The Gathering

THE GATHERING

Lance Simpson opened his eyes and looked lovingly into the face of his wife Dale Ann. Slowly she opened her own eyes, the enchanting aquamarine that had first drew in him and made him fall head-over-heels with love doing again so now. "Hi" she smiled, her Australian accent smiling along with her eyes.

"Hi yourself" he smiled back, his American accent jarring with hers. He leant over and, unable to help himself, kissed her on the lips "How are you feeling this morning?" Dale stretched her long and lean body on the bed, her sexy body dragging his eyes from her face for an instant "Warm, warm and comfy. I don't want to get up yet."

"Well you don't, all the chores would be done by now."

"Rick?" She smirked, referring to their eleven-year old son and Lance smiled back "Yeah. He's up doing his chores happily at a time of day I'd still be snoring away."

"You don't snore!" Dale started to laugh when the door downstairs slammed open and there came an urgent cry of "DAD! MOM!" from the bottom of the staircase. Usually Rick called his parents Mother and Father, Mom and Dad were used only when it was important. So, Lance grabbing boxer shorts and Dale a robe they pulled them on and rushed to the stairs, meeting the boy halfway.

Richard Jared their son was tall and thin for his age. His mothers curl and supple body, but his fathers blondeness. His mother’s intense aquamarine eyes, but his father’s muscles. Years of chores on the farm and working out in the school gym had built up the boy’s arms and legs. However like his father he had a way of looking strong, but not more so than usual. He looked muscular, but only enough so people knew he could handle himself if forced.

Their sons' urgent eyes met theirs, signs of higher intelligence in them they had held since birth, which had lead to tests to discover Rick was one of the ever increasing number of abnormally gifted humans, now referred to as Mutant.

His abilities as an mutant were starting to show closer to puberty, and the Simpson’s' family Doctor told them once that happened there was no telling what the boy would be able to do. But for now all he showed was a higher intelligence, a genius with architect and technical equipment-such as programming computers and an immunity to a drug once exposed to it.

"What is it, Rick?" Dale asked urgently and the boy spoke between gasps for breath "There’re people in the bean field, Mother! I went to pick the ripe ones for dinner tonight before I got ready for school and found them! There's this big burnt hole in the ground like an meteor hit and they're lying in there!"

“How many and what are they doing?" she asked curiously and he replied "Two men, a boy my age and a baby. They're unconscious but dressed weirdly."

"Who cares how they are dressed, they need our help! Lance, take the trailer up to the field and get them down here while I call Doctor Sanderson and get some stuff ready." Lance nodded and steered Rick down the stairs. The last thing Dale heard before the door slammed shut was "I still say they're dressed weirdly."


"You're right, Rick, they ARE dressed weirdly. Help me with this one" Lance said ten minutes later and Rick aided his father in getting the heavy man in leather-like amour into the back of the trailer, followed by the leather-clad boy Ricks age. "Maybe they're actors" Rick suggested "and something happened to them."

"Like what?" Lance asked. "What could have possibly caused this burn?"

"I don't know" Rick said honestly. They suddenly started in surprise as the leather-armoured man opened blue eyes and reached an arm out towards the other man, whispering weakly "Chel" in fear before fainting from the obvious pain his wounds would have been causing him.

Lance frowned at the man already on the trailer before getting Ricks' help to place the other and more seriously hurt man in long and covering black cloak and hood into the back next to him. Then, with Rick nursing the baby, they drove back down the front of the farmhouse.

Dale and Doctor William Sanderson met them at door, watching them carry the four inside. Dale took the baby from Rick and changed it into a nappy and one of Peters' spare singles. First the Doctor examined the baby, stating it was safe and healthy, only sleeping. Dale put into the crib next to Peter, the boy they were fostering, and they turned to the more serious other three.

The boy Ricks' age was only suffering minor cuts and bruises and a concussion so was placed on Rick’s spare bed after being patched up and cleaned. After changing the two men’s' clothes they were placed in the spare room so the Doctor could examine them properly.

First he examined the man who had been in the amour, stating this one was injured but not too badly and should be up and around soon. They would just have to make sure to change his bandages regularly and check the wounds didn't become infected.

Next he moved to the other one, the one whom had been in the heavy black cloak and hood. He was handsome in a thin and skinny way despite his many injuries, but extremely pale and still. As he examined him the man frowned in concern and fear.

"What is it, Doctor?" Dale asked in fear. She was a gentle and kind soul and his look concerned her.

"His injuries are more sever, I’m not sure he'll live. His blood loss is massive and his body seems to have suffered what I can only describe as an animal attack. Teeth marks on the arms and claw marks on the chest. The left leg and right arm and hand almost torn apart plus burned flesh on the hands with god knows what else. However we can't move him or we risk killing him or causing more damage. We'll just have to leave them here."

"We'll take care of them Doctor Sanderson" Dale promised. "You can count on us."


The first to awaken a few days later was the boy Ricks age. Lance and Dale were awoken that morning by the sound of crashes and cries from Ricks' room. They ran to find the door locked and Lance only hesitated seconds before trying to force it in.

Just as he got it open they found Rick flipping the boy over his shoulder, thank god for his karate lessons. The other landed heavily on his butt, not knowing how to land properly and Rick stood over him silently and tense, waiting for the boys next move. But he only looked up at him, face awed by Ricks' speed and strength and considering the other’s muscles and bulk that was saying a lot.

For long minutes they only stared at each other, then slowly Rick held out his hand. He recognized he had won the boys respect and wondered if he would accept the promise in his hand too. At first they thought the fear would win out but then he reached out and took it, grasping it firmly and climbing to his feet with Ricks' help.

