the hot metal.

"Blood holds you. Erif. Bonding you eternally. Ekoms. Until this blood is renewed. Nrub."

He sprinkled powder over the two, watching the colored smoke that rose, red as blood. On that, he placed a single strand of hair, white as newly driven snow.

"Love ties you. Erif. Chaining you for as long as it lasts. Ekoms. Until this token is snapped. Nrub."

He gestured with his hands, slowly sketching a spell in the smoke.

"Remy leBeau, son of Jean-Luc, sister of Claire, I bind you. Won. Reverof."

The Mage picked up the fine powder that had formed on the ring.

"How bitter the irony that it is your love who will seal your doom. Guards! Bring me the child..."

"Me? De Avatar?" Remy laughed, "Chere, ya time in de underworld musta scrambled ya brains."

"I am serious. The very fact that your ruling power is none of the four elements, indicates that it must be something else. Something above them." Ororo replied.

"Ya know what de villagers call me in deir stories - de One-Without-Power. Mebbe dat's true, non?"

"No-one is without power, though some are above it."

"Chere, I used t'worship de Avatar. He was my hero - a knight in shinin' armor who protected me from de wolves an' fear. I used t'pretend dat I was him - dat I had de Spirit Sword - even if it just was a stick - an' dat I wore de Aegis Armor. I rode de Horse of Another Color in m'dreams." He shook his head, "I can't be dat Avatar. He's a myth."

"But you are the Avatar nevertheless. Foreseen by prophecy and made a reality by circumstance."

"Bien chere, let's say dat I am dis Avatar. What den? Where is m'sword an' armor? Where is de horse?"

"In the myth, the Avatar goes on a quest to find his sword and armor."

"Don' have time. Findin' dis Phoenix is takin' longer dan I expected."

"We are almost there." She smiled, "The Promethean Mountains lie straight ahead."

Remy looked up. Before him towered the enormous, craggy peaks of the cliffs, like a dragon's back.

"How do we get to de top?"

"We do not." Ororo replied with a smile, "We enter by the front door like any other pilgrim."

"Dat don' sound very Avatar-like. Seems t'me dat I should break de cliff wit' one mighty hand."

"You may be the Avatar, but that does not mean that you should throw all sense out of the window."

"Bien." Remy nodded, "What are we waitin' f'r, chere? Let's go."

The Sorceress and the Avatar entered the dark cave.

"You want another story, Sabrina?"

"Yes, please, grandmother."

"Very well, child. Let me think . . . ."

"Tell me about th' Avatar's girl-friend."

"Her?" The old woman had furrowed her brow, "Her deeds are celebrated, but there is not much known about the woman herself. People say that she was beautiful."

"What did she do that was so special?"

"Listen and I will tell you of her birth." The old woman had cleared her throat, "She was born to a gipsy woman on a cold and windy night when the wolves sang to the moon of blood. The sky was dark with clouds that streamed across the stars in ribbons. Her grand-mother, a fortune-teller, birthed her, but unfortunately her mother died in the process. The child was special even from that moment."

"Why?"

"She was marked with the sign of the moon - a single white streak in her hair."

"Like mine?"

"Yes, child. You too are ruled by the Pale Lady. As a result, she held great power and, from a tender age, was regarded as a potential sorceress. A master-class magician."

"Did she become one?"

"No, the furore over the leBeaux caused any magic to be viewed with great suspicion. They believed that all magic, save the Mage's, was evil. For her sake, her grand-mother hid away her secret, telling no-one, not even the child herself."

"Did she discover her powers?"

"In time. Only after the Mage was defeated though - when the village was attacked by an Army of the Undead sent by jealous Blackheart."

"Tell me about that."

"Later maybe. It is not important now."

Sabrina stared at the landscape, wondering how many of the old stories her grand-mother had told were more fact than fiction. How much of the ancient prophecy of the Mage's eventual defeat was hidden within a child's tale. How much of it was true. If Remy was the Avatar, then she was . . . she was the woman who would save a village. She was a master-class magician. She looked at her slender hands and wondered . . . .

"Child." The Mage smiled kindly at the cowering apprentice, "Do not be afraid, I will not hurt you."

"Just like you didn't hurt Remy."

"The young lord leBeau is an enemy to me. He would take my fiancée away from me. How did you expect I would react?"

"Lying pig." The girl hissed, "You stole his fiancée."

"Is that what he told you?" The Mage sounded amused, "The man is a liar and a thief. A convicted criminal, yet you would take his word over mine."

"Sabrina told me the same story."

"Poor child. She was very confused, but she realizes now that I am the only one she could love."

"You make me sick."

"What a pity - I hoped you would co-operate. I now see that such a hope was futile. I shall have to use . . . stronger methods."

"Wh . . . what . . . ."

The Mage turned to his shelf of potions and pulled out a small, velvet pouch. From this, he poured out a handful of dust which glittered and sparkled like glass in his hand.

"Mesmer Dust?" Jubilation whispered.

"Precisely. Since you will not willingly do what I bid, I fear I must force you into doing my will."

"It won't work. I know the spell of protection." She said desperately, adding silently, 'Or would if I had studied my Gramarye, like Ororo was always nagging me to.'

"A pathetic gambit even from one so young." The dust glowed in the Mage's hand, colors playing over his face in a rainbow.

"Please . . . ."

"Your will to mine. Your mind to mine. Your loyalty to me." He blew the dust into her face, "I bind you, Jubilation, with the cords of light. With the seven-colored chains of crystal."

