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Coming Through to Gord

Her hand stretched out for Flaubon's...

And Flaubon grabbed it ...

For all of them there was a sensation of falling ...

And suddenly they were in a little dip of the ground, the red parched soil suggesting somewhere hostile - the Wastes, perhaps.

Flaubon had gathered a young woman with light brown hair in his arms (who had a strong similarity to Opal, and was stretching out his hand to Rowan, who was standing near, looking worried.)

In the distance was the dark Hunter clone that was now Benedict, watching gravely, although he acknowledged Jenever with a nod.

Then Onyx, still in her father's arms, saw Blake. And stiffened.

Blake for his part, stood carefully on the now solid ground, releasing Jenever's grip. He looked around at their environs, studying the people as much as the surroundings. As his gaze caught that of Onyx, he paused for a bare moment, but there was no other sign of recognition.

Seemingly satisfied with his survey, he looked to Jenever, handing her the blade he had retrieved.

"I believe this is yours," he said solemnly as he did so.

Rowan, instead of taking Flaubon's hand, moved to stand between Onyx and Blake with a grim expression.

"No one's doing anything until Benedict says so," the youth announced. He pointed to Benedict. "That's Benedict. He's in charge here. And we're about to slaughter most of the adults down in that town down there." There was a note of distaste in Rowan's voice.

Irritated at the interruption, Blake's eyes narrowed at Rowan's words. But he didn't even deign to look at the youth, waiting instead for Jenever's reaction.

Jenever was weary enough that all of her reactions were a little slow. She had been returning Benedict's gesture when Blake spoke to her about the sword, and before she could respond, Rowan had interjected with what seemed at face value a useless attempt to assert dominance over the situation.

But, considering the fact that Blake and the woman in Flaubon's arms certainly knew each other, perhaps that was not why the boy had spoken.

Keeping an eye on Onyx, Jenever said, "No, my friend, this," and she took the sword into her left hand, holding it by the blade, "belongs to that gentleman over there." She nodded at Benedict again.

Then she turned her attention to Rowan. "Why?" she asked lightly.

"Because Blake's already killed my sister Onyx once, when he was working for the Sorceress but didn't know it. And we're all going to stay nice and friendly and do what Benedict tells us to do now, so no one gets killed this time," Rowan told Jenever grimly.

"That was ... unfortunate," Blake said. "But as you said, I was under someone else's influence at the time. One of those someones is now dead," Blake said grimly. "And if I have any say in the matter, the other one will be soon."

"As for her," he said, offhandedly, "I am glad she is in good health, despite all appearances otherwise. If I had known, it would have saved all of us some measure of grief." He shrugged, "But she was apparently as much a pawn as I in the matter, and I hold her in no measure responsible for anything that happened, and hold no ill will towards her."

Onyx struggled suddenly in Flaubon's arms - as though trying to break free and go for Blake's throat.

"Ill will towards me!" she said indignantly.

Flaubon held her still.

Jenever looked old and tired. She glanced at Benedict to see if he wanted to do anything, then opened her mouth to respond, but Blake forestalled her.

He looked at Rowan intently. "If anyone here is in danger, it would be me, if I remember correctly. Or did you not attempt to kill me when I was forthright in my confession of the deed and the circumstances?" His gaze became more intent, as any hint of warmth that had been present fled from his mien. "Were you not the one when I attempted to put some measure of closure to your search- to let you know what had happened- burned my neck and attempted to kill me?" His hand almost unconsciously stroked the faint tracery of scars there. "Didn't you?"

But he didn't wait for an answer, continuing. "But here we are again... With me explaining myself once again, for something that was apparently all an illusion." He shook his head.

"But be that as it may, you- nor your sister- have anything to fear from me."

"Onyx was still dead when... I attacked you," Rowan said, a touch uncertain. "She's alive now. That buys you a second chance. Don't waste it," the young man said with a strange edge to his voice.

