Beginning of the End

by Anniexus

An imagining of what Season 4 could have been like. I'm sure it's nowhere near what the authors desired, but it's my story so I get to have fun :) Enjoy & please review. I've set the rating at T but it might change. I'm not sure what it really should be.

1. Chapter 1

Page 44/41

Title: "Beginning of the End"

Summary: My continuation of 'Heart of Storm'.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Lost World or these characters nor do I make money off this. I just borrow them for my own enjoyment.

Notes: I don't know how far I'll go with this but I really wanted to upload it so here we go…This is the alternate to my more fantasy ending "New World". No connection in the storylines. Creative criticism is always appreciated & if you review, please ensure your settings are set so that I can reply if you'd like answers or a reply. I had some trouble getting back to people about previous stories because their security settings were too high.

XXXXXXX

The world was engulfed for one moment in light and then blackness, the collection of energy having reached its highest point, and then it all stopped. As though the rules of time and space were run by someone holding a stopwatch, all things were frozen in time.

Veronica's cry of shock was stopped before it had really begun. She felt every molecule in her body being pushed and pulled in all directions at once. It wasn't really painful, but it was terribly strange.

Though she could no longer hear wind outside, she began to truly fear it was the end.

"It's all right, my dear. You're almost there," said a familiar man's voice.

Veronica was frozen and unable to move, but she desperately wanted to look around and see who had spoken in her ear. After all, Arthur Summerlee was gone.

"Just relax and it will be over soon."

"Summerlee?" It was more a thought than a verbal question.

"Yes, my dear." His fatherly voice emanated from the very air around her. It sounded distorted, like she was hearing his voice while standing on the bottom of a well. "Just relax and I'll see you soon."

Trying to heed her lost friend's advice, Veronica took a deep breath and blew it out, forcing herself into calm. Her mother's face came to her mind and she felt renewed hope. She relaxed a bit more.

And then it all stopped.

Veronica forced her eyes open, unable to recall closing them, and gasped.

She was inside an enormous, empty room made of marble and gold. The floor and walls were smooth white marble, gold veins running through it here and there. The ceiling was an artwork of crystal panes and gold supports that formed a pyramid around the circular room. Sunlight filtered through the crystal panes, lighting up the whole room so well it was like standing outside.

In wonder, Veronica spun in a circle, soaking in the splendour of crystal and gold.

"It's beautiful," said a familiar voice from behind Veronica, "isn't it?"

"Mother?" Veronica turned to see Abigail, much older than Veronica remembered, but still lovely, standing at the wall with a smile on her face.

Next to her was Arthur Summerlee, his smile just as wide and kind as she had ever remembered it.

Veronica rushed forward and the three embraced, tears in their eyes.

"Congratulations, honey, you're almost there," said Abigail.

"Mother, I don't understand. What's going on?"

"It's a test to see if you're ready to take on the responsibilities of being the Protector of the Plateau."

"You mean all the distortions and the storm are tests?"

"The storm was created to reset the energy of the plateau in preparation for the next step of your journey," said Summerlee, "and whether that happens properly or not will depend greatly on you."

"And the distortions?"

"Those are something else entirely," said Abigail with a frown. "Challenger's machine started small rifts in time, but they were isolated and relatively harmless. Something or someone we don't know harnessed the technology to create more. Whoever is behind it chose this time specifically. These rifts feed off the storm's energy, attracting them and making more grow, but we can worry about that later."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"You already know, my love," said Abigail. "Like most tests, you have to look inside yourself for the answer."

"But I don't understand what that means. I don't know what to do."

"Yes, you do." Abigail placed her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "You just need to pause and listen to the voice in yourself. You learned all you needed here in Avalon."

"I don't remember Avalon, Mother."

"You do, but don't worry. The knowledge of what to do is in your blood. You were born with it."

"Will you help me?"

Shaking her head sadly, Abigail touched Veronica's face. "I'm sorry, but this storm was set in motion thousands of years ago by our ancestors. Good people sacrificed and died so that you could test your strength. I cannot interfere."

"But I -"

"Besides, you don't need me."

"I do," said Veronica, growing desperate. As hard as she was trying, she could think of nothing to save the Plateau. This was beyond her. It felt like a dream, like she was grasping for answers to the biggest questions by looking through fog. "I don't think I'm strong enough."

Abigail laughed. "Aren't you the woman who saved Arthur Summerlee's life by stealing honey from a swarm of enormous bees? Did you not defeat warriors, hunters, warlords, and more raptors than I can count?"

"Somehow I don't think those things are comparable to stopping a weather phenomenon."

"I didn't think I was strong enough to be a Protector either, but trust me when I say you are. You always have been. Just trust yourself and the answer will come."

"But it's a storm. How can I stop something like that?"

Summerlee smiled and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I know this seems unbelievable and that it would seem to contradict everything you've ever been taught, but our world is made of much more than just what we see and what we sense.

"George Challenger would probably have you believe that there is nothing that can explain the world around us but science and logic, and while our world does operate within set rules like physics, science has not advanced enough yet to explain the most powerful aspects of the universe. It's us, Veronica. The power inside one human being is enough to create or destroy worlds. The power is inside everyone, but only a few have the ability to access enough of their potential to do what you and the others will be expected to do."

"I still don't understand."

"Our thoughts become things," said Summerlee with a patient smile. "In this case, your thoughts will have to manifest a means to calm the storm."

"But it's already so strong. By now it must be huge. The Plateau must already be destroyed." And though she couldn't bring herself to say it, it would have destroyed her friends as well. However, Abigail smiled again.

"We are in Avalon, my love, a place apart from the time limits of the universe you know."

"What?" Something tickled in the back of Veronica's mind. She was sure she'd heard those words before or something like them. "You mean Avalon is a different universe?"

"In a way. It's too complex to explain now. Just know that time is not a linear thing. It lives and breathes with us because it is formed by our own perceptions of it and while your time is not unlimited, the world will not disappear in the period you're here."

XXXXXXX

The room was white, blindingly white and sterile. Mordren, a younger, but otherwise identical version of his father, leaned over an enormous machine. He placed a crystal chip inside the lighted circuit board and replaced the covering.

The only other being in the room stood stoic and unmoving next to the machine. He had bits of machinery wired into his shaved head and a perfectly white uniform. Other than those two features there was nothing at all remarkable about the man. Though, if one were to look into his eyes, they might be disturbed by the utter lack of divine spark that is found in all other living creatures. The sight of him was such that anyone would realize having a beating heart doesn't mean you are alive.

Mordren had been in this place, this future New Amazonia for many months now, trying to do what his father had sent him to accomplish and it was finally ready. Of course, he knew his father was dead, killed by their natural enemies, the Protectors, but still their mission lived on.

"I've been stranded here for too long," Mordren said as he moved to the control panel in the corner and began pressing commands.

He might have been talking to the drone, but since the creature had little to no sense, it was more like thinking aloud.

"If my fool father had stayed here and kept the ouroboros safe instead of rushing after that Protector, we might not be so far behind schedule."

The drone, as expected, merely stared into space. Its human ears heard his complaint, but its mind was unable to process the significance of the statement or an answer.

Mordren had been stranded in the future after being dropped off by his father with the use of the ouroboros. Now that he had this machine, he could finally return and complete his purpose.

The computer system was ready. Mordren turned to the drone and nodded. The drone, who had all the appearance of once being a man, handed him a bag and took his place next to Mordren.

As the machine began to thrum, Mordren braced himself for what he would face. The drone simply stood as though made of marble.

In a flash of light, the white room disappeared.

XXXXXXX

"Come on!" Roxton shouted at his attackers. Out of bullets and cornered, he charged them, brandishing his stick much the way he'd seen ape men wield their clubs.

He was a few mere steps from the Conquistadors, so close that he could see the day's growth of stubble. One more step and he swung the branch around, connecting with one head and then another. He didn't stop even when he felt a bullet whiz past his shoulder. They might have had him outgunned, but with their bulky uniforms and the dense forest, he had the advantage in hand-to-hand combat.

One of the men pulled out a knife and came at Roxton from behind, but John's adrenaline-saturated mind heard the sound of metal sliding from leather and he turned in time to duck. The knife missed by millimetres.

As Roxton moved away, he bent and grabbed a rock, the stick still in his other hand. He swung the rock up and back down as the attacker passed and cracked the man on the head.

Another Conquistador aimed a gun at him from behind a log. Roxton lobbed the rock in the man's direction, forcing him to lose aim as the missile just missed him. Roxton took the opportunity then to run for it.

The bushes whipped past John, pulling at his clothing and scraping his arms as he passed, but he didn't dare slow down. The sound of pursuit was not far behind.

Chancing a glance, Roxton saw the Conquistadors putting on a good chase despite their armour. He braced himself to stop and fight again.

He was ready to turn, was raising the stick once more when everything disappeared.

Roxton had run right through another time distortion and into a man. The collision caused John to drop his stick. Caught off guard, Roxton had to take a moment to look around himself before he could get up or speak to the man he had just knocked over.

The walls were white as were the floors and ceilings. More than white, every surface shone with a pristine sterility that it hurt Roxton's eyes to look at anything for too long. And not four feet from where he lay in his dazed state was a table.

"Challenger?" Roxton exclaimed, recognizing the red-haired man strapped down to the white medical table.

"Roxton, look out!" Challenger called. Behind Roxton, the mindless drone, the slave to Technology, had picked up the scalpel he dropped when Roxton knocked him down.

A woman's strangely warbled and disembodied voice spoke. "Destroy him," said the computerized voice.

Without a flicker of emotion, the drone attacked. Roxton, warned by Challenger, rolled out of the way just in time.