The other smiled and laid a hand over his heart, saying softly "Silton" as he did.

Richard copied the gesture and said his own name, the other smiling and nodded. Then suddenly he saw Lance and Dale in the doorway, face and body tense ready for attack. But Rick shook his head and went to his parents' side, laying a hand on their arms and saying softly "Father-Lance," and "Mother-Dale" as he did.

The boy seemed to understand and nodded. Relaxing slightly and frowning in fear he motioned around him and asked, "Father?" They understood this time and Rick motioned him to follow as the parents lead him to the men’s room. The boy frowned again and went to the muscular mans' side while Dale went over to check the other mans bandages.

He reached out and gently touched one of his father’s cuts, his other hand rising to touch his own bandaged head. Then he grasped his shoulder and repeated one word over and over again until the man stirred for the first time in three days and opened those piercing blue eyes, the same blue as his sons'.

As the eyes opened Silton smiled down at him in relief. The man managed a weak smile back and spoke a language they had never heard before. The boy shrugged, answering in the same language. The man then asked something else in a concerned voice, repeating that word he had used three days before "Chel?"

The boy pointed to the other man and answered, voice filled with concern. The man’s head turned to look at his friend, frowning in concern when he saw all the bandages. He looked back briefly at his son, who shrugged again and said something else. The man looked back at his friend and continued to frown until he closed his eyes and slept.


For the next few days Silton followed Rick around the farm before and after school, learning all he had to teach him. He seemed hungry for new things to learn, new words. Lance was surprised about how much Rick was enjoying teaching his new friend. Then he realized it was simple why. All his life Rick had been different to others, no matter how much he tried to fit in and only Daniel Eastern from the farm down the road had any interest in the boy as a friend.

Now Rick had found someone as unusual as him and so had taken the boy under his wing and treating him as a brother, as he would like other boys to treat him.

In return Silton became a protective companion, he knew Rick was lonely and that he was different and sensed a kinship. He also knew that despite the Karate lessons Rick was an pacifist and wouldn't fight unless threatened, and so took it on himself to be his new friends defender. In fact one day when Rick had come home with an black eye from an bullies lucky punch both Lance and his nearly fully recovered father had to physically hold him back from storming out, hunting down the bully and beating him to a pulp.

By now he had picked up quiet a few words from Rick, a few even that Lance didn't approve of. Yet Rick didn't swear-so where did he get them? He got his answer one day. He was in the backfield, ploughing, when the machine got stuck. As he fought to free it and swearing to himself a blue streak all the time, he heard a small imitating voice close by and two sets of boyish laughter.

He looked up to find Rick and Silton by the trees surrounding the farm and watching him, both eyes alight with laughter at him. It was the first time Lance had ever seen Rick outside playing like a normal boy and he realized that it was Silton’s influence, the boy was encouraging his son to try new things.

That was all Rick needed, someone his age who he trusted encouraging him to try other things.

Lance gave them both a talking to about laughing at people. "Yes father" Rick said obediently, although that didn't stop the laughter spilling out of his eyes. "Good. Now off with you both or you'll get in my way."

"Yes father" Rick repeated and the two moved off, but a certain distance Lance could hear them both start to chortle. He shook his head and smiled. It was good to hear Rick laugh, before Silton turned up the boy had been too serious. Now he sounded like a real kid.

Except the Father and Mother part. "Ah well" Lance laughed to himself "nobodies' perfect."

One day something happened to help improve the thin mans' still dangerous condition. Rick and Silton were milking the cows in the barn and talking about the man. "Chel hurt very badly" the boy was saying. "Correct" Rick smiled "Your fathers friend is hurt seriously. I don't know if he'll heal or just die."

"Correct" Silton copied, shaking his head "Chel heal." Rick looked at him long and hard "How do you know he'll be all right?" Not knowing the right word Silton leant over and drew a staff topped with a jewel in the sawdust on the floor, repeating "Staff" over and over again.

"Staff? What staff? There wasn't any staff with you or in your belongings." After a thoughtful pause a sudden idea struck him and he motioned Silton to follow him. Taking the milk up to the house they then headed down to the bean fields where Rick had first found them. After watching the boy mutant look around for a few minutes the boy warrior joined in, or at least copied.

Rick found something about ten minutes later in the middle of the rose bushes surrounding the field. Calling the other boy over to his side he pointed to a long dark green painted staff with a strange large crystal topping it, the size of Ricks fist. "That it?" he asked.

"That is it" Silton mimicked and nodded, reaching for it. But Rick grabbed his arm and stopped him, pointing to the thorns "Sharp, hurt."

Silton nodded and followed him to Lance who was again in the field, ploughing, minus a shirt as he worked in the hot sun. His muscles rippled as he strained to pull out a stubborn weed, his back; chest; and face glistening with sweat and wearing a black bandanna to keep his blond hair from his eyes. He wore only tight white denim shorts and sneakers.

Rick went straight up to him and explained the situation, then waited to see what his father had to say. "So Silton says this thing can help Chel heal quicker?" Lance asked as he stood straight and mopped the sweat from his face and chest with his shirt. "Yes father. Even if it doesn't, it belongs to the man. If he dies he should at least have all his things with him. If he heals, he can use it as a cane to help him walk."

"True" the man nodded "Meet me there, I'll just tell your mother and get the shears." He grinned suddenly "Your mother won't be happy, they're her prized bushes." Rick nodded and the boys went back to the field, Lance stopping momentarily at the well to splash some cold water over his face before heading up to the house.