"Buys me a..." Blake said incredulously. "Listen, kid," he continued after a moment, an edge of a different sort in his voice. "You don't tell me what anything buys me. I have cut you slack because of what you've been through. You don't know what I have been through... and none of this changes anything for me." His voice was a patchwork of rising and falling as his temper threatened to get the best of him, and he brought it under control. Finally, his voice fully of ice, he said, "Fine. You think whatever you wish of me. It matters not in the least in any case. For the little it's worth, I'm glad you have your sister back, and I do regret what happened." The end sounded a bit clipped, as if there was more to the sentence... but Blake said nothing else.

"You can leave this until afterwards," said Benedict. "At the moment - Nora is in danger. She needs our help.

"As soon as the signal is given, we take out vehicles doiwn the slope, and break through the main town gates - here. They should be largely undefended."

Even as he finsihed speaking, there was a great roar - of some fierce, wild animal.

"And that," said Benedict, "is our signal."

He looked around at them all.

"Are you with me?"

Blake nodded, loosening his blades in their sheaths. "That is what we're here for," he said, his mouth slighly curved in a wry grin, the previous words seemingly forgotten.

"A masterful distraction," Jenever said to Rowan, "Since I was asking why we would slaughter these people below."

Rowan didn't answer, but rather looked away, toward the town below them.

She looked at Benedict. "To rescue Nora? I've just had the marathon combat of my existence and I've very little left to offer. However, you, ma zahar o'makdi, may have the little that remains."

After a sigh, she added, "I also seem to have two swords if anyone needs a weapon."

Benedict moved to her.

"Keep the one I gave you," he said - and suddenly he smiled. "I can think of no better hands to wield it."

Jenever smiled in return, the weariness melting from her face for an instant. "You'll find I agree with that, but that's for another time."

He took the other blade and tested it with a few passes ... and Jenever saw, for the first time, a glimpse of the measure of Benedict.

Her eyes widened as she realized just how close she must have come to death when they crossed swords before, and then she nodded fractionally.

Rowan looked to Flaubon, eyes tired, his expression almost guilty. His eyes took in Flaubon's injured state with worry. "I gotta go with Benedict. Stay with each other, don't get too far from us." With that he turned and drew Werewindle, moving to a spot near Benedict.

"Good," he said - and then he signalled them to move forward to the vehicles - tough, all-terrain open-topped vehicles, which bumped and shook but got them down the hill in record time. And as they approached the city they saw the signs of a fierce battle raging to one side, with shots being fired, and a great bear, larger than any of them had ever seen, and seemingly inpervious to the shots, roaring as it rampaged into the thick of the fighting.

"Ash," said Benedict. "Nora shouldn't be far."

Just then there was a dull BOOM! from the far side of the city.

"Lynx and Pepin's team," said Benedict, and the tall Gil nodded. "They should be mining under the walls by now ... "

A lot of new names, and most of them meant nothing to Jenever, but the name of Lynx did. Her eyes narrowed. What was that woman doing here?

The vehicles were drawing up at the tall, stern gates of the city. As they jumped out, they heard the clash of swords - and then the gates shivered, shook, and seemed to part slightly. Then there was a shot, and the gates were still.

"Glim," said Benedict. "Come on!"

And he led a charge forward to the gates, pushing them further ajar, and revealing a younger blonde man, his left arm bloody, who was facing a crowd of angry looking men, armed with a variety of improbable weapons.

Rowan followed in the wake of the main group, trying to keep an eye on both Benedict and Flaubon/Onyx. He attacked only those who were obviously armed and attacking either their group or those unarmed he saw. He made the kills quick and clean, as far as was possible with this body and her [Opal's] experience with it.

At least she'd been the one to teach Rowan sword fighting.

S/he kept her eyes for Nora and for whoever might be helping her, careful to hold her strike until she was sure of friend from foe.

There was no sign of Nora - perhaps she was fighting in another part of town. At all events, Benedict, although grim-faced, did not seem unduly troubled by her non-appearance.