The girl stood, shakily and her voice was emotionless when she spoke.

"What must I do, master?"

Sabrina's fingers flew in annoyance over the silk of the needlework that the serving maid had brought to her. It was her wedding-dress - a new one as the old one was little more than shreds on her return. Delicate rosebuds formed under her fingers, twining around the skirt of the dress.She bent her head, the white strand falling into her face, and she pushed it back behind her ear.She remembered a day similar to this one, when she was sewing under a tree in the forest. The forest had long been her refuge as a child when she was scared or angry. Now, as an adult, she went there to escape the interference of the villagers, to calm her troubled thoughts. A rose had fallen into her lap that day - as rich a red as deep wine, as heart-blood. She had looked up, startled, unsure of who or what it was. Remy had smiled back at her from within the branches of the tree and then vaulted down.

"Wit' eyes like dat, ya got t'be a dryad."

She had dropped her eyes in confusion, returning to the erstwhile despised arts of coquetry and maiden blush.

"Sorry if I startled ya. T'ought it was 'bout time I introduced m'self t'ya - been watchin' ya f'r days."

The embarrassment had disappeared in the quick hot anger of the moment.

"Y'all have been watchin' me, like some . . . some peepin' Tom?" The hitherto admired eyes blazed as green as St Elmo's Flame.

"Oui." He answered with easy nonchalance, "Ya seem t'come here often."

"Hmmp." She raised an eyebrow, "Ah'd better be gettin' back ta th' village. Mah husband will be waitin' foh me."

"Ya not be married." He laughed, "Ya don' wear a ring."

"Does th' concept of a greedy mage mean anythin' ta y'all?" She retorted, "But you're right - Ah'm single - much ta th' fascination of every gossip and goodie in th' village."

"Oui - I know 'bout Lord Magnus." He inclined his head, "I do m'bit t'even out de balance."

"Ah guess Ah should introduce mahself, unless y'all already know who Ah am."

"'Course not, Sabrina." He answered with a grin, "How could I know?"

She shook her head, "Ah won't even ask how you know."

"Simple, chere. Ya talk t'yaself."

Her mouth twisted in outrage, "An' you eavesdropped?"

"'Course - add it t'my list o' crimes."

"Now seein' as Ah'm too much o' a lady ta eavesdrop on you, Ah'll have ta ask you your name th' polite way."

"Remy le . . . uh . . . duMelas." He bowed deeply, "Enchante, belle."

"Well, Remy le . . .uh . . .duMelas, it's a pleasure meetin' you."

"Ya be poor?"

"Ain't that a bit rude ta ask?"

"Mais non, not if I'm offerin' m'help."

"How can you help me?"

"Take dis." He pressed something small and hard into her hand, "Buy yaself a pretty dress."

"Sugah, Ah need food more'n'a pretty dress."

"Dat bad, henh?"

"Th' tithe is in a few days time - takin' everythin' Ah got ta pay th' Mage."

He grinned, "Make ya a deal?"

"Depends."

"Buy dat pretty dress an' meet me by dis tree t'morrow."

"Why?"

"I'll have a surprise f'r ya den."

"Why th' dress?"

"A beautiful woman shouldn' have t'wear sackcloth."

Sabrina smiled as she finished the last few leaves of the rose on the unwanted wedding dress. It was easily the most beautiful dress she had ever had - rich cream silk with a train of lace, with a pearl bodice. Yet . . . .

Her thoughts were disturbed by a knock on the door, an urgent, fervent knock as if the visitor was terrified of capture.

"Come in." She dropped the fine silk and, walking to the door, opened it.

Jubilation was standing there, eyes stained with tears, a gash on her forehead.

"What's wrong, sugah?" Sabrina quickly let her into the room and bolted the door behind her.

"The Mage caught me . . . sniff . . . and he . . . he beat me up." She grasped the older woman's arm, "But I was able to escape after casting a spell of sleep on the guard who brought me my supper."

"Ah'm sorry - Ah nevah should o' let you get involved." Sabrina looked worried, "Did y'all find Remy?"

"No . . . the Mage caught me before I was able to reach him." The apprentice shook her head, "But . . . there is someone in the palace who can help us."

"Who?"

"A serving-woman of the leBeaux who hates the Mage. Her name is Fixx."

"How can she help us?"

"She has messengers - winged sprites who can cross vast spaces in little more than a few seconds. They can take the ring and a message from you to the highwayman."

"You mean it?"

"Sure - she hid me away when I escaped from the dungeon. I trust her explicitly."

"Shouldn't that be implicitly, sugah?"

"Whatever. Ororo's always ragging on me to learn my Gramayre - how on earth do you expect me to know grammar then?"

Sabrina nodded, "Take me to her. Ah can pretend that Ah need ta speak ta her 'bout weddin' arrangements."

"No need. She's outside the door - I thought you would see her."

The door opened and a slender woman stepped in. Her dark hair fell like silk to her slender waist and her eyes spoke of magic.

"Greetings. I am Fixx. Child of man and faerie."

"Her mother was Titania - the faerie queen. Her father was a peasant with whom Titania fell in love." Jubilation explained.

"Pleased ta meet ya, Fixx."

"Jubilation has told me much about you. About your love for the young lord leBeau. About his quest for the Horse of Another Color."

"She told me that you could help me."