Roxton could feel the blade graze his arm as he ducked several times from the merciless attack of the strange man in front of him.

He managed to grab the tree branch again and swung it up. It missed his attacker, but was a wild swing and smashed right into the computer, shattering the front panelling and damaging the circuitry. Sparks flashed. Roxton quickly dropped his weapon and backed away. Unfortunately, this meant he was once again fighting by his own might alone.

It was a lucky thing that his attacker was also momentarily stunned by the computer's destruction. For a moment something of conscious thought flickered behind his empty eyes. Roxton wasn't going to give him the opportunity to recover, though.

Putting as much muscle as he could behind it, Roxton gave the drone a right hook and followed up with a second. The man fell, knocking his head on the floor with a resounding crack. The Roxton used the opportunity to take one of the medical knives and cut Challenger's bonds.

"Thank you for that," said Challenger. He touched his fingers to his forehead, relieved when they came away damp with nothing more than sweat.

"You're welcome. Now," Roxton looked around in wonder, "where the hell are we?"

"We're in the future, in the year 4666, I believe."

"Oh, what makes you say that?" asked Roxton.

Challenger gestured to the broken computer, which remained silent and dark. "That is – or was a machine with artificial intelligence. It informed me of the situation itself."

"Artificial intelligence?" Roxton's tone was disbelieving, but looking around at his strange surroundings, he decided it may not be impossible.

Together, the two men pocketed several medical tools in case they would require weapons. That done, they went over to the drone-like man Roxton had knocked unconscious.

"What are we going to do with him?"

Challenger shrugged. "I suppose we should take him with us. He may be useful helping us navigate out of here if he can be persuaded to."

Roxton nodded. "I don't fancy leaving him here to sound a warning either."

"Well," Challenger looked at the computer again, "I suspect that reinforcements may already be on the way. That sentient technology rules this world. It probably sounded an alarm as soon as you appeared."

Roxton's eyes widened a bit at what that would mean. There was no way they could fight and win.

Together, they woke their captive up and hauled him out of the room.

The hallway they entered was much like the room they had left. White and sterile, the corridor curved so they couldn't see the end. Roxton allowed Challenger to choose a direction.

Their captive remained silent, permitting Challenger and Roxton to herd him along without complaint.

They crept along, trying to keep their footfalls from echoing. Though the slope was too gentle for either of them to feel it, their path not only curved but it went downhill as well.

"Do you think we can find a time distortion to take us back?"

Challenger shook his head. "I doubt it. That machine said it was responsible for the distortions. It wanted to bring me here so it could keep the future from changing."

"Why? How does it think you're going to change the future?"

"I suspect I already have, we all have," said Challenger, thinking fast to put the pieces together. "We took Finn back from the future and with the knowledge she's provided, we know to keep an eye out for Zoth, that any attempt to make a substitute for food will end in disaster, that sometime in the future there will be a devastating war and radiation poisoning." Challenger snapped his fingers.

"That machine said it took over after humans destroyed themselves," said Challenger. "I'm willing to bet it meant Zoth's reign. Finn did say he caused the destruction of civilization. What if us knowing about him in advance will change things? If Zoth never takes over, then humanity will survive and Technology won't become the ruling race. Humanity can grow and learn and maybe be better than the savages Finn described."

"I'll leave all that for you to figure out. Right now, I just want to get home."

"Yes," Challenger picked up the pace. "We should look for something that resembles my own machine. If we're lucky it may be in the same building. I suspect Technology never expected help to arrive so we could undo its work."

"You think they got the idea for all this from your notes, don't you?"

"I think it's a good possibility." They continued down the curving hallway for a few more minutes.

"Are there no doors in the future?" Roxton asked, exasperated at their apparent lack of progress. He looked around for something that was less obvious. Perhaps the doors were concealed or in their rush, they simply weren't seeing them. "How is anyone supposed to get in and out of this place?"

"There must be a reason for this configuration," said Challenger.

XXXXXXX

"How did we get inside this place?" Veronica asked as she surveyed the golden room. Silently, she marvelled at the magnificence of it, and the impossibility that both she, Summerlee and Abigail had gotten inside when there were no doors or opening windows.

Abigail smiled. "Arthur was actually the brains behind that."

"More like the guinea pig," said Summerlee with a bit of a blush.

"Don't be so modest. Without your input and work, Veronica would have had to be brought to Avalon long before now."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," said Veronica. She looked to her mother. "I've dreamed for so many years about seeing you again. Why wouldn't I want to come here?"

"Because you'll have to go back and bringing you here only to have to send you home would have been cruel."

"Then," Veronica gestured around herself, "what is this? I am here and you're right; I don't want to go back. I've spent so long looking for you. You can't expect me to go back so soon, not after all I've been through to find you."

"I'm sorry, love, but it's the way it has to be. You still have things to do on the Plateau, which is why we left you there."

"So, I'm not really here?" Veronica resisted the urge to reach out and touch the walls. They looked strong enough and her mother and Arthur had felt solid when she embraced them. As much as she tried to, she just couldn't believe that what surrounded her was anything but real.

"No, no," said Abigail, reaching out to her daughter. Their hands clasped, enforcing her words. "Everything here is real and solid and you're really experiencing it, but only your mind is here. Your body is still on the Plateau, in the tree house. As I said, Arthur was the one who put it all together. Think of it as a dream made solid."

XXXXXXX

She was sitting on a gravel road, a car speeding up to her, close to running her down.

At the last moment, Finn dove to the side and took off running. She ran until she entered a stone and glass city she knew as well as Veronica knew the jungle or Challenger knew his lab.

The car pulled up behind Finn and herded her down a street, the men inside the car hollering all the time. They were more animals than men, just as she remembered.

Another figure appeared on Finn's right from an alley. Too late she noticed her danger. The man blindsided her, knocking them both to the ground.

In less than a second, one of the slavers from the vehicle had jumped out and together they managed to tie Finn's hands and feet. She struggled, but the bonds were tight. A blunt instrument to the head and her world went into painful darkness.

XXXXXXX

"Are you the one stopping the others from leaving the Plateau?" The idea had popped into her head without warning and once she said it, she was sure it was true.

"Why do you ask that?" Abigail's voice was calm and even, but the tightening around her eyes betrayed her guilt.

Summerlee looked at Abigail, his own expression looking shamed as well.

"You are!" said Veronica, looking between Summerlee and her mother. Her surprise mingled with gratitude that she would never mention to anyone. After all, if not for the explorer's failed attempts to leave she would be alone once again.

"Every time they try to leave, something unusual - even unusual for the Plateau - happens to stop them and if the Protectors are the ones creating these scenarios - these tests," she corrected with a bit of disgust as she thought of the lives lost during their trials, "then it must be the Protectors stopping them from leaving."

Abigail nodded. "It isn't time for them to leave, not yet."

"So, all our problems, all those people," she said, thinking of the Tinta, a village of orphaned children, her childhood love for Danu, and numerous other people who had lost their lives on the Plateau, "they died because you wanted to keep Roxton, Challenger, Marguerite and Ned here."

"No," said Arthur. "You must remember that we aren't the only players in this game."

"Mordren."

Abigail nodded with a dark frown. "Sometimes. He cares little about the lives of others or for the balances he is disturbing. I believe Lord Roxton met his friend Osric. Of course, people will be people and accidents do happen. Not every loss has been a result of our war."

"I must admit," said Summerlee, "My own return to Avalon was unplanned. I had intended to stay with you until this was all over, but it seems my fate had other things in store for me."

"We have tried to keep the casualties to a minimum. We are the Protectors after all."

Summerlee smiled at Abigail. "I do think Death enjoyed herself a little too much teasing Roxton."

"But why?" Veronica pushed. "Why keep them here?"

Abigail sighed. "Because we brought them here for a reason."

Veronica looked at Summerlee as well. "You too?"

Summerlee nodded. "I admit, despite my protests that live dinosaurs and the like couldn't possibly exist, I knew the Plateau was here all along. I'm afraid that the charade was necessary in order to drive the expedition on and put the Protector's plans into action. Challenger could always be depended on to be more stubborn and ambitious with someone questioning his theories."

"You could give Marguerite a run for her money in the acting department," said Veronica dryly, uncertain if she was mad or not about the deception.

"Yes, poor Marguerite." Summerlee smiled sadly and though Veronica had no idea what warranted such an expression, she had other things to ask about.

"But why did you bring them here?"

"For a reason I can't explain to you just yet lest it cloud your judgement. Please, just believe that it's for the best."

"But," Veronica thought hard, trying to work out everything, "you didn't lead them to the Plateau. Challenger found Maple White..." Veronica trailed off as her eyes widened, putting things together. "It wasn't coincidence. Xan's symbol in the journal..."

"We told Xan about the Plateau and the Ourorboros," she said with a nod. "When he had gathered enough power and money, he sent Maple White to find the other half. From there all the pieces fell into place. Challenger was in the area and came across Maple White before he died. When he returned to England, his discoveries led to the Challenger Expedition coming here."

Her explanation, she was well aware, left out a lot of details, including how the Protectors had ensured everyone would be at the right time and place and why they had not been told outright about the Plateau, but to tell that would be giving away too much.

"But why? You're going to have to tell me more than that. I can't face them knowing my mother is the one stopping them from returning home... not without some sort of explanation. I owe them more than that. I deserve more than that."

XXXXXXX

The burly Druid raised the dagger, both hands on the hilt.

"Roxton, where are you?" Marguerite cried. Only the chanting of the priests answered her.

The priest with the blade smiled as he plunged it down towards her heart, her scream piercing the still air.

