Sliding Chakrams

by Jennifer Campbell

None of the characters belong to me. If they did, Joxer and Gabrielle would be together. I make no profit off this, unfortunately.

This story was inspired by the movie "Sliding Doors." Because my Xena video collection does not include "Callisto," I also need to thank the Transcript Project, which is where I found the script. Much of the basic plot also belongs to TPTB.

A really big thanks goes out to all my betas: Nancy, Brisco, Greg, Kawcrow, Phil and Rebecca. Another thank you goes to my sister Kate, who cheers me on and keeps my head from getting too big -- as if that'll ever happen. This is rated PG-13 for lots of angst and a dash of blood and guts.

"No one expects the Spanish Inquisition."
-- Monty Python

part 1

A reject from the Athenian circus -- or maybe a warrior wannabe who took a wrong turn. Those possibilities immediately came to the innkeeper's mind as he watched the stranger enter his establishment. He took one look at the comical figure and repeated his years-old vow to sell the hostel and retire someplace that banned weirdos.

The stranger straightened his lean, tall frame, adjusted his helmet and marched toward the bar with one hand resting on his sword hilt. He glared at the drunken patrons, as if daring them to issue a challenge -- although the innkeeper knew, at most, his customers might offer up some loud burps -- and reached the bar in a clatter of armor.

"Hello there, my good man," the stranger said. "I would like a mug of your strongest beer. And make sure it's strong. Warriors like me get angry and violent when we're served anything less."

The innkeeper snorted and poured a mug of the only type of beer he had and set it on the bartop, just out of the man's reach. "Money first," he said.

"Um, money. Right. Of course." The stranger began hunting through his clothes and pockets. "Wait, wait ... I'm sure I've got it in here somewhere. Ah-HA!"

He produced a dull, dented coin and tossed it in the air. It landed on the bartop and spun a few times on its side before coming to rest.

"Heads up," the stranger commented. "That means good luck."

The innkeeper snorted again, slid the mug across to the stranger and returned to his task of sorting glasses. Hopefully, the innkeeper thought, a beer was all this guy wanted.

The stranger cleared his throat loudly, drawing strange looks from some of the patrons. "I am Joxer. A great warrior," he said. "And I am here to offer this town my protection."

A warrior wannabe, indeed. The innkeeper glanced at the stranger and scowled. "If you're a warrior, then I'm the king of Thrace."

Joxer's eyebrows shot up to his helmet. "You mean you've never heard of me? My reputation is known throughout all of Greece." He leaned conspiratorially across the bartop and whispered loudly. "And just between you and me, this town needs some protection. There are a lot of strange people on the roads these days."

"Like you?" the innkeeper asked. A couple of the patrons snickered over their drinks.

"Yeah, like ... no, not like me. I mean, I'm here to offer my services."

"Well, we don't need you."

Joxer frowned, gulped down some beer and began coughing uncontrollably. The innkeeper tried unsuccessfully not to smirk. The stranger probably didn't know one end of his sword from the other, but he sure was entertaining.

As the innkeeper prepared to turn his back on the stranger, the front door banged open and fell off its rusty hinges, inundating the dim interior with sunlight. A giant of a man, dressed in armor, stormed inside and swung an ax around his head. The innkeeper stood frozen in confusion and shock as the giant stomped into the barroom and brought the axe down on a table, breaking it into several pieces.

Great, the innkeeper thought. Another weirdo. Maybe these guys comprised a comedy duo -- the wimpy guy and the strongman. Any more surprises today and the innkeeper might have to pack up and move to Crete to live with his sister. He'd heard that Crete had beautiful weather this time of year.

He glanced at Joxer, who sat rigid, just staring at the warrior. The wannabe jumped when the innkeeper poked him in the back. "Tell you what," he said. "Get rid of that guy, and I'll hire you myself."

"Um, g-g-get rid of him?"

"Yes. Get rid of him. Preferably before he destroys any more tables. Do you know how expensive new furniture can be?"

"Um, right. I can get rid of him," Joxer said, slowly getting to his feet.

The innkeeper watched intently as Joxer approached the warrior with trembling steps. He drew his sword, and the innkeeper had to admit that the stranger had guts. Of course, he'd probably also get himself killed, but maybe he would take the warrior with him.

Joxer pointed his shaking blade at the man. "You better get out before someone gets hurt."