Jenever's style in this current battle was not one that any who had seen her fight before would recognize. But then again, she had never fought a full-scale battle at this degree of exhaustion before, and her major goal was to conserve as much energy as possible.

Her movements were economical and quick, and she focused on cutting down the confused, injured or otherwise impaired, and never took on large groups of attackers unless she could get herself in a situation where she and Blake or she and Benedict could flank their targets.

This was fighting at its most intense and dirty - fighting that was ninety percent just a will to continue fighting even though her muscles felt like worn rags and her brain itself was tired... And yet it was also the first time her companions had seen quite what a tactician Jenever could be...

And she was prevailing - despite her function she was easily more than a match for the very best of the fighters who came against her ...

For Blake, it was like coming home. He had always been, to the chagrin of his bodyguard, a commander to lead from the front. His battles did not number as many as Benedict's did, but at his heart, he was a gifted killer, graced with speed, talent, and most of all- precision.

In a press like this, he would have preferred another blade- though his were excellent, they were also meant for one-on-one work. And a shield. But he had neither, so he worked what he had. He wielded his weapons quickly, expertly and mercilessly, with economical strikes. No great heroic hewing, just enough to do the job. His blade darted in, powered by his lean whipcord body, and danced back, leaving a cut here, a cut there. But it was enough as soon enough, even in the press of battle, people began to shy away from the area that he and his companions tilled. Like sheep sensing the wolf at work, their enemies began to sense that death was on the field today, and he wasn't on their side.

As they fell back, a little knot pushed out at one end of the line, not from desire but from desperation and the push of the throng. And they were closest to Onyx who, overly-bold, rushed forward - with Rowan, seeing her danger, hot-foot behind her. He raised his sword arm and ... froze.

Jenever took in the situation in an instant and tried to judge who might be fresh enough to intercede. "Benedict!" she cried, "The boy stands amazed!"

She stripped a knife from the next man she killed and hurled it at the man coming at Onyx.

He went down with the knife in his throat and Onyx ran back to Jenever's side.

"What's happening?" she demanded. "Is he enchanted?"

But Rowan, mad with anger and fear, was fighting Opal - to the rest it seemed that Rowan was seized with a fit that was making him writhe uncontrollably and twist in paroxyms. Flaubon stepped forward to grab him; Benedict signalled to Blake and Jenever. "Advance!" he shouted. "We have to get him into the rear, where we can shield him!"

A scream came from Rowan.

"Let go of me!"

But Flaubon was still feet away.

Jenever advanced, as Benedict had ordered, doing her best to protect the boy while he fought whatever had gotten inside him. "Brand," she muttered as she cut down another attacker.

And suddenly Opal was back in the street, with Rowan panicking, trying to rid himself of an alien presence.

Their enemies were scattering, running back into the city.

"We can't let them get away," said Benedict. "Bring the boy - we'll deal with this later."

Blake stood with Jenever, always at her back, striking with precision, aiding in her defense of the boy. But truly, that part was only incidental, as he was less concerned with Rowan's well-being than the others were.

Jenever looked at Flaubon. "Benedict's right, Flaubon. We've got to go, and he's in no condition to move himself. You mind if I... assist?"

The Neverking's sword remained in her hand, her eyes continued to rake the surroundings, guarding against a return of the threat.

But the townspeople were in retreat - they could move forward into the city.

"You go ahead and mop up the damage," said Flaubon. "Onyx and I will look after my son."

Rowan started slightly, and looked at Flaubon.

"Dad," he said - and then he grinned. "Dad - I'm all right. Well, mostly. I'll explain later."

He hefted his swords easily, dangerously. "Now - why are we killing these people again?"

And then they were advancing into the city.

They were halfway down the main street when they encountered the first of their allies - a group of wild-eyed, naked men, all slightly overweight, and armed with wooden staves.

Jenever flashed Rowan an encouraging smile and moved on. The sight of their allies surprised her - this was certainly not what she had envisioned Benedict's troops to look like, and the situation here - whatever it was - still eluded her grasp. She was aware that this was probably because of the weariness that had crept from her muscles to her brain, and it was beginning to sour her disposition.