"There Rick. Can you reach it?" Lance asked a few minutes later.

Rick reached in, straining to get closer without being scratched. "No, I just need a few more feet." He pulled out and Lance was about to raise the shears again when Silton shoved his hand in, grabbing the staff and pulling it out he smiled triumphantly at them, although his hand was cut from the contact with the thorns.

He let them have a good look at it.

It was a long and thick piece of wood, painted dark green with strange gold writing etched down it vertically. The strangest crystal they had ever seen topped it. It was purple, but inside they saw both yellowish green and red, the red at the very center. After-wards he turned and lead the way back to the house, taking it directly up to the spare room, to the man and Silton’s father, who had barely moved from his friends side since recovering.

The man turned when they entered, his face lighting up as soon as he saw it. Launching to his feet and into a string of the other language but Silton just shrugged. Lance, Dale and Rick watched as the boy brought it over to the bed as the man gently shook his friend awake. Slowly, very slowly, the eyes opened. They gasped in shock and surprise.
Gold, gold eyes.

Not just that, but they were slitted to stop light getting in. Not the circular of HUMAN eyes, but the vertical thin slit of cat-eyes. Not blue like Lance; Silton or Santon, or even Dale and Ricks' Aquamarine. Or brown or green or hazel or even black-but gold.

The gold eyes slowly set on his friend and gently Santon took the staff from his son and laid on the bed beside the hurt man, who frowned, reaching out with one bandaged hand and stroking it. His free fingertips over the writing they ran over the gold letters almost lovingly, reassuring himself it was his.

As he touched it the crystal lit up, reacting to him as if knowing whom now touched it. Sensing its owner only the red center glowed, the rest dark and still. This only reassured the man more and he smiled weakly, his eyes slowly closing. The crystal continued to glow as long as his fingers touched it. Santon turned to them and smiled with total relief and joy, to him everything would now be all right.


The next afternoon Santon saw Lance and Dales' expressions when he walked in to the kitchen, frowned asking haltingly "What is wrong?" Lance said nothing, continuing to try and work something out on the calculator, frowning in worry. So Dale explained, "We need money Santon, and a lot, too pay off our debts and the mortgage on the house. Our fields aren't producing."

"Money. This is bad?"

"Very bad, Santon. If we don't pay up we'll loose the farm, people will take it from us and we won't have anywhere to live." Santon's expression showed he would let NO ONE take his new friends' home from them.

"No, Santon" Dale said softly "Even you couldn't stop them, and we wouldn't want you to try. If only we had some money we could pay." Santon murmured "Money" and disappeared upstairs for a minute or so. When he returned he was carrying a small leather drawstring pouch, handing it to Dale. Lance looked up when she gasped, looking at least twenty strange gold coins. Dale looked back up at Santon "We can't take these, they're yours."

The man just shook his head and closed her fingers over them, pushing them closer to her as if to say "No, they're yours now." Lance spoke reluctantly "Well if we get them melted down the gold should be worth something. Thank you Santon." The man nodded and smiled at them, pleased to help his new friends.


The next day Doctor Sanderson returned to check over the four, Santon only letting him because Dale wanted, Silton when Rick asked. But Chel seemed to sense the man was there to help, watching the man critically and with genuine and vast interest. When Santon went to strike the man when he made his son wince as he probed the healing cut on his head, Chel wrapped the fingers of one of his bandaged hands around his wrist, restraining him, although there was no doubt the man was still in an incredibly weak and frail condition.

He spoke for the first time, his voice soft and melodic. His gentle words in their language seemed to affect the man when Silton’s protests weren't. He calmed and sat on the bed next to his friend, although he now watched the Doctor closely. After his examination Chel took up what he had been doing before the man arrived, reading the English dictionary. Doctor Sanderson took them aside and spoke, voice amazed.

"I've never seen anything like this before. The boy and baby will heal; I know this because they weren't really injured. But both men are healing faster than I've ever seen before, than I expected."

"Well Santon because of his obvious physical strength and resilience-I mean look at the guy, he makes male Mister Universe Body builder 2002 look like a skinny nerd. I kind of suspected he was going to survive. But Chel, well, I wasn’t sure about him." Lance spoke "I mean the guy’s thin and skinny, not to mention pale. I was sure the blood-loss would kill him. But now look at him."

They looked towards the man who was sitting up in bed, one hand touching the staff and the other gripping the dictionary as he silently mouthed the words. "He's already more than half-way through and has learnt way more words from us in two days then Santon and Silton could in little less in a week!!"

"The only way I can explain it is the man is a mutant, like your son. Both parents looked surprised "Really? You think so?"

"I do" the Doctor nodded seriously "If this keeps up, he'll be up and around in a few days. Meanwhile keep him seated and give him plenty of water and food. I'll be back next week to check on the man's progress, but other than that, there's nothing else I can do. He seems to have his pain and healing pretty much under control."

Days later Rick found the thin man on his way to the toilet. He frowned "Should you be up?" The man smiled gently at him and said softly "It is fine, my friend. I only wish to take what your father calls an whiz." Rick laughed at this and said, "You mean a toilet break." And the man smiled again "of course. I cannot stay in bed and continue to expect your parents to wait on me all the time. I wish to start doing things for myself."

"And you want to see your son" Rick said, correctly reading the rest of his unspoken words. The man nodded "yes. Where is he? Santon says he is fine, but I wish to see for myself."