Like the last time she and Roxton were trapped in a cave, she felt Death's hands reaching closer for her than she ever had before. Her terrified heart thumped so hard one would have thought it was trying to save itself by escaping her breast.

The blade was five inches from Marguerite's flesh when a gunshot rang out, diverting it slightly from its original course.

The priest cried out and collapsed on top of the altar in pain as the bullet caught the side of his mid-section.

One hand automatically clutched at the wound and the other hand gripped the handle of the blade harder, convulsively.

The falling blade still landed on Marguerite as the priest fell on the stone slab with her. Thanks to her shuffling quickly to the side, it glanced off her rib cage. It left a long graze that would require attention, but not be fatal unless infection set in.

She looked over to the doorway, the only place a rescuer could have come from and saw both a strange and relieving vision.

Roxton stood at the door, holding an outdated handgun, much like she had seen in the hands of the conquistadors. His clothes too were outdated and much like the Spanish explorers. The only difference being that he was dressed much more simply, as though in his need to escape he had removed some of the more cumbersome layers in favour of just trousers, shoes, his weapons, and a shirt.

"Everyone back away from the lady," said Roxton in a commanding tone. It was John's voice and yet it wasn't. It held the same qualities, but held more authority and coolly detached composure, like a man used to commanding his enemies to step down, to surrender. His accent was also more prominent, a touch of a foreign, rough seafaring lilt.

As he took a step closer, Marguerite noticed that his hair was a fair bit longer than her John Roxton usually kept it. It was then that Marguerite realized why Roxton was dressed so differently and lacked his usual weaponry.

This had to be Lord John Roxton's ancestor, Captain Roxton.

When the druids didn't immediately release her, Captain Roxton raised his gun again, though Marguerite knew it would have only had one shot. The druids backed off, their leader still clasping his hand to his bleeding side and cursing up a storm in his own language.

The dagger slid from the leader's hand.

As soon as her limbs were free, Marguerite jumped up.

On a whim, she snatched up the dagger her attacker had dropped and ran to Roxton and the door. Just as his descendant might have, Captain Roxton ushered Marguerite out of the cave, his hand at the base of her spine. She could hear the leader of the druids shouting orders for the men to follow her as soon as the gun was out of sight.

"Come on," Roxton urged. He grabbed her hand and led her into the forest.

"Where are we going?" Marguerite asked between laboured breaths. She had already run a great deal in the past few hours and there was a stich flaring up in her side. She hoped this Roxton knew a safe place.

"If we can get to the river I travelled up, we can retrieve my skiff and return to my ship."

"Your ship? You mean you actually brought a ship to the Plateau?"

"What plateau? I thought this was Eleuthera Island."

Marguerite yanked her hand out of Captain Roxton's grasp. In the back of her mind some old geography lesson came back to her and she noted that Eleuthera Island was within the Bermuda Triangle.

"Come on," he said, reaching for her hand, but she pulled away.

"I can't. I have to find... my friends." She had hesitated, about to say she needed to find Roxton, which would have only been awkward.

"We can't -" Captain Roxton's words were cut off as the air around Marguerite shimmered. Once the distortion was gone, so too was Marguerite.

Disappointed and surprised, Captain Roxton looked around, but the woman was completely gone.

A new shimmer of light caught his attention and he stared in wonder as the light grew, opening what looked like a rift in mid-air.

XXXXXXX

"I'm not allowed to tell you anything," said Abigail and as Veronica's shoulders slumped, Abigail hurt to know she was disappointing the daughter she loved more than anything.

Veronica turned her head, not wanting her mother to see the conflicting emotions the negative answer caused.

"But..." Abigail hesitated and glanced at Summerlee. "But if you must have something you can tell your friends then you may tell them their presence will be needed in Avalon shortly. They will be asked to perform certain duties which by rules beyond my controlling I cannot disclose just yet, but they may know that many things they have experienced have been tests to ensure that when they come to Avalon, they will be ready."

"Why them? There are plenty of people on the Plateau to choose from. Why did the Protectors -" she looked to Summerlee, "- why did you choose to lead them here?"

"Because this is their destiny. It is who they are and what they are meant to do. No one else will suffice. No one else can do what they can do."

XXXXXXX

Finn ran through the crumbling city, the remains of her broken bonds still dangling from her wrists, the slavers hot on her trail. It was useless. They had vehicles and she had only her own two legs. While that was usually enough, she was tired and still feeling the effects of the bump to her head.

The swaying leaves of the jungle loomed before her and she took a chance, hoping that the terrain would be too rough for the vehicles.

She leapt over a fallen log and ducked under branches, thankful that in the future she would at least not have to look out for dinosaurs or apemen along with the slavers.

Heavy breathing and the snapping of underbrush alerted Finn to the presence of a man following close behind. She didn't dare look back, but judged that he was no more than three or four metres away.

The roar of an engine to her right dashed her hopes of avoiding the slaver's vehicles. It ran parallel to her, unable to get too close as she dodged and wove between trees and over rocks.

There was a large tree surrounded by extremely dense foliage that she recognized off on her left and she altered her course to get to it and the cliff that she knew lay behind it. The man's steps fell back a little as he overshot the spot where she had turned.

Air rushed into Finn's lungs with her deep breathes. It burned as did the muscles in her legs, but she didn't dare slow. Adrenaline and her knowledge of what happened to slaves pushed her forward. If she could get to the cliff and climb up, she may be able to outrun the slavers.

The tree, the marker for the cliff's steep face was within spitting distance when something wrapped around Finn's legs. The net tangled her feet and she fell to the ground, crashing through the bushes and over the rough ground. Her shoulder popped. The pain of the dislocation flooded her senses through the rushing adrenaline.

"Here, tie her up properly this time," said one of the slavers from the jeep. He tossed a rope to one of his companions on the ground who promptly tied Finn's hands. She hissed as he roughly jostled her dislocated shoulder, but could do nothing as they hauled her up and into the jeep to be taken back to camp.

XXXXXXX

Marguerite wandered through the jungle in what she believed was the general direction of the tree house, hoping for some sign as to where and when she had been transported. If her guess was correct, it would be a week-long walk home at least.

Luckily, so far all she'd come across were a few slow ape men. She had hidden beneath a fallen log as the hunting party passed, their clubs red with the blood of their successful hunt. A small dinosaur was carried between them.

A bit of movement to her left had Marguerite quickly backing up in preparation to run. She had no gun, just the Druid's knife hidden in her boot.

Flashes of brown, black and white dashed through the trees and the sound of a horse's hooves reached her ears. Marguerite just managed to pull the Druid's knife from its hiding spot and hide it up her sleeve when the horse and rider became visible through the trees.

"Marguerite! Well, it is nice to see you again." Francois Locke, once known as Olmec, was just as Marguerite had remembered, right down to the cheerful, slightly arrogant smile. He pulled his horse to a stop a good distance from her, but dismounted and came closer once he saw that she was unarmed.

"Locke, how have you been?" Marguerite attempted to sound as formal and unconcerned as possible, rather difficult when facing a trickster god without any decent weapons. Absently she wondered again what time she was in. This Locke knew her and yet by his continued distance also knew she didn't trust him. Had she stumbled into a future where Locke returned to the Plateau?

Locke spread his arms in a grand gesture to show her his good health. "Please, call me Francois. We are acquaintances, are we not? I've been just fine, as you can see." His dark eyes roved over her, settling on the left side of her rib cage where a red stain had spread. "However, I've seen you looking better. What happened?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," she said and turned partly away from him - though still keeping the trickster within sight - to continue her walk home. Before she had taken more than two steps, Locke was at her side, his hand at her arm.

"You don't need to fear me, Marguerite. Let me help you."

"Help me?" She smiled, but it held no humour. "And just how would you propose to do that? Are you going to try to drown me again?" Locke's lips twitched at her angry tone. "Because murder doesn't exactly fit into my definition of 'help'," she said and yanked her arm out of his grip.

"I never tried to murder you, Marguerite," said Locke with a Cheshire smile. "I did and still do want to make you immortal."

"You just wanted to steal -" she started angrily, her temper rising to the surface despite the danger of angering such a man, but Locke interrupted.

"And to show some of my good intentions, I'll take you back to your tree house so you can get the treatment," his eyes flickered to her blood-stained blouse, "you need." He stood back and gestured to his horse, indicating Marguerite should precede him.

Marguerite thought for a split second about jumping on his horse and galloping away, but then remembered what had happened the last time she tried it. It was a dilemma. She desperately wanted to get back to the tree house as soon as possible, but she knew all too well that Locke could not be trusted. An old lesson sprung to mind and the impulse to follow it was too strong to ignore. That which could not be trusted must be understood.

"Why are you here?" Marguerite asked. Locke's smile faltered the tiniest bit and she knew without a doubt that she had to get as far away from him as possible.

"It must be fate," he said, smile back in place. "I was visiting the Plateau, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and here you are."

"Of all the times and all the places for a trickster god who can travel through time and space to end up, you come galloping right to my feet." Her eyes narrowed even as her body grew still, tensing for a fight. The knife slipped from her sleeve to her waiting palm. "How convenient."

Locke's smile was more a grimace now, but he made no move for her. "All right, I admit it. I was looking for you and I stumbled across this." He gestured around himself. "I must admit, these time distortions are intriguing. Even I can't travel between time periods with such ease as whoever is creating these... rifts."

The loud croaking of a parrot in the trees drew Locke's gaze and not wanting to wait around, Marguerite took flight once more, running through the forest as fast as she could. From behind her Locke's voice shouted, sounding oddly more concerned than angry.

"Marguerite, come back!" Locke ran after the fleeing woman. With his longer, stronger immortal legs he would easily catch her.