The warrior laughed. His ax became a blur as its blunt end smashed down on Joxer's head, and Joxer collapsed to the floor without a sound. Well, so much for plan A, the innkeeper thought. Time for plan B, if he could just figure out what plan B was.

"Everyone outside now," the warrior said. "Come out and surrender to Xena, Warrior Princess, or you will all die."

For one interminable second, no one moved. Then the drunken patrons dragged themselves to their feet and began fighting each other to get outside, and the innkeeper joined them. He had no wish to meet Hades, not yet. He tripped over the unconscious body of Joxer and regained his balance without looking back at the figure sprawled face first on the barroom floor.

The sight that met him outside was almost enough to make the innkeeper turn and run back into the inn to face the warrior's wrath. Townspeople -- people he'd known since childhood, had grown up with and shared stories with -- ran in all directions, screaming and crying. Dead bodies lay haphazardly on the ground and stained the dirt with their blood. And in the midst of the chaos stood the warriors, slicing through people as unemotionally as they would chop firewood.

The innkeeper began to tremble. Someone bumped into his back, forcing him through the doorway and onto the street, but he hardly noticed. He had to get away from here. He had to escape, avoid becoming one of the slaughtered.

He turned toward the forest that backed his inn, but before he ran more than a few steps, he felt a dreadful pain shoot through his spine and come out his front. He looked down at the sword point emerging through his stomach, and the world slowly faded. Well, maybe he'd meet Hades this day, after all.

Joxer snapped back to consciousness and wished he had stayed in his dream world. The warrior stood over him with a grim smile, ax in one hand and a torch in the other. Joxer ordered his body to move out from under the warrior's heavy boots, but his limbs refused to obey, and he simply lay with an expression of dumb terror on his face.

The warrior laughed and threw the torch over Joxer's head. It landed with a dull thud a few feet behind him.

"You aren't even worth killing," the warrior growled. He laughed again, turned and left the tavern.

The warrior's departure released Joxer from his immobility, and he scrambled to his feet. A quick glance confirmed that the torch already had transformed the broken table into a small inferno. Shielding his face from the heat, he grabbed his sword from the floor and dashed for the front door, only to find the warrior waiting just outside.

"I changed my mind," the warrior said, grinning evilly. "I think I will kill you after all."

Well, Joxer thought, the guy could always try to kill him. But Joxer the Magnificent would never lose to such a barbarian. He lifted his sword with both hands, stepped forward and suddenly found himself slipping on the muddy ground. He fell hard on his butt, and the warrior's ax hummed as it sliced through the air where his neck had been only moments before.

Joxer trembled slightly and swallowed hard. Great warriors fought when necessary, but they also knew when to withdraw from the field. Joxer pulled himself to his knees and crawled away from the warrior's next stroke, which buried itself in the muddy ground just beyond his heels. He scurried around the corner of the inn and looked over his shoulder, sighing in relief when he saw that the warrior had vanished into the chaotic scene.

Maybe he should go back. Maybe he should draw his sword and face the enemy like a true hero, rally the villagers and save the day! Then again, the villagers seemed more interested in screaming and running than fighting. And if he did enter into the fray, he'd face a whole army of butchers -- not good odds. He'd die for a lost cause, which would put a serious hamper on any future conquests. No, better to stay here and watch. And live.

His decision made, Joxer huddled into his sanctuary. He felt bile rise in his throat when he noticed the bloody corpse of the innkeeper only a few feet away, the dead eyes staring at the sky. He screwed his own eyes shut, trying to banish the vision, but then carefully peeked out. The body refused to vanish -- the man really had died, then. Joxer leaned over and spewed his breakfast all over the ground.

He looked up again as he heard wild screaming and shrunk farther into the shadows, trying to melt into the wall at his back. A woman rode into view, seated upon a magnificent horse, but it was the woman herself who drew Joxer's attention. A blonde banshee in black leather, she watched as a villager successfully fought off one of the warriors. She grinned, tossed her hair and slid smoothly from her horse.

"Run, woman," the villager yelled. "They're trying to kill us all!"

"Trying?" the woman said, her voice hard and emotionless, an eerie contrast to her wide, excited eyes. "I think we're succeeding."

Joxer watched in fascination as she ran her sword through the villager's neck. Oh, she possessed power, Joxer thought. Power and charisma. Something within him screamed out in revulsion, but part of him knew that he could follow this warrior to the ends of the earth and be happy doing it.

