CHAPTER THREE -- "UNSPOKEN CONNECTIONS"
"Woah... You guys have *gotta* check this out..."
At the sound of Jubilee's hushed voice, Gambit paused in mid-step, turning cautiously to see what the girl had found so surprising. It only took a moment to see what it was that had struck the impressionable teenager as so worthy of their attention; he was not entirely able to suppress his awe at the breathtaking sight of four completely separate suns rising slowly and gracefully over the mountain peaks that lined the distant horizon. Stunned by the alien splendour of this quadrupled sunrise, Gambit turned to face Sheila, who walked beside him. "Is Gambit seeing this, Chere?" he asked. "There really be four suns up there?"
"Sure," she said. "It's pretty impressive when you first see it, but it gets old really fast."
Having been trekking almost non-stop for nearly two hours, the awesome fourfold beauty offered a welcome excuse to take a short break from the exhausting--and thus far, fruitless--journey, and as Gambit sat on the dusty ground, he found himself completely unable to tear his eyes away from the searing flames of the sky, even as he became aware of Jubilee and Storm's hushed murmurs as they too beheld the glorious splendour that bathed the wavering horizon in a deep crimson glow.
"By the Goddess," Storm whispered; as Gambit glanced up at the sound of her choked voice, he observed that the staggering beauty of the unnatural sunrise had moved her almost to the point of tears. "This is truly wondrous."
"Yeah," said Hank with a faintly shy smile. "Pretty amazing, huh? That colour is so pure...there are times when you'd swear the sky was on fire. It's one of the few really good things this world has to offer." He sighed very softly, and Gambit could see the deep regret in the handsome boy's blue eyes.
Shaking his head slightly, the Cajun returned his attention to Sheila, who had sat down beside him, one arm around her brother; the boy was struggling rather ineffectually against her well-intentioned protectiveness, and Gambit couldn't keep the grin off his face as he watched their sibling interaction with undisguised amusement. "So, Chere," he said after a moment, offering her one of his most charming smiles. "You come from a world without mutants? Without X-Men?"
"Oh, there are X-Men in our world," she said, returning his smile with one of her own, and Remy was momentarily struck by the beauty in her face, a beauty that rivalled even the stunning sunrise. "But they're comic-book characters. Why do you think Eric found it so hard to get over your presence here?" A soft, endearing giggle escaped her lips. "You'd think that after all the crazy stuff we've been through in this weird world, he'd learn to expect the impossible by now, but I guess for someone like Eric that's just too much to ask..." As the words left her lip, her eyes darkened for the briefest of moments, and Gambit felt an easy grin lifting his features; it seemed that the immediate contempt he and the other mutants had shared upon first meeting the mouthy Cavalier was not limited to the X-Men alone.
Pulling a small playing card from his jacket, Gambit twirled it lazily between his fingers, winking casually at Sheila as he twisted his wrist and sent it sailing through the air, watching it explode a few feet away. "Gambit can understand that," he said softly. "Reckon it must be kind of difficult, coming face-to-face with real-life super-heroes." He grinned, flexing his muscles in an attempt to play up to her super-hero expectations, although he knew that the words were spoken more as an effort to diffuse the tension in the girl's face as she thought of her loud-mouthed friend.
"Cool..." Bobby whispered, staring in awestruck disbelief at the point from which the playing card had vanished; Gambit smirked at the little boy with tasteful modesty. "Wow! Do that again!"
"Bobby," his sister admonished gently. "Don't annoy Mr. Gambit."
Chuckling, Gambit took her hand. "That's all right, Chere," he said. "Gambit don't mind." Reaching once again into his jacket, he drew out another card, and repeated his previous action, much to Bobby's delight. "And it be just plain Gambit, no 'Mister'. But you can call me Remy. That what my friends call me... and we be friends, right?"
"Uhm, sure..." she said with a shy smile.
He nodded and kissed her hand, bowing courteously as he climbed to his feet. "Well then, Chere," he said, moving to help her up, "shall we continue our journey? Gambit just dyin' ta meet this dragon of yours."
Blushing a little as he released her hand, Sheila turned to face Hank, who was still watching the dwindling remains of the sunrise with Storm. "Well, Hank?" she murmured in a low voice, as if afraid to break the perfection of the sunrise-induced silence. "Should we get going again now?"
Flinching a little, as if jolted out of some deep contemplation, the Ranger nodded. "Uhm, yeah. Good idea. We've still got a long way to go before we've covered even half of Tiamat's usual hiding places. Might as well get going again before it's too late." He glanced briefly at Storm, as if asking for her opinion on his decision, then, in lieu of any response, nodded to himself and moved to call Jubilee, who was playfully kicking at a loose rock, idly watching it bounce away.
"So, which way now, Monsieur?" Gambit asked as they began moving once again, draping one arm across the young Thief's shoulders.
Shrugging, the Ranger shook his head. "I'm not sure. Tiamat usually hides in dark places. Underground caves, tunnels, caverns, you know. So we're heading up into those mountains--" and he pointed towards the red-streaked horizon line "--because if she's to be found, that's the kind of place she'd be." He paused, then coughed self-consciously. "Unless she's already after Venger."
In response to this last, Sheila shook her head emphatically. "No way!" she cried with certainty. "Come on, Hank, she may be a dragon, but she's not totally stupid. She would never start something against him unless he did something to really make her mad. She's more likely to be biding her time, waiting for him to drop his guard or get stupid and pick a fight with her... you know, like she usually does."
They continued walking in relative silence; Gambit smiled to himself as he strolled along beside Sheila, content to simply enjoy her sweet company and the picturesque beauty of the craggy valley that surrounded them on all sides as it was bathed in a deep crimson glow. He watched with a faint smile as Hank walked stoically beside Storm; occasionally, the Ranger would glance across at her, and his eyes were filled with a sense of awe, and the desperate need to be appreciated and respected. Knowing Storm's personality as he did, Remy shook his head; given time, Hank would certainly earn her respect--his dedication and devotion would ensure that--but there was very little chance of the awestruck boy achieving anything else.
Turning to glance briefly towards Jubilee, Gambit noticed that she too was developing something of a rapport with one of the strange children, Sheila's little brother Bobby. Rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully, Remy supposed that this was fairly inevitable; the two youngest members of the group certainly had that factor at least in common, and it seemed that as well as that similarity, they also shared a juvenile tendency towards the dangerous and unpredictable. He could tell from the cocky grins on their youthful faces as they wandered a little way ahead of Hank and the others, that they were developing something of a deep friendship, one that they would not allow to be tainted by the desperate urgency of the situation.
Gambit yawned; it felt rather strange to be walking through a jagged valley countless miles away from his home, watching a glorious multiple sunrise, only a few hours after leaving the Mansion in the midst of a mid-afternoon thunderstorm. Still, as he turned to offer a gentle smile to Sheila, he saw the fatigue in her eyes, and guessed that, in spite of the fact that she was obviously well adapted to the circadian rhythms of the Realm, she was far more exhausted than he, and as she moved to rest her head upon his shoulder, he felt a wave of contentment washing over him.
"Tired, Chere?" he asked softly.
Groaning wearily, she shrugged. "Yeah, but I guess I should have expected that we wouldn't get much sleep last night. It's fairly safe to assume that we'll be woken up in the middle of the night when Eric's the one on watch. Of course, usually we're able to go back to sleep without the fear of insulting our new super-hero guests..." Clearing her throat rather self-consciously, she offered him a shy smile, and shook her head in response to his sceptical frown. "Uhh, not that I'm complaining or anything..." she continued softly, and Gambit winked suggestively as he acknowledged with a playful grin her tendency to blush. "I mean, you and your friends did save our lives. I guess a little less sleep is a small price to pay for staying alive."
"Indeed," said Storm, as she and Hank drew up beside them. "Though we have only been here for a very short time, it is evident that this is a very dangerous world." She glanced across at Hank, and Gambit could see the admiration in her eyes as she contemplated just how much of a great task the young Ranger had undertaken in leading the strange group.
Nodding solemnly, Hank struggled to keep the concern from his face as he tightened his tense grip upon his gleaming bow. "It is," he said darkly, "and *that* leads me to wonder why, after all the monsters and dragons we've had to fight our way through, DungeonMaster suddenly feels the need to call upon you guys to help us out." Gambit felt Sheila tensing beside him, as if the Ranger's statement had physically struck her, and he drew her a little closer to him, smiling as she relaxed once again.
"Aw, c'mon, Hank!" yelled Bobby from where he and Jubilee had been covertly eavesdropping from their short distance ahead; Gambit winced slightly at the youthful innocence that filled the young boy's voice as he waited for his companions to catch up. "There's nothing to worry about! Even if Venger *has* gotten more powerful, it's still just *Venger*! We can take him on, easy!"
"Yeah, you guys panic too easy!" Jubilee agreed, flashing her teeth. "We've got you guys and your magic weapon thingies, and us with our mutant powers, *and* we're going to have this super-dragon-Tiamat thing on our side too...as soon as we find him... uhh, or her... err, it! Whatever this Venger guy's done to himself, he doesn't stand a chance!"