A time distortion appeared up ahead and Marguerite took her chance. She veered towards it, hoping for somewhere safer, somewhere Locke couldn't follow.

XXXXXXX

Veronica paced alone in the empty marble room. Her mother and Summerlee had disappeared just as mysteriously as Veronica had appeared. They had been gone what seemed like hours. Despite the assurances Abigail gave, the answer eluded Veronica and she once again grew anxious with her lack of progress.

If only there was an enemy to defeat or a task to perform she would feel better, more confident. This grasping at riddles she didn't understand was more frustrating than anything she'd ever encountered.

She gave a shout of frustration and hit the wall, but that only served to make her hand throb. So much for this place being a dream, she thought. She rubbed the abused flesh absently, thinking how Ned would have chastised her for lashing out like that.

She almost smiled thinking of how Roxton would have told her to calm down and think. Marguerite... Veronica could just imagine what that woman would say and she was suddenly glad to be alone in her predicament. While the others would have been supportive, there was no doubt in Veronica's mind that Marguerite would have been the exact opposite.

She could just hear Marguerite's irritated tones telling Veronica to get on with it, that she should do what Abigail said and just fix it. Come to think of it, thought Veronica with a smile, Finn might have said the same thing. Those two were eerily similar in some ways, including how they dealt with their impatience.

Veronica stopped pacing, a thought just occurring to her. Perhaps she was trying too hard to look for a course of action. Just as Roxton had once taught Veronica to stop and listen to her intuition when searching for a way to save Summerlee from the bee sting, Abigail had told her to pause. Perhaps she had meant that.

"Okay, I guess there's not much else to do." After a short debate, Veronica chose to sit in the centre of the room. She crossed her legs and after a brief look up at the impressive pyramidal ceiling, closed her eyes, concentrating on trying to relax. Starting on calming her erratic breathing, Veronica focussed on steady breaths. Pretty soon, she felt her shoulders loosen and her spine lost some tension. It was easier than she expected.

As she continued to breathe in and out, an image of an enormous storm came to her mind's eye. Like a fly on the wall, Veronica could see the swirling clouds encompass the whole Plateau and spread out to the entire world. Oceans washed over the land and whole chunks of continents were ripped up into the cyclone. Not giving any thought to what she was doing, Veronica gave herself over to the vision and her feelings.

There were pricks of light all over the world and she sensed an energy coming from them, still frozen in time. She bent her attention on one of these lights and was surprised to see a group of people inside a ring of large standing stones. They had their eyes closed as they chanted, their voices drowned out by the winds. She sought another of the lights and a single woman appeared, sitting on her living room floor, legs crossed and eyes closed as she sang.

They were Protectors, lending their energy to help reset the power of the Plateau and the world just as Arthur had said.

Knowing she wasn't alone in this made Veronica smile and the burden easier to bear.

There were darker spots as well, family to Mordren, but they too were aiding in the adjustment so Veronica paid them no heed.

There would be a time - like an omniscient observer in a dream she knew how it would be - to confront the line of Mordren, to reassess and shift the balance of power between them, but not now.

Entranced by her task, she focussed on the eye of the storm. Her sight zeroed in on the very centre, falling on the tree house and then the markings her mother had left for her as a child. There, despite all logic, stood Veronica herself. Her eyes were closed and she stood as still as a statue despite the surrounding storm. Her gaze returned to the storm.

She could feel the energy of the storm around her and infusing her own being.

Time started again and when the blinding light had burnt out, there was nothing but blackness. Earth wasn't really gone, just absorbed for an instant into every particle, every cell and atom making up the rest of the universe. For the briefest of moments everything was part of everything, the stars themselves turning blank.

Like a drop of water returning to the atmosphere to be cleaned and reformed, everything returned to a state of perfect unity and synchronicity. The climax of centuries of built up and growing chaos finally over, the universe returned to itself, the undercurrents of energy once more flowing as they should be.

There was a falling sensation and then blackness. Veronica heard a low voice chanting words she didn't understand and felt a cold wind against her skin, but couldn't see anything or move, not that she tried. Caught in the moment, she listened intently to the mysterious voice. It took her a minute or two to realize it was her own. She tried to understand the words, almost could, and then, like a dream slipping through her slowly waking mind, the knowledge left her.

Veronica blinked a few times, amazed to find herself back in the tree house.

XXXXXXX

Marguerite wandered the deserted city of the future without really knowing where she was going. The wound in her side had opened and begun bleeding several times with her exertions. It throbbed and ached with every step and she was sure infection was setting in.

All she could do was keep walking and survive until she stumbled into a time distortion that would send her home. He only consolation for the moment was that there didn't appear to be anyone else around. Without a gun or any other weapon besides the dagger hidden in her boot, she would be helpless against slavers or anything else.

In the distance she could hear the roar of an engine. Immediately wary, Marguerite stopped and listened, but the vehicle was a good distance away. The engine cut off, returning the deserted city to its unnatural silence.

Though she knew it was foolish and that she should remain as far away from the slavers as possible, old habits die hard. Curiosity and the old instinct to always keep tabs on her enemies drew Marguerite closer to where the engine had last been heard.

XXXXXXX

Challenger and Roxton finally reached a door. It would have been impossible for them to miss as it blocked their path. The only problem… there was no handle, just a keypad on the wall.

Their captive remained impassive and silent as though nothing at all were happening.

Roxton tried to pry the door open with one of the larger knives he'd lifted from the medical lab, but couldn't wedge it in far enough to get leverage. He stepped back and eyed the robotic man.

"Open it," he ordered. To both his and Challenger's surprise, the man complied. The door slid open easily.

Roxton and Challenger exchanged surprised looks.

"Perhaps in the absence of the computer to give orders, he'll do as we ask."

"Yes," said Roxton, unconvinced, "or maybe he's just trying to lure us into a trap." He took a quick peek inside, but didn't see anything of immediate danger. "I'll go first. Stay close."

Challenger nodded. "Good luck."

Slowly, and looking around himself as he went, Roxton entered a vast room that made him more confused with the more he took in.

The entire room was crowded with equipment he'd never seen before. Roxton turned to Challenger, hoping for an explanation, but the scientist seemed as befuddled as he was.

When they were about halfway through the room, Challenger let out a gasp. Roxton turned to see Challenger examining a huge piece of equipment. It was about the same size as the tree house. Though Roxton was no scientist, the device looked somehow familiar.

"What is that?"

Challenger shook his head, muttering to himself as he ran his hands over the enormous device. Their captive stood silently by, watching without any glimmer of intelligence to suggest he understood what was going on.

"Challenger," Roxton called louder. "What is it?"

"I think," said Challenger with some hesitation, "this is how we were brought here." He ran his hand over a panel and pulled it off, revealing a complex circuitry that he'd never seen before. It was composed of crystals, clear plastics, and copper lines to allow the flow of electricity. "I think this is my transportation device."

"But it's huge!"

Challenger nodded. "And infinitely more complex, and what's worse... I don't have a clue how to operate it."

XXXXXXX

Finn sat alone in her prison, a construction of strong saplings and rope large enough for twelve or so people. She propped her back against the thick wooden bars and tried to ignore the men outside the cage as well as the throbbing of her dislocated shoulder. She couldn't fix it herself and the slavers had decided to leave her injured to ensure at least some complacency.

Twelve in all, the slavers had made this secluded part of the deserted city their base camp for this particular hunt. At the moment, they sat around a large fire in the middle of their camp, eating rations. They were loudly and crudely talking.

A few times one or two of them would look over at Finn, their eyes greedy in the flickering light and she had to suppress a shudder of revulsion.

"Pigs," Finn muttered. She turned her gaze away from them in case it provoked them and looked into the darkness.

For the shortest of seconds, she thought she saw a pale, familiar face peek out from behind a crumbling pillar.

She blinked and the face was gone. None of the slavers appeared to have seen it, so Finn assumed it had either been a trick of the light or she was going crazy.

It was late into the night by the time the slavers settled down. They didn't bother posting a sentry as no one in their right mind would attack a slaver's camp. Besides, these hardened thieves and rapists were the dominant species in New Amazonia. What could attack them?

Finn's own head had just begun to dip with exhaustion when she spotted the pale face again, visible only because the white skin was illuminated by the bright moon. This time, the face appeared out from the other side of the compound. It disappeared as quickly as it had come and Finn had just decided it was her imagination when she caught a glimpse of movement in the forest behind her.

Marguerite raised a finger to her lips as Finn drew a breath as though to call her name. She smiled to herself. Certainly, if she were Finn, she'd be just as shocked if their places were reversed.

Without preamble, she took out the Druid's dagger from its hiding place in her boot and used it to cut through the recycled ropes used to hold the bars of Finn's prison together. It took a bit of work, but eventually two bars were cut loose enough for Finn to wriggle out.

The two women ran into the night, holding each other's hand so that they wouldn't get separated. They ran until exhaustion forced them to stop and Finn's knowledge of the area led them to a safe place for the night. Marguerite popped Finn's shoulder back into place, a bit of medical knowledge Finn was surprised that Marguerite knew, but was too tired to ask about. Together they curled up in a nook on the edges of the abandoned city and waited out the rest of the night.

XXXXXXX

Finn woke first, practically jolting awake at the unfamiliar feel of a warm body at her back. After a quick glance, her pounding heart began to calm. She was relieved, if not still a bit surprised, to find it was only Marguerite who was snuggled into her back. And that was the only word for it. As though she needed the security of another's presence as much as the warmth from it, Marguerite had rolled over in the night and pressed her face and curled hands as close as she could into Finn's back.