"I understand" Rick smiled "he's in mother and fathers' room with Peter."
"Peter. Is he your...um..."

"Brother" Rick supplied and shook his head "No. He's just someone we're looking after, for a friend until he comes back" Something unreadable came into the boys' eyes as the other asked "And when will this friend return?"

"I don't know" Rick admitted "he's been gone a year. I don't think he'll come back." Although Chel could see that the boy didn't want to continue to talk about it, he had to ask "And is he the father?"

"No" Rick said bluntly "He couldn't have kids, he was an loner and being hunted by someone. Giving Peter to us was his only way of saving him from his life, to give him a full and safe life. He MIGHT come back when he's finally safe, but I doubt it."

Chel said nothing else, so after an uncomfortable pause Rick asked him softly "Where are you all from? Father and mother and I have been wondering, but we couldn't figure it out, why you are so strangely dressed and couldn't speak English, well, until now. I thought you were all actors, but you can't be."

"We did not know how to explain before, but if you find your father while I check Cheleron, I will try to." Rick nodded and they separated. Chel found Dale in their room, bottle-feeding his son with formula and rocking him slowly while she hummed a lullaby her now crippled father had taught her. She in turn had taught it to Rick and was now teaching the two babies.

As Chel limped in she looked up and smiled, gaining a smile back and nodding to the bed beside her. He sat, hurt leg stretched out and staff leaning against his good leg. Gently Dale handed the feeding baby over to its father while not disturbing the boy, bottle and all. Chel took his son, not looking up from his child’s suckling mouth and closed eyes. His gold eyes widened slightly when one of the babies hands curled around his finger and held it.

"He is strong," he said softly and Dale spoke as she picked up Peter and another bottle "Most healthy babies are. You should have seen Rick at this age, eyrh. I would feed him and put him down, but instead of crying if he didn't want me to leave he'd just grip me and not let go. Now that I think of it, Rick never cried as a baby."

"Is that normal?"

"No, it's not. But Ricks' a mutant, he was born smarter and more intelligent than some people. Even then he just didn't want to cry, even though he cooed and laughed and gurgled like most babies. I think I only saw him cry twice, when Loel left and again only recently."

"When?" Chel asked curiously.

"About six months ago there was an huge earth quake, It changed this world as we know it. Many were killed, countries sank, new once raised, so on. My mother and father were in a car when this happened. My mother was killed instantly, my father crippled. My father lived for my mother and ONLY for her, so when he found out he many times tried to kill himself to be with her after life.

After her funeral, Rick spent ten minutes alone with him and then disappeared. When we went in to see father he was crying brokenly, but no longer wanted to kill himself. I found Rick in here, over there” she nodded at a dark corner near the bed "hiding his face in his knees and curled up, crying brokenly. I knew he was close to my mother and it was the last time I've seen him cry. He disappears every day for an hour or so and even though I don't know what he does, I know he doesn't cry."

I understand," he said softly. Dale watched him with his son for a few minutes and then asked him gently "You've lost her, haven't you? You're wife I mean."

"Yes," he nodded sadly, not looking up "How could you tell?"

"The way you look at your son, as if you're seeing her in him. Father used to look at me like that sometimes. When I asked him why he'd say `you look so much like your mother'. It's called melancholy. Tell me about her." Chel spoke softly, gold eyes watering "I had known Gwineveire since we were children, we were in love since we first met and she was the only one I could ever love like that." He sniffed and told her what happened.

"We were ambushed in a clearing and my love and Heelena-that is Santon's wife-were overpowered. They grabbed our sons, and took off. I wanted to stay with her, but Santon started to drag me away, saying the boys were more important then. Although part of me knew he was right I fought him. I shall never forgive myself for leaving her there, alone, to die." He sniffed again and tears slid unbidden down his cheeks "I know Santon is as grieved as I. I do not think Silton realizes what it means yet."

"You mean he's in shock?"

"No, I think he thinks she is alive and waiting for us to return. That she will be there, waiting, with open arms. I do not think it has sunk in yet that we are stuck here with no way back and she will not be there waiting for us. I do not think he believes even his father when he says she is dead."

"Denial" Dale nodded "I went through it when mother died. It'll hit him soon. As for your wife you shouldn't blame yourself for leaving her. You couldn't have helped her and the boys' WERE more important, there was no telling what those people could have done to them. Any delay and the trail could have gone cold."

"I COULD have helped her" he said softly "I have spells...."

"Spells" Dale looked at him funny "You mean you ARE a Sorcerer?" A sudden thought hit her "Of course! It explains everything, especially where you're from and how you learn so fast! The Doctor thinks you're a mutant like Rick, but it explains your existence and the existence of all other Wizards. Medieval Mutants!!' Although Chel didn't understand he nodded and Dale went on "What's your name? I mean other than Chel? And what about your son?"

"I am Chelerick Slighthand, and my sons is Cheleron. Santon and Silton’s are Warriorsoul. Gwineveire’s was Noblemind and Heelena’s was Fleetfoot."

"Maiden name?" she asked curiously and he looked startled at her with a “what?” to which she explained "When we marry here we share the mans' last name. Like my maiden name was Caller, and now I've married Lance it's Simpson."

"We did not do that" he shook his head. "Then how could you tell someone was married? Anyone could wear rings” and she nodded to the gold engraved band around one of the thin fingers on his good hand. "You have a point." Dale changed the subject then "how old is Cheleron?"

"Twelve months old" he answered to which she said softly "Like Peter." Chel hesitated before he asked the next question, as if unsure he should ask at all "Richard told me about you minding him for a friend but he seemed reluctant to say to much, why?"