Bobby laughed and they exchanged a premature celebratory high-five, and Gambit felt a knot drawing tightly around his stomach; the bright-eyed optimism that radiated from the two youngest team members was devastating to behold, and all the more so because he knew the desperate situation all too well. Logan had not been the only one of the X-Men to witness tears in the DungeonMaster's ancient eyes as he had begged them for their help; Gambit had known in that moment, as he had watched the shrivelled old man-evidently wise far beyond their comprehension-weeping openly merely to recruit some extra manpower, that perhaps even they, with their impressive mutant powers, would find themselves up against an undefeatable opponent. And surely, if even Gambit was aware of this --he, an uneducated, naive stranger--then the brave young Ranger had to heartbreakingly aware of the hopelessness of their situation.
As if to confirm Gambit's suspicion, Hank glanced across at Storm, and the concern in his eyes was unmistakable; Gambit cringed as the hopeful young Barbarian saw it too, and his youthful enthusiasm promptly collapsed. "Bobby..." Hank started, in a very gentle voice, then paused for a moment. "Yeah. You're right. Of course we can take him on." As Bobby grinned happily and swung his massive club with renewed passion, grabbing Jubilee's hand and running off ahead once again, the Ranger shook his head sadly, and small tears pricked his powerful eyes, even as he struggled to hide them.
Sheila broke away from Gambit's embrace, moving to place a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder in an obviously futile attempt to console him; ignoring her soothing compassion and Storm's soft-spoken reassurances, the Ranger turned his face shamefully away, lowering his head in defeat and gripping his bow until his knuckles turned white. At that moment, Gambit pitied him, and wished that, for even the briefest of moments, he could somehow ease the weight that the poor boy was forced to bear at such a premature age.
*****
"I can't believe this!"
Presto had to fight to keep himself from laughing out loud as Wolverine's voice once again intermingled with Eric's. As the crudely blurted expletive left his lips, the former turned to scowl furiously at the quivering Cavalier, who, Presto noted with interest, had not been the same since his earlier brush with adamantium. With an apologetic whimper, Eric gestured for the mutant to continue his train of thought, and, for the first time since Presto had met him, through all that incalculable time, he remained completely silent throughout.
"Summers, you're crazy!" Logan snarled viciously at Cyclops, promptly turning his back on the simpering Cavalier. "Sending *three* of our team out into the middle of nowhere with those freaks! We could really have used them on this goddamned suicide mission! Well, maybe that damned Cajun's expendable... but Storm and Jubilee anyway. I swear, if anything happens to them 'cos of your lousy judgement, I'll kill you, and screw what Xavier has to say about it, because I don't care!"
With a weary sigh, Scott rubbed the back of his neck. "We're not having this conversation again, Wolverine," he said. "I did what I thought--and still think--is the best thing for the current condition. If you can't handle it, I'd be glad to explain my reasons for the decisions at great length... but I don't think we really have the time, do you?"
Logan growled, but didn't say anything further. Presto had to muffle a giggle; though he was admittedly not much of a comic-book fan, there was just something about the mutant's argumentative and aggressive attitude that amused him; in so many ways, Wolverine reminded him of an older and wilder version of Eric, though neither of them would ever admit to the resemblance. Certainly, Presto was grateful that *he* was not the one on the receiving end of Wolverine's fiery wrath; contrarily, it seemed that, since he had expressed his agreement with Logan's proposed seek-and-destroy tactics, the hot-headed mutant had developed something of an interest in the all-too-clumsy Magician, in response to which, Presto found himself both afraid for his safety, and content with the fact that he, at least, had made a good impression on the obviously hard-to-impress mutant.
"Um, Wolverine?" Diana said, slightly uneasily. "I really, *really* hate to be the one to tell you this, but it really doesn't matter anymore if you agree with Cyclops' decision or not. Do you think I'm happy about Hank and the others taking on Tiamat by themselves? No. But the fact is, whether or not we like it, they've gone, and even if we try and call them back, it'll be too late by then to stop Venger. So, please forgive me for saying this, but get over it! We have more important stuff to worry about."
Cyclops smiled proudly and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Well said." Then, turning back to Wolverine, he raised an authoritarian eyebrow. "So, Logan, can we start our half of the mission now, or is there something else that has failed to meet with your approval?" The words were spoken lightly, but there was no mistaking the danger in his voice.
When the snarling mutant made no response, Rogue spoke up, rolling her eyes at Wolverine. "So, do y'all actually know where this fella's castle is, or are we jus' gonna be guessin' our way?"
"Well, uhh..." Presto coughed and gulped nervously. "We... well, we always manage to find it eventually... I guess if we're lucky, we won't be making too many stupid guesses... but, uh, then again, you never know. This world seems to change its layout every five seconds anyway, so your guess is as good as ours most of the time--" he cut himself off as Eric glared coldly at him.
The Cavalier snorted derisively and pushed the Wizard aside with one finger, as if his long-time friend was not even worth the effort of a whole hand. "Shut up, dork, and let *me* handle this." He moved to grace Rogue with what he apparently considered a courageous smile. "Never fear, my lady. The Old Cavalier knows exactly which way to go to reach the castle."
"Oh no..." groaned Diana.
"Why don't we just jump off a cliff right now?" Presto added.
Cyclops and Rogue looked at each other, then frowned worriedly at the Cavalier, and then looked to Presto and Diana in search of an explanation. Wolverine simply leaned against a nearby tree and shook his head in disgust. "Don't sweat it, kid," he said to Presto, and his cruel snarls softened a little. "I wouldn't trust that jerk ta navigate me out of a one-way closet. If he steers us wrong, *he'll* be the one jumpin' off a cliff... one way or the other..." He sneered, leaving the rest up to imagination.
Eric frowned. "Huh? Oh... Hey, wait a minute!"
"Sugar, I think ya might wanna quit b'fore Logan decides to take a piece outta ya!" said Rogue, placing a gloved hand on the Cavalier's arm as he glared at Wolverine in spite of the mutant's warning growl. "You've prob'ly noticed already that he ain't the kinda guy who appreciates a sense of humour like yours, and it'd be a real shame to see yer pretty little face gettin' smashed through the nearest tree." She smiled sweetly at him, and Eric spluttered nervously in response.
Wolverine clenched his fist, eyes flashing dangerously, then turned to appeal to Cyclops. "Can we get going, or what?" he snapped impatiently. "I dunno about you, but *I* just wanna get this damned thing over with..."
"Now, why does that sound familiar?" asked Rogue with something of a playful smirk.
"He's right," said Cyclops, waving a dismissive hand, and looking thoughtfully towards the distant horizon; Presto squinted at the man's visor with undisguised discomfort. "We really should get a move on."
As the three X-Men turned to gaze expectantly at the Young Ones, Presto found himself staring as hard as he could at the ground, silently praying that Cyclops would not call on *him* to offer directions. As it happened, he had nothing to worry about, as Eric stepped forwards once again, grinning smugly and pointing out the way they should go, acting as if he genuinely knew what he was talking about. In spite of the danger presented by allowing Eric to navigate, the Magician felt entirely unable to find the courage to suggest that trusting Eric's directions was about as safe as walking directly into the mouth of Tiamat's largest head, and so, even though both he and Diana knew that it was a bad--and potentially lethal--idea, they, along with the three curious X-Men, suddenly found themselves forced not only to listen to the obnoxious Cavalier's instructions, but, worse, to actually obey them.
Hard as he tried, Presto found it rather difficult to keep his qualms to himself, and the anxiety grew in gulping swells as he and the others followed Eric's imprecise directions. As he walked along, bringing up the rear as always, he found himself wishing, albeit only for brief moments at a time, that Hank had selected *him* to join the other group; although he was admittedly much more afraid of the indestructible dragon queen than the evil-but-otherwise-mortal Venger-a fact that he consciously kept to himself-he would have gratefully preferred to take on two hundred Tiamats than the single explosive combination of Eric and Wolverine.
As they walked across the seemingly endless expanse of gently-rustling grassland, Presto noticed that Eric maintained a few metres' distance from the others; he could not quite figure out whether this was to present a heroic impression to the X-Men, or simply to sustain a safe gap between himself and Logan, who stalked behind him with silent determination, keeping frighteningly close to the boy's shadow. Cyclops and Diana remained close to their respective comrades, in what appeared to be a covert attempt to keep some kind of order between the two incompatible characters; at the same time Rogue walked along a notable distance behind the prowling Wolverine, gazing at the scenery and simultaneously keeping clear of both Logan and Eric. Presto chuckled as he found himself wondering whether, if they failed to keep Eric and Wolverine apart, Venger would be the *only* threat to the Realm. There was, of course, no question: a Logan-Eric face-off would wreak far more havoc than anything Venger could dream of, and this knowledge, in spite of its comic nature, completely failed to calm Presto's frightened spirit.