Despite the strangeness of their situation and the mysterious, often challenging nature of her company, Finn was touched by the feeling of being needed and a bit frightened by it. What if they were stuck in New Amazonia? How would they live? She had survived on her own before, but only just.

In a world where the land had been practically sterilized, able only to produce twisted vines and gnarly trees, there was no way one or even two people could either gather or grow enough food to survive. It required a group. She also seriously doubted Marguerite would do well in their situation. Though she had been told before that Marguerite was a survivor, she had yet to see it for herself. Besides, she suspected that Marguerite's talents for survival depended on the presence of others: a rich old man to suckle gold from, the kindness or naivety of strangers, or the steadfastness of her more recent companions.

They needed to get moving if they were going to avoid the slavers. Finn prodded Marguerite.

"What is it?" Marguerite groaned.

"We need to move," said Finn, automatically falling into survivor mode. "We don't want to get caught by the slavers again." Once again, Finn was surprised.

Marguerite stood, albeit a bit stiffly, without another word and allowed Finn to lead her deeper into the deserted city.

XXXXXXX

Roxton leaned against one of the strange machines and watched Challenger work. Outside the only door, they could hear the attempts of others to enter the sealed room. The silent man who had almost cut out Challenger's brain had been persuaded to lock the door behind them and now stood next to Challenger, helping him figure out the workings of the enormous machine.

Roxton had grown nervous when the banging and hum of machinery began, indicating that someone was trying to get into the room. However, it soon became apparent that the door and walls were too thick to be penetrated even by the people who made them.

"Any progress?" Roxton asked as he shifted for the twentieth time.

Challenger's answer was distracted, his attention completely on his work. "On a basic level it's not that different from my own invention. Just the materials and power source are different, things I've never seen or imagined. And I can't make heads or tails of the wiring."

"Can you make it work?"

"Well, almost certainly... with time."

"Sorry, but even with these thick walls I don't think we have unlimited time."

"Don't worry, Roxton, with the help of our friend here," he nodded to the silent man, "I think we may be able to go home in a few hours."

"And what do you propose we do about those time distortions? How are we going to make sure they don't do this again?"

Challenger paused. "I don't know. It's possible there's no way to control the distortions, which would explain why there were so many of them when they only wanted me." He thought about it for a moment. "I guess that also means it won't ever work well enough to get us off the Plateau."

"Or maybe this isn't what caused them," said Roxton, but Challenger was already shaking his head.

"No, this is the source. I'm sure of it." He moved another crystal chip in the circuitry to where his silent helper indicated.

"Maybe they were a distraction then or a side effect."

"I just hope that destroying the machine will stop the distortions. Although it is a pity," Challenger said with a sigh and fond look at the technology around him. "All these scientific wonders... all that effort for nothing. Just think what we could do with no limitations on our abilities. Instant travel through time and space and who knows what else? Amazing." There was definite longing in Challenger's voice now. Roxton couldn't blame him. They were standing in a room full of the objects and discoveries that Challenger had longed to build and test his whole life.

"Challenger, what about the others?" asked Roxton, a problem with their plan springing to mind.

"What about the others?" Another circuit fell into place.

"I was separated from Marguerite and God knows where Veronica and Finn are." Roxton didn't bother pointing out that everyone on the Plateau may have been sent to other times and places. Where were the Zanga, or the Amazons, the ape men or the head hunters? Were all of them jumbled into different times and places as well? An image of raptors running loose in London came to him and he shuddered. "Will this return them to where they're supposed to be?"

Challenger paused. "I don't know." He turned to the silent, robotic man beside him. "Is there a way to ensure everyone and everything is returned to their proper place in time and stop the distortions?"

Their silent captive nodded.

"Please show me."

XXXXXXX

Veronica stood just inside the perimeter of the electric fence, watching the forest. All looked calm. The storm was over, but she was wary. Something out there was making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and she didn't dare step outside the fence.

She leaned over and picked up a large rock.

She chucked it as far as she could over the fence and into the forest and just as she had suspected, the rock disappeared into a distortion. About a dozen throws later and Veronica had to conclude that she was trapped within the protective space created by her parents.

Whatever she had done to calm the storm had not stopped the time distortions and as hard as she had tried, she didn't have the power to do anything about them.

"I'm sorry," she said to the quiet jungle. "You're on your own for now."

XXXXXXX

It was well past noon when Finn gave in to a quiet plea from Marguerite for a rest. They found a crumbling building and sat just inside the doorway, able to see out and yet remain hidden.

Finn divided her attention between keeping watch on the crumbling city and the woman beside her. She wasn't able to help it. Finn was undeniably curious about what had happened to Marguerite to make her suddenly so quiet and obliging. Though they had walked all day without rest or food, Marguerite hadn't said more than a few words and not one of them a complaint. Even her request to sit for a minute had been more a broken plea and though Finn had asked, all Marguerite said was that she and Roxton were separated while fighting off a group of irate conquistadors.

"Marguerite, I don't mean to pry, but what the hell happened to you? I don't think I've ever seen you so... down."

Marguerite looked up. "What?" She hadn't been paying attention.

"What happened after you and Roxton were separated? You seem different. Is everything okay?"

But Marguerite just gave a false smile that even Finn could see through. "It's been a rough few days. I'm fine." She summoned up a bit of humour and looked down at herself in disgust. "And I could really use a bath."

"Marguerite -"

"I said I'm fine," she snapped and turned further to the side, allowing Finn to only see the right side of her profile.

Finn didn't get mad despite Marguerite's harsh tone. She knew all too well the effects stress had on people. "Marguerite, in case you haven't noticed, we're in a pretty dangerous place and the only way we're going to survive is if we work together. That means we need to trust each other."

"Really, Finn, it was just a difficult day."

Finn scrutinized Marguerite for a long moment and allowed the subject to drop. She wasn't entirely satisfied, but would accept the answer. "Okay." She looked up at the sky, judging the time. "We should get going if we want to reach a shelter by dark."

"I take it," said Marguerite with a forced smile, "that we would like that very much."

Finn nodded with a smile of her own. "Without a doubt."

Marguerite made to rise, but before she had even gotten her feet settled, a growing roar assaulted their ears.

"Slavers," Finn said, grabbing Marguerite's hand. Together they sprinted through the building to hide, hoping the men hadn't heard or seen them.

XXXXXXX

"There," said Challenger with a hesitant smile.

Despite his helper's silent assurances, Challenger had some doubts as to whether it would work or not. There was little in text books or even Challenger's own experiences to confirm how this would work out. After all, his own machine had been a brief experience in failure - and on a much smaller scale - which he had given up on as soon as he, Roxton, Marguerite and Finn returned from the future.

The strange assistant handed Challenger a small device and at Challenger's questioning glance, spoke for the first time. His voice was monotone and gravelly with disuse.

"You will be transported to your original time machine. Press this," he indicated a small button on the top, "to set the explosive and leave the cave."

With a nod, Challenger flicked a switch and stood, backing away to stand next to Roxton. They watched as a series of lights flickered, indicating a count down. Challenger clutched the explosive.

"Well," said Challenger, "if this doesn't work, I can't think of a better friend to die with."

Despite himself, Roxton's lips twitched. "Same here."

The sound of tools working on the door punctuated their need to escape.

Even before the countdown had finished, Roxton and Challenger began to feel something. Unlike their jumps through the distortions, this felt like a cold breeze surrounded them. It pushed at their bodies. Whereas before it was as though they had slipped easily through an opening in time, like jumping into water, this was like being forced through a solid wall.

XXXXXXX

The men were angry, shouting and throwing rocks at Marguerite and Finn as they fled the pursuing vehicles through the jungle. The rocks were aimed at the women's legs and backs in an attempt to make them stumble.

Finn ran as fast as she could. Her lungs were on fire and her legs were shaky. The steady rhythm of boots hitting the ground next to her were all the proof she needed that Marguerite was following.

As the shouting and shriek of the vehicles grew louder, Finn knew they had to do something fast if they were going to escape.

"This way," Finn shouted as she corrected their direction, leading them further away from the abandoned city. She spared a glance beside her to confirm that Marguerite was following and forced her body to cooperate. It wasn't much further now.

They burst through thick jungle foliage and emerged at the lip of a steep cliff. Finn ran right to it and slid to a stop at the very edge. Immediately, she dropped to her knees and turned around, preparing to climb down. Marguerite didn't follow.

"Hurry up or they'll catch us."

Marguerite looked around, her eyes wild. "Isn't there another way?"

"Not unless you want to jump." Finn gestured to the river far below that had carved out the cliff over the years. "I don't think it's deep enough for you to survive a fall from this height though. Once we get to the riverbed we can follow it up and away from the slaver's usual territory."

Sighing, Marguerite likewise lowered herself over the edge. Her arms trembled with effort and fear as she looked from the river below to the approaching trucks that were making their way towards them. Despite the rough terrain and hindering trees, the trucks were getting steadily closer.

The climb was hard and it was long. Their only consolation was that the slavers seemed to have moved on, not eager to brave the effort of climbing down the cliff after their elusive prey.

When they were about halfway down, Marguerite paused and looked around. She knew it was a dangerous move when pressed against a rock wall, but couldn't help it. Something felt off.

She felt... cold. There was no other description for it, like she was being squeezed by cold air. Every instinct told her it was wrong.

A little below her, Finn also halted. Confused and a little concerned, she was about to ask why Marguerite wasn't moving. She barely opened her mouth when she too felt the odd squeeze.

The unusual sensation increased and though she had no conscious recollection of letting go, Finn felt herself falling backwards into the chasm below. Her vision swam and someone screamed. She didn't realize it was her.

She and Marguerite reached out and grabbed at each other's hands, but they were too far apart. Marguerite was leaning over as far as she possibly could. It wasn't far enough to reach Finn.

