Chapter 6.

SAN FRANCISCO, CALIF.

EARTH-05162004*

(OCT. 25, 2001)

Finn Gammil had once been an up-and-coming wizard in House Ziracah of the Order of Hermes. That is, till that fateful day, in 1780, when the rest of the order went to war against them for practicing white magic within their English lair, the Hellfire Club. The few survivors of that conflict (afterward known as "The Naseby Catastrophe") scattered to the winds. With Gammil, himself, joining the Setite Cult of Taweret via the Euthanatoi of Greece and the Giovanni Clan of Venice, Italy. He subsequently used the sorcery each of those groups taught him to periodically shrink-and bake alive-female practitioners of dark magic.

Most notably, the Verbenae.

Unfortunately, for him, a wizardess of House Shaea caught up to him in the 1970's and permanently rendered him too physically ugly to ever again appeal to any woman! Necessitating the construction of a golem, sculpted in his previous image, to serve as his proxy in seduction from that point on.

That, in turn, is why Ethan Rayne had come to this morally inverted parallel-Earth.

"Is it ready?" he bluntly demanded.

Gammil simply tilted his head to his left.

"Judge for yourself."

Ethan knelt down and looked at the curvaceous clay statue.

"Exquisite!"

"What about your end?" it was now Gammil's turn to ask.

Ethan stood back up and dangled the vial from his right hand.

"Eau du yulan-jin! One drop of this on each of their tongues... and their life essences have a new home. At least, temporarily!"

Whereupon, he used his left hand to remove the vial's cork, before withdrawing an eyedropper from his left coat pocket and inserting it into the liquid contents. Following which, he went over to where his three prisoners had been shrunken by Gammil, yet otherwise unharmed.

"Open wide and say 'Ahhh!', me little beauties."

The magically immobilized women could do nothing to resist being force-fed the alchemical elixir. Let alone, spit it back out rather than involuntarily swallow it! Consequently, they soon found themselves getting drowsy. After which, three streams of mist seem to emanate from each of their shrunken nostrils. Streams of mist that seemed to expand as they each converged... before entering the golem on the diagonally slanted table.

"It's alive. It's alive!" quoted Ethan in shameless glee.

"Here's the wardrobe from the French-speaking Amazon," said Gammil, ignoring the Colin Clive plagiarism. "Get her dressed and get going! Because, the sooner you have her do what you want. . ."

"...the sooner I can bring her back here to eliminate the Charmed Ones and tilt this world's balance toward eternal good," snapped Ethan. "Yeah, yeah, yeah! Don't get your knickers in a twist, old son."

Five minutes later, Ethan and the newly-ensouled golem were gone.

GEVAUDAN REGION,

18TH CENTURY FRANCE

(EARTH-06072009)

To most everyone else, the horse was simply a Friesian/Thoroughbred crossbreed. But, Jean knew better.

"Alright! Where is she?"

The black stallion just looked at him. Causing the little man to clench his fists and glare in anger. His voice suddenly developing a strangely echoic quality to it as if he were shouting from the top of a cliff.

"Seek not to deceive me by remaining silent, pooka! Je sui Jean Chastel bani Flambeau ex Merinite! !"

Whereupon, the stallion whinnied... as it telepathically replied. "Your fae-sight serves you well, Shadowlord. As to the whereabouts of the lass? Fear not! I'll find her. For we are bonded, she and I! Since long before she was adopted by the Sisters of Gabrielle."

The pooka then turned its equine head to its left and whinnied a second time. Whereupon, ten feet away, the air began to shimmer and ripple like water on the surface of a mirror. Thereby distracting Jean's attention from the pooka, just long enough for the latter to gallop towards the translucent portal... and jump into it, head-first!

Following which, the portal swiftly closed.

What seemed like mere seconds later, the pooka emerged upon a strangely familiar dirt road. On the right side of which stood Ethan Rayne... and a levitating blonde-haired version of the fae-horse's ward.

"Hello, hello, hello!" quipped the former. "What took you so long? Stop off for lunch and order the Two-For-One Fodder's Day Special?"

"Get your hands off of her, you nephandic blatherskite!" the pooka angrily telepathed, his eyes glowing a fiery red.

This, in turn, caused Ethan to scowl.

"Mind your words, Paddy! Or else you'll be a ghouled gelding for the rest of eternity. And, trust me! I now have enough extra power to make good on that threat."

"What have you done to her?" demanded the pooka. "And why, in blazes, did you bring her here?"

"Let's just say she has a destiny to fulfill and the time for doing so is now. Such being the case, I've taken the liberty of implanting her with some new memories... while simultaneously exhuming certain buried ones. All of them combined into one subtle, yet very powerful, geas. One guaranteed to keep both of you here till its completed!"

"Wait! What...?" exclaimed the pooka.

"Ta-ta, for now!"

Whereupon, Ethan activated his stolen time-sorter and disappeared.

MEANWHILE, BACK AT MYTH DRAENOR...

"Kaulder of Earth," intoned the spider-mage. "Meet Dobin Goodfellow of Faerun."

Kaulder just stared.

"What's the matter, lad?" Dobin asked. "Never seen a talking unicorn before?"

Kaulder shook his head to end his stupefaction.