Presto had always known, since the fateful day when he and his friends had first arrived in the Realm, that *something* would exist in this terrifying and chaotic world that would be able to perturb the arrogant rich boy to such a point as to persuade him to change his self-centred ways; he had not expected, though, that the thing to perform this impossible task would be of fictional origin. His total lack of X-Men experience--in contrast to both Eric and Bobby's extensive collection of comic-book trivia--did little to keep him from appreciating the irony of the situation; the Cavalier's lifelong friends and companions, the ones with whom he had been through countless brushes with death, could do nothing to alter his attitude, but the sudden arrival of his fictitious heroes had proven too much for the 'Old Cavalier' to handle. It was pitiful, frightening, and very, very funny.
It was nearly three hours later before the long grasses began to thin out, and more than an hour after that before they disappeared completely, leaving the small group walking over nothing but bare rock. Though the sun was already relatively high in the dusky sky, Presto noticed that the atmosphere was still heavy with darkness, and he struggled not to see doom and despair in the swollen clouds that loomed above their heads like vultures awaiting their next meal.
"Hey, kid. What's eatin' ya?"
Presto blinked, jolted out of his reverie by Wolverine's soft-spoken query; for a brief moment, he was shocked to hear anything but abuse escaping the hot-headed mutant's lips, but upon seeing the notable distance that had grown between himself and the cocky Cavalier--who still claimed to know exactly where he was going--it was not too difficult to figure out why Logan was finding it so much easier to be semi-amiable. Uncertain for a moment as to what he could say that wouldn't insult the temperamental mutant, Presto paused thoughtfully before responding, picking his words carefully before speaking.
"Uhm, not much, Sir. Just thinking about this up-coming battle, that's all." He had to fight to keep himself from begging the muscular mutant not to eat him, although he knew that such would never happen; as violent and brutal as Wolverine appeared to be, it seemed a fairly safe bet that he was, in fact, not a cannibal.
"Hope ya don't mind me sayin' so, kid, but ya seem to be a little outta your depth in this place. What made that Dungeon freak think that a little drip like you'd be able to take on this 'Force of Evil' creep anyway?"
Presto sighed; he knew that Wolverine meant no offence by the comment, but the sharp honesty of it struck a painful chord deep within the Magician's hidden self. "I don't know," he sighed. "Sometimes I wonder. I mean, you're right, of course. Take a look at the others. You've got Hank, perfect in every way and the best leader you can imagine, Diana, with more gold in her trophy case than in the whole of El Dorado, Bobby, who's got enough spirit to leave the rest of us in the dust... And then there's me. Mr Goofball. I don't know why DungeonMaster dragged me here along with the others, but sometimes I wish he hadn't bothered." He gulped down a huge breath, realising a little too late just how personal his speech had become.
"Don't sweat it, kid," replied the mutant in a voice that was surprisingly sensitive. "We all feel useless sometimes. The important thing is ta suck it up and act like a hero. Just look at Cyke. Ya don't see him second-guessing himself, do ya? You've got the stuff, kid. Yer just too much of a wimp to let yourself use it. All ya gotta do is be strong and tough. If ya let jerks like your buddy keep walkin' all over ya, then you'll never get anywhere. Hit 'em hard an' fast an' first, an' you'll go far." Grinning, he extended his claws and held them up for Presto's inspection. "Like me. Ya don't see *me* taking no trash from him, do ya?"
Nodding contemplatively, Presto frowned at the adamantium. "I... I guess not," he murmured. "But... do you really think that being bigger and tougher than everyone is the only way to get by?"
"Think it?" snorted Wolverine, retracting his claws and placing a firm hand on the Magician's slim shoulder. "I *know* it, kid. If y'ain't tough, if ya can't fight your battles fer yourself, then yer nothin' but a victim." He scowled at Eric's back, snarling ever so softly as he did so. "I know ya ain't as much of a wuss as yer pretendin' to be, so quit the useless act, 'cos it ain't gonna get ya nowhere."
The idea actually made a little sense, a fact which struck Presto as surprising in itself. Certainly, there had been times when he'd wished with all his heart that he could find the courage to lash out at those who sought to make his life miserable, but each of those times he had been reminded by a small voice in the back of his mind, a voice that spoke with his mother's gentle tone and the easy seriousness of his father. 'Presto,' it would say to him, 'violence is never the answer. Be the bigger man and step down.' Still, as he stood there, momentary silent, staring at the fierce determination on Wolverine's face, and the certainty that violence *was* really the answer, he found himself beginning to question his lifelong ethics.
"Look, kid, I don't want ya t'change your attitude or anythin'," Logan said with surprising suddenness; it was as if he had been listening to the Magician's internal conflicts and was attempting to set his chaotic mind at ease, "but I really *hate* seein' innocent guys like you, who just let 'emselves get turned into doormats by jerks like your buddy over there--" this last was spoken with tightly clenched fists "--just 'cos they're too damned scared ta try an' defend 'emselves."
Presto shook his head emphatically. "It's not like that, Sir," he whispered, although deep inside himself, he was hearing that same voice that had coaxed him through so many years of bullying whisper 'yes it is.'
"Look, y'can start by quitting this 'Sir' stuff!" cried Wolverine. "I ain't no damned Sir, and you sure as hell don't need ta think that ya need to call me one. First thing y'need to learn is that there ain't no 'Sirs'. Y'don't say that to no-one, and y'don't let no-one make ya think that they're superior t'ya. Yer just as good as they are, and don't you let 'em forget it. That clear?" Presto smiled and nodded, realising that Wolverine sounded just like his old Gym teacher, back in the 'Real' world.
Grinning at the quivering young Magician, Logan nodded smugly, and moved to catch up with Eric, blasting expletives at the unsuspecting Cavalier's back as he did so. Presto sighed and shook his head, endeavouring rather futilely to make sense of everything that Wolverine had said to him. How had the mutant managed to articulate the nuances of his plight so perfectly? ...Especially when Presto himself had enough trouble himself in defining the emotions that had pulsed through his brain for his entire life.
"Hey, Presto. You okay?"
With a slight start, Presto glanced up at Diana, wondering briefly why suddenly all attention was focused on him; he was starting to wish that Eric would once again prove himself to be the klutz that everybody knew he was, simply so that attention was drawn away from the reclusive Magician. "Of course. I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
She blinked at his uncharacteristic defensiveness, and he cursed under his breath at the ease with which he had allowed himself to be influenced by Logan's crude and stoic bitterness. "No reason," she said, speaking slowly and carefully, and regarding him with curious puzzlement. "Only... well, I saw you talking with Wolverine, and... considering his, err, primitive nature, I just wanted to make sure he didn't say anything to try and upset or intimidate you. That's all. I'm sorry if I intruded."
"No. No, it's okay. He was just talking to me about..." he paused, knowing that the pretty and popular sporting star would never be able to understand the turmoil of the Lesser People. "Never mind. He wasn't trying to intimidate me, so you have nothing to worry about." When she didn't move away from his side, he raised an irritated eyebrow. "Was there something else?"
"I..." she paused, frowning with obvious concern, before shaking her head slightly. "I guess not. Glad you're all right." Still, it was another few moments before she finally left his vicinity, and as she moved to catch up with Cyclops, Presto caught the briefest glimpse of fearful anxiety on her face. Anxiety for *his* well-being.
They walked on, and, to Presto's great relief, nobody else attempted to speak to him; though, throughout his previous life, he had often been humiliated and angered by the constant loneliness that had been thrust upon him, he had learned to accept solitude as a useful state for getting his head around difficult concepts. In the past, this had meant taking the time to grapple with some complex algebraic formula or chemical formula, but now he found himself just as for the quiet contemplativeness of solitary thought, though the 'concept' he suddenly found himself dealing with was much more difficult, much more confusing, and much more important than any Pythagorean Theorem could ever hope to be.
*****
Bobby squinted miserably into the cave, then turned to gaze at Hank with wide-eyed hopefulness. It was the kind of look that he practised often, and he knew from experience that it was usually more than enough to make his sister to change her mind when she reached a decision that was not to his liking, but was seldom sufficient to force the concentrated Ranger to stray from a previously-decided-upon strategy. "Aw, Hank!" he cried, slipping just the right amount of petulance into his voice. "Do we really *have* to?"
"You know we do," replied Hank with a good-natured wink. "I know we're all getting sick of this, but if Tiamat is here to be found, she'll be inside a cave like this one." In response to this, Bobby opened his mouth to remind the Ranger that he had attempted exactly the same speech at the entrance to each of the last four caves, and that all of these attempts at optimism had completely, totally, and utterly failed to help them find the elusive Dragon Queen. However, before the rebuttal could reach his lips, he was cut off by a sharp warning glare from his sister.
Pouting, Bobby charged into the cave, not waiting for the others; he didn't expect to find Tiamat, and, in light of the four consecutive fruitless searches, he was beginning to wonder if Hank's intention of seeking out and recruiting the dragon was going to prove nothing more than a complete waste of much-needed time. Thus far, it had only proven to be, as Cyclops had stated when the idea had first been proposed, a 'wild-goose-chase', and, though he would never admit it to Hank, Bobby was beginning to wish that he had been chosen to accompany Eric and the others in the attempt to infiltrate Venger's castle. That way, at least, he would be seeing some action-albeit probably checked by Cyclops and Diana in their infinite patience-and, more importantly, he would be doing so side-by-side with his lifelong heroes, Cyclops, leader of the famed X-Men, and Wolverine, the headstrong icon who had achieved the impossible, and shut Eric up.