With a gasp, Finn automatically tried to grab onto something, anything to stop herself from falling.

XXXXXXX

Challenger steadied himself as his feet shifted from the smooth surface of the enormous laboratory to uneven rock. He was in a cave, one he recognized all too well. The walls were coated in a crystalline compound that amplified energy and standing near the entrance - or where the entrance would be if it weren't blocked by a shimmering wall of light - was his invention.

He could almost feel the currents of energy bouncing off one crystal structure and then another. It made the hair stand up on his body. Challenger looked closer at the light at the entrance and realized it wasn't actually shimmering.

The scenes outside were shifting every second, giving the illusion of an ethereal atmosphere. He peered out, but could see nothing definite. Everything changed too fast.

With a sigh, Challenger took the explosive the man from the future had given him and placed it at the base of his machine. He pressed the button as instructed and watched the device light up. Then, taking his chances, he stepped out of the cave and into the unknown.

XXXXXXX

Finn's fingernails dug into her own hand, grasping at empty air. She opened it, almost as surprised to not see Marguerite's hand or figure beside her as she was to see the familiar main room of the tree house.

"Finn!" A squeal of delighted surprise preceded Finn unexpectedly being enclosed in a massive embrace by Veronica.

They had only begun to ask each other what happened when another familiar voice rose up from the forest floor below the tree house.

"Finn?" called Challenger. "Veronica?"

Both women ran to the outside landing and peered over. There, smiling in great relief and much-deserved pride, stood Challenger.

"Send down the elevator would you?"

XXXXXXX

The pressure increased. John forced his eyes to stay open, wanting to be ready for anything when he returned to his proper place in time. They began to water a bit as the room dissolved and the green of foliage began to appear.

As the solid, but softer ground of a jungle floor formed beneath his feet, a great flash of light and shimmering air blinded him. Automatically, he closed his eyes and flinched away from the vision. Nothing seemed to happen besides the light diminishing after half a second.

John Roxton's eyes opened and focussed on the jungle. It was where he and Marguerite had first been separated from their proper time. He looked around, but couldn't see either her or any sign of the Conquistadors.

Confused, John searched the vicinity for Marguerite, but there was no indication she had been there after they first disappeared. Wondering if she somehow made it back sooner than him, he took a last look around and hurried back to the tree house.

He made it back home in almost no time at all, running the whole way. He paused outside the electric fence to catch his breath and steady his nerves.

Inexplicably, his instincts shrieked at him that Marguerite would not be inside and if she was not in the tree house... Roxton knew all too well the dangers of the jungle. He didn't even allow himself to contemplate the dangers of other times or places.

His hands practically shook as he opened the fence. She's fine, he thought to himself. Marguerite is safe and in the tree house, he thought. As soon as you go up you'll see just how silly you're being.

XXXXXXX

Marguerite blinked a few times, unsteadied by the sudden change of scenery.

Everything had changed from the unfamiliar landscape of New Amazonia to what appeared to be shaping out as the jungle she knew better, and then to this. Birds called overhead as they soared with a warm breeze that lifted the sand and gentle waves into a fine mist. Marguerite tasted the salt in the air and knew she stood on the edge of the only salty body of water on the whole Plateau.

"The Inland Sea," she said in surprise. A man's voice behind her caused real shock and a thread of fear.

"Yes, I thought it would be a good place for us to talk," said Locke. He smiled at the way Marguerite backed away from him, her pulse throbbing in her jugular. A bit of fear was always a good thing to instil in people, in his opinion, but not in this woman. If she feared him, then his ambitions would fail as miserably as they did the last time.

"What do you want?" She didn't bother asking him how he managed to get her to the Inland Sea because she could guess. There was no doubt in her mind that whatever had separated her and Finn had something - maybe everything - to do with Locke. Marguerite took another step back.

Her feet met the edge of the water and she knew this was why Locke had chosen this place; she was trapped. He could have rushed at her, overpowered her easily despite the Druid's dagger, which she could still feel in her boot, and yet Locke kept his distance from her, even held up his hands to indicate he was no threat. The action confused Marguerite more than it reassured her.

"I want you to consider something," said Locke in answer to her question.

"Oh, and what is that?"

Locke smiled, at once amused and attracted to the imperious tone and body language she managed to pull off even when so decidedly without advantage. "I want you to consider me."

"Pardon?"

"I watched you long before you ever saw me, before I saved you from those cannibals when we first met. I know you think you love this Lord Roxton of yours and maybe you do," he said before she could interrupt indignantly. "But you can't be sure he loves you, can you?"

"He saved my life more times than I can count even when I deserved to be left for dead. If that's not love, then I don't know what is. Besides, you don't have a chance. Not that I think you're actually interested in me the way you say you are."

"But I am," he assured her. "I've lived many long years without once meeting my equal until I met you. Most women give in to their tender side, give up what they really want because it's what others expect of them, but not you. You never do what others expect you to. You pick and choose which instincts and which desires to act on. We are the same, just opposite sides of one coin." He chanced a step closer. "You pursue your desires, no one else's. I admire that and it's something I can help you with."

"I think you've built me up to be much more than I am and as for your help, I neither need it nor want it."

Locke laughed and stepped closer, pleased that she didn't flee or shy away, not that she had anywhere to go but to the water. "No. As I said, I've watched you. I know what I'm talking about."

"You didn't come here just to flatter me," Marguerite said, her tone icy. "What do you want, really?"

Locke ignored her tone. "I've also watched your Lord Roxton from a distance and I've grown concerned. I think he's going to leave you."

Marguerite scoffed.

"I'm serious, Marguerite. I've seen it hundreds of times and I know you've seen it yourself. Men like Lord Roxton aren't ever what they say they are. You know that."

"Oh, and you are?" Marguerite said, resisting the urge to flinch at his last comment. Locke ignored her.

"Men like Roxton are thrilled by the pursuit of their desires only to the point where their prey is either obtained or deemed a lost cause. Once their objective has been reached, they turn their back and seek other entertainment. I think you know this," he said and was rewarded by a silence that spoke more than any words she could have.

"Even if you do manage to hold his attention for a little longer, do you really think he or anyone else is going to consider you worthy of him? He's a man of status and great birth. Though I know the preciousness of spirit, we both know society doesn't value your virtues."

Marguerite had nothing to say to that. After all, she had only too much proof that her skills were valuable, but rarely valued.

"You may not have seen it because you didn't want to, but Lord Roxton has already started to look for new pleasures."

"You're lying." Marguerite searched her memory for any instance where it seemed John had wavered. She came up with nothing, but she had been fooled before and though it had happened years ago, the sting was still painful.

Locke shook his head sadly. "I'm not. Right now his interests are focussed on hunting and adventure, but if a new woman crosses his path, then I fear you'll have to take a back seat. I'm afraid the qualities you possess aren't properly appreciated by mortal men."

The trickster god took a deep breath and Marguerite knew he was coming to the main point of his speech.

"His loss of interest is coming and when that happens, please, consider my previous offer and join me as my companion."

Reaching to a bundle at his feet she hadn't noticed before, he handed her the weapons she'd dropped when grabbed by the Druids. She took them in astonishment. Grateful and feeling less vulnerable with the familiar weight of her holster and gun around her waist, she suddenly wondered about her assumptions.

"Unlike Lord Roxton, my interests are eternal until the day I die. I can promise you forever."

XXXXXXX

"Roxton, please calm down," said Veronica. Roxton was a fury, grabbing rifle and pistols and stuffing a pack full of emergency supplies in such a rush that she wondered how he didn't break anything. "I'm sure she's fine."

Finn echoed her sentiment, though both women as well as Challenger were grabbing their own supplies in a less hurried manner. They were tired and stressed, desiring a rest almost more than anything. "Marguerite can take care of herself."

Roxton didn't slow down at the women's reassurances. "I know she can take care of herself, but Challenger said we'd all be sent back to where we were before and we all were, but not her. What if something went wrong and she's wandering out there by herself, hurt and without any weapons?"

He finished stuffing a length of rope into his pack and rushed to the elevator, the others right behind him, exhausted, but loyal to their friend enough to search for her in spite of it.

"We should split up - cover more ground," said Finn.

Veronica nodded. "Finn, why don't you go with Challenger to the northwest and I'll go with Roxton to the southeast."

Finn, and Challenger agreed. Roxton barely got out a stiff nod.

As soon as the elevator was down, Roxton was jogging for the gate. He had just barely entered the tree line when a female voice halted him in his tracks.

"Where is everyone going?"

They all whirled around. Off to their right Marguerite emerged from the foliage, looking windblown and a little worse for wear. There were a few bits of twigs and leaves in her hair and more than one smear of dirt streaked her usually impeccably clean face. More than that, her eyes and expression were dulled from fatigue.

"Marguerite!" Everyone crowded around. Once everyone had managed to embrace her - much to Marguerite's surprise - Roxton asked where she had been.

"The Inland Sea," she said. "I was with Finn on the cliff and I felt like I was falling and then I was on the beach."

"What?" said Challenger. "You should have returned to where you and Roxton first left this time line."

Marguerite shrugged. She was too tired and simply relieved to be back to think up a proper lie for them. So instead, she settled for feigning ignorance, which wasn't difficult to do since she had no idea how she had escaped from New Amazonia, and just enjoyed the happy reunion.

XXXXXXX

That night, after everyone was clean, fed, and watered, the group sat around the main room. Finn sat opposite Challenger and Veronica, all with their feet up on the coffee table, exhausted and enjoying the time to relax. Roxton and Marguerite sat close to each other on the couch, much closer than they usually would be in public and though no one said anything, everyone noticed when Marguerite's hand slowly crept up to hold John's.