"Because Loel, that's the friend, was Ricks' first real adult friend and they were incredibly close. When Loel left to protect Rick he was hurt more than he'll admit. Also the not hearing from him and not knowing if he's alive or dead makes it all the more terrible." Chel nodded slowly and said in a gentle and sympathetic voice “I understand."

"Have you ever held your own son before?" Dale asked him curiously when he shifted him awkwardly in his arm and he answered her "No. That is a woman’s job where we come from, raising a child." Dale smiled at this "I understand. Especially if I'm right about your origin."

"Where?" he asked curiously and Dale frowned at him "We call it medieval times, our past. History. Way; way; way back." Chel looked at her "You mean we have been teleported forward into the future?"

"Looks like it," she answered softly.

"Where Rick?" Silton asked later on, interrupting a sparse conversation between his father and Lance. "You mean where IS Rick, Silton. I wouldn't know where he is. He always disappears about this time of day, or haven't you noticed?"

"Rick might hurt..." Silton started, but Lance interrupted with "Might BE hurt. You're forgetting your is and bes'. My son can take care of himself, Silton. He's been doing so long before you arrived. He's off meditating, or whatever it is he does." Silton frowned and Lance could tell the boy didn't believe him. Before he could speak again the boy had spun on his heel to go and seek out his new friend.


Not fifteen minutes later Dale, Lance and Santon were in the parent’s room, watching the two babies sleep when Silton called them urgently from downstairs. Curious the three came down to find him with an unconscious Rick, attempting to carry him through the doorway, his face beaten and blood specked him.

Lance and Dale gasped in horror, the man took his son from the boy, and they headed for the boys' room. Silton and Santon followed and conversed in their language, which Chel had told them was called Kel, after their birth world and time.

As the worried man laid his son on the bed, Dale examined and patched cuts and rubbing cream on already forming bruises Santon spoke to them in halting English, explaining. "Silton say he find Rick bound to tree and two men beating him. He stopped them and fights them off. They flee and he bring him back."

"Thank god he did, there's no telling what could have happened." Dale sighed and Santon frowned at her "You know who these men are?" Dale nodded seriously "we have an idea, Santon. We borrowed money off a Loan Shark, a man who loans money. But we weren't able to pay him back when he wanted-and still can't. So he's hired men to scare us." Her eyes were wide as she gently looked up at them "But we had no idea they'd do this to us. They would have killed Rick just to warn us if Silton hadn't have stopped them."

"Rick be all right?" Silton asked in concern "They hurt him, even though he fight well." Dale answered him, frowning in fear and concern, "They don't fight like you or us Silton. They play dirty."

"In mud?" the boy frowned in confusion but she shook her head "No. It means they are sneaky. They probably snuck up behind him and knocked him out before he could fight back and tied him up. They then waited until he woke up and then started to beat him."


When Rick came too later he confirmed it. "They said they were going to kill me to punish you for not paying them back the money." Chel spoke softly to him "You do not seem horrified or scared at this thought."

"I was once attacked by a guy and attacked in a way you can't imagine" Rick said to him. "And what he did to me is terrifying compared to that. A beating then quick death, that's merciful."

"You are brave and mature for your age” Chel said. "When I was your age I was just beginning to see my own mortality." Rick just shrugged "We all die, only the how and when is different. No one can live forever and a few can only try to draw it out.”

A few days later the Loan Shark struck again. Someone drove into their property, throwing a flaming bottle of alcohol into the barn where Silton was teaching Rick a few of his moves and Rick was teaching him some of his karate moves. The straw quickly caught fire along with one wall.

As the two boys started shooing the animals out Rick was struck on the shoulder by a piece of flaming wood and falling. Silton grabbed his friends’ arm and practically dragged him with him. Lance and Dale were outside and attempting to put out the fire with water from the well, but one look at Chel’s concentrated frozen face and Santon shooed them away.

They protested of course, confused, but obeying because they sensed something strange going on. A look came into Chel's eyes, a look of power as his gold cats-eyes starting to glow. So did his staffs' crystal. Only instead of red it was glowing purple.

The man’s thin lips started to move, silent words in another language and the look of power increasing. He suddenly pointed to the well and slowly the water rose inside an invisible globe of power. It hovered above the barn and suddenly dropped, dousing the flames.

The power faded and Dale and Rick cheered, the boy gripping his shoulder in pain. Chel; Santon and Silton all smiled, glad to help their friends. But Lance was the first to calm them when he said seriously "Look at the barn, it's ruined."

"Can't you fix it, Lance?" Dale asked. "Not with what money we have left. We have barely enough to feed the animals and ourselves as it is. To pay for petrol for the car and tractor, let alone the wood; nails; excreta needed for this job."

"What about Santon’s coins? Have you taken them to the antique evaluator yet? If they're really from the time I think, they should be worth quiet a bit as collectors items." Lance sighed "I go back to the guy tomorrow. Just pray it's enough, or we'll loose everything." To which Dale nodded seriously.

Santon; Silton; Lance and Rick spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning up what was left of the barn, while Dale cooked Chel read fore he was still not fully recovered.

* * * *

"Dale, you're not going to believe me, but that money Santon gave us? Well it's so old and so rare they're giving us at least one thousand per coin for it! That's at least two hundred thousand dollars!! Those guys are a blessing in disguise!!!" Dale threw herself into her husband’s arms in joy and relief with "That's great, Lance!" and for a long minute they just kissed, long and hard.

