Amanda gathered her wits and started to cast a spell, praying that Belasco would pause before killing the girl and give her time to zap him. No such luck. The soulsword raced for Frost’s heart, it’s aim true.

Then time froze.

“Idiots?” said a very soft, very feminine voice. “Do you really think we’re all idiots? Fool. You think I would let you hurt my only daughter.”

Amanda looked toward the upper class English accent, watching the woman with flowing black hair travel toward Belasco without trouble, even though all around her time stood close to still.

Her black eyes glowed green, and Belasco was made to drop Frost. Then time snapped back to normal, and the sword plunged into where Frost would have been standing.

“I’m also not stupid enough,” she snapped, her eyes narrowing, “To be caught in a trap.” She spread her arms wide, her black cloak falling off her shoulders. “And I’m not stupid enough,” she continued, “To try and fight you when I’m this weak. So I shall leave now, and come back when I will win.”

She threw her head back as David shouted “FIRE!” and the henchmen shot anti-mutant guns into the room, spraying everyone there with chemicals to negate their powers. By the time the chemicals had spread, everyone was gone.

XXX

Lockheed paused mid-air, quite a feat, really. Taking a deep breath he started flying again, trying to track down Kitty’s scent on the wind. No one knew, but he really had great senses. He didn’t know, but they were mostly psionic in nature. After all, that was how dragons communicated. His psionics would never work like telepathy with humans; the closest he’d ever gotten was empathy, and that only with his beloved Kit. Why, she’d been his since she was fourteen! He raised her from a dragonette, kept her out of harm’s way. And then that nasty ol’ Wisdom comes along, teaching his Kitty nasty things and smoking--that was Lockheed’s job and everyone knew it!!

The little dragon huffed indignantly and flew on.

XXX

Kitty frowned, looking back through the window of the plane as they flew farther away from the base where David was. She turned and looked at the pilot. “He’ll be coming along quickly?”

The pilot nodded silently, knowing she was talking about the Director, David.

Kitty bit her lip and looked back out the window. There had been a security breach, and she’d been hustled out with great speed. Now she only hoped David would be all right.

The plane flew on into the dusk of the new night.

XXX

Pete was already yelling as they re-appeared in Excalibur’s headquarters, each of them shocked at being there. Meggan could feel that her mind had been tapped into, and knew that someone had used her memories of this place to get them back here. She didn’t mind too much though, there was very little trace that anyone had looked around, and it didn’t seem as though any of her other thoughts or memories had been touched.

“You bloody slapper! Kitty’s back there!” Pete cried as they materialized. He was already storming toward the black haired, English sorceress even while the others appeared.

Season looked at him, her face drawn and pale--more so then her normally fair skin was. “Daling,” she said, bracing her feet as she tried to keep from stumbling, “Who is this “Kitty”? I’m sure I got everyone.”

Kurt, standing next to the short woman, took her arm gently, supporting her as she almost fell over. She turned and smiled up at him, leaning on his weight.

“Kitty’s his girl,” Frostbite put in, sitting down and hanging her head between her knees as nausea overwhelmed her. “You’re not doing too good, mom. That was a lousy ‘port.”

Season looked up, her midnight eyes boring into her daughter. “I know that, Frost. Don’t irritate me right now. I only just woke up from that blasted coma Ricky put me in with that bloody soulsword.”

Rick, laying on the floor, grunted in agreement. Definitely a bloody sword.

Amanda turned and looked at the boy, the pieces falling into place as she saw his pallid skin. He'd been disrupting the field so badly?? He was a child!

“That doesn’t solve the problem that Kitty’s still in that tosser’s clutches!” Pete shouted, his blue eyes blazing.

Season scowled, lining her ageless brow with wrinkles. “Pete, daling, do shut up. I think I’m going to faint.”

At that Kurt took a better hold on her, wrapping his arm around her waist and starting to walk her over to the couch. She collapsed before they got there, falling forward as her long, wavy black hair veiled her face and the vine growing out her right eye which was flowering on her cheek. Kurt laid her carefully on the couch, then turned around to face the rest of the team.

“All right, then. First we have to find out where Kitty is.” He turned and looked at Pete, who was puffing quickly on a cigarette. “Would they have kept her there?”

Wisdom pulled the fag out of his mouth long enough to consider the thought. He glowered at the floor, trying to think. The room was silent. Finally he shook his head slowly, looking up at the elf. “I don’t know. It depends on who has her and what they want.”

Kurt sighed. “Let me rephrase. How likely is it that she’s still there?”

Pete thought again. “Not very. I suppose by now they would have taken her elsewhere.” And trying to find out where that was could take years, he didn’t say.