"Of course. My sprites can travel from here to the stars in the time it takes to blink." Fixx smiled, "They could carry his ring and perhaps even a message from you."

"Fine." Sabrina inclined her head, "Let's do it before that pig of a Mage finds out."

"Here is the ring." Jubilation handed it to her, "It got a little dusty in the dungeon."

"No problem." Sabrina smiled, "Wasn't in th' best shape when he gave it to me neither."

"Sprite?" Fixx called, "The daughter of Titania summons you."

A small glimmer of light formed in front of the faerie princess, becoming larger and taking human shape as it did. A tiny faerie, perfectly formed, hovered in the air on wings of rainbow.

"Yes?" It piped, voice high as a hummingbird's.

"Carry this ring to the lord leBeau." She commanded, then, turning to Sabrina, "Would you like to give her a message?

"Yes." Sabrina nodded, "Tell Remy that Ah'm doing everythin' Ah can ta stop th' Mage. Tell him that th' wedding will not go on . . . . Tell him that it doesn't matter if he doesn't find th' horse, Ah c'n kill th' Mage mahself. Tell him . . . ."

"I am afraid that you will have to restrict yourself." Fixx cautioned, "The faeries have brains like themselves. Light and insubstantial. A few words is all they can remember."

"Then tell him Ah love him. That Ah will kill th' Mage."

"Fly." Fixx commanded and the faerie spun off into the ether, a spark of light against the blue sky, like hope.

"An excellent performance, Fixx." Magnus leered. "You almost had me convinced."

"Thank you, my liege. Is there nothing else I can do?"

"Take this to my love." He handed her a pearl necklace, "It is another little surprise . . . ."

"You do know she is not in love with you."

"This necklace will remedy that." The Mage said, "On it is a powerful love-charm that will cloud her mind enough to love me."

"My pleasure, liege." Fixx curtsied and exited, cursed necklace in hand.

The Mage looked up at the tapestry of the Avatar that was hung over the fireplace and laughed.

Part 7

The tiny fairy hung in the air of a musty cave, darting about like a firefly. It swooped beneath the dangling stalactites and dodged in and out of cracks. It poked its nose into gem-encrusted corners and danced in the shifting light on the floor.

"Who goes there?" An echoing voice came hollowly from the center of the cave.

The fairy started, eyes frightened, and almost dropped the golden ring it held. Out of the dark shadows, heavy footsteps crossed the floor, causing seismic tremors as they impacted.

"We are seeking the Phoenix." A woman replied, her hair ghostly white in the gloom.

"I am the Guardian. None come to her but through me."

"C'n come t'rough ya in two diff'rent ways - dependin' on whether ya want t'make it easy or hard."

The fairy darted closer, recoiling in disgust at the hideous monster in front of her. Its misshapen face was suspended on a bull-neck with ropy tendons standing out in harsh relief. In its forehead was embedded a single, bloodshot eye. The young man facing it was handsome, with a slightly cocky look on his face. His one hand was resting on a dagger at his belt.

"You challenge me?"

"No." The white-haired woman intervened, "We simply wish to speak with Phoenix."

"For what reason?"

"We need her help."

"More people coming for selfish reasons to bother her." The cyclops snarled, "Go before I make you a permanent fixture in this cave."

"Don' have time t'waste wit' ya." The young man pulled out his dagger and stepped closer to the monster. "I be de Avatar. If ya t'ink ya c'n take me, stay where ya are."

"The Avatar?" The cyclops laughed, "You puny creature of blood and bone imagine yourself to be the greatest warrior ever?"

"I can vouchsafe for his identity." Ororo interjected, "He is indeed the Avatar."

"Then prove it. I have vanquished other 'Avatars.'" The monster gestured to the pile of skulls and bones.

A ripple of energy ran up and down the dagger's blade, bright in the dark air of the cave. The fairy blinked against the dazzling light that emanated from the steel.

"A simple trick." The cyclops scoffed, "Any hedge witch could do it."

"Den mebbe I'll have t'prove it t'ya." The young man thrust forward with his dagger, catching the cyclops in its gut. Green blood poured through the open wound.

"Lucky blow, boy." The cyclops swept a corded forearm in the man's direction, knocking him against the wall with a sickening thud.

Wiping blood from his mouth, the man stood up and approached the monster again. The dagger had fallen to the floor when he impacted on the wall and was now a few meters away from where he stood. The cyclops stood on it, crushing it into splinters beneath his hard, worn feet.

"Looks like you are unarmed, 'Avatar.'" He mocked.

"Mebbe so, mebbe no. Let's see, hehn?"

With a smooth gesture, the thief created a ball of energy in his hand and threw it at the monster. It impacted on his chest and fizzled out in damp smoke.

"Is that the best you can do?"

"Remy, his eye is his only vulnerable point." Ororo yelled, "If you can strike there, he will be defeated."

Another ball of energy formed in his slender hand and the man threw it at the cyclops, directly into its single eye. The monster screamed and fell, clutching the now bleeding socket.

"Let's go while we still have the chance." Ororo grabbed the young man's hand and pulled him away from the thrashing monster into one of the many labyrinthine tunnels.

"Merci f'r de help, cherie." Remy said, "Just wonder why ya couldn' have attacked him yaself."

"My vows." She explained, "I am sworn to heal and not to harm. Any breach of that vow would displease my goddess."

"Oh."

"I now have a question for you."

"Shoot."

"How did you know how to use the energy in that way?"