Still, spelunking alongside Storm and Jubilee was certainly not without its charms, and Bobby giggled in the darkness as he thought back to a brief bout of silliness in the largest of the previously-explored caves, a light-hearted moment that had almost ended fatally, as the unsteady rock on which Jubilee and himself had been standing, had unexpectedly collapsed, sending them thousands of miles down an unseen crevasse towards their doom. Indeed, had it not been for Storm's breathtakingly well-timed rescue, finding Tiamat and thwarting Venger's evil plans would have no longer been their concern.
With a slight sigh, Bobby hung his head; really, he should have learned--after so many weeks spent wandering through the deadly landscape of the Realm--that all acts of frivolous immaturity were potentially punishably by death, and, he supposed, it was partially because of this unfair fact, that he felt, of all his comrades, *he* was the one suffering the most at Fate's cruel hands. Though there was no denying that all of them had been forced to sacrifice enormous parts of their lives and their selves, Bobby found himself wondering if any of his friends could truly understand the loss that he alone had been forced to endure.
Hank and Diana, the rational ones, seemed to have adjusted the most easily to this new life of loneliness and isolation, a logical observation considering the fact that they, more so than any of the others, had so little to lose; their talents were inborn, and could not be destroyed by a few decades spent on an alien world. Eric, too, seemed to have adjusted well, though at times he was loathe to admit it; Bobby knew that the spoilt rich boy, in spite of his wealthy and prestigious background, was not as content and proud of his extensive family as he often claimed, and Bobby guessed that the time spent away from his obnoxious parents--the parents that Hank and the others had noted on countless occasions, were frighteningly like the Cavalier himself--had been blissful. Presto, Bobby knew, had thrived in this world; he was respected and appreciated here in ways that he had never dreamed of back home, and the Barbarian was certain that, when they did finally reach the doorway home, the Magician would weep with regret for all that he was throwing away. As for his sister...well, Bobby knew that Sheila was frightened and upset by the amount of pressure that DungeonMaster placed upon his young pupils so often, but he also knew that she had the inner strength to see it through without so much as a scratch to her psyche; provided that she had him-and at times, the lonely Magician-around to nurture and care for, she would be fine.
But he--the Barbarian, the fearless warrior--would not be so lucky. He was only just ten years old, and he had witnessed things that most children his age could not even think of without screaming in terror; true, he enjoyed the opportunity to play the hero, to save worlds, to fight great evils... what kid didn't dream of such paradise? But he was tired. He wanted to be a child again; he wanted to be at home with his parents, and his friends--*his* friends, the friends from *his* school and *his* life... not his sister's--he wanted to be *normal*. He knew that some of the others--Presto and Diana in particular--were thoroughly enjoying the chance to spread their wings, to grow and develop in ways that the mortal limitations of their Earthly existences would not allow them to, but Bobby was sick of it. Much as he loved the idea of being a beloved hero, like the X-Men, it was simply too much hard work for one so young and weary as he.
Perhaps it was for this reason that Bobby found himself bonding so easily with Jubilee, the girl who had also lost her childhood due to some unfortunate circumstance beyond her control. Though the youngest of the X-Men was still a few years older than he himself, she was closer to his age than any of his comrades, and she had far more in common with him than any other person he had ever met, a fact which made his head spin. As he glanced over his shoulder at where she and the others were tracking him, he found himself wondering briefly how he could see her as such a real-life, breathing person, when her two comrades still struck him as nothing more than two-dimensional comic-book characters.
He liked Jubilee. He enjoyed the fact that he could talk with her about "kid's stuff" without being told to shut up, and he loved the way she did not judge him for being a child. There was no mistaking the faintly paternal disdain that had covered Hank's face as he had gasped with relief when Storm had rescued the two of them from certain death, nor was their any way of misinterpreting the tedious sigh that Storm had released as she had chastised them for their foolish behaviour. It was this patronisation that angered Bobby more than anything else, even the self-centred 'short stuff' cracks that Eric refused to cease; how could they treat him as a child, as this young and immature creature unworthy of equal respect, when they denied him the opportunity to display his true juvenile colours in all their glory. It wasn't fair! He was looked down upon by friends and peers alike for being young, stupid, and ignorant, yet he--to a far greater degree than any of the others--was all too quickly growing up. And nobody, not Hank, not even his own sister, *nobody* could understand that juxtaposition... Until Jubilee.
"Hey, Bobby. Whatcha thinking about?"
Yelping in surprise, Bobby turned to look at the mutant in question, feeling a guilty flush creeping slowly across his face. "Uh, nothing really," he said, hoping that she would not catch the lie in his eyes as he turned to face her.
"Sure," she said with sarcasm to rival even Eric's. "Whatever. Look, d'you reckon we'll actually find this stupid dragon thing here? 'Cos I'm getting sick and tired of all this walking around and not *doing* anything." She sighed impatiently, and Bobby recalled feeling exactly the same way scant moments ago.
He shrugged in response to her question. "I dunno. Tiamat is real good at hiding from us when we want to find her, and coming out when we've got our hands full with some other dragon or something."
Groaning softly, she shook her head. "I can't believe you guys don't trust us enough to let us take a shot at this Venger guy! You'll see. We'll find the stupid dragon, go to that castle, and show up just in time to see Cyke blasting Venger's head off, and it'll all be a total waste of time!" She folded her arms with a lopsided-and, Bobby noted, decidedly heart-melting-grin.
"No way! You guys might be strong and super-powerful, but you don't stand a chance against Venger! It's just like Hank and Sheila said before. Tiamat's the only thing in the whole Realm that can take on Venger. Just wait and see."
She held out a hand. "Bet?"
"Kinda hard to bet without any money," he pointed out, then grinned and shook her hand. "All right. If I win, and Tiamat *is* the only way to defeat Venger, then you have to give me that dopey jacket of yours." At her puzzled frown, he winked. "What? It gets kinda cold out here at night and animal skins don't really keep you warm!"
Laughing, she nodded. "Okay then. But if *I* win, and Cyke and the others take on this guy without us and that stupid dragon around to help 'em, *you* have to give *me* your hat." Bobby spluttered, and had to remind himself that cave walls did not respond well to loud noises. "I wanna take it home and prove to everyone that I won a real-life bet against a real-life Barbarian."
"Did Gambit hear the word 'bet'?"
Bobby and Jubilee whirled around as Gambit and Sheila drew up beside them; Bobby noticed with a knowing smile that the two were holding hands. "Bet?" Jubilee repeated with an innocent smile. "Who said bet?"
"Not us," Bobby said emphatically.
Sheila shook her head in pure disgust, and gripped her brother's arm. "Bobby, I'm disappointed in you. You should know better than that." She sighed loudly, and turned on the 'why must you be such a failure as a little brother?' look. Bobby knew the look well; it was the same one that she had used countless times before to cheat him out of the last slice of cake.
"Aw, c'mon, sis! I don't think this world has age limits for stuff like that. Besides, it's not like I'm gonna try and sell my soul or anything stupid. I just wanna prove to her that *we* know what we're talking about and *they* don't."
"Bobby..."
Sighing, he rolled his eyes. "Fine."
Gambit had rounded on Jubilee, and was offering her a similar lecture. "That go fer you as well, Petite," he said, albeit slightly more gently than Sheila had.
In almost perfect unison, the two youngest members of the group exhaled with exaggerated exasperation; though he was rather aggravated by his sister's over-protective attitude, deep inside, he could not deny that he was grateful. His hatred at being treated like the child he was not allowed to be, although strong and powerful, did not incorporate sisterly bonding; she, and nobody else, could get away with treating him like a kid, and somehow, in doing so make him feel all the more grown-up.
Just as they were about to resume their hopeless search through the cave, Bobby heard a cry; it only took him a matter of moments to recognise the voice as being Hank's. The Ranger had wandered off, searching the darkest hidden cracks for any signs of the evil dragon queen, and, as he backed away from a particularly mysterious-looking corner, eyes wide with relief, consternation, and unchecked panic, it became apparent to the watching Barbarian that he had finally found her.
Before Bobby had the chance to second-guess his assumption, he found himself proved right; as he stood and watched, Jubilee staring dumbstruck beside him, a huge red-scaled foot stepped out from the impenetrable shadows. The Barbarian did not even need to listen for the murderous howl that he knew would erupt from Tiamat's five throats within mere moments; the sheer size of the foot-the selfsame foot that was all too quickly followed by three more--was enough to convince Bobby that this was indeed the dragon they were seeking. Quite simply, there wasn't another lizard in the Realm--at least, not one that the Young Ones had thus far encountered--that was even a third as big as the vicious dragon queen that roared with fury as it pulled its enormous wine-coloured body through a gap that seemed far too small to house such a large, monstrous creature.
"This be that dragon of yours, Chere?" asked Gambit, gazing from Tiamat to Sheila and back again in a state of total shock. When she nodded, visibly struggling to hide her own terror, the mutant blinked in acknowledgement, then swallowed nervously and stumbled back and away from the snarling beast. "Uhh... Gambit not so sure this was the best idea, Mes Amis..."
