D&D Cartoon Fan Club Newsletter #9, Part 4
November/December 1998

Players
by Maureen S. O’Brien

This story is rated either G or PG-13. It begins in 1997; Scully has
recently learned she has cancer. Hope you like it!

*************************************
Part 6: Wandering Monsters

"I remind myself of a Navajo story. Twin war gods come to
their father, seeking magic and weapons to eliminate the
monsters of the world."
-- letter from Cigarette Smoking Man to Special Agent Jeffrey
Spender, "The Red and the Black", The X-Files.

Venger rode his nightmare as far above the Flaming Plain's clouds
as possible. All those fireballs and divination spells had drained
him of much of his magic without any practical return. That
insufferably smug excuse for a Shadowdemon floated next to him,
about as helpful to reconnaissance as the clouds of smoke below.

Somewhere down there, the Young Ones and that new Paladin and Bard
were traveling toward the Mirror of Ages. They had no concept of
its power, just as they had no idea how they were being used by
Dungeonmaster. But they would no doubt be guided steadily toward
their goal, whereas he, who had studied all that was known of the
Mirror -- he, who had sought that talisman for a thousand years --
would be fortunate to find their party's trail, so that he could
follow them like a toy cart on a string. No doubt it was all part
of Dungeonmaster's plan to humiliate him.

Venger gestured, and a spell of manysight settled over his eyes.
Infravision was useless, for heat was everywhere. Ultravision was
equally so. But a gesture translated his sight to the ancient sort
known as the 'vision of the bat'. Most scholars of magic believed
this name to be the result of scribal error. But he had been told
once -- by his father, of course -- that bats perceived the shape
of the world by listening to how the cries they made bounced off
cave walls and the like. Below him, he saw the outlines of animals
moving on the plain: flocks of firebirds, fiery salamanders, and
other heat-loving species. Sooner or later, he would see the Young
Ones. Let them pass the hazards of the way; let them do the work.
At the right moment, he would reveal himself, and the Mirror would
be his at last.

Not without a fight -- the ignorant Young Ones carried unimaginable
power in their hands, and even they had learned to master its more
physical effects -- and not without the constant annoyance of being
forced to avoid killing them, since Dungeonmaster had so twisted
their fates that to kill them would amount to killing himself.
But they were pathetically easy to command once one had captured a
member of their little band. And they did not know his limitation.

Dungeonmaster liked to keep his players in the dark? He smiled
cruelly, showing his fangs.

It had backfired in his own case. Let it do so again.

The group was tired, wet, and coated with a fine sooty grey ash-mud.
Their noses and throats hurt, despite the wet cloths they had tied
over their faces, their eyes were red, and their feet hurt from
walking on bare rock for most of the day after scant rest the night
before.

"So we're almost to that open space in the middle of the Flaming
Plain?" asked Presto, his green hat drooping in the rain.

"Yes," said the cloud elemental over his head. "Five more minutes,
at the pace you humans travel."

"And I see something over there. A tower...made out of something
metal," Hank announced. "Sheila, I think it's time for your cloak to
do its stuff."

"Earth to Hank. Come in, Fearless Leader," Eric objected. "Having a
rain cloud following Sheila's every move isn't going to be all that
inconspicuous."

Diana rounded on him. "What are you suggesting, Eric? Sheila can't
do recon without a cloud elemental protecting her. She'd be fried
before she could get there and back."

"It'll blend in with all the smoke," Presto opined. "Probably."

"Probably?" Bobby demanded. "Hey, that's my sister you're talking
about!"

"I know. But we can't just walk up there! Who has enough metal to
build a tower out of it?" He sighed. "Any of you guys got a better
idea? Dana? Mulder, you've been pretty quiet."

"No," said Mulder shortly, and Scully shook her head.

"I do," said Sheila. They all turned to look at her. "I'll be
careful, and I won't walk against the wind. I know that's not a
great plan, but I'm pretty hard to catch." She pulled her hood
over her face before anyone could argue. She faded from view,
saying only, "I'll be back!"

Sheila shifted a little on her belly, glad for the thickness of her
cloak. She looked down again, trying and failing to shade her
invisible eyes with an invisible hand. A brilliant white light flooded
this one little valley in the middle of the plain -- a valley that was
unnaturally round, as if inscribed with a compass. In the very middle,
away from the strange triangular and circular buildings, stood a metal
tower that half-surrounded a deep hole with holes cut in the sides,
like an amphitheater. Small figures scurried in and out of the hole,
but white clothing and strange circular hoods covered any identifying
marks of their races or professions.

"Who _are_ these guys?" Sheila whispered.

"We do not know," the raincloud above her answered quietly.