Suddenly they were interrupted by a young voice "Eyew, gross" and Silton's sniggers. The two parents separated slightly, Lance smiling playfully "Of you go, Rick, don't sticky-beak.”

"Yes sir" Rick grinned and the two boys left the room. When they were gone Lance looked at Dale "That's means six thousand to pay off the loan shark, four thousand to do repairs and fix the fields so they produce, and one ninety still to spare!!"

"You're right, Lance! Although I think we should use the rest on our new friends, after all it was THEIR money. They need identities and clothes and proper training, maybe their own place later. So on." She smiled at him "See what happens when you show someone kindness, you get it back tenfold! We have new friends who solved our problems for us and Rick has a new and true friend! Someone to share his soul and all his little secrets with, someone as unusual as him and can treat as a brother. All this from helping someone in need." Lance smiled and nodded "I should listen to you more often."

"I know" Dale nodded playfully " I keep telling you that for years." She grew serious "When are you getting the money and then paying off the Loan Shark?" Lance refused to be serious "I'll pick it up tomorrow and go straight there after wards" continuing as he grinned at her "But right now I feel like celebrating."

"What do you mean?" Lance didn't answer, just sweeping her up in his arms and starting upstairs to their room. "Oh" Dale blushed and smiled almost shyly in understanding "Don't Lance, not with everyone home. What if they hear us?"

"They're adults, they'll guess what we're doing and avoid the bedroom. Besides, they're busy. Rick and Silton are outside and Chel and Santon are playing with Peter and Cheleron." Dale was intensely embarrassed about the thought of Chel and Santon hearing them making out, blushing deeper as they reached the door. "Not now Lance, later. When everyone's asleep."

"Now" he opened the door, closed it with his foot and laid her on the bed gently, his mouth lowering to her before she could protest again. His hand wandered under her loose blouse as his kiss deepened. Soon Dales' moans of pleasure floated down the hallway.


The next day, as he was about to leave, Chel appeared behind Dale and stopped him. "Wait my friend, I will come. These men are dangerous."

"Yes, too dangerous for you in your still hurt condition Chel. Thanks anyway." Chel slowly shook his head "I am healed and able to defend myself easily, my friend. It is YOU whom need the protection. I have faced more danger in my short life than anything you could imagine. I am coming."

Lance opened his mouth to protest, but Dale looked at him pleadingly "Please Lance. Let him come." So the man sighed and said "All right. Just don't say I didn't warn you."
"Never."


About three hours later they reached the building where the Loan Shark worked. Lance grabbed the case of money from the car and glanced nervously at the guards, with Chel close to his side he entered the building. Somehow the manmutants' presence made him feel a little bit better.

Lance noticed as they walked the man was gripping his staff tightly, parted lips moving slightly as he readied a spell. Just in case. They found the man Lance wanted seated behind a desk, which stood and glared at him. "What do YOU want?"

Lance handed him the case "Here's the money I owe you plus five hundred dollars interest to stay away from us. Take it and leave us alone.”

"Where did you get all this?" the man’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as he took it from him. "None of your Damned business! Just take it and leave us alone!!" With that Lance turned to go, but the man said softly "You owe us ten thousand, not six." He spun back and spluttered "WHAT!! "

"Interest. You're seven months overdue. We want Ten thousand, not six. If you don't like it I may just have to call my guys out to your farm again, only THIS time they will have fun with your wife instead of your son." And Lance was so stuck at that point between fury and anger he was speechless.

"I thought so" Chel said softly "No matter the century, these people are all the same." He stepped forward and caught the man's attention, his gold cats-eyes locking to the other hypnotically. The Loan Shark only managed "Who are yo..." before Chel had clamped control over his mind.

"You will take the money" he said sternly "You shall take it happily and it shall prove enough for you. No longer shall you bother this family, or any of their members or decadents. You were just happy to help them and will never even CONSIDER doing anything to hurt them or endanger them again. Break.” He blinked and looked away.

The mans' blank face immediately became friendly and happy, smiling at Lance and saying, "That's it, all done. You'll hear nothing more from us." Forcing his surprise and shock away Lance spoke "Good. Can we go now?" The man nodded, but then asked softly "Who's your friend?"

"Che..... Johnathon Smith. He and his warrior friend are staying with us a while. If you ever return or endanger us again, Steven and he will stop you. Believe me when I say that'll cost you a lot of men and money."

You'll hear nothing more of us.”

"Good." They headed for the car, the rest of the money safely hidden inside the boot. Lance asked Chel softly as they walked "How'd you do that?"

"I do not know" Chel shrugged "I have been able to do so since I was very young, even BEFORE I discovered my magic. Why did you call me that name and Santon Steven?"

"Because the four of you need modern names for this time. Introduce yourself as Chelerick Slighthand the Sorcerer and people with either think you're crazy or just give you a nasty look. But introduce yourself as Johnathon Smith, and they won't think it unusual."

"And Santon will be called Steven, what about the others?”

"Santon can be Steven and Silton Paul-Stairer. Your son can be Andrew." Chel Johnathon looked amused "Very well, we shall have these new names. From this moment on I am Johnathon Smith."


So, for the next three years they stayed on the farm helping out with crops and excreta. The Simpson’s all taught their new friends about the strange and weird and wonderful world around them and how to act and appear as normal as everyone else.

When the four finally brought their own farm down the road from them they still stayed friends and close, even coming over to baby-sit Peter occasionally when the Simpson’s went out. That's how one day when Rick was fifteen they came home from his school concert to find the place ransacked, all but Peter gone-hidden under a overturned chair-and blood on the floor.