"I don' know." Remy looked embarrassed, "Jus' did, I guess. Came t'me when I needed it."

"Then you are the Avatar."

"Looks dat way, cherie." He shrugged, "Prefer not t'talk about it. Seems weird t'be dis mythical figure."

"Indeed. We have a little way to go before we arrive at Phoenix's nest."

"Den let's hurry."

The fairy buzzed closer, dancing like a Will o' Wisp around Remy's head. He swatted at it and ot dodged.

"Does bein' de Avatar mean gettin' weird flies as well?"

"That is no fly, but a sprite."

"She's carryin' somet'ing."

The fairy spoke in a high-pitched voice, like the beating of a hummingbird's wing, like the highest note on a flute.

"For you, Remy du Melas."

She dropped the ring into his outstretched hand.

"I bring a message from Sabrina."

"Oui?"

"She says that she loves you and that she will kill the Mage."

"Dat's all?"

"Yes. That is all."

"Bien. She'll need m'help." Remy pocketed the ring, "An' I c'n only help her if I have m'armor an' all de rest o' it."

"Which we can only retrieve if we find the Phoenix." Ororo reminded him.

"Can I take a message from you to Sabrina?"

"Oui," He smiled, "Tell her t'wear her prettiest dress. . . ."

She had bought a dress, half-vicariously with her gift of money. A beautiful flimsy thing of which she disapproved and, at the same time, loved. A dress of fire-shot white silk that swirled around her ankles, revealing shapely calves. Remy had said that she looked lovely and she agreed. He had brought her a gift of white roses which she had twined into her hair. It felt so good to be beautiful when your life was drudgery and pain. She forgot her calloused, stained hands for a day. Her aching back from bending over her work. She was a princess for a brief, glorious time.

They had had a picnic under the spreading canopy of the trees. The deckled shade that slid over them, casting darkness and light in equal measure, had made the day mysterious.

"About ya surprise. . . ." He had said.

"Mah surprise?"

Sabrina had taken his promise in jest and had forgotten about it.

"Oui." Remy had rummaged in his omnipresent sack and removed something. "Close ya eyes."

She had done so, gasping at the feeling of cold on the bare skin of her neck. When she opened them again and looked down, she saw an exquisite necklace. It was a gold filigree chain set with an uncut emerald, that still contrived to sparkle in the shifting light.

"Remy . . . you shouldn't . . . Ah mean . . .this necklace probably belonged ta some woman who loved it."

"Oui, it did."

"She must be missin' it horribly. Ah know Ah would if it was mine."

"Non. She be beyond missin'."

"Wh . . . What do you mean?" She asked in rapidly awakening dread.

"It belonged t'my mother," he explained, "She died a while back."

"Oh." Sabrina fingered the chain nervously, "Ah'm sorry."

"F'rget it," he grinned, "When c'n I see ya again?"

"Not foh a while. Ah had trouble enough sneakin' off taday without daddy knowin'."

"Bien. I'll have another surprise f'r ya den."

He did. A brooch that was the twin of the necklace. A brooch that must have belonged to his mother with the engraving LB on the back. She had asked Remy what the initials meant. He had hesitated a moment before replying that his mother's name was Lucille Bella. She had put the hesitation down to grief - she was wrong. Finally, after the jewelry set was complete save for a single item, Sabrina had told her father about Remy. He had reacted as she had expected - with shock and disgust.

"A thief? A common criminal? Can't you do better than that, Sabby?"

"Ah love him." She had replied stubbornly.

"I know you aren't the prettiest thing out, but there have to be plenty of Nice Young Men looking for a wife. Men who can't be hanged for their crimes."

"Ah don't care. Ah don't want any of them."

"Sabby . . . ."

She had run into the green heart of the forest where it was cool and dark. Flung herself beneath a cedar tree and had cried her pain into the mossy pillow of the earth. She had returned much later, cool and slim as a sapling, as pliable and yet as strong as one as well. Remy was waiting for her at her doorstep, red roses in his hand.

"Y'all can't be here. If'n the villagers find out . . . ."

"Don' give a d@mn." He had said, "I need t'ask ya somet'ing."

Sabrina had cocked her streaked head and narrowed one eye.

"Shoot."

"Dere be one more piece o' de collection t'give ya, Sabrina."

"Oh?"

"However, dis one comes wit' a condition."

"Which is?"

"Dat ya marry me," he held out a gold ring, going down on one knee.

"Remy . . . ."

"I know I don' have much t'offer an' ya'd be insane t'marry me. . . . Dat dere probably is some other Nice Young Man who owns a smithy who wants ya hand as well. . . . Dat . . . ."

"Remy?"

"Oui?"

She bent down to his level and kissed him on the lips.

"Nice Young Men be d@mned. O' course, Ah'll marry you."

He took her in his arms and stood up, holding her tightly against his chest.

"I love ya, Sabrina."

"Ah love you too, Remy."

Sabrina held the lace veil to her lips as she stood by the window, watching the quiet valley below.

"When's that darn sprite going ta come back?" She said, twisting the lower half of the veil in anxious hands.

A sudden firefly flicker danced about her head and seated itself on her shoulder.

"'Bout time too. What did Remy say?"

The sprite cocked her little head like an inquisitive bird.

"I think I deserve a treat for flying all that way twice in a day."

"Ah doubt he said that," Sabrina said sharply, "Tell me an' then you'll get your treat."

