Disclaimer:  This is in answer to Paul’s Warrior/Mage/Warrior-Mage challenge, and written in the requisite 24 hours.  The three character’s universes are as follows: Warrior – my own Highlander spin-off (the Forever Sequence); Warrior-Mage – from my original Haven universe; Mage – an original character from Mercedes Lackey’s wonderful Valdemar series.  Rated PG.  Enjoy!

The three figures had disappeared from their own worlds in blinding flashes of light.  They had ended up standing at the three points of a large, triangular shaped sparring field, staring at each other in confusion.

The first, an apparent teenager, wore blue jeans, a black tank top, and a black, ankle-length trench coat.  Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and Doc Marten boots graced her feet.  Her hand strayed towards the sword hidden in her coat, though she had not felt the signature of another Immortal.  “Well,” she said, thankful that sunglasses hid her eyes so she could study the other two intently.  “This is rather interesting.  Any idea what's going on?”

The second shook her head, and she looked at the others in curiosity through silver eyes.  “Nope.”  She looked to be about college age, and was dressed in supple black leather armor and purple mage robes.  A sword hung openly from her waist.  She tossed her shoulder length brown hair over her shoulder and felt her hand itch to draw her hidden stiletto.  She and the first glanced at the third.

She shrugged.  “No clue either.”  Apparently the oldest in her mid-twenties, she was bedecked in white riding leathers and a cloak of deep hunter green.  She wore no open weaponry except for a dagger at the waist.  While, like the other two, her hair was also shoulder length and brown, hers was streaked with silver - an aftereffect of the magic she regularly used.  She continued, “However, why don’t we introduce ourselves, seeing as how we’re apparently stuck here together?  I am Windstorm Erista k’Valdemar, Herald-Mage of Valdemar.  And you two are…?”  Meanwhile, Windstorm hid her feelings of worry.  If she was here, wherever "here" was, where was her Companion Ash, or her bondbirds, Scream and Lightwing?

“Victoria DiThon Kestral,” the first responded, her mind working over the other girl’s rather strange name.  “Otherwise known as Victory, in certain circles.”

The second gave her an odd look at that.  “My name is Torialanthalasa, Toria.  I’m a Celtic warrior-mage of Haven Collegium.”  This gained her her own odd look from Windstorm.

Suddenly, as if it had been waiting for a cue, an orb of white light appeared in the center of the triangle.  An oddly echoing voice emanated from it.  “You three have been called here to settle a bet between three Beings.  Victoria, warrior Guardian of the demon Triaumvervirate.  Toria, warrior-mage of the Lady of the Celtics.  Windstorm, Herald-Mage of the Star-Eyed.  Rest assured that this is not a fight to the death, but a competition for the best.  Begin.”  At that, the orb flickered out.

Victoria swiftly drew her sword, as did Toria a moment later.  Windstorm merely raised her hand and readied a blast of her namesake - a small tornado meant to blind eyes and disrupt mage-energy.  In response, Toria’s sword began to glow with a faint purple aura.  Victoria, feeling somewhat at a loss, thought of the gun hidden at the small of her back, but refrained from drawing it at the moment.  Then the three merely stared at each other.

A few long minutes of stillness later, they simultaneously lowered their weapons, such as they were.  “I don’t know about you guys, but is there a point to this?” Victoria asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I, for one, refuse to be a pawn,” Toria agreed.  Then she glanced cautiously around and muttered, “Your pardon, my Lady.”

Windstorm grinned when she heard Toria.  “Yes, my pardon to the Star-Eyed, too,” she said, voice slightly raised.  “But fighting these two on a bet goes against what I believe in, which, may I remind you, is what you used to wish me to believe in.”

As suddenly as they had arrived, the three were sent back to from where they had arrived.  A bed in an apartment in Seacouver, Washington.  A room at Haven Collegium.  A camp in the Pelagirs Forest outside of Valdemar.  They each woke up in the morning with the memory of a rather confusing dream.

That is, until they sat up and discovered a note beside their respective beds.  Each was branded with the symbol of their patron Beings, and read merely, “You win.”

~finis~

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This page was last updated: 6.15.4 ~jlg~