As a result, "mopping up" for Jenever became something just a little more brutal than before.

They were forcing their way into the centre of the town now, and the resistance grew stronger.

Yet some of the Gordians were now throwing down their weapons and shouting for mercy - while others were fighting their assailants - particularly the naked men, with desperate ferocity.

Suddenly there was a vast roar, and a huge bear thrust its head and shoulders out of a narrow alley, its muzzle red and dripping.

"Leave it!" shouted Benedict. "he fights with us."

Jenever was somewhat startled by Benedict's admonition about the bear, and then she regarded him for an instant with certain interest, before fighting her way to Benedict's side.

As quietly as she could and still be heard over the din of battle, she said, "Are we accepting surrenders on this day, field commander?"

"They've been rearing their fellows as cattle for slaughter," said Benedict. "Kill them all - as a lesson to the people of the Wastes."

He indicated their wild-eyed naked allies.

"I doubt whether these former victims would permit you to do anything else."

Jenever showed not a hint of reaction to the news of what their enemies had been doing, or about the lack of mercy to be showed. Her eyebrows rose slightly when he suggested that she might need permission from naked former slaves, but she did not have energy left to be offended.

Instead she simply continued the slaughter.

Blake continued to stay close to Jenever. Though he showed no particular pathos for those he slew, he did find it distasteful, though only his expression communicated as much.

As the battle came to an end, they all became aware of two figures coming towards them over the rooftops, armed with rifles.

One was Nora - the other was a woman perhaps five or so months pregnant, dressed in worker's clothes.

Jenever caught sight of them and moved back to stand next to Blake. She'd been indifferent to Nora when they had met before, but Benedict seemed attached to her, so perhaps she was worth a bit more interest. And the pregnant women - one of the slaves?

Nora jerked to a stop in mid stride as the identities of the newer members of the group below registered. She quietly muttered a long stream of blistering French that would surely have gotten her kicked out of church. A free hand pushed back the hair that had worked itself free from her braid and she gave Bessa a tight smile. "The liberation force. May as well get down there and see what the plans are now that you're all free. There's still lots for you all to do, decisions that have to be made."

Nora didn't wait, she started walking again the fire escape. They made their way down to the ground and Nora led her companion to the group. Nora didn't look at anyone else, she walked right to Benedict.

"The women are mostly alright. Several of the men, though, they're too mentally broken by their captivity and treatment. There is a group of other men, the ones used for stud. They were kept separate and I don't know their location. They may be a problem. From all reports they didn't have any problems with the status quo." Despite her matter of fact report of conditions, any one close enough could see Nora's slender frame shaking and she was holding her rifle in a white knuckled grip.

Benedict nodded. "All right," he said. "See if you can find a hall - some large building where we can gather people. We need to stop them sacking and burning the place - this will be their town now, for better or worse. Take someone with you ... "

His eyes swept over the group. "Blake ... "

Jenever was too tired to waste energy on Nora's reactions to them, which might or might not be intentional slights, but she would remember them. For now, they were on the same team, and Benedict was the leader, which made speaking only to him vaguely defensible, although a nod would have shown some respect...

She smoldered in silence, and only someone who knew her very well could guess that her tightening face was not a reaction to Nora's depiction of the slavery they were overturning.

"Jenever," said Benedict, "I need you to take Gil and start a sweep of the side streets. The bear too ... we need to clear out any pockets of resistance. Oh - and if you see a blonde haired boy with the face of an angel, don't kill him. No matter what he's doing. He's the son of the bear and Marguerite.

[Opal finally decided to say something to Rowan, since they weren't in heat of battle at the moment.

~Stay near Nora and her friend. It's important,~ she told her foster son.]

"Who are you to tell me anything?" snarled Rowan - unfortunately aloud.

He turned to Flaubon, furious. "Is this your doing?"

Flaubon was staring at his son in concern. "Rowan ... " he began.

The cat continued to delicately wash her paws.