"Sorry. It's just that, where I come from, unicorns went extinct before I was even born!"

"Ah! I see. Well, in Faerun, a land south of Ehb, m' father's people are still quite plentiful."

"Your father's people?" echoed Kaulder.

"Aye! M' mother was a kelpie, or waterhorse. And, as punishment for mating outside her species, Mananan MacLeir, the sea god, stripped of her shapeshifting powers... before turning her into a purple cow for the rest of all time! I was, therefore, born a purple calf. But, Mananan MacLeir underestimated the power of m' father's heritage. I sprouted m' own full-fledged alicorn when I became a yearling. Thereby regaining m' true form. Although, retaining m' mother's coloration!"

"Glad to hear it," said Kaulder. "So, uh, what brings you here?"

"Aranea asked me to convey you to Baldur's Gate, as I can gallop ten times faster than a mortal horse. But, before we set out, you might want to dress a little less conspicuously."

Kaulder examined his wardrobe. The unicorn was right! While an Armani suit and a London Fog trench coat might help him blend in on Park Avenue, they would definitely make him stand out in a more medieval setting.

"What about it?" he addressed the spider-mage. "You think you can whip me up something to wear more appropriate for this time and place?"

Aranea chuckled. "With five hands tied behind my back."

Seconds later, Kaulder was wearing a suit of silvery-looking chain mail, offset by a white jerkin (with the silhouette of a blue unicorn jumping from left to right across a full moon), a black cape, and a red-plumed helmet. An ensemble that he was allowed to examine in a full-length mirror that Aranea likewise seemed to materialize out of thin air.

"What do you think, lad?" asked Dobin.

"Not bad!" admitted Kaulder. "But, who am I supposed to be?"

"A free-lance paladin of many mercenary associations," replied Aranea. "But, most recently retained by the Society of the Sword via the Company of Llandrydd's Steel. You still lack a weapon, of course! Yet that... is easily remedied."

Whereupon there was a flash of white light. Following which, the spider-mage's bottom pair of hands were holding a battleax even more silvery-looking than his chain mail.

"Behold!" she exclaimed. "The Ax of Gar Y'gyg!"

Kaulder gingerly took the weapon into his own hands, before swinging it back and forth and, then, twirling it like a quarterstaff.

"Oh, yeah!" he muttered with a cheerful grin.

"Wakey-wakey, lass! Time to rise and shine."

The pooka's telepathic prodding finally paid off; the strawberry blonde youngster opened her eyes.

"Bon jour, Coucou!"

"Bon jour, mon petit!"

"Como tallez vous?"

"Je vais bien. Et vous?"

"Oui. C'est tout comme avec moi."

Whereupon, Helene Frisson sat up and looked at her surroundings.

"Coucou? I have a feeling we're not in France, anymore. Or, at least, nowhere near Mont Mouchet."

"Aye, lass," replied the pooka. "The metis we helped slay was under a geas cast by the same nephandus who abducted ya. Why he went to such great lengths, to entrap ya, I've no idea. Nor can I ask him as he teleported away when I caught up to the two of ya."

Helene Frisson stood up and took a longer look around.

"Wherever we are, it looks to be late afternoon. So, what do you say we ride further to our west and see if we can find lodging for the night?"

"Sounds like a plan."

Whereupon, she mounted the black fae-stallion and urged him into a brisk trot.

It was not until half an hour later that they heard the first sounds of combat coming from somewhere ahead of them. So Coucou immediately broke into a full gallop. The two of them climbing to the top of a nearby ridge in virtually nothing flat! From there, they were able to see quite clearly what was happening. Although, the reason for what was happening was not so clear. For there, on the dirt road below them, was a melee the likes of which not even she had ever seen before.

Standing astride a dead mule was a black-bearded dwarf with a spiked buckler and a mace. While all around him were creatures that looked to be equal parts turtle, ape, and pig... battling to the death with leopard-spotted werewolves.

That was enough for her. She quickly withdrew her brace of silver hunting swords before shouting, at the top of her lungs:

"La Mort A Tous Les Loup Garous!"

tbc

GLOSSARY

Earth-05162004: an in-joke reference to the air date of "It's A Bad, Bad, Bad, Bad World." The two-hour Season 6 finale of CHARMED, wherein the Halliwell Sisters traveled to the San Francisco of an alternate universe, where their resident counterparts were champions of evil. Ergo; all their enemies (like Gammil from Season 4) would have been vanquished for trying to do good! Which, in turn, explains my slight revision to the canonical back story of House Ziracah from White Wolf Games' "Classic World of Darkness."

Earth-06072009: an in-joke reference to my earlier story "The Brighter the Picture, The Darker the Negative."

"...bani Flambeau" ("...of House Flambeau"): refers to that branch of the Order of Hermes whose wizards specialize in pyrokinetic combat.

"...ex Merinite" ("...from House Merinita"):refers to that branch of the Order of Hermes whose wizards derive most of their power from fae-magic.

geas: an irresistible mystical compulsion.

Coucou: French slang term pronounced just like the bird call associated with those cute little Swiss clocks. Usually uttered by French children while playing their version of "Peek-a-boo."

Miscellaneous English translations:

"How are you?"

"I'm fine. And you?"

"Yes, it's the same with me."

"Death To All Werewolves!"