"Give me my treat and then I'll tell you."

Sabrina sighed and walked across the room to the small dish of sweetmeats that Magnus had commanded be put by her bed. She selected a small pink one with a rose on top of it and handed it to the faerie.

"Mmmm . . . ." The faerie whispered in bliss as it bit into the sweetmeat, "You're even nicer than Fixx."

"Tell me what Remy said." Sabrina struggled to keep her voice modulated.

"Ummm . . . he said to wear your prettiest dress." The faerie mumbled through a mouth of crumbs. "For another sweetmeat, I'll tell you a secret!"

Sabrina removed a plump green one that was undoubtedly mint. The faerie whizzed down and snatched it from her hand.

"Fixx is working for the Mage. The ring which I gave to Remy was tainted with an evil spell to control his mind."

The color in her cheeks flooded out to be replaced with a livid shade of red.

"An' Ah sent it to him . . . . Dear Lawd. . . ."

"Yes."

"Sprite? Can you fly ta him an' tell him that he must not put on that ring? No matter what."

The sprite sunk down, a sour look on her tiny face.

"Again? All that way?"

"Ah'll give you a sweetmeat if you do."

"Two?"

"Two."

The sprite whizzed up into the air again.

"Off I go . . . ."

Sabrina sunk down into the soft chair, face buried in the soft veil. In the secret place of her heart, she feared that it was already too late.

Part 8

The air was warm and scented with sulfur, increasing in heat and stench as the Avatar and the Sorceress wandered ever farther into the cave. The gloom was lit by several torches placed in alcoves in the wall, glowing, flickering, casting grotesque shadows on the rocks.

"It be gettin' hot."

"Phoenix is a creature of fire and flame - this temperature suits her perfectly."

"Pity 'bout de rest o' us," Remy wiped the sweat from his forehead, "Ya be a weather-worker, can't ya do anyt'ing 'bout dis?"

"No. It would anger Phoenix to tamper with her domain - we would prefer to encounter her in a good mood rather than a bad," Ororo's white robes were soaked with sweat, clinging to her despite their loose folds.

"Hmmm. Let's see if I can' do anyt'ing 'bout it," Remy smiled and the air began to shimmer around them. An energy field formed, solid around them, trapping air inside itself.

"For someone who professes no knowledge of the Avatar's skills, you are performing admirably."

"Now, c'n ya drop de temperature jus' inside dis bubble?"

"Easily," Ororo lifted a hand and muttered a few words.

Suddenly, cool air surrounded them as fresh and delicious as rain on a torrid afternoon.

"What ya said 'bout me performin' admirably, chere. . . ." Remy paused, "I don' know how I know t'do dese t'ings. I . . . jus' do - it be scary actually. Wish I was jus' normal Remy du Melas - de highwayman."

"You have been chosen for greater things, Avatar," a voice echoed from within the cave, "Child of energy, son of a goddess, love of the Great Sorceress . . . ."

"Quoi? Ororo?"

The tunnel opened out in a large chamber. The walls led up to a high-vaulted ceiling and were encrusted with precious gems of all colors. Green-copper veins ran through them, shimmering, reflected by the pools of cerulean water that hissed and steamed in white gouts. Crude steps were carved into the floor, leading up to a twisted throne of what once had been magma. On that throne was sitting a young woman with flame-bright hair, encircled by a bronze coronet. Her blue eyes, as blue as the pools, smiled in pleasure and in welcome. She was dressed in a loose robe of fire-shot silk, all reds and golds.

"No, not the Weather Worker, although she too has a part to play in the upcoming events."

"Who is the Great Sorceress, m'lady?" he said, going down upon one knee.

"Stand, my champion. You should not bow before your equal. Your spirit-sister."

"Den . . . ."

"Be still and I will tell you the legend-prophecy of the Great Sorceress. . . ."

"As all true legends go, the hero has a female counterpart - an anima to his animus so to speak. The Avatar's counterpart has always been the Great Sorceress. A lovely woman ruled by the Pale Lady and marked with her sign. Throughout the ages when the Avatar is reincarnated in a new body, the Great Sorceress is as well. Usually, they are separate, working for different goals in different lands. Whereas the duty of the Avatar is to vanquish evil, the duty of the Great Sorceress is to cultivate good. She is the most talented of all magicians - the most beautiful of all women."

"Ya be th' Great Sorceress?"

"No, I am merely a pawn in the great game. She is the Queen to the Avatar's King."

"Ya said 'usually'. Why?"

"This time is the time spoken of in prophecy when the Avatar and the Great Sorceress shall join to vanquish the evil in the land."

"Haven't heard dat story."

"Few have - the most powerful Great Sorceress is usually simply acknowledged in common prophecy as the love of the most powerful Avatar. His woman. The truth is lost to all but the leviathans and dragons. The immortal ones who keep the knowledge hidden in their hearts."

"Tell me."

"There was a time when evil overran the land, when men's cups were filled with gall instead of wine, when they drunk deeply of hatred and were filled with it. To this time, the most powerful Avatar was born and grew, unaware of his true nature, unwanted and unloved. As in history, the Great Sorceress was born to the same time - a woman birthed of gypsies and a child of the moon. This reincarnation of the two immortal heroes was different, however, instead of being born as far away as fire is from water, they were brought to the same place, for the evil there was strong enough to require their combined powers. Drawn together by their opposing natures, their complementary souls, the Avatar and the Great Sorceress fell in love - which is the greatest mystery of all."