*****
"Woah... You guys have *gotta* check this out..."
At the sound of Jubilee's hushed voice, Gambit paused in mid-step, turning cautiously to see what the girl had found so surprising. It only took a moment to see what it was that had struck the impressionable teenager as so worthy of their attention; he was not entirely able to suppress his awe at the breathtaking sight of four completely separate suns rising slowly and gracefully over the mountain peaks that lined the distant horizon. Stunned by the alien splendour of this quadrupled sunrise, Gambit turned to face Sheila, who walked beside him. "Is Gambit seeing this, Chere?" he asked. "There really be four suns up there?"
"Sure," she said. "It's pretty impressive when you first see it, but it gets old really fast."
Having been trekking almost non-stop for nearly two hours, the awesome fourfold beauty offered a welcome excuse to take a short break from the exhausting--and thus far, fruitless--journey, and as Gambit sat on the dusty ground, he found himself completely unable to tear his eyes away from the searing flames of the sky, even as he became aware of Jubilee and Storm's hushed murmurs as they too beheld the glorious splendour that bathed the wavering horizon in a deep crimson glow.
"By the Goddess," Storm whispered; as Gambit glanced up at the sound of her choked voice, he observed that the staggering beauty of the unnatural sunrise had moved her almost to the point of tears. "This is truly wondrous."
"Yeah," said Hank with a faintly shy smile. "Pretty amazing, huh? That colour is so pure...there are times when you'd swear the sky was on fire. It's one of the few really good things this world has to offer." He sighed very softly, and Gambit could see the deep regret in the handsome boy's blue eyes.
Shaking his head slightly, the Cajun returned his attention to Sheila, who had sat down beside him, one arm around her brother; the boy was struggling rather ineffectually against her well-intentioned protectiveness, and Gambit couldn't keep the grin off his face as he watched their sibling interaction with undisguised amusement. "So, Chere," he said after a moment, offering her one of his most charming smiles. "You come from a world without mutants? Without X-Men?"
"Oh, there are X-Men in our world," she said, returning his smile with one of her own, and Remy was momentarily struck by the beauty in her face, a beauty that rivalled even the stunning sunrise. "But they're comic-book characters. Why do you think Eric found it so hard to get over your presence here?" A soft, endearing giggle escaped her lips. "You'd think that after all the crazy stuff we've been through in this weird world, he'd learn to expect the impossible by now, but I guess for someone like Eric that's just too much to ask..." As the words left her lip, her eyes darkened for the briefest of moments, and Gambit felt an easy grin lifting his features; it seemed that the immediate contempt he and the other mutants had shared upon first meeting the mouthy Cavalier was not limited to the X-Men alone.
Pulling a small playing card from his jacket, Gambit twirled it lazily between his fingers, winking casually at Sheila as he twisted his wrist and sent it sailing through the air, watching it explode a few feet away. "Gambit can understand that," he said softly. "Reckon it must be kind of difficult, coming face-to-face with real-life super-heroes." He grinned, flexing his muscles in an attempt to play up to her super-hero expectations, although he knew that the words were spoken more as an effort to diffuse the tension in the girl's face as she thought of her loud-mouthed friend.
"Cool..." Bobby whispered, staring in awestruck disbelief at the point from which the playing card had vanished; Gambit smirked at the little boy with tasteful modesty. "Wow! Do that again!"
"Bobby," his sister admonished gently. "Don't annoy Mr. Gambit."
Chuckling, Gambit took her hand. "That's all right, Chere," he said. "Gambit don't mind." Reaching once again into his jacket, he drew out another card, and repeated his previous action, much to Bobby's delight. "And it be just plain Gambit, no 'Mister'. But you can call me Remy. That what my friends call me... and we be friends, right?"
"Uhm, sure..." she said with a shy smile.
He nodded and kissed her hand, bowing courteously as he climbed to his feet. "Well then, Chere," he said, moving to help her up, "shall we continue our journey? Gambit just dyin' ta meet this dragon of yours."
Blushing a little as he released her hand, Sheila turned to face Hank, who was still watching the dwindling remains of the sunrise with Storm. "Well, Hank?" she murmured in a low voice, as if afraid to break the perfection of the sunrise-induced silence. "Should we get going again now?"
Flinching a little, as if jolted out of some deep contemplation, the Ranger nodded. "Uhm, yeah. Good idea. We've still got a long way to go before we've covered even half of Tiamat's usual hiding places. Might as well get going again before it's too late." He glanced briefly at Storm, as if asking for her opinion on his decision, then, in lieu of any response, nodded to himself and moved to call Jubilee, who was playfully kicking at a loose rock, idly watching it bounce away.
"So, which way now, Monsieur?" Gambit asked as they began moving once again, draping one arm across the young Thief's shoulders.
Shrugging, the Ranger shook his head. "I'm not sure. Tiamat usually hides in dark places. Underground caves, tunnels, caverns, you know. So we're heading up into those mountains--" and he pointed towards the red-streaked horizon line "--because if she's to be found, that's the kind of place she'd be." He paused, then coughed self-consciously. "Unless she's already after Venger."
In response to this last, Sheila shook her head emphatically. "No way!" she cried with certainty. "Come on, Hank, she may be a dragon, but she's not totally stupid. She would never start something against him unless he did something to really make her mad. She's more likely to be biding her time, waiting for him to drop his guard or get stupid and pick a fight with her... you know, like she usually does."
They continued walking in relative silence; Gambit smiled to himself as he strolled along beside Sheila, content to simply enjoy her sweet company and the picturesque beauty of the craggy valley that surrounded them on all sides as it was bathed in a deep crimson glow. He watched with a faint smile as Hank walked stoically beside Storm; occasionally, the Ranger would glance across at her, and his eyes were filled with a sense of awe, and the desperate need to be appreciated and respected. Knowing Storm's personality as he did, Remy shook his head; given time, Hank would certainly earn her respect--his dedication and devotion would ensure that--but there was very little chance of the awestruck boy achieving anything else.
Turning to glance briefly towards Jubilee, Gambit noticed that she too was developing something of a rapport with one of the strange children, Sheila's little brother Bobby. Rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully, Remy supposed that this was fairly inevitable; the two youngest members of the group certainly had that factor at least in common, and it seemed that as well as that similarity, they also shared a juvenile tendency towards the dangerous and unpredictable. He could tell from the cocky grins on their youthful faces as they wandered a little way ahead of Hank and the others, that they were developing something of a deep friendship, one that they would not allow to be tainted by the desperate urgency of the situation.
Gambit yawned; it felt rather strange to be walking through a jagged valley countless miles away from his home, watching a glorious multiple sunrise, only a few hours after leaving the Mansion in the midst of a mid-afternoon thunderstorm. Still, as he turned to offer a gentle smile to Sheila, he saw the fatigue in her eyes, and guessed that, in spite of the fact that she was obviously well adapted to the circadian rhythms of the Realm, she was far more exhausted than he, and as she moved to rest her head upon his shoulder, he felt a wave of contentment washing over him.
"Tired, Chere?" he asked softly.
Groaning wearily, she shrugged. "Yeah, but I guess I should have expected that we wouldn't get much sleep last night. It's fairly safe to assume that we'll be woken up in the middle of the night when Eric's the one on watch. Of course, usually we're able to go back to sleep without the fear of insulting our new super-hero guests..." Clearing her throat rather self-consciously, she offered him a shy smile, and shook her head in response to his sceptical frown. "Uhh, not that I'm complaining or anything..." she continued softly, and Gambit winked suggestively as he acknowledged with a playful grin her tendency to blush. "I mean, you and your friends did save our lives. I guess a little less sleep is a small price to pay for staying alive."
"Indeed," said Storm, as she and Hank drew up beside them. "Though we have only been here for a very short time, it is evident that this is a very dangerous world." She glanced across at Hank, and Gambit could see the admiration in her eyes as she contemplated just how much of a great task the young Ranger had undertaken in leading the strange group.
Nodding solemnly, Hank struggled to keep the concern from his face as he tightened his tense grip upon his gleaming bow. "It is," he said darkly, "and *that* leads me to wonder why, after all the monsters and dragons we've had to fight our way through, DungeonMaster suddenly feels the need to call upon you guys to help us out." Gambit felt Sheila tensing beside him, as if the Ranger's statement had physically struck her, and he drew her a little closer to him, smiling as she relaxed once again.
"Aw, c'mon, Hank!" yelled Bobby from where he and Jubilee had been covertly eavesdropping from their short distance ahead; Gambit winced slightly at the youthful innocence that filled the young boy's voice as he waited for his companions to catch up. "There's nothing to worry about! Even if Venger *has* gotten more powerful, it's still just *Venger*! We can take him on, easy!"
"Yeah, you guys panic too easy!" Jubilee agreed, flashing her teeth. "We've got you guys and your magic weapon thingies, and us with our mutant powers, *and* we're going to have this super-dragon-Tiamat thing on our side too...as soon as we find him... uhh, or her... err, it! Whatever this Venger guy's done to himself, he doesn't stand a chance!"