"And then I stepped inside and I felt energy all around," said Veronica, waving to the centre of the room where the markings were still exposed, the carpet rolled into a corner. Challenger and Roxton had already shared their story with the group.

"Fascinating," said Challenger for about the millionth time since Veronica and Finn had started their explanations.

"When Vee stepped inside," said Finn, "this bright, yellow light surrounded the tree house and then I don't know what happened. I sort of fell... into New Amazonia."

Four sets of eyes turned to Veronica. "The pendant – I don't really know what or how it happened, but I visited Avalon."

Marguerite, who up to this point had been uncharacteristically quiet, looked up in interest. "You saw your mother," she said, happiness for her friend sweeping through her.

Veronica smiled and Marguerite returned it. "Yes. Summerlee too."

"What?" John and Challenger said at the same time, leaning forward.

"Summerlee is in Avalon. He helped arrange things so that I could go there without actually going there."

"What do you mean?" asked Roxton.

"They said my body was still in the tree house, but my mind was in Avalon. Apparently the storm was a sort of test for me, to see if I was strong enough to stop it. It sounds crazy -"

Challenger shook his head. "I don't think we can discount much of anything on this Plateau."

"There's something else you should know," she said, dreading the next part. She looked into the eyes of the three Europeans who had spent so long trying to escape the Plateau, the Lost World, as Malone had once dubbed it.

"What is it, my dear?" said Challenger encouragingly.

"It's not a coincidence you are all here or that you haven't been able to find a way home yet." Veronica hesitated, watching their reactions. Marguerite seemed to turn to a statue, her large eyes fixed like needles on Veronica. Challenger and Roxton each raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Finn merely looked confused and curious.

"If it's not a coincidence, then what is it?" said Roxton. He still held Marguerite's hand, but as he leaned closer she gently pulled away and sat back, waiting for whatever news was making Veronica so edgy. Roxton was too preoccupied with his own curiosity to notice Marguerite's reaction.

"Summerlee – the Protectors need you, all of you for something. I don't know what for yet, but my mother assured me it's something important and that it's coming soon. Apparently you will be asked to do something to help them, but they wouldn't tell me what. To ensure you would be around and able to help them, they arranged some of the situations we've gone through as well as prevented you from finding a way off the Plateau."

"And Summerlee?" asked Marguerite, her tone cold enough to freeze a volcano.

"He knew." She watched her words sink in. Marguerite seemed to be the only one to grasp her meaning right away, her eyes narrowing to slits. Veronica looked at the two men. "He knew before you even left London that the Plateau was real and what was here. He's been helping the Protectors all along."

Challenger scoffed. "Arthur Summerlee? Impossible."

Veronica shook her head. "He admitted it himself. He said it was a farce to spur on the expedition."

Marguerite, having accepted Veronica's tale faster and easier than the others, merely nodded. "I wonder," she said, "what they have in store for us next then."

XXXXXXX

She was the first to excuse herself for bed and he followed discreetly. He slid into the hallway after her so quietly that the others didn't realize he'd left.

He found Marguerite in her bedroom, her back to him as she straightened her bed sheets unnecessarily; they cleaned everything up directly after they returned. His boot creaked as he entered the room, but she must have known he was following because she didn't so much as pause at the sound.

"So, what really happened after you disappeared?"

"Doubting my explanation, John? That's not very gentlemanly of you."

He grinned and waggled his brows at her. "Who ever said I was a gentleman?" Marguerite laughed.

"I told you, I found Finn." She placed a trunk she had initially packed for their journey home further to the side so she could move around more freely. Their essential items had been brought back to the tree house from the damaged balloon, their plans to leave once again thwarted as the end of the mysterious storm had brought with it a shift in the Plateau's winds.

"No, what happened before that? I know there's something you're not telling us." He thought perhaps she could see he wouldn't let it go until he got something. It was the only explanation he could come up with to explain the lack of argument before she answered. A flicker of a smile touched Marguerite's face that might have been called mischievous.

"Well, let's just say that your lineage hasn't changed that much over the years, though your manners have definitely deteriorated."

Roxton's brow crinkled in confusion.

Marguerite's smile widened as she placed a swift, teasing kiss on his chin. His arms automatically wrapped around her waist, holding her there.

"I met that infamous buccaneer ancestor of yours."

"You did?" There was something John hadn't expected. He smirked. "And did he have a stick for a leg?"

She laughed. "No."

"I bet he was as taken with you as I am."

Marguerite nodded, kissing him again at the corner of his mouth. Her distraction from her real trial was working more easily than she expected. "Of course he was. What isn't to like? He even wanted to take me with him on his ship."

Surprise mixed with amusement. Briefly, he wondered if she had seriously considered it. "Did he now? And what did he offer you to go with him, jewels, gold?"

"We didn't get that far."

"Is that why you didn't go?" His eyes twinkled with his teasing, but not as much as Marguerite's, though every other expression suggested she told the truth.

"No, not really." Her expression became completely serious. "We were kissing and -"

"He kissed you?" The humour was abruptly gone from Roxton's expression. The image of Marguerite being kissed by someone other than him revolved in his head. He tried to shake the image, but it kept returning along with the thought that there was indeed a great deal of time not accounted for in Marguerite's story.

"Um-hmm. He was very charming and handsome. Now I know where you get it. You should be flattered, John. Your skills are almost as good as his. I do love familial resemblances."

Roxton's face grew steadily redder. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound escaped. An image of Marguerite in another man's arms - willing or not - continued to revolve in his mind, spurring his jealousy.

Marguerite continued as though she had no idea the affect her tall tale was having on him.

"But then we got to his ship and he took me to his bedroom and the next morning I realized that I couldn't stay because then I'd be your great, great, great grandmother and that would just be awkward for all parties involved. Besides, it would be too embarrassing to claim a rogue like you as my descendant." She finished with a nonchalant wave of her hand, happy to note that Roxton was calming down now that he could tell she was joking. His deathly grip on the back of her shirt eased as he read the naughty light in her eyes.

"I'll have you know no one else has complained about my charms before."

"Then I shudder to think what sort of people you spent time with."

Roxton smiled. "That was cruel."

"I thought it was funny. Really, John, you should learn to laugh at yourself a little. You'll live longer." She reached up to kiss him. Though he scowled a bit, he was never one to turn down an offered kiss and once her lips were on his she seduced until there was no trace of tension left in his larger frame. She smiled up at him. "Better?"

Roxton smiled. "Yes." His smile widened as Marguerite turned away, thinking she had effectively distracted him from his original purpose. "Marguerite?"

"Hmm?" She had begun absently putting away some clothing from one of her trunks.

"What happened that you don't want to tell us about?" Her hands paused for a second, just long enough for John to notice.

"Don't you ever give up?"

"No, I'm probably just as stubbornly single minded as you are. So?"

"Nothing."

"The more you try to keep it from me, the more I'll worry about it."

"Please," she sighed. "John, I just don't want to discuss it."

"And I think you need to. I talked to Finn. Whatever happened has been on your mind since we were separated." He risked her temper, half expecting her to swat at him, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Please, tell me."

Marguerite, exhausted and strained from her ordeal, felt her mood grow prickly as Roxton pressed her for information. She worked very hard to resist the initial urge to shout or slap his hand away. It was a close thing, but she managed to keep her temper in check by reminding herself that Roxton didn't mean any harm and that it would be just one more thing to apologise for if she blew up at him.

"Please," John coaxed, encouraged when she only sighed instead of throwing a fit. He slid his fingers down her arm to hold her hand. It was softer than his, though still a bit calloused from the hard work required on the Plateau. Again he braved the possibility of being hurt and raised her hand to his lips for a feathery kiss. "Please, trust me."

"You know I trust you." Charmed, her hot head cooled a bit with his obvious care. Marguerite couldn't help a tiny smile, but she still wasn't ready to talk.

"But not enough to tell me what happened." It was dejected.

"John, I don't want to fight and I do trust you, but I really don't want to discuss it and that's that." She once again turned her back on him to unpack. It was a vain hope that he would allow the subject to die.

"If you trust me, then why won't you tell me?" His hands found her shoulders and turned her around. He held her gaze. "Should I be worried? Maybe you really did spend the night with my ancestor. How will I ever be able to compete with a 16th century buccaneer?" He tried to lighten her mood and was pleased with a chuckle for his efforts.

"There's no competition, John," she said. She meant it and he could tell. Her thumb traced circles on his waist. It was pleasantly distracting.

"No?" It was good to know.

"Not even close. Though he did look just like you."

"Really?"

Marguerite nodded. "If he had your hat, I would have believed he was you."

"Hmm, poor chap." They both chuckled, but Roxton grew serious again. "Please?"

Her eyes refusing to meet his, Marguerite shook her head.

"Please? It hurts me to see you so upset with no idea how to make it right."

"You can't make it right, Roxton. What's done is done and we all survived. That's all that matters."

Roxton grew still and tense, his mind working through her words and drawing up a hundred scenarios, none good.

"Someone hurt you, didn't they?" His hands tightened around her and his voice was more commanding, rough with barely contained anger as his imagination and overtaxed spirits fed him the worst scenarios possible, the only reasons he could think of to make Marguerite's fiery spirit so despondent.

Alarmed by the sudden intensity in John's voice and expression and guessing his assumption, Marguerite hurried to assure him. "Nothing like that, John, I promise. I... I just had a bit of a scare. It was nothing."

Roxton scanned her face and then moved away, unable to look into her wide, concerned eyes when his own emotions were so turbulent.