"What was the evil?", asked Ororo, rapt.

"The god of Earth\Sky, who had been killed all those millenia ago by the first Avatar, had not truly been destroyed as it had been thought. His essence had floated around the ether of the world-between-worlds, waiting for a host so that he could be reborn. There was only one evil enough, whose heart had been corrupted by greed and anger, who could serve as his host - a black Mage."

"Magnus."

"Not yet . . . he has still to be tainted by the dark god's touch, but he will be."

"Mes dieux an' we can't stop him?"

"No - it has been foretold by the most ancient of all seers."

"Carry on . . . ."

"The Mage had decided to take the Great Sorceress as his wife for he recognized the power within her even if he did not know her true nature. This served the god of Earth\Sky admirably as he had had similar motives within his own first reincarnation and the thought of having the Great Sorceress as a wife was irresistable. The Avatar, however, was called upon again by the Great Sorceress to go on a quest to seek his true nature."

"Does he succeed?"

"The prophecy is unclear. The remainder is lost to everyone."

"Sabrina? De Great Sorceress?" He raised an eyebrow, "But . . . but . . . she be so petite. So...."

"Human?"

"Oui."

"Be assured that she is the immortal daughter of the Pale Lady. The child of moon-light."

"But she doesn't know anyt'ing about her powers . . . ."

"Nor did you, Avatar," the Phoenix looked worried, "But she is vulnerable until then - the Mage will strike now while he can."

"Mes dieux, c'n I see her?"

"Certainly. Stare into the pool . . . ."

Sabrina Parker, the Great Sorceress, was crying into the skirt of the beautiful dress that she was wearing. It had been a gift from the Mage - a flimsy, unsubstantial thing of silver chiffon and silk that floated like it was made of air. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, curling down to the middle of her back with a white streak just off center. The mark of the moon. The image in the pool was soundless and only the heaving of her shoulders gave any clue to the fact that she was in tears.

Someone apparently knocked on the door because Sabrina opened it and peered through it - the look of disgust changing to a thin, false smile as she saw who it was. A woman with jet-black hair and blue eyes, surrounded by a swarm of glowing faeries. In her hand, she held a priceless pearl necklace. The woman said something and Sabrina replied with a nod of her head and a shrug. The woman then handed the necklace to the bride and left.

Sabrina ran the necklace through her hands, feeling the smooth texture, and held it to her cheek. Then, slowly, deliberately, she threw it against the wall where it broke and rolled, like marbles, across the floor.

"Why, in de name o' light, did she do dat?"

"I believe the word 'instinct' would best describe her motives," Phoenix replied.

"Instinct?" Ororo asked.

"The necklace was laced with a potent love-charm designed to make the Great Sorceress fall in love with the Mage. The other side to her nature detected it and destroyed the poisoned artifact."

Remy went pale, "She's in danger as long as she remains at dat castle."

"Certainly, but there is enough of the Sorceress in her to protect her from evil."

"Even de God of Earth\Sky?"

"Maybe not. Let us see how the Mage is progressing."

"Wit' sound dis time?"

"If Ororo assists me, it is possible."

"Certainly," the Weather Worker placed her hand on the scrying pool and it cleared again into another scene.

The Mage raised his hands to the sky in supplication, asking for help. His schemes had failed so far and he was becoming desperate. Desperate enough to damn his soul.

"I call on you by the ancient names, by those who have gone before . . . ."

"Dispense with the ceremony, I am already here."

The voice boomed like thunder, drowning out all the noise in the world.

"Oh great god of Earth\Sky, I seek your help in defeating the Avatar and . . . ."

"I know what you want. I too seek revenge on the Avatar, but it is the woman in whom I am interested."

"Sabrina? She is lovely - I can understand your . . . ."

"You fool, do you not understand? She is the Great Sorceress. With that sort of power at my disposal, I can reclaim my rightful position among the pantheon."

"The Great Sorceress? But she is powerless . . . she has not opposed me . . . ."

"She doesn't know who she is or the power which she wields in that slim frame."

"I see. You propose an alliance then?"

"Certainly. Your body and my spirit."

"Let it be," the Mage bowed his head and when he lifted it again, his eyes blazed with power.

"Non, dat's jus' what we don' need - an angry god."

"Avatar, you must seek the Horse of Another Color, the Aegis Armor and the Spirit Sword - they are your right."

"That is why we sought you," Ororo explained, "My scrying bowl showed me that you were the one who could tell us where those relics are."

"The Horse is closer than you know. Possessed by one of both innocence and courage . . . ." The Phoenix made a pass over the pool with her hand and the face of Jubilation appeared.

"Ya mean de child had it de whole time?"

"Yes, but without knowledge of who you are, you could not have used it."

"What about the Armor and the Sword?" Ororo pressed.

"They are in my possession."

"C'n ya give dem t'me?"

"Yes, but they are locked away in another dimension where time and space are different to this one. It was only in this dimension that they would have been safe."

"How c'n I go to dis dimension?"

"Through the gateway of all realities - the Nexus - the M'Kraan which is guarded by the dragons. And a sacred keeper, Jahf, whose trust it is to ensure that reality is preserved."

"We're running out of time," Ororo confessed, "We have no time to go on another long quest."

"The quest shall be as short as a heartbeat."

"How is that?"

"I have told you that time passes differently in these other dimensions.You shall emerge only a few seconds after entering, though the time you spent in there be as long as a year."

