This story is copyright RogueStar 1998 and can only be archived with her permission. She can be reached for that or for comments\criticism at her address: [email protected]. All characters belong to Marvel and are not used to make me any money - therefore I hope they cannot sue me and will hire me instead. :-)

Apart from the traditional disclaimer spiel, enjoy the story!

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 y'all, 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.

To be continued . . . .

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