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Dixit!

RogueStar
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The road stretched off into infinity, a long line of brown that cuts 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.
"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
home in the village."
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?"
"This leBeau . . . I am afraid that he will interfere for his sister and father's sake."
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 her refusal.
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 . . . ."

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