XXX

Belasco appeared standing in front of his throne, holding the gleaming sword. In the beginning of the world four weapons, signifying the four corners of power, had been made.

One was a golden arrow, meant only for good. With it you could rule all things gentle and kind. But only men could weld it, and like most humans they didn’t see that power.

One was a black stone, used for all the rebels. They would follow whoever held it. And the only one who could hold it was a leader amongst people--someone who played by the rules.

Another was the Soulsword, made not for evil so much as for demons, witchcraft and sorcery. Only a female could hold it, for at the time when it was made no woman would touch it. But Belasco had made it--it was his and therefore could be welded by he or his descendants. The other gods had long since quit this earth, and so they could no more touch the weapons than they could destroy their creations.

The last weapon was the only one Belasco had yet to obtain. It was created last, by a God who wished never to see these things fall into the wrong hands.

And it was life. Not any life, but that of a mythical creature, one who had never been on this land.

Belasco smiled and gestured, and a pool of water changed to a mirror into the outside world. His fangs gleamed in the red light and he watched the beating of small dragon wings.

XXX

Lockheed’s jaw dropped in a draconic grin as he “scented” Kitty’s feel on the air. He’d find her, even if those other people were too slow to do so. Sheesh. Humans. He didn’t know how they’d come up with a great thing like his Kit.

His wings beat faster as he raced through the cold night air into the dawn, following the track of a jet carrying it’s precious cargo.

XXX

“David!” she cried, running toward him, “You’re safe!” Kitty threw her arms around her love, burying her face in his warm shirt. “I was so worried!”

He patted her head, not bothering to smile. The plan was a total flop. Not only had they lost the soulsword, but all the witches and mutants and Belasco were gone too. Three years of planning and it was all laid to waste because his men weren’t fast enough.

And then there was this woman. What were they supposed to do with her?

His hand stroking her hair paused, then started again with a deliberate tenderness. What an idiot he was. She could defeat the whole team herself, without ever having to worry about being hurt. Since they were all saps they wouldn’t want to wound their teammate, even if she was under someone else’s influence.

But not yet. They wouldn’t let her go just yet. They’d wait until she was thoroughly entrapped with Black Air, and then set her on Excalibur.

XXX

Several hours later Season sat on the couch drinking hot tea. Rick sat across from her, his long black hair washed and brushed and he clad in Brian’s old shirt and pants--which were still slightly too small.

“Well then,” Moira said as she finished patching up the marks left on Rick’s wrists from the chains, “Are we all agreed that Kitty and the Soulsword are with Black Air?”

Pete made a slightly helpless gesture, not able to say for sure one way or the other. He looked over at Season, glaring fiercely at the sorceress. She ignored him.

“Daling,” she said softly into her cup, “It’s not my fault we couldn’t get those things.”

“I don’t care about th’ bloody sword,” Pete snapped, rising, “I care about getting Kitty back before they--before--” he stopped, unwilling to think about what it was Black Air did to many of it’s captives.

“You should care about that sword,” Season snapped back, her temper rising, “If Belasco wields it he’ll be close to unstoppable. If, as I suspect, he also has some of the other Great Weapons, he’ll be nearly Armageddon. If he has all of them . . .” a shudder went through her small body. “There will be no need to worry about Kitty any more,” she finished softly.

Silence descended on the small group, until Kurt finally broke it by clearing his throat. “I think we’re agreed that we need to get both Kitty and the sword. Correct?”

Nods went around the room.

“Then we should probably break into two teams. One will go after the sword, the other after--” he paused, glancing up at Season and wondering how much she knew about Excalibur. Then he shrugged and finished “Shadowcat.”

Season nodded slowly, then stood, letting the blanket drop from her shoulders and slide to the floor. It was a wonderful image, and she knew it well. “I call upon the spirits of the seasons, that they may restore me,” she chanted softly, holding her arms just out from her sides. A wind blew in the room, tossing her wavy hair and changing her jeans and sweater into a red dress with the sides slit for movement, and a golden chain with bags of things hanging from her waist.

“I call upon the power of the maverick who shall always travel alone,” Rick said as the wind picked him up and set him on his feet. Sweats changed to form-fitting boots and clothes, a long trenchcoat flowing around his legs.

“And I call upon the first frost,” said the young girl, her outfit already the one she needed. The change in all of the people, though, was amazing, as one by one they were filled with energy and power, reviving themselves. If Kurt hadn’t known better, he would have said that Season lost three years of her life. Then again, she was a sorceress . . .

“Well then,” she said, smiling slightly, “Who is going to take which team?”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Frost, Rick and Season are copyright Jenna B. McDonald

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