Jenever nodded. "Very well. Assured I will want a fuller explanation of all this when there's time."

"Of course."

She looked at Gil and the bear. "Come on, gentlemen. Mother's tired, so we're going to do this quick and smooth."

With that she began moving in the direction of the nearest side street.

Jenever might have left with a man and a bear, but she was aware that by the end of the first street she was accompanied by two men - the oldest looking remarkably like her old Nemesis, Julian.

She noted this with interest, but made no comment.

Then, up ahead, she saw a group of men gathered around a younger man. He had fair hair, large blue eyes and, despite the fact he had been beaten bloody, was the most beautiful young man Jenever had ever seen. Ash drew in a sharp breath.

"Glim!"

"Come one step closer," called one of the men who held Glim, "and we kill him!"

And another poked Glim in the ribs with a wickedly long, curved blade.

Jenever smiled slightly. As if she would fall for these childish games.

She held a hand out to her men in a "bide" gesture.

"All right, gentlemen," she said to the captors, "Kill him. Destroy all the leverage you have managed to gain in one clumsy stroke. Do it... and you'll die a slow, excruciating death, so by all means continue."

The young man looked at her, and seemed to read his death in her eyes. And suddenly he kicked out at one of the men who held him, as they stood, staggered by Jenever's words. As the man went down, Glim grabbed his knife and spun in a lightning fast move ...

He was as good as he was beautiful - dangerous and quite, quite ruthless as he fought.

But he needed help.

Jenever darted forward, the Neverking's sword whirling in her hands. Her muscles felt as if they were on fire, but there was no time to consider that now. She aimed a blow at one of Glim's attackers designed to take his head from his shoulders, and kicked out for another's groin at the same time.

The head went spinning from the man's shoulders, the second doubled with a scream of pain the ended in a gurgle as Glim drove a blade between his shoulderblades, while Jenever dispatched a third ...

Ash was beside her, fighting with a ferocity that seemed to belong more to the bear than to the man. And Glim himself was as deadly and dangerous as any man she had ever encountered in black, and what was more he smiled throughout - a terrible, unearthly beauty.

Within a few minutes, all their opponents were dead.

Glim bent to wipe his blade on one of his victim's shirt and smiled up at Jenever. "My thanks, Lady."

Then his eyes widened slightly as he recognised the beauty that went with the fighting skills that had saved him.

Jenever nodded in return, smiling. "Even had Benedict not told me that you were an ally, I could not have allowed such beauty to leave the earth. I am the Empress Jenever."

"And I," said Glim, with a smile that could break a thousand hearts, "am my Empress' most humble servant."

He dropped to one knee and lifted her hand, bloody as it was, to his lips, and smiled up into her face, his eyes so very, very deep blue.

Ash made a sound of disgust.

"We should be finding Benedict and the rest," he said.

Jenever took the time to return the smile and contemplate seeing her naked form reflected in those startlingly blue eyes before she turned to the boy's father and nodded. "We'll take the way we didn't come, in case there are still pockets of resistance to be eradicated."

Ash and Glim both nodded agreement - and they set off - Glim missing no opportunity to stay close to Jenever. Somewhow, he didn't seem to have protection on his mind.

There was little resistance left in the street - and what there was, was easily overcome. Soon they rounded a street corner and saw Lynx and Blake in conversation, together with an ugly-faced man who hovered close to Lynx.

Jenever's first reaction was one of curiosity - battle had driven from her mind for a moment the puzzling fact of Lynx's presence in the Wastes - especially after the death of the woman who looked so much like her in that hotel... how long ago had that been? But here she was.

Jenever strode forward, her tired and blood-spattering face splitting into a classic smile. "Well met," she said. "Well met, indeed, if in a strange venue."

She glanced at the stranger. "I'm Jenever," she said. Then, including everyone outside with a graceful loop of her head, "Shall we go inside and exchange pertinent information? I've some you all need to hear, and some that must be passed on to those not present... And there's much I'd like to hear first."

"Indeed," agreed Lynx.

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