Bobby laughed and they exchanged a premature celebratory high-five, and Gambit felt a knot drawing tightly around his stomach; the bright-eyed optimism that radiated from the two youngest team members was devastating to behold, and all the more so because he knew the desperate situation all too well. Logan had not been the only one of the X-Men to witness tears in the DungeonMaster's ancient eyes as he had begged them for their help; Gambit had known in that moment, as he had watched the shrivelled old man-evidently wise far beyond their comprehension-weeping openly merely to recruit some extra manpower, that perhaps even they, with their impressive mutant powers, would find themselves up against an undefeatable opponent. And surely, if even Gambit was aware of this --he, an uneducated, naive stranger--then the brave young Ranger had to heartbreakingly aware of the hopelessness of their situation.
As if to confirm Gambit's suspicion, Hank glanced across at Storm, and the concern in his eyes was unmistakable; Gambit cringed as the hopeful young Barbarian saw it too, and his youthful enthusiasm promptly collapsed. "Bobby..." Hank started, in a very gentle voice, then paused for a moment. "Yeah. You're right. Of course we can take him on." As Bobby grinned happily and swung his massive club with renewed passion, grabbing Jubilee's hand and running off ahead once again, the Ranger shook his head sadly, and small tears pricked his powerful eyes, even as he struggled to hide them.
Sheila broke away from Gambit's embrace, moving to place a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder in an obviously futile attempt to console him; ignoring her soothing compassion and Storm's soft-spoken reassurances, the Ranger turned his face shamefully away, lowering his head in defeat and gripping his bow until his knuckles turned white. At that moment, Gambit pitied him, and wished that, for even the briefest of moments, he could somehow ease the weight that the poor boy was forced to bear at such a premature age.
*****
"I can't believe this!"
Presto had to fight to keep himself from laughing out loud as Wolverine's voice once again intermingled with Eric's. As the crudely blurted expletive left his lips, the former turned to scowl furiously at the quivering Cavalier, who, Presto noted with interest, had not been the same since his earlier brush with adamantium. With an apologetic whimper, Eric gestured for the mutant to continue his train of thought, and, for the first time since Presto had met him, through all that incalculable time, he remained completely silent throughout.
"Summers, you're crazy!" Logan snarled viciously at Cyclops, promptly turning his back on the simpering Cavalier. "Sending *three* of our team out into the middle of nowhere with those freaks! We could really have used them on this goddamned suicide mission! Well, maybe that damned Cajun's expendable... but Storm and Jubilee anyway. I swear, if anything happens to them 'cos of your lousy judgement, I'll kill you, and screw what Xavier has to say about it, because I don't care!"
With a weary sigh, Scott rubbed the back of his neck. "We're not having this conversation again, Wolverine," he said. "I did what I thought--and still think--is the best thing for the current condition. If you can't handle it, I'd be glad to explain my reasons for the decisions at great length... but I don't think we really have the time, do you?"
Logan growled, but didn't say anything further. Presto had to muffle a giggle; though he was admittedly not much of a comic-book fan, there was just something about the mutant's argumentative and aggressive attitude that amused him; in so many ways, Wolverine reminded him of an older and wilder version of Eric, though neither of them would ever admit to the resemblance. Certainly, Presto was grateful that *he* was not the one on the receiving end of Wolverine's fiery wrath; contrarily, it seemed that, since he had expressed his agreement with Logan's proposed seek-and-destroy tactics, the hot-headed mutant had developed something of an interest in the all-too-clumsy Magician, in response to which, Presto found himself both afraid for his safety, and content with the fact that he, at least, had made a good impression on the obviously hard-to-impress mutant.
"Um, Wolverine?" Diana said, slightly uneasily. "I really, *really* hate to be the one to tell you this, but it really doesn't matter anymore if you agree with Cyclops' decision or not. Do you think I'm happy about Hank and the others taking on Tiamat by themselves? No. But the fact is, whether or not we like it, they've gone, and even if we try and call them back, it'll be too late by then to stop Venger. So, please forgive me for saying this, but get over it! We have more important stuff to worry about."
Cyclops smiled proudly and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Well said." Then, turning back to Wolverine, he raised an authoritarian eyebrow. "So, Logan, can we start our half of the mission now, or is there something else that has failed to meet with your approval?" The words were spoken lightly, but there was no mistaking the danger in his voice.
When the snarling mutant made no response, Rogue spoke up, rolling her eyes at Wolverine. "So, do y'all actually know where this fella's castle is, or are we jus' gonna be guessin' our way?"
"Well, uhh..." Presto coughed and gulped nervously. "We... well, we always manage to find it eventually... I guess if we're lucky, we won't be making too many stupid guesses... but, uh, then again, you never know. This world seems to change its layout every five seconds anyway, so your guess is as good as ours most of the time--" he cut himself off as Eric glared coldly at him.
The Cavalier snorted derisively and pushed the Wizard aside with one finger, as if his long-time friend was not even worth the effort of a whole hand. "Shut up, dork, and let *me* handle this." He moved to grace Rogue with what he apparently considered a courageous smile. "Never fear, my lady. The Old Cavalier knows exactly which way to go to reach the castle."
"Oh no..." groaned Diana.
"Why don't we just jump off a cliff right now?" Presto added.
Cyclops and Rogue looked at each other, then frowned worriedly at the Cavalier, and then looked to Presto and Diana in search of an explanation. Wolverine simply leaned against a nearby tree and shook his head in disgust. "Don't sweat it, kid," he said to Presto, and his cruel snarls softened a little. "I wouldn't trust that jerk ta navigate me out of a one-way closet. If he steers us wrong, *he'll* be the one jumpin' off a cliff... one way or the other..." He sneered, leaving the rest up to imagination.
Eric frowned. "Huh? Oh... Hey, wait a minute!"
"Sugar, I think ya might wanna quit b'fore Logan decides to take a piece outta ya!" said Rogue, placing a gloved hand on the Cavalier's arm as he glared at Wolverine in spite of the mutant's warning growl. "You've prob'ly noticed already that he ain't the kinda guy who appreciates a sense of humour like yours, and it'd be a real shame to see yer pretty little face gettin' smashed through the nearest tree." She smiled sweetly at him, and Eric spluttered nervously in response.
Wolverine clenched his fist, eyes flashing dangerously, then turned to appeal to Cyclops. "Can we get going, or what?" he snapped impatiently. "I dunno about you, but *I* just wanna get this damned thing over with..."
"Now, why does that sound familiar?" asked Rogue with something of a playful smirk.
"He's right," said Cyclops, waving a dismissive hand, and looking thoughtfully towards the distant horizon; Presto squinted at the man's visor with undisguised discomfort. "We really should get a move on."
As the three X-Men turned to gaze expectantly at the Young Ones, Presto found himself staring as hard as he could at the ground, silently praying that Cyclops would not call on *him* to offer directions. As it happened, he had nothing to worry about, as Eric stepped forwards once again, grinning smugly and pointing out the way they should go, acting as if he genuinely knew what he was talking about. In spite of the danger presented by allowing Eric to navigate, the Magician felt entirely unable to find the courage to suggest that trusting Eric's directions was about as safe as walking directly into the mouth of Tiamat's largest head, and so, even though both he and Diana knew that it was a bad--and potentially lethal--idea, they, along with the three curious X-Men, suddenly found themselves forced not only to listen to the obnoxious Cavalier's instructions, but, worse, to actually obey them.
Hard as he tried, Presto found it rather difficult to keep his qualms to himself, and the anxiety grew in gulping swells as he and the others followed Eric's imprecise directions. As he walked along, bringing up the rear as always, he found himself wishing, albeit only for brief moments at a time, that Hank had selected *him* to join the other group; although he was admittedly much more afraid of the indestructible dragon queen than the evil-but-otherwise-mortal Venger-a fact that he consciously kept to himself-he would have gratefully preferred to take on two hundred Tiamats than the single explosive combination of Eric and Wolverine.
As they walked across the seemingly endless expanse of gently-rustling grassland, Presto noticed that Eric maintained a few metres' distance from the others; he could not quite figure out whether this was to present a heroic impression to the X-Men, or simply to sustain a safe gap between himself and Logan, who stalked behind him with silent determination, keeping frighteningly close to the boy's shadow. Cyclops and Diana remained close to their respective comrades, in what appeared to be a covert attempt to keep some kind of order between the two incompatible characters; at the same time Rogue walked along a notable distance behind the prowling Wolverine, gazing at the scenery and simultaneously keeping clear of both Logan and Eric. Presto chuckled as he found himself wondering whether, if they failed to keep Eric and Wolverine apart, Venger would be the *only* threat to the Realm. There was, of course, no question: a Logan-Eric face-off would wreak far more havoc than anything Venger could dream of, and this knowledge, in spite of its comic nature, completely failed to calm Presto's frightened spirit.
Presto had always known, since the fateful day when he and his friends had first arrived in the Realm, that *something* would exist in this terrifying and chaotic world that would be able to perturb the arrogant rich boy to such a point as to persuade him to change his self-centred ways; he had not expected, though, that the thing to perform this impossible task would be of fictional origin. His total lack of X-Men experience--in contrast to both Eric and Bobby's extensive collection of comic-book trivia--did little to keep him from appreciating the irony of the situation; the Cavalier's lifelong friends and companions, the ones with whom he had been through countless brushes with death, could do nothing to alter his attitude, but the sudden arrival of his fictitious heroes had proven too much for the 'Old Cavalier' to handle. It was pitiful, frightening, and very, very funny.