"I'll have to go down there," she said resignedly. "The ground's
cool enough to walk on, and the smoke's not so thick, so you'd
better wait here till I come back."

"The wizard told me to obey your voice, so I obey."

"Listen," she said, "we're sorry about that. Presto wouldn't have
deliberately summoned you guys all the way from the elemental
planes. And we're trying to think of some way to pay you guys back,
though we don't have much that would be useful to a cloud. If you
think of something we could do for you in return, we would be
interested to hear it."

The elemental was silent.

"Um. Okay, then. See you in a while."

The elemental perceived the mass of water in the human's body
traveling away. "These Young Ones are strange, even for humans,"
it decided.

Sheila heard, and smiled. Even after all their years in the Realm,
they still thought more like American kids than adventurers. They
didn't rob bodies - yuck! They couldn't accept the divisions of
society by ancestry or guild. They didn't think they were better than
anyone else by virtue of their weaponry, and they tried to help
everyone they could.

Which was why they so often ended up sneaking over a border in dead
of night, she reflected as she searched for a way down into the
valley. And why, every time they amassed much gold, it usually ended
up financing some good cause or poor village they met.

Oh, well. Easy come, easy go. And since Dungeonmaster never let them
stay in one place or even one kingdom long enough to begin attracting
followers or building a stronghold, they didn't have much use for
gold anyway.

One wall of the valley had been worn down by erosion. She picked her
way down the dry streambed to the valley floor and began casually
jogging toward the tower, easily avoiding the white-clothed guards
walking the area's perimeter. Those were pretty strange outfits, she
reflected, trying to think where in the Realm she'd seen something
like them before.

Well, other than spacesuits and stuff. But nobody in the Realm would
be wearing those.

Her pace slowed as she looked into the tower. A crowd of people in
white were milling around, looking at some sort of maps they'd laid
out on the floor. She decided it was time to do a little
eavesdropping.

"What's our status?"

"Lots of interesting artifacts to study, but no sign of the worldgate
yet."

Did they mean the Mirror of Ages, that 'holds the path to all lands'?

"It's got to be here! We were told...."

"And we always do as we're told, don't we, Bronschweig?"

"We do if we want to get this done and go home."

"We still have our own gate. We can get home any time we want."

"That's not what I meant."

It took a while for her to realize that they were speaking English.
Not Common, which they somehow all spoke and understood. Not Pixie,
which for some reason didn't sound like gibberish to her. No, they
were really speaking English, like Mulder and Scully did, and they
sounded like they'd come straight from home.

And they had a way back! She wanted to run up and kiss them.

"Any problems with the neighbors?" that guy Bronschweig continued.

"Not really. We shot a few things that breached the perimeter, but
we're pretty sure they were just animals. The local sentients must
not be fond of walking around through fire."

"Good. I don't enjoy killing people, even when it's necessary. But we
can't afford to leave any trace of our presence behind."

Sheila carefully made her way back out of the crowd of people,
employing the skills she'd learned from years of adventuring with
the cloak and hurrying through crowded school hallways. So much for
catching a ride with these guys!

But it might be useful to find their gate. And some of those white
suits.

"That legend lore spell you remembered? I don't think it's working."
Presto hunkered down next to Mulder in the mud. "And believe me, I'm
an expert on spells that don't work."

Mulder censored the first two comments that came to mind.  Presto was
right. The lute was being distinctly uncooperative. He was tiring
himself out before a mission. He didn't really fit the spell
requirements. It was really hard to play and still shield the lute
from the rain. And if Bobby and Uni laughed any more, they were
probably going to rupture something.

"Where's Scully?"

Diana sat down. "She's on watch with Hank, trying to keep him from
worrying about Sheila. Not that it'll work."

Mulder shrugged uncomfortably. He liked being somebody's big brother
again, but being on his best behavior was starting to wear. "She
knows that. She knows a lot about worrying. Mostly about me."

"She said something like that earlier." Diana's teasing smile
switched off like a light. "Which reminds me. Dana had a really bad
nosebleed earlier. She...."

Diana didn't get out another word. Mulder yelled, "Scully!" and
stomped away toward his partner.

Eric strolled over casually. "So what bit him?"

"I don't know," Diana answered. "But I think we're about to find out."

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Talking to Hank and keeping watch," Scully said puzzledly.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"What are you talking about, Mulder?"

"I thought you'd already taken care of it. But you had another one
of your nosebleeds."

Scully drew herself up. "And?"

"You're a paladin. Do something about it!"

Hank broke in, reaching up to put his hand on the older man's
shoulder.  "Calm down, Mulder, and tell us what you're talking
about."

Mulder turned away. "She knows what I'm talking about."