"Where c'n I find dis M'Kraan? How long will it take us t'get dere?"

The Phoenix smiled and, for the first time, stepped off her throne of twisted rock.

"I shall transport you there," she said, "But first will you accept my blessing?"

"I'd be honored, mademoiselle."

The Phoenix leant forward and kissed him on one cheek. Her kiss burnt like fire and Remy jerked away in pain, clutching a hand to his wounded face.

"Ya blessing seems more like a curse, mademoiselle Phoenix."

She led him over the the pool and told him to look into it. His unusual eyes stared back at him from a slightly scruffy face. He had not shaved for a few days and a faint beard outlined his jaw. On a whim, he charged the follicles of hair with energy and they disintegrated, revealing a tiny mark in the shape of a star where she had kissed him.

"It will prove a blessing in time, Avatar. This mark will allow you to be identified as the Avatar by the dragons who guard the crystal. Without it, they would attack you."

"Merci, mademoiselle."

"Good luck, Avatar."

With those words, the world changed into whiteness . . . .

Part 9

The Mage Magnus looked at his fingertips, seeing the sparks of power that occasionally danced up and down his long, slender digits. He had never dreamt of power like this - of the ability to shape earth and stars to his own image - the ability to create and to destroy. To all intents and purposes, he was a god. An aching sensation in the center of his chest, however, told him that he was not alone. That something was using him as hermit crab does a shell, a means of moving safely in the world, before discarding him. The god of Earth\Sky, sent by the original Avatar to beyond the ether to spend his life in lonely exile, was with him. Magnus rubbed the aching spot on his chest, trying to massage the pain away. It was no use. A knock came on the door of his private study and he opened it, trying to keep the agony from his face. A page bowed obsequiously - curled, blond hair almost touching the floor. His cheeks were amazingly rouged and his eyes shaded with kohl in the fashion of most fops. Dressed in the heraldic colors of Salem - the red and green - he was a picture to behold.

"My lord, my lady wishes an audience with you."

'Sabrina? What could she want?' he thought suspiciously, but said, "Certainly, I will come to her chambers immediately."

Since learning of his reluctant fiancée's true nature, the Mage had been wary of her. If she truly was the Great Sorceress, her power was far greater than his. A thought then struck him and a smile spread across his face, like oil across water, merely skimming the surface. He was imbued with the powers of a god and more than a match for any sorceress, however powerful.

The Mage walked the steps to her room, deep in thought. Instead of having Sabrina taken to the village like originally planned, Paris had recommended that she be 'imprisoned' in the tower - although, her imprisonment was less severe than the name implied. She had freedom of the castle and the surrounding gardens, but could not return to the village. Strangely enough, Sabrina had preferred to be cloistered in her room - only coming out for meals and the occasionally stroll around the gardens. The Mage opened the small wooden door, stooping to enter the room. His fiancée was sitting sedately on a chaise longue, embroidering tiny roses onto her train. Her eyes, however, were anything but calm. They flickered around the room, like a pair of impatient butterflies, and held a sad confirmation that what she sought was many leagues hence. They were rimmed with red and swollen, although the Mage could see that she had attempted to cover that fact with make-up.

"Have you got Remy duMelas?" she asked without preamble or greeting.

"Unfortunately no, my love. I sent a league of elite praetorian guards after him, but he defeated them."

Her eyes betrayed her triumph for all her tone was sad, "What a pity - Ah hoped ta deal with him mahself."

'Liar,' the Mage thought, but said, "Have you tried the pearl necklace which I sent you?"

Sabrina looked suspiciously at him, "Sorry, mah liege, th' clasp was weak an' it broke."

She handed him the loose pearls mixed with dust and cobwebs.

"Never mind - a magic spell shall remedy this," he said between gritted teeth, "Let that which was broke be whole, let composite pieces come together, let the old be new. Niojer. Wener. Etelpmoc."

The pearls shimmered in his chemical-stained hands, coming together in a shower of sparks and light. A glittering conflagration that lit up her face and was echoed in her eyes. Magnus handed the completed necklace to her.

"Try it on - they say that every woman needs one pearl necklace."

"Ah always thought it was diamonds," Sabrina took it gingerly.

"Diamonds. Pearls. They are much the same thing. Try them on."

"Hmmm . . . . maybe later - this dress doesn't suit pearls," she gestured at the shimmering, silver fabric that fell in waves over her chaise longue.

"That does not matter, my love. I only wish to see them on your beautiful neck."

Sabrina hesitated, looking out of the window at the blue sky, broken only by clouds. A firefly flicker buzzed through the air towards her - shifting colors as it did so.

"I could not find him - he was too far in the earth for me to go," the flicker settled on her shoulder, revealing itself to be a perfectly formed woman in miniature. Her wings were dusted with silver and as she flapped them, dust settled on Sabrina's shoulder.

"He?" The Mage asked, "My love, about whom could she be talking?"

"Mah father," Sabrina lied desperately, "He was in the mines workin' an' Ah was worried about him."

"Your father? I thought it was Remy leBeau for whom you were looking?" the faerie blurted.

"Remy leBeau . . . ." The Mage looked amused, "I thought you wished him killed."

Sabrina's eyes narrowed, "Ah do. Ah sent Fixx's helper ta find him foh you."

"No . . . ." The faerie shook her silver-haired head, "You said to tell him that you loved him and that you were doing everything in your power to stop the Mage."