It was nearly three hours later before the long grasses began to thin out, and more than an hour after that before they disappeared completely, leaving the small group walking over nothing but bare rock. Though the sun was already relatively high in the dusky sky, Presto noticed that the atmosphere was still heavy with darkness, and he struggled not to see doom and despair in the swollen clouds that loomed above their heads like vultures awaiting their next meal.
"Hey, kid. What's eatin' ya?"
Presto blinked, jolted out of his reverie by Wolverine's soft-spoken query; for a brief moment, he was shocked to hear anything but abuse escaping the hot-headed mutant's lips, but upon seeing the notable distance that had grown between himself and the cocky Cavalier--who still claimed to know exactly where he was going--it was not too difficult to figure out why Logan was finding it so much easier to be semi-amiable. Uncertain for a moment as to what he could say that wouldn't insult the temperamental mutant, Presto paused thoughtfully before responding, picking his words carefully before speaking.
"Uhm, not much, Sir. Just thinking about this up-coming battle, that's all." He had to fight to keep himself from begging the muscular mutant not to eat him, although he knew that such would never happen; as violent and brutal as Wolverine appeared to be, it seemed a fairly safe bet that he was, in fact, not a cannibal.
"Hope ya don't mind me sayin' so, kid, but ya seem to be a little outta your depth in this place. What made that Dungeon freak think that a little drip like you'd be able to take on this 'Force of Evil' creep anyway?"
Presto sighed; he knew that Wolverine meant no offence by the comment, but the sharp honesty of it struck a painful chord deep within the Magician's hidden self. "I don't know," he sighed. "Sometimes I wonder. I mean, you're right, of course. Take a look at the others. You've got Hank, perfect in every way and the best leader you can imagine, Diana, with more gold in her trophy case than in the whole of El Dorado, Bobby, who's got enough spirit to leave the rest of us in the dust... And then there's me. Mr Goofball. I don't know why DungeonMaster dragged me here along with the others, but sometimes I wish he hadn't bothered." He gulped down a huge breath, realising a little too late just how personal his speech had become.
"Don't sweat it, kid," replied the mutant in a voice that was surprisingly sensitive. "We all feel useless sometimes. The important thing is ta suck it up and act like a hero. Just look at Cyke. Ya don't see him second-guessing himself, do ya? You've got the stuff, kid. Yer just too much of a wimp to let yourself use it. All ya gotta do is be strong and tough. If ya let jerks like your buddy keep walkin' all over ya, then you'll never get anywhere. Hit 'em hard an' fast an' first, an' you'll go far." Grinning, he extended his claws and held them up for Presto's inspection. "Like me. Ya don't see *me* taking no trash from him, do ya?"
Nodding contemplatively, Presto frowned at the adamantium. "I... I guess not," he murmured. "But... do you really think that being bigger and tougher than everyone is the only way to get by?"
"Think it?" snorted Wolverine, retracting his claws and placing a firm hand on the Magician's slim shoulder. "I *know* it, kid. If y'ain't tough, if ya can't fight your battles fer yourself, then yer nothin' but a victim." He scowled at Eric's back, snarling ever so softly as he did so. "I know ya ain't as much of a wuss as yer pretendin' to be, so quit the useless act, 'cos it ain't gonna get ya nowhere."
The idea actually made a little sense, a fact which struck Presto as surprising in itself. Certainly, there had been times when he'd wished with all his heart that he could find the courage to lash out at those who sought to make his life miserable, but each of those times he had been reminded by a small voice in the back of his mind, a voice that spoke with his mother's gentle tone and the easy seriousness of his father. 'Presto,' it would say to him, 'violence is never the answer. Be the bigger man and step down.' Still, as he stood there, momentary silent, staring at the fierce determination on Wolverine's face, and the certainty that violence *was* really the answer, he found himself beginning to question his lifelong ethics.
"Look, kid, I don't want ya t'change your attitude or anythin'," Logan said with surprising suddenness; it was as if he had been listening to the Magician's internal conflicts and was attempting to set his chaotic mind at ease, "but I really *hate* seein' innocent guys like you, who just let 'emselves get turned into doormats by jerks like your buddy over there--" this last was spoken with tightly clenched fists "--just 'cos they're too damned scared ta try an' defend 'emselves."
Presto shook his head emphatically. "It's not like that, Sir," he whispered, although deep inside himself, he was hearing that same voice that had coaxed him through so many years of bullying whisper 'yes it is.'
"Look, y'can start by quitting this 'Sir' stuff!" cried Wolverine. "I ain't no damned Sir, and you sure as hell don't need ta think that ya need to call me one. First thing y'need to learn is that there ain't no 'Sirs'. Y'don't say that to no-one, and y'don't let no-one make ya think that they're superior t'ya. Yer just as good as they are, and don't you let 'em forget it. That clear?" Presto smiled and nodded, realising that Wolverine sounded just like his old Gym teacher, back in the 'Real' world.
Grinning at the quivering young Magician, Logan nodded smugly, and moved to catch up with Eric, blasting expletives at the unsuspecting Cavalier's back as he did so. Presto sighed and shook his head, endeavouring rather futilely to make sense of everything that Wolverine had said to him. How had the mutant managed to articulate the nuances of his plight so perfectly? ...Especially when Presto himself had enough trouble himself in defining the emotions that had pulsed through his brain for his entire life.
"Hey, Presto. You okay?"
With a slight start, Presto glanced up at Diana, wondering briefly why suddenly all attention was focused on him; he was starting to wish that Eric would once again prove himself to be the klutz that everybody knew he was, simply so that attention was drawn away from the reclusive Magician. "Of course. I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
She blinked at his uncharacteristic defensiveness, and he cursed under his breath at the ease with which he had allowed himself to be influenced by Logan's crude and stoic bitterness. "No reason," she said, speaking slowly and carefully, and regarding him with curious puzzlement. "Only... well, I saw you talking with Wolverine, and... considering his, err, primitive nature, I just wanted to make sure he didn't say anything to try and upset or intimidate you. That's all. I'm sorry if I intruded."
"No. No, it's okay. He was just talking to me about..." he paused, knowing that the pretty and popular sporting star would never be able to understand the turmoil of the Lesser People. "Never mind. He wasn't trying to intimidate me, so you have nothing to worry about." When she didn't move away from his side, he raised an irritated eyebrow. "Was there something else?"
"I..." she paused, frowning with obvious concern, before shaking her head slightly. "I guess not. Glad you're all right." Still, it was another few moments before she finally left his vicinity, and as she moved to catch up with Cyclops, Presto caught the briefest glimpse of fearful anxiety on her face. Anxiety for *his* well-being.
They walked on, and, to Presto's great relief, nobody else attempted to speak to him; though, throughout his previous life, he had often been humiliated and angered by the constant loneliness that had been thrust upon him, he had learned to accept solitude as a useful state for getting his head around difficult concepts. In the past, this had meant taking the time to grapple with some complex algebraic formula or chemical formula, but now he found himself just as for the quiet contemplativeness of solitary thought, though the 'concept' he suddenly found himself dealing with was much more difficult, much more confusing, and much more important than any Pythagorean Theorem could ever hope to be.
*****
Bobby squinted miserably into the cave, then turned to gaze at Hank with wide-eyed hopefulness. It was the kind of look that he practised often, and he knew from experience that it was usually more than enough to make his sister to change her mind when she reached a decision that was not to his liking, but was seldom sufficient to force the concentrated Ranger to stray from a previously-decided-upon strategy. "Aw, Hank!" he cried, slipping just the right amount of petulance into his voice. "Do we really *have* to?"
"You know we do," replied Hank with a good-natured wink. "I know we're all getting sick of this, but if Tiamat is here to be found, she'll be inside a cave like this one." In response to this, Bobby opened his mouth to remind the Ranger that he had attempted exactly the same speech at the entrance to each of the last four caves, and that all of these attempts at optimism had completely, totally, and utterly failed to help them find the elusive Dragon Queen. However, before the rebuttal could reach his lips, he was cut off by a sharp warning glare from his sister.
Pouting, Bobby charged into the cave, not waiting for the others; he didn't expect to find Tiamat, and, in light of the four consecutive fruitless searches, he was beginning to wonder if Hank's intention of seeking out and recruiting the dragon was going to prove nothing more than a complete waste of much-needed time. Thus far, it had only proven to be, as Cyclops had stated when the idea had first been proposed, a 'wild-goose-chase', and, though he would never admit it to Hank, Bobby was beginning to wish that he had been chosen to accompany Eric and the others in the attempt to infiltrate Venger's castle. That way, at least, he would be seeing some action-albeit probably checked by Cyclops and Diana in their infinite patience-and, more importantly, he would be doing so side-by-side with his lifelong heroes, Cyclops, leader of the famed X-Men, and Wolverine, the headstrong icon who had achieved the impossible, and shut Eric up.