While Dale took Peter over to the Eastern's next door to sit, just in case, Lance and Rick searched the place for intruders or clues. "Dad" Rick said softly a few minutes later, standing up from behind the couch "This was under here." He held a map and return ticket to New Africa.

* * * *

Johnathon awoke slowly, groggily. His eyelids fluttered as he forced them open cautiously.

As his gold eyes adjusted to the dark he found himself bound and gagged inside a small tent and on a wooden chair. The stars were visible through the top of the tent, although raising his head that much caused his vision to swim.

For one long confused moment he didn't know where he was, but then he remembered. Two men had come to the door asking for Rick. They had refused to listen when he said he wasn't there and had refused to answer his questions when he wanted to know who they were and why they wanted to see him.

The men had tried to force their way in and Johnathon had used a spell to throw them out, but he had made the mistake of stepping outside to do so. He had felt a blow on the back of his head and had dropped, mind blaring with pain and concentration broken.

His last thought before he blacked out was to mentally child himself for being so stupid, AND for not closing the door after him. He had unwillingly given the men access to the house, to Steven, Paul and the two boys for that matter. Looking around his eyes set on a figure on the ground beside the chair, chained, gagged, but unconscious.

Steven.

Where were the boys and Paul? Were they safe, Paul fleeing to safety with the boys or were they also captives, only away from them? Still looking at Steven Johnathon had his answer. Paul was a heroic and noble soul like his father, he would stay and fight, it wouldn't occur to him that the boys would be in danger.

Foolish, he should have thought of the boy’s lives first. Not the thrill of battle and helping his father. Johnathon's eyes creased in agony from his head and he groaned as the waves hit him with every slight movement.

But used to pain he just rode them, waiting for the strength to recover. Praying that they were all safe, Paul; Peter and even Rick-he prayed they hadn't hung around-if they were willing to do this just to get in, Johnathon hated to think what they'd do to the young man. But most of all he prayed for Andrew, prayed his son was alive and safe.

A sudden movement to his left brought his head around, pain lacing behind his eyes from the quick movement. The pain meant nothing as his eyes set on the shine of a raised metal knife sparkling in the torchlight.

With a flash the knife rose, then came down.

* * * *

Creeping quietly from tent to tent he headed for one in particular. Wearing all black clothes his dark hair was straight and framing his fine-boned definitely attractive face. Green eyes seemed to glow in the dark, a set of black gloves on the hands. His dark clothes and hair made him seem like nothing but a shadow.

Pulling a knife from his boot he slit open the back of the tent, creeping silently inside. And cursed silently. Instead of one man asleep on a camp bed-the man responsible for the deaths of many of his people-he found two men, one chained on the ground and the other tied to a chair. Both were unconscious.

The one on the chair had a bloody wound on the back of his head, long stringy black hair mattered with it, pale and obviously suffering damaged skull as well as blood-loss. He could tell by the man’s hoarse and rasping breaths, the sweat beading his high cheeks and thin but pale face. He wore dark blue denim, black leather shoes and a gray hood and cloak bunched up around him.

His gaze fell to the man on the floor. Huge he was covered in muscles and bulging out of his white shirt with torn sleeves; black trousers; blue sneakers with grey socks and shoulder length brown wavy hair.

Suddenly the man on the chairs breathing cut off and he stirred, raising his head and slowly forcing his eyes open. He looked around and saw the man on the floor, looked to the other side and he could barely hold back a gasp as he saw the man's eyes. They were gold with cat-like pupils. He looked up, but that didn't do him any good as his head dropped and he moaned behind the gag. He made a decision and moved silently forward. But he obviously wasn’t quiet enough, for the head turned towards him and saw the raised knife.

With one movement he brought the weapon down in a curve.

And the man’s bonds dropped from him. One thin and scarred hand reached up to pull away the gag and as soon as it was gone he spoke softly, nodding when he put a finger to his lips for quiet. His voice was weak and rasping, but soft and curiously soothing as he did "Thank you. Who are you?"

He pulled a name out of thin air "Tommas Genarld. Let's get you out of here." The thin man motioned to the huge man on the ground, who was now starting to stir "Not without Steven."

"We may not have time,” he hissed but the man was unfazed. "I will not leave without him. Besides, you cannot hope to get me out alone in my condition. I am more than just a little dizzy." He cursed when he realised the man was right. He found the keys on the table near the back and as silently as he could he undid the clanking chains to free him. The man’s cold cobalt blue eyes glared at him and he rose with steps light as a dancer for his bulk.

The man tore away his gag and moved to the thin mans' side, eyes softening to concern when he saw his condition and helped him up. Whispering softly he asked in concern "Chel? Are you all right?"

"Not now, old friend" the thin man said to him, wincing in pain "I am in no condition to talk. We must flee before we are discovered, or our savior here would have freed us for nothing."

"What about the boys!" he protested softly and the thin man spoke weakly "Think a minute, my friend. What good are we to them, am I to them?"

"You've been through worse" the man winced to which the man smiled gently "I know, but right now I can not remember such an occasion. I need to sleep and heal Santon, and until I am better we are no use to the boys. If we are recaptured we may not get another chance. We will better serve the boys free."

The man couldn't argue with that, so didn’t speak. To close the matter the thin man added, "Do you wish to endanger our saviour here? He endangers himself by freeing us instead of just leaving us, the least we can do is try and get out without any trouble."