The banshee looked around and spotted one of her men with his sword at the neck of an old woman. "Stop!" she yelled.

The warrior held back his blade as the woman approached.

"Let her live," she said to her man, before turning to the village woman. "You, old crone, tell the world what we did here. Let them know what devastation awaits anyone who defies me."

From Joxer's vantage point, it looked as though the old woman cringed and huddled back into herself. "Who are you?" she asked.

The banshee smiled and giggled -- a sound so devoid of sanity that Joxer felt chilled -- and he pitied the old woman.

"I'm Xena," she answered gleefully. "Warrior Princess."

Joxer subconsciously shook his head and frowned. This woman certainly would give Xena a run for her money, but she wasn't the Warrior Princess. Joxer had heard stories of the dark-haired beauty named Xena, an evil woman who had changed her ways after meeting Hercules. Stories varied and evolved, and Joxer figured he'd heard almost every version of Xena's conversion, but one fact remained constant: The Warrior Princess now fought to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

Whatever name this woman claimed, she was not Xena.

Joxer stumbled from the inn and toward the forest, away from the slaughter. To stay any longer would be to invite the army to find and kill him, too. Besides, even a great warrior could take only so much blood, and Joxer had seen more than his fill of death for one day.

Joxer measured his time in the forest by his bruises. He tripped over five roots and banged his head into six branches before he spotted the road. He then stepped on two spine-covered plants before he reached the road.

With little regard for his wounded feet, he ran to catch a group of hopeless-looking refugees who trudged down the road in silence, heads bowed as if they did not possess the energy to notice the world around them. With a curious combination of pity and disdain, Joxer joined their ranks on the road to nowhere.

The group attracted other refugees along the way, but Joxer noticed that they passed no one going back toward the devastated town, back toward the banshee's army. Which was why the two figures moving closer to them, instead of farther away, interested him so much. The figures drew closer, and Joxer squinted to see them better -- one was tall and dark, and the other almost seemed to radiate light. An interesting pair, he thought.

And women. They were women, with weapons, he realized. Maybe two Amazons had strayed from their normal hunting grounds. No, wait. That light one, she's no Amazon. And the dark one, that's Xena! She has to be. She's come to clear her name!

The women passed the refugees with wary expressions. They began talking quietly, but Joxer couldn't make out the words. Xena supposedly was an intelligent woman. She undoubtedly would be overjoyed to have someone of Joxer's talents join her in her quest. Well, he'd had enough of this silent band, anyway. With a deep breath, he broke away from the group and ran to catch up with the women.

"Xena!" he yelled, as he drew close enough to get their attention.

The dark one stopped. "Yeah?"

"Joxer the Mighty. At your service."

Xena looked over him once, scowled and muttered something that Joxer didn't catch.

"You know, a warrior needs ..." He looked around, realized they'd passed around him again, and turned to follow. "Wait! Listen! Don't diss me just because I was traveling so cheap. I can be of invaluable service to a woman like you." Xena raised her eyebrows, and Joxer nodded. "Yeah. As a matter of fact, um, I'm a warrior of some repute --"

"I've never heard of you," interjected the light one, and Joxer looked more closely at her for the first time. She was hardly more than a kid, probably just tagging along with Xena for a few kicks. Hmmm. Nothing but a road block, really.

Joxer pushed her aside. "I wasn't talking to you, little girl."

He dismissed her angry reply and returned his attention to Xena, who was really the woman he had to impress. And when it came to boasting of warrior-like deeds, no one could compete with Joxer the Articulate.

"Now, listen," he said. "I'm fierce, and I have a lust for blood. As a matter of fact, if a couple of days go by an' I haven't shed some blood, I get very depressed. Blood 'n me go together like a horse and chariot. I once bathed in a tub of blood. My nickname is Bloody Joxer!"

Xena lashed out, grabbed his nose and twisted. Oh, that hurt! Joxer wriggled to break free, but her fingers clamped down like iron. He howled in pain.

"You like the sight of blood so much?" Xena whispered in his ear. "Keep talking."

He almost lost his balance as she shoved him back. He rubbed his nose and looked up, only to see the backsides of the two women moving steadily down the road.

"I'm disappointed in you, Xena!" he yelled. "I thought you'd recognize talent when you saw it!"