Still, spelunking alongside Storm and Jubilee was certainly not without its charms, and Bobby giggled in the darkness as he thought back to a brief bout of silliness in the largest of the previously-explored caves, a light-hearted moment that had almost ended fatally, as the unsteady rock on which Jubilee and himself had been standing, had unexpectedly collapsed, sending them thousands of miles down an unseen crevasse towards their doom. Indeed, had it not been for Storm's breathtakingly well-timed rescue, finding Tiamat and thwarting Venger's evil plans would have no longer been their concern.
With a slight sigh, Bobby hung his head; really, he should have learned--after so many weeks spent wandering through the deadly landscape of the Realm--that all acts of frivolous immaturity were potentially punishably by death, and, he supposed, it was partially because of this unfair fact, that he felt, of all his comrades, *he* was the one suffering the most at Fate's cruel hands. Though there was no denying that all of them had been forced to sacrifice enormous parts of their lives and their selves, Bobby found himself wondering if any of his friends could truly understand the loss that he alone had been forced to endure.
Hank and Diana, the rational ones, seemed to have adjusted the most easily to this new life of loneliness and isolation, a logical observation considering the fact that they, more so than any of the others, had so little to lose; their talents were inborn, and could not be destroyed by a few decades spent on an alien world. Eric, too, seemed to have adjusted well, though at times he was loathe to admit it; Bobby knew that the spoilt rich boy, in spite of his wealthy and prestigious background, was not as content and proud of his extensive family as he often claimed, and Bobby guessed that the time spent away from his obnoxious parents--the parents that Hank and the others had noted on countless occasions, were frighteningly like the Cavalier himself--had been blissful. Presto, Bobby knew, had thrived in this world; he was respected and appreciated here in ways that he had never dreamed of back home, and the Barbarian was certain that, when they did finally reach the doorway home, the Magician would weep with regret for all that he was throwing away. As for his sister...well, Bobby knew that Sheila was frightened and upset by the amount of pressure that DungeonMaster placed upon his young pupils so often, but he also knew that she had the inner strength to see it through without so much as a scratch to her psyche; provided that she had him-and at times, the lonely Magician-around to nurture and care for, she would be fine.
But he--the Barbarian, the fearless warrior--would not be so lucky. He was only just ten years old, and he had witnessed things that most children his age could not even think of without screaming in terror; true, he enjoyed the opportunity to play the hero, to save worlds, to fight great evils... what kid didn't dream of such paradise? But he was tired. He wanted to be a child again; he wanted to be at home with his parents, and his friends--*his* friends, the friends from *his* school and *his* life... not his sister's--he wanted to be *normal*. He knew that some of the others--Presto and Diana in particular--were thoroughly enjoying the chance to spread their wings, to grow and develop in ways that the mortal limitations of their Earthly existences would not allow them to, but Bobby was sick of it. Much as he loved the idea of being a beloved hero, like the X-Men, it was simply too much hard work for one so young and weary as he.
Perhaps it was for this reason that Bobby found himself bonding so easily with Jubilee, the girl who had also lost her childhood due to some unfortunate circumstance beyond her control. Though the youngest of the X-Men was still a few years older than he himself, she was closer to his age than any of his comrades, and she had far more in common with him than any other person he had ever met, a fact which made his head spin. As he glanced over his shoulder at where she and the others were tracking him, he found himself wondering briefly how he could see her as such a real-life, breathing person, when her two comrades still struck him as nothing more than two-dimensional comic-book characters.
He liked Jubilee. He enjoyed the fact that he could talk with her about "kid's stuff" without being told to shut up, and he loved the way she did not judge him for being a child. There was no mistaking the faintly paternal disdain that had covered Hank's face as he had gasped with relief when Storm had rescued the two of them from certain death, nor was their any way of misinterpreting the tedious sigh that Storm had released as she had chastised them for their foolish behaviour. It was this patronisation that angered Bobby more than anything else, even the self-centred 'short stuff' cracks that Eric refused to cease; how could they treat him as a child, as this young and immature creature unworthy of equal respect, when they denied him the opportunity to display his true juvenile colours in all their glory. It wasn't fair! He was looked down upon by friends and peers alike for being young, stupid, and ignorant, yet he--to a far greater degree than any of the others--was all too quickly growing up. And nobody, not Hank, not even his own sister, *nobody* could understand that juxtaposition... Until Jubilee.
"Hey, Bobby. Whatcha thinking about?"
Yelping in surprise, Bobby turned to look at the mutant in question, feeling a guilty flush creeping slowly across his face. "Uh, nothing really," he said, hoping that she would not catch the lie in his eyes as he turned to face her.
"Sure," she said with sarcasm to rival even Eric's. "Whatever. Look, d'you reckon we'll actually find this stupid dragon thing here? 'Cos I'm getting sick and tired of all this walking around and not *doing* anything." She sighed impatiently, and Bobby recalled feeling exactly the same way scant moments ago.
He shrugged in response to her question. "I dunno. Tiamat is real good at hiding from us when we want to find her, and coming out when we've got our hands full with some other dragon or something."
Groaning softly, she shook her head. "I can't believe you guys don't trust us enough to let us take a shot at this Venger guy! You'll see. We'll find the stupid dragon, go to that castle, and show up just in time to see Cyke blasting Venger's head off, and it'll all be a total waste of time!" She folded her arms with a lopsided-and, Bobby noted, decidedly heart-melting-grin.
"No way! You guys might be strong and super-powerful, but you don't stand a chance against Venger! It's just like Hank and Sheila said before. Tiamat's the only thing in the whole Realm that can take on Venger. Just wait and see."
She held out a hand. "Bet?"
"Kinda hard to bet without any money," he pointed out, then grinned and shook her hand. "All right. If I win, and Tiamat *is* the only way to defeat Venger, then you have to give me that dopey jacket of yours." At her puzzled frown, he winked. "What? It gets kinda cold out here at night and animal skins don't really keep you warm!"
Laughing, she nodded. "Okay then. But if *I* win, and Cyke and the others take on this guy without us and that stupid dragon around to help 'em, *you* have to give *me* your hat." Bobby spluttered, and had to remind himself that cave walls did not respond well to loud noises. "I wanna take it home and prove to everyone that I won a real-life bet against a real-life Barbarian."
"Did Gambit hear the word 'bet'?"
Bobby and Jubilee whirled around as Gambit and Sheila drew up beside them; Bobby noticed with a knowing smile that the two were holding hands. "Bet?" Jubilee repeated with an innocent smile. "Who said bet?"
"Not us," Bobby said emphatically.
Sheila shook her head in pure disgust, and gripped her brother's arm. "Bobby, I'm disappointed in you. You should know better than that." She sighed loudly, and turned on the 'why must you be such a failure as a little brother?' look. Bobby knew the look well; it was the same one that she had used countless times before to cheat him out of the last slice of cake.
"Aw, c'mon, sis! I don't think this world has age limits for stuff like that. Besides, it's not like I'm gonna try and sell my soul or anything stupid. I just wanna prove to her that *we* know what we're talking about and *they* don't."
"Bobby..."
Sighing, he rolled his eyes. "Fine."
Gambit had rounded on Jubilee, and was offering her a similar lecture. "That go fer you as well, Petite," he said, albeit slightly more gently than Sheila had.
In almost perfect unison, the two youngest members of the group exhaled with exaggerated exasperation; though he was rather aggravated by his sister's over-protective attitude, deep inside, he could not deny that he was grateful. His hatred at being treated like the child he was not allowed to be, although strong and powerful, did not incorporate sisterly bonding; she, and nobody else, could get away with treating him like a kid, and somehow, in doing so make him feel all the more grown-up.
Just as they were about to resume their hopeless search through the cave, Bobby heard a cry; it only took him a matter of moments to recognise the voice as being Hank's. The Ranger had wandered off, searching the darkest hidden cracks for any signs of the evil dragon queen, and, as he backed away from a particularly mysterious-looking corner, eyes wide with relief, consternation, and unchecked panic, it became apparent to the watching Barbarian that he had finally found her.
Before Bobby had the chance to second-guess his assumption, he found himself proved right; as he stood and watched, Jubilee staring dumbstruck beside him, a huge red-scaled foot stepped out from the impenetrable shadows. The Barbarian did not even need to listen for the murderous howl that he knew would erupt from Tiamat's five throats within mere moments; the sheer size of the foot-the selfsame foot that was all too quickly followed by three more--was enough to convince Bobby that this was indeed the dragon they were seeking. Quite simply, there wasn't another lizard in the Realm--at least, not one that the Young Ones had thus far encountered--that was even a third as big as the vicious dragon queen that roared with fury as it pulled its enormous wine-coloured body through a gap that seemed far too small to house such a large, monstrous creature.
"This be that dragon of yours, Chere?" asked Gambit, gazing from Tiamat to Sheila and back again in a state of total shock. When she nodded, visibly struggling to hide her own terror, the mutant blinked in acknowledgement, then swallowed nervously and stumbled back and away from the snarling beast. "Uhh... Gambit not so sure this was the best idea, Mes Amis..."
*****