"So, my traitorous sweetheart, did you truly believe that I thought that you had fallen in love with me? For which kind of fool do you take me?"

"Ah . . . ."

"Be quiet, woman. Do you think that I love you?"

"Why else would you kidnap me an' force me ta marry y'all?"

He clasped her chin with a cold hand, forcing her face closer to his.

"Because your power called to me. The instant I saw you I knew that you controlled power beyond my wildest fantasies. A power which I could wield if you were mine."

"You must be mistaken? Ah'm nobody. A weaver's daughter. A citizen . . . a . . . ."

"You do not know, then," he released her face.

"Ah know that th' man Ah'm marryin' is th' Avatar. Ah know that you stole his whole life away an' ever since, he's been lookin' foh revenge," she stood, dislodging the faerie, "Ah pity you when he finds you."

"Save your pity for the leBeau. I have made a pact with the mighty god of Earth\Sky. He has imbued me with his powers, in return for my service. For you, my love."

"Why would a god want me?"

The Mage smiled thinly, "Ask your lover. Ask the Avatar."

He stepped closer to her, putting an arm around her waist and drawing her to him. Slowly and cruelly, he placed his lips on top of hers and kissed her. A kiss of possession rather than passion. A kiss to brand her as his. Sabrina struggled in his embrace, like a bird does against the bars of a cage, trying to break free. The Mage's eyes gleamed silver - the malice and eternal impassiveness of a god reflected in his handsome face.

"I am looking forward to our wedding day, Sabrina. Once I've slipped my ring on your finger, you'll be mine and everything that you bring with you."

With this final taunt, he exited the room, closing the door softly behind him. Sabrina felt her knees give out underneath her and she collapsed onto the chaise longue in tears of shame and supressed fear.

"Don't worry," the tiny faerie stroked her face, wiped her tears with silken hands, "Don't worry."

"Ah feel so dirty," she wiped her lips as if that could erase the memory of his touch, "So ...so ... ashamed. Ah can't be his wife. Ah won't."

"What does he mean by the power that you control?"

"Ah don't know, sugah. Wish Ah did, 'cause Ah'd like ta . . . ta disintegrate that . . . that pig," she went to the window, eyes flickering towards the broad road that led to the castle.

Banners were being strung from tree to tree along with bunting and ribbons. It was the road that she would ride to the cathedral where she would be made the Mage's wife.

"You did the right thing by refusing his necklace."

"Why?"

"It is tainted with a love charm. It would cause your mind to be clouded and you to fall in love with him," the sprite said, "By the way, I did fly all the way to Phoenix's cave . . . ."

"Have a sweetmeat," she replied automatically, "Ah've been meanin' ta ask you - why would you betray Fixx?"

"Fixx? You think that any of us sprites really obey her?" the faerie pouted, "We do what she says because she gives us sweetmeats."

"Ah thought she was the daughter o' th Faerie Queen?"

"Ha! Not all of us are loyal to Titania. I serve whichever master or mistress can benefit me the most. Sometimes it is Fixx, sometimes someone else," the faerie broke off a chunk of a lemon candy and placed it in her mouth, "These are . . . mffmmm . . . really good."

"Thank th' Mage," Sabrina said abstractedly, "Ah would rest easier knowin' that Remy is safe."

"I'm sure he is. He's the Avatar - isn't he?"

Sabrina smiled grimly, "Let's hope so, sugah. For both our sakes."

The transition between loci was as sudden as it was strange. Remy leBeau, the Avatar of legend, looked up from where he was slumped on the floor.

"I'm gettin' a sense o' deja-vu here, 'Ro."

Silence answered his comment.

"Ororo?"

The Avatar looked around the landscape - it was alien and completely deserted. The Phoenix had transported him here alone to face whatever challenges that this strange realm might bring. Slowly, Remy clambered to his feet. The sand of this other world shimmered between violet and blue and was seemingly furrowed with winds for all the air was still. A perfect gray sky stretched off as far as the eye could see, broken only by the candy-cotton puffs of clouds and the green of lofty mountains. Instinctively, Remy clutched the little dagger that he had by his side and said a prayer to the god of War\Peace. He wished instantly that he had kept the soldier's sword instead of planting it in the soil as a reminder to any other foolhardy troops. Where was the M'Kraan crystal that would lead him to the other dimension where the armor and sword were kept? He dusted off his black leggings and surveyed the surrounding landscape. There were no landmarks whereby position could be told nor any sun or stars to determine direction. Suddenly, the sand before him shifted and writhed and emerald coils pushed their way through it, like deadly buds. A stench of decomposing meat and hot iron filled the air and he involuntarily gagged, covering his face with a fold of shirt. Before him, a dragon hovered. Its gem-like, multi-faceted eyes watched him from garnet depths and its wings blotted out the gray sky. A voice like the booming of thunder spoke:

"You disturb the sleep of Fin Fang Foom, foolish mortal? It has been too long since I tasted fresh human meat. Explain yourself or I shall give in to my baser instincts and devour you."

Remy cleared his throat of the dust and bile and stated simply, "I am de Avatar."

"An Avatar? Fin Fang Foom believes that you are simply a thief, come to steal the most precious treasure in all realities. Where is your proof, 'Avatar'?'

"Here," he touched the astral scar on his cheek.

The Dragon lent closer and it took all of Remy's self-control to keep from fainting from the stench.