The Warrior Princess probably had been intimidated by his masculine prowess. Yeah, that was it. And the little blonde road block would go along with whatever Xena said. Nah, he was just too much warrior for them to handle. He'd just have to prove to Xena that the great warrior known as Joxer was not someone to dismiss so carelessly.

He waited until the women had moved almost out of sight, and then he followed them. Xena would find that more than a nose twist was needed to deter Joxer the Persistent.

Smoke and panic filled the air in equal, suffocating proportions. Villagers ran among burning houses, away from one sword and onto the point of another. Joxer stood outside the chaos, hiding behind a supply wagon as he silently watched the repeat of the previous day's slaughter.

Except this time, the Fates had thrown a wild card into the deck. The Warrior Princess seemed to fly from one challenge to the next, her battle cry piercing through the veil of screams. She cut down raider after raider while her blonde sidekick defended herself quite well with her oversized stick.

But where was the banshee? Ah, there, riding into the street, sitting quietly on her mount and grinning insanely at the warrior whose name she had stolen. Xena threw her chakram, and the other woman's hand whipped out to catch it.

"You want it," the banshee taunted, "come and get it."

The women warriors charged each other, and Joxer decided that maybe he could find a safer vantage point than his front row seat. He crawled into the supply wagon and pulled the canvas over himself. With any luck, no one would distinguish him from the sacks of grain that he rested on and he could emerge after the battle had ended.

He lay perfectly still, listening to the clash of swords, the exchange between Xena and her challenger, and the short information-gathering session between Xena and one of the raiders. Then the raider spoke his leader's name, Callisto, and shivers shot down Joxer's spine. Callisto, who inspired fear and respect; who radiated charisma; who might succeed in her goal to kill her adversary.

The sounds of battle began to fade, and just as Joxer considered coming out, the wagon began to move. He held his breath and froze. The sound of bawdy laughter originated from the front of the wagon, only inches from his head -- undoubtedly raiders who were claiming their spoils.

Joxer sat in darkness for what seemed an eternity, listening to the men boast of how many villagers they had killed. And then, just as suddenly as the trip began, the wagon stopped and the voices vanished. Joxer licked his dry lips and shifted carefully. He slowly lowered the canvas, blinked at the bright sunlight and panicked at the three warriors staring down at him.

He laughed nervously and smiled. "Um, hi, guys."

One of the warriors stripped away the canvas and another grabbed him by his breastplate, hauling him out of the wagon with one hand. The man's other hand pulled back for a punch.

"Whoa! Hey, hold on a second!" Joxer said. He had to think fast now. "You're Callisto's men, right? Well, I have an invaluable service to offer you."

The men laughed, and his captor clenched his hand into a fist. Joxer shut his eyes and winced in anticipation.

"Wait!" one of the men said. "Let's bring this clown to Callisto and let her decide what to do with him."

They laughed again, and Joxer felt himself lifted off the ground as his captor dragged him into what looked like a fortress made of bamboo. Dozens of warriors filled the compound, and standing above them all, astride a ladder, stood Callisto, the banshee, Xena's creation and worst enemy.

His captor tugged on his armor, and Joxer unsuccessfully struggled to break free. "Ow, ow, ow!" he said. "Watch the suit, would ya?"

The warriors parted before Joxer as he was unceremoniously dragged before Callisto. OK, he thought, now's my chance. Fate has lead me here for a reason: To join Callisto's army. Yes! Finally, I find a place where I belong!

"We found this scum hiding in the supply wagon we stole from the village," said his captor. "He says he has something invaluable to offer you."

Callisto's steady stare turned to Joxer, and she cocked her head slightly. She seemed relaxed, but she probably could leap down from the ladder and have a sword at his neck before he could so much as breathe. She reminded Joxer of a wild beast deciding whether to attack now or later. Dangerous. Beautiful.

Perfect.

"Warrior Queen," he said, bowing, "um, forgive my intrusion."

"Warrior Queen," she mused, smiling slightly. "I like that."

Joxer laughed nervously. "It's so much better than Warrior Princess, you know."

"Yes, yes it is. Now what is you have to offer me?"

Well, duh, Joxer thought. "My services."

"Services, really," Callisto said, her voice bored. "And what is it exactly that you do? Hmm?"

Oh, geez, if she couldn't figure that out maybe she wasn't so smart after all. He chuckled. "What do I do? I'm a warrior."