"All right Chel" the man nodded grudgingly, looking up at him "Lead the way." Nodding he lead them to the back of the tent, the strong man nearly carrying his friend when suddenly a guard noticed them trying to reach the bushes and shouted, firing as he did.

Breaking into a run ‘Tommas’ and the strong man headed for the bushes, ‘Tommas’ feeling a hot stinging pain on his arm, but too busy running to worry about it. They hid in some bushes and waited, guards coming closer, both men tensing to fight. But the thin man stopped them "wait. Let me."

"But you can't Johnathon! You're hurt!" The big man protested softly in concern "I can and I have been in worse shape than this, let me." Reluctantly both agreed.

Tommas watched the mans' strange gold eyes close and he started mumbling words he had heard before a long time ago and never expected to hear again, he was shocked this strange man knew and understood it. After a few seconds the three started to fade, to become invisible and he had no time to speak as the bushes were pulled apart and a guard looked in.

Obviously seeing nothing he left.

When the coast was clear the three slowly became visible again and Johnathon, his movements having opened his cut on the back of his head, slumped forward weakly. He could no longer hold back the pain and weakness and it hit him like a tidal wave.

"Johnathon!" Steven gasped as he caught the man, eyes concerned and wide with horror as he sat the man up. The thin mans’ eyes were screwed up in agony and he gave off a short, sharp groan. Tommas examined him. "He needs a Doctor, he's lost a lot of blood." Steven nodded and the other man continued, "I know just the place, can you carry him?"

"Of course" Steven answered and he stood "All clear, come on."

* * * *

Five hours later a large jet plane landed in a clearing in the jungle. Two figures climbed out. A teenager about fifteen with short blond curly hair and warm, humorous eyes of blue-green, wearing ankle-high black leather boots with dark blue denim jeans, black leather jacket and light blue shirt. With him was a man of about thirty-five with short straight blond hair and blue eyes. He was wearing a dark green shirt and dark blue denim jeans with a jacket and white socks, white sneakers.

They were Lance and Richard Simpson; friends of Johnathon and Steven and here to find their friends and if necessary help them. The two were only an hour into the jungle when they found themselves surrounded by armed natives who lead them to a great wooden hut in the center of a large village.

There lit by flame torches and seated on an great throne carved of marble, his German Shepherd protector by his side and clothed in light green and black calf-hugging knee-high leather boots was Tommas Genarld. A swab of bandages was around his left arm.

As they were pushed inside roughly the dog looked up alertly and started growling threateningly at them. The jungle leader spoke out “I am the ruler of this land you have trespassed on. Who are you and why do you enter this forbidden area?”

Richard looked at his father and recognized the blank expression as his father cover. He was angry so he spoke out courteously before his father could “I’m sorry, sir, we didn’t know. You see we are here looking for some friends who were grabbed from home a few days ago. Maybe you or your people have seen them?”

“What do outsiders have to do with me? Common folk have nothing to do with me or my followers.”

“These people aren’t common, sir. Two adults and a boy my age with a child, wearing gray cloaks and hoods. The child and one man have gold eyes and the boy and other man are muscular-warriors.” Tommas looked at him funny “Are their names Johnathon and Andrew Smith and Steven and Paul Stairer?”

“Yes! You’ve seen them! Where are they?” Rick looked relieved and excited at the same time. Tommas spoke, answered him “The two men are safe, with the local village doctor in the nearest outsider colony but the boy and child are still missing. Who are you?”

“I’m Rick and this is my father Lance.” Tommas frowned, disturbed and in concern at this “You shouldn’t be here.”

“What do you mean?” he asked and the jungle ruler answered with “Before I took your friends to the doctor they told me about why they were grabbed. The men who did so wanted YOU.” Rick squeaked at this “ME? Why?”

“They don’t know. Only they asked for you and when they refused to let them in, they forced their way in. Have you any enemies?” Before he could answered Lance spoke out “Rick’s only fifteen, he’s too young to have enemies.”

“No one is too young” Tommas said to him, but Lance only glared at him. When Rick couldn’t answer him Tommas rose, motioning the armed natives away and the dog to quiet. He spoke again “I will take you to your friends in the morning, but for now you are my guests.” Rick sensed his father about to speak but turned to say quietly before he could “Father I trust him. I don’t know why but I do. I get the sense he doesn’t lie.”

“But he could be the kidnappers boss Rick, or someone working for them at least. Why trust him?”

“Because you are too paranoid father. I believe my senses, and they tell me to trust him. Please, you may not, but at least humour me. At least until we find Paul and the others.” Lance looked into his sons eyes then slowly nodded “All right. But only because you wish to, Rick.”

“Thank you, father” Rick said softly, looking back to the village ruler.

Three hours later as it was getting dark they sat down for a meal of boiled fruit and nuts and cooked deer meat. Tommas found himself enjoying Rick’s company immensely.

The boy was active almost to the point of hyper-activity; funny but serious at the same time as well as trustful and trustworthy. Not only did Tommas find himself trusting the boy easily but Flash his horse and Sharp his dog, both hand reared to accept ONLY him seemed to like and trust the boy immediately. This only convinced Tommas more of his purely good intentions.

Both the boy and village ruler became close friends in a matter of hours and when the boy finally retired to his cot and hut for the night Tommas was disappointed to see him go. However when father and son were gone Tommas couldn’t stop the sneaking suspicion something was going to happen to the boy within the next few hours. Having long ago learnt to listen to his instincts the man led Sharp to the path a few feet from his hut, setting him there as guard duty.

Then he retired to his own hut to wait. Sure enough later that night Sharps’ urgent barking awaked both Tommas and Lance.