His sight fell on the dirty, torn shirt she'd been wearing during their little adventure. It lay on a chair next to her dresser, stained red with blood and covered in dirt. A scare. A big scare.

Following his instincts, he moved away from Marguerite and picked up the shirt. She moved to snatch it away from him, her expression alarmed, but Roxton used his height and greater weight to keep it out of her reach while examining it.

"A scare? You call this a bit of a scare? Why didn't you tell anyone?" His voice trembled with renewed anger as he examined the fabric.

He was able to fit his whole hand through the tear and upon closer inspection, he grew more concerned by the amount of dried blood and wondered how no one noticed it before. Then again, he thought wryly, no one could cover things up like Marguerite. He suspected she had manoeuvred her body so that no one would have seen the seriousness of the damage.

"John, it's not as bad as it looks. It was just a tiny cut." She tried to calm Roxton down, placing her hands on his tense arms, but his muscles tightened more.

"Just a cut that you won't talk about."

"It's nothing. Really, John, you're making this into more than it is."

He hesitated then continued with an air of command he had learned from his father and grandfather. It was something he had never used on Marguerite, fearing it would only lead to his murder, but he was willing to try anything now so great was his disturbance and his determination.

"You tell me what happened right now or I'll have a look at that 'tiny cut' of yours myself."

Just as Roxton had expected them to, Marguerite's eyes narrowed. He was thankful she didn't have a gun within reach.

"You wouldn't dare," she said coldly. Unfortunately for her, he would.

Roxton reached for her shirt. He only managed to yank one side of her blouse out from her pants before she leapt away with a yelp.

"Lord Roxton!" she said, her eyes wide.

It was obvious she hadn't expected him to actually try anything, but he wasn't going to let this go and he was going to make her realize that. He did count himself lucky that she hadn't slapped him... yet. His jaw still ached every time he remembered her reaction to finding herself practically naked after their night in the Countess's possessed castle. That her temper was holding was a great testament to the trust she already had for him, trust he was now testing.

"Tell me what happened or I'll get everyone down here to hold you while I or Challenger examine that." He pointed imperiously at her left side, which she now held protectively away from his reach, one hand pressed down in an attempt to dull the flare of pain that accompanied her sudden move to escape him. "And then you'll have to explain it to them as well, not just me."

It was a long moment before either spoke again. They just stood, staring at each other. There was a burning determination in his gaze as he watched her shock turn to angry stubbornness and then to panic when he moved for the door, drawing a great breath as he went.

"All right, all right." She grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the door.

"You have to tell me everything," he warned her. "If I get so much as a fib, I'm calling the others down."

Her lips pressed into a tight line, but she eventually forced out, "Fine." She marched over to her bed and sat facing away from the door, away from him.

Roxton smiled to himself and casually made his way around to stand in front of her again. His foot rested on the base of her bed as he leaned slightly over her. He knew he was pushing his luck, but he was going to take every advantage he could just to show her he meant business.

She glared at his leg, mere centimetres away from her and Roxton wondered if he were anyone else, would he already be missing that limb?

Though she was loath to reveal the confusing details of her time away from the others, Marguerite recounted her tale with faithful attention to the truth and left little to nothing out besides her meeting Locke. That incident did not need to be spoken of ever again as far as she cared and since that wasn't what caused her injury, she wasn't really leaving enough out to give herself away. Locke was gone and she didn't intend to think of him ever again.

At first she was hesitant and tense, unsure how Roxton would react to her unusual story, but he remained calm, practically impassive besides the occasional glimmers of emotion in his eyes. It made it much easier for Marguerite to simply focus on the story and forget the fear that had practically overcome her in the cave when she believed she was going to die.

By the time she was done, the tightness in her chest eased a bit and she was even grateful when Roxton sat beside her. She leaned into his side and took the moment to enjoy the feel of his arm around her. He was unusually quiet, turning what she had told him over and over in his head.

"You're sure it's not serious?" John asked, his hand reaching as though to touch her ribs where the knife had fallen. His fingers didn't quite touch her, but she could feel the warmth from them just the same through the still painful throbbing.

"I cleaned the wound out when we got back and bandaged it. It's not as bad as it looks," she said again. She understood where his concern came from. Without any medical supplies Marguerite had run around the jungle for a good while with an untreated wound, which opened and flowed every time she exerted herself. Infection had indeed set in, but she was lucky and happy to note that once it was cleaned, the injury would heal and the infection disappear soon enough.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you," John said, his voice strained. "I should have been... I should have been there."

"John, stop it." Marguerite gripped his arm tightly, knowing that if this was how he reacted to her near miss with the Druids, then she would never utter a word about her brief meeting with Locke. "I knew I shouldn't have told you."

"No, I'm glad you did." It was only a partial lie. On one hand, he wished he had remained ignorant of how close the woman he loved had come to death, how close he came to losing her forever to fate. On the other hand, he was glad to know the source of her distraction.

"Then don't feel like that. You couldn't have done anything different. Besides, I'm fine. Your ancestor, peg-legged pirate or not, saved my life and everything's fine now." Her eyes held his, willing him to listen. "You can't always be there and you're not my nanny. I don't want you to feel guilty." John opened his mouth, but she placed her fingers over his lips. "Ever."

Though his expression was still too pinched for Marguerite's liking, she was gratified when he nodded. He leaned down, placing a kiss on her forehead and she dropped her head to rest on his shoulder.

XXXXXXX

Mordren waited in the darkness with some of his newest servants. The underground cavern he used as a base of operations was lit with candles that illuminated the room and gleamed off the long wooden table.

As leader, Mordren sat at the head of the table. Directly on his right was an empty seat, to his left a woman with dark, curly hair. Down past the woman were several men, mostly uncouth and rough in various types of clothing. On the other side were two men and a woman, each dressed in jungle ware, each wiry and fierce.

At the end of the table, as far away from the humans as possible was a small creature barely four feet tall. It was bald with greyish skin and large ears. It sat in its chair like a monkey would, its sharp eyes and even sharper teeth glinting at the wary humans.

The humans - Mordren the only exception - didn't trust the ruler of the Underlings, a race of goblin-like creatures the likes of which haunted children's nightmares. Likewise, the creature didn't trust the humans. It was in his nature to perturb them.

They all waited in silence, no one brave enough to look up at Mordren. He looked down the table at each of them, his hands clasped before him. Each person at the table was important to his purpose. Most had started by serving his father. The creature at the end was the only one who had personally been in the war since its beginning. Underlings possessed immortality so long as they were not killed by an accident or violence.

The woman on his left worked for Mordren's line since birth as had her parents before her and was one he anticipated being his most useful weapon in the coming months... assuming his first plan didn't work. Her grey eyes flickered to him. The fine English silks she liked to wear were perfect and colourful. Some jewels glittered in her ears and around her hands. She smelled of the finest perfumes. Like her daughter, she enjoyed the finer things in life. It was only one of many commonalities Mordren hoped would be of advantage to him.

As some of the men grew impatient and began shifting, the man they'd been waiting for, Francois Locke strode into the room, a smug grin in place. His eyes roved over the other people with some contempt. He smirked at the goblin ruler, who hissed.

"Give me good news," said Mordren. Though Locke's confident stance as he took his seat at Mordren's right hand was encouraging, he knew better than to trust completely to his minions. Locke was particularly difficult to control.

"The seed of doubt has been planted. With a little creativity and a push I think she can be separated from the group within a few months."

"We do not have a few months. We must move quickly if we are to sway the Chosen One in time. I want to leave no room for error."

Locke dipped his head. "She is suspicious by nature and her bond with Lord Roxton," the name was ground out with distaste, "and her other friends is strong. It can't be broken in a day, but I will succeed."

"You will," said Mordren with a nod, "but you will take help with you if she is so difficult. That same suspicion can be used against her. Danielle will see to that."

Locke grimaced. Danielle, down the table with the lower-ranking associates, mirrored Locke's distaste with being paired with the trickster being. "I don't need her pathetic witchcraft. I am more than capable of handling this on my own."

"You may be... with time, but I do not have time and I will not leave things to chance. Danielle will help provide the 'push', as you put it."

Locke frowned, but knew better than to argue in this.

"I also have a new player at your disposal should breaking the Chosen One from the group prove more challenging," continued Mordren. He nodded and one of the men at the end of the table rose to summon someone from an adjoining cavern.

Boots thunked on the rock as the newcomer appeared and Locke inhaled sharply as the man's features were illuminated by the candles.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Mordren with a smile, "I'd like you to meet Captain Roxton."

Roxton looked around, unsettled by the various unsavoury characters. Joining forces with such people was not his first choice, but considering his situation, he had no other options.

"Incredible." Locke grinned. "The resemblance is unbelievable." He was right. Roxton's ancestor was almost identical to his descendant.

"With him and Danielle I expect the job to be done within the month. Am I understood?" Mordren looked pointedly at Locke.

Locke nodded. "Yes, Lord Mordren."

"And the key?" asked the woman on Mordren's left. The diamonds in her ears glinted in the candlelight as she turned her gaze from Locke to Mordren. "Has the descendant of Merlin discovered that yet?"

"I believe so."

"Then it should also be of high priority to us."

"Are you offering to retrieve it?" Mordren asked with a smile.

"If that is your wish," said the woman with a proud lift of her chin.

"As my father before me, I admire your spirit, but I'd prefer to keep you close and safe for now." He looked to the goblin lord. "Which is why I have other alliances of equal value."

The goblin grinned at the compliment and dipped his head. His voice was like a mix of a snake's hiss and growl of a cat. "The will of Lord Mordren is the will of the Underlings."

"Good. Then bring me the key and ensure as many of the Protector's cohorts die as possible."

The End