Everyone laughed, and for the first time in his life, Joxer felt as though he were part of something. These men were sharing his amusement that their leader had asked such a silly question. Ah, the feeling of family.

"Oh, a warrior, how silly of me," Callisto answered, her voice mocking. "Then why is it, dear man, that you look like an idiot?"

An idiot? Maybe she really was insane. Oh, well. He would play along.

"Eh, I cultivate that look," Joxer answered. "It makes me seem less threatening. You see, eh, people don't fear worthless idiots, so it's easy for me to get the drop on them. Ha!" He half-jumped at one of the men. "See?"

"So, you want to do something to prove yourself to me, then?" she asked indulgently.

Joxer almost sighed in relief. She would give him a chance. This was the break he had been searching for his whole life.

"Anything," he said. "Please."

"You know who Xena is, don't you? She travels with someone."

Joxer nodded and rolled his eyes. "An irritating little blonde, I know."

"Yes, her name is Gabrielle. You bring her to me, and you may join my legion as a warrior."

Oh, such a simple task, Joxer thought. She must really want him to get in. He bowed deep, missing Callisto's smirk. "Consider the deed done, my queen." He turned to the warriors. "We're all on the same team now."

He pivoted dramatically and marched proudly from the fortress. A couple of the men laughed and kicked his butt, but Joxer knew it was just play between guys -- a ritual of acceptance. Oh, this was so great. All he had to do was capture Xena's little friend, and paradise was his.

Oh, come on, you stupid fire. Light. The gods take you. Light!

Joxer sat back and kicked the small pile of sticks, scattering them in all directions. Blasted luck! He'd just have to shiver this night. At least it wasn't too cold.

He laid back on the dirt, his hands behind his head, and dreamed about where he might be in only 24 short hours. In the morning, he'd capture the irritating blonde and bring her before Callisto. Then, the Warrior Queen would reward him for his service, and Joxer would spend a happy night with his brothers in arms around a warm, blazing campfire.

Ah, what he wouldn't give for acceptance as a warrior. To stand among his brothers and feel their respect and honor. Then his father might accept him as his son, and Jett might stop tormenting him. And the world might finally hear and revere the name of Joxer.

He smiled lazily, content with watching the stars make their way slowly across the sky. Such a beautiful fantasy it was, but a fantasy it might remain. If for some reason he couldn't catch Xena's companion, Callisto would reject him. His dream would remain just beyond his reach -- tantalizing and beautiful and unattainable. If only there were a way to guarantee success in his quest. If only ...

Something hard bashed him on the nose, jerking him from his rare moment of peace. He picked up the offending object, a small coin that vanished even as he held it in his palm. A soft, metallic sound, like the clatter of clinking money, came to his ears as he sat up rigidly. He looked around frantically and almost bumped his head into a swath of heavy, colorful skirts.

"Ah!" he said, that being the only word he could manage, as he jumped to his feet. He found himself facing a tall, plump woman in a dress that might rival a circus tent.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the woman said. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Joxer wished he hadn't left his sword with the rest of his gear, now out of reach. He pulled his secret weapon, the tiny dagger, and pointed it at the woman.

"Careful," he said, his voice tinged with panic. "I'm not afraid to use this."

"Oh, for goodness sakes," the woman said, smoothing her skirts and scowling. "I'm not here to hurt you, you silly man. I'm here to help you."

"Who are you?"

She smiled and waved her hands, spilling golden coins to the ground. "I am Luck."

"Luck? You mean you're a goddess?"

"Yes. And if you will put away your ... weapon ... I would like to talk to you."

"Um, OK." Joxer slid the tiny dagger back into its hiding place and plopped onto the ground, gesturing that the goddess should do the same. She smiled but did not sit.

"I know I've treated you badly, Joxer," she said, "and I am sorry. It always seems that you get the bad end of my coin tosses. Letting Callisto's men take you in the wagon was the last straw." She drew herself up to her full height. "So, I'm here to rectify the situation."

Joxer scratched his ear. Had he heard her right? "What?" he asked.

"I am going to give you a chance to change your luck, Joxer," she said. "Name what is your heart's greatest desire, and I will toss my coin. If it lands heads, you get your wish. If it lands tails, you don't. Wanna give it a try?"