"But we don't," Hank insisted as the others gathered around. "What's
wrong?"

Mulder stayed silent.

Scully sighed. "I have a nasopharyngeal tumor. It's inoperable and
growing fast. It also causes nosebleeds."

The Young Ones went silent. Cancer. In their minds, she knew, it was
another word for death. In her time, that power was reserved for
other diseases: AIDS, ebola. But she didn't correct their
assumptions, for in this case it was probably true.

Bobby was the first to speak up. "But you're a paladin, Dana. All you
have to do is use your magic sword, and you'll be cured, right?"
His voice wavered a little, and she wondered why he cared so much
after knowing her so short a time.

"Not quite." She gathered herself up, knowing they wouldn't
understand. "Being a paladin or a cleric isn't like any other
character class. You get your abilities from yourselves, or your
weapons. I get them from...a higher power."

"Yeah, yeah, God. We got that part," said Eric. "What's the
problem?"

"I don't mind using that power to help someone else," she said
quietly. "But if I use it on myself, I feel that I'll be making a
promise I'm not ready to make. Worse, I'll be doing it for selfish
reasons."

"Oh, come on!" Diana said unbelievingly. "Get cured first; iron
out your little differences later."

"Dana's got a point," Hank argued. "Just because you're in dire
trouble doesn't mean you make a deal. Remember what happened when I
took Venger's offer so I could save Bobby."

"Yeah, but we're not talking about dealing with the Devil," Presto
retorted. Suddenly Mulder looked uncomfortable, and Scully wondered
why. "If you need help and somebody offers, you take it and say
thank you. No matter how much it sticks in your craw."

"Thank you for your concern," Scully said firmly, "but I have to sort
this all out for myself. And I see a raincloud coming this way."

Hank was distracted instantly, but the others continued to give her
the hairy eyeball until Sheila took off her hood. And Mulder was not
distracted at all.

"You can't let yourself die for a principle, Scully."

"Why not?" she snapped, exasperated. "You're always willing to get
yourself killed for one."

She walked off to hear Sheila's report. For once, she'd gotten the
last word.

"But you wouldn't believe all the people they had there -- half of
them looked all alike!" Sheila finished her report.

"Clones?" said Scully doubtfully.

"The Consortium. Here." Mulder shook his head. "They're everywhere."

Scully looked wry. "But so are we. It's enough to make you paranoid."

"So you know these guys," Hank said. "What can we expect?"

"Depends on who's running the operation. We've seen them act like
military, corporate security, intelligence, and criminal
organizations," said Mulder.

"But they'll have guns, and they won't be afraid to use them," Scully
summarized.

"That fits with what Sheila heard from that guy Bronschweig," Hank
mused. "Which means we can't use any of the normal distraction
techniques to get in."

"I brought back suits for everyone, so if we can get into the valley
and past the guards, we can blend in."

"Are you sure they'll fit?" Eric asked. "I mean, not that I'm short,
but anything that fits Mulder wouldn't fit me. And Bobby? Forget it!"

"They must have some pretty short women around, because a lot of
the suits were just our size. Even Bobby won't have too much
trouble."

"What about Uni?"

"She'll have to stay behind this time," said Hank.

Uni made a disgusted noise.

"Our weapons won't blend in," Eric objected. "Not mine, anyway."

"We can carry them like they're artifacts," Diana said. "Anyway,
if we create enough confusion, nobody will notice if we go in
bald and painted blue."

Mulder and Scully shared a simultaneous mental image of their boss.

"So what'll we use for a distraction?" asked Presto.

Suddenly, everyone was looking at him.

"I had to open my mouth."

A world away, Assistant Director Skinner was talking to the one man
in the world he truly hated. "Where are they?"

The man took a long drag off his cigarette. "Can't keep track of
your agents?"

"Don't play games with me. I spoke with all the parents personally.
They wouldn't talk. Someone had put a scare into them, and that
wasn't Mulder and Scully because they never got that far. In fact,
nobody's seen either of them since they passed the amusement park
gate."

"Perhaps they just lost track of time."

"We had a deal," Skinner rumbled. "My cooperation for Agent Scully's
life. I am very close to declaring that deal off."

"So impatient," he answered, taking another drag. "I'm sure they'll
be back soon."

----------------------------
Stay tuned for Part 7: "The Mirror of Ages".

Author's Note: We're coming up on the end soon; I foresee another two
parts to this story and then that's it! Thanks for all the support.
If anyone would like to draw a picture of Mulder and Scully with the
gang, I'd love to have one for my webpage. (I can't draw worth a darn.)

Oh, and I made up 'manysight', although there's probably a  similar
spell in all those 2nd edition D&D books I never bothered to read.