She twisted her hand, and a large golden coin appeared between her fingers. She smiled and shook it inticingly.

"Wait a minute," Joxer said. "You mean that if that coin lands heads up, I get my wish, and if it lands heads down, I don't lose anything I already have?"

"That's right."

Joxer rubbed his hands together and grinned. Oh, this was going to be good. He could wish for money -- no, no, he had no way to carry it. What about the most beautiful woman in the world? No, she probably wouldn't be much for life on the road. Kingship? Nah, that took too much responsibility. What did he want more than anything else in the whole world?

Then the answer came to him. So simple. So clear.

"Luck," he said, "I want to be a warrior worthy of Callisto's army."

"Okey-dokey," she said, and she tossed the coin high in the air. It flipped and spun, catching the dull gleam of moonlight on its polished surface. The coin hit the top of its arc and oh so slowly seemed to descend to earth. Luck reached out to catch it, but it slipped through her fingers, banged against a rock and flew across the clearing toward Joxer. The coin bounced off his hands, which he raised to protect his still-tender nose, and it lodged itself in the crack of a log -- on its side.

Joxer stared dumbly at the coin, fearful to touch it. He glanced at Luck, who narrowed her eyes and waddled forward.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

She pursed her lips. "You know, I'm not quite sure. It's never landed on its side before. Do you feel any different?"

Joxer shook his head.

"Hmm," Luck mused. "I guess that means you didn't get your wish." She reached down, lifted the coin from its resting place and shrugged. "Sorry, Joxer. Luck is fickle, you know."

She vanished in a shower of coins that also faded and disappeared before touching the ground, leaving Joxer alone once again with mournful thoughts of a treasure he couldn't quite touch.

Every coin has two sides, however, and every toss has two possible outcomes. One flip, backed by the power of a goddess, splits one thread in Fate's tapestry of life. Joxer might not have gotten his wish in one reality, but what if ...

Luck tossed the coin high in the air. It flipped and spun, catching the dull gleam of moonlight on its polished surface. The coin hit the top of its arc and oh so slowly seemed to descend to earth. She reached out to catch it, but it slipped through her fingers, banged against a rock and flew across the clearing toward Joxer. The coin bounced off his hands, which he raised to protect his still-tender nose, and it lodged itself in the crack of a log -- on its side.

Joxer stared dumbly at the coin, fearful to touch it. He glanced at Luck, who narrowed her eyes and waddled forward. He opened his mouth to ask what had just happened, but all words fled from his mind as a slight tickly feeling began in his spine. The sensation slowly worked its way up and into his head, where it grew to maddening itch, and then blinding pain. And then the tickle vanished.

"OK," he muttered. "That was weird."

Luck leaned forward and cupped his chin in one hand, examining him closely with her deep brown eyes. He swatted away her hand and scowled.

"Stop that," he growled.

"You know, it's never landed on its side before," Luck said. "Do you feel any different?"

Without answering, Joxer lifted Luck's coin from its resting place in the log and held it, letting the moon dimly illuminate its surface. On one side was a tall mountain, capped in snow and ringed with clouds: Olympus. He flipped to the other side and smirked at the profile of a young woman with long, flowing hair. The girl reminded Joxer of the irritating blonde.

Maybe when he found her in the morning he would rough her up a bit before taking her to Callisto. Yes. Bringing the blonde's broken, battered body to his queen surely would gain him favor.

He tucked the coin into his belt pouch. "I think I'll keep this. For luck," he said, sneering at the goddess.

Luck wrung her hands and began pacing the clearing. "Oh, dear," she muttered. "Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear. What have I done? Zeus will not be happy with this." She turned to Joxer with an expression of absolute pity. "I am so sorry."

He shrugged. "For what?"

"Don't you understand?" she asked, waving her hands absently among a flurry of coins. "You got your wish. But to become worthy of Callisto's army, you turned Evil. I should have seen it before. Don't you see that this is not who you are?"

Joxer stood and sauntered slowly toward the goddess, who backed away like a skitish horse. "Well, maybe this is who I should be," he said quietly. "Thank you, Luck. For the first time, you've done something good for me."

With one final "oh, dear," Luck vanished, and all her coins faded with her -- except for one. Joxer pulled out the magical slice of metal that had just changed his life for the better and kissed it lightly. Oh, yes, the next few days would prove interesting.

End of part 1

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Posted February 10, 1999