Ghost Rider U.K.

GHOST RIDER
U.K.

Issue # 7

"Isles of Magick" Part Two
Written by Barry Reese
Part of the Pendragons Universe

WHAT HAS COME BEFORE - continued from Pendragons # 8: The demon Blackheart has risen to power in Great Britain, wearing the false form of Prime Minister Clive Winthrop. In the months since his ascendance to political leadership, Blackheart has used a variety of pawns to strike at both the Spirit of Vengeance known as the Ghost Rider and the league of heroes known as the Pendragons. Now, the heroes have uncovered his true goals -- to plunge the British Isles into a new Dark Age of Magick, a move which would result in the deaths of thousands. To this end, he has resurrected the evil Zarathos, called Soul-Taker by some. Together, the two demons have begun their deadly work, centering their plan around four mystic areas of power. The Pendragons, Ghost Rider and John Blaze have united to stop their plot, but have found only failure in their first two attempts. Even worse, John Blaze now finds himself once more cursed to share his existence with Zarathos, as the original Ghost Rider walks the Earth again....

"...I realize how difficult this may be to believe, but it's true, nonetheless." Kate McClellan stared into the camera, trying to convince a disbelieving nation that the unthinkable had occurred -- that the man who held the highest office in the land was, in fact, heir to Hell itself. "Clive Winthrop is not only responsible for the bizarre weather afflicting Great Britain, he is also the mastermind behind a scheme involving a number of criminals, including the Americans known as Demogoblin and Blackout. As a result of this scheme, many of the world's greatest practioners of magic -- including Dr. Stephen Strange, Jericho Drumm and Wanda Maximoff -- are now dead. These deaths, I repeat, are the direct results of Winthrop's actions."

The enigmatic mage known as Wynter stood protectively behind the cameras. Most of the studio was running on automatic now, as Wynter had been forced to mystically bind most of the BBC workers in attendance. As soon as Kate had begun her libelous assault on Winthrop's character, attempts had been made to silence her. Only Wynter's magic kept her on the air, her words now being picked up by international news agencies and transmitted far and wide. Most were dismissing her as a crank, a daft reporter who had gown off the deep end, but some were beginning to wonder -- because, even without hard proof, many could feel a veil being lifted from their eyes. The spell carefully crafted by Winthrop over the past few years was fading, to be replaced by a cold fear of the unknown.

Wynter felt a sudden stab of pain in his temple and he groaned. Kate was continuing to speak, now outlining the relationship between Winthrop and Latveria, and seemed unaware that her teammate was staggering under a sudden and unexpected assault. "What... is... happening to me?" he murmured, as strange images flashed before his mind's eye.

Wynter saw Blackheart rising into the air, growing taller and taller until he dwarfed all of London. Mystically-charged bolts of lightning flew all around him and a terrible wind, howling like a pack of wolves at a bloody feast, whipped through the buildings and streets. All around were bodies, the eyes of the poor victims staring up blankly as the Pendragons and their allies fought one last battle with the greatest of all evils....

"Wynter?" Kate's calming touch on his forehead brought the wizard back to reality and he noticed with a start that he was lying on his back, the hard studio floor providing little comfort.

Kate helped him rise, looking concerned. "I have no idea. You cried out and then collapsed."

Wynter looked towards the now empty anchor desk. "You're not the air anymore."

"No. They finally took out the satellite feed. Doesn't matter, anyway. The ones who will listen, did." She moved away from him, staring out the windows and trying to peer past the thickening snow. "There are armed men below. They'll be coming up any minute."

Kate turned quickly, staring at him as if he had just grown a second head. "But what about the four mystical sites? Why would we call the rest of the team back to Lyonesse?"

"Because they are doomed to fail, if they have not already. I have seen the future... and it is bleak."

Kate sighed, thinking of her son, all alone on Lyonesse Island. She should be there with him... The idea of going back appealed to her, but Wynter's claim that the teams would fail did little to reassure her. "Is he going to win? Blackheart?"

Wynter smiled softly, that same, enigmatic grin that sometimes crept over his features. It was an expression that Kate had come to appreciate more and more. The wizard reached out and touched her cheek. "The battle has not yet been lost, Kate. The spirit of the Pendragon still beats within our chests and not until we have taken our last breath will that spirit be snuffed out. Believe."

Noble Kale was born the son of a minister. He learned about Heaven and Hell, about Demons and Angels, almost from the moment he was old enough to walk. He also learned about the cruelty of man, particularly the cruelty of fathers. His own was a bitter, sinister being who sought to punish others for the sins he saw in himself. One of his favorite objects of punishment was young Noble.

Noble often felt the sting of the lash. The pain, at times, was almost unbearable and he sometimes wondered if his heart would burst from the anger and rage that it triggered.

The emotions that raced through the Spirit of Vengeance now were very similiar to those he'd experienced as a child. Red hot rage washed over his heart, making the anger there blaze into an inferno.

They had arrived too late, the mystic sigil located atop the Doubler Stones had flared to life and brought about the horrific deaths of far too many innocents.

Francesca Grace, dressed in the shimmering green armor she wore into battle alongside the Pendragons, knelt beside a young man -- obviously a tourist -- and reached down to close his eyes. She muttered a small prayer before responding to Ghost Rider's words. "I agree. The man behind this has to pay."

"He is no man... He is far worse. But I can kill him, if I can get close enough. In Blackheart's realm I learned that I am not just the Spirit of Vengeance, I am also an angel of death -- with the ability to slay the undead and immortal*."

"Then I hope we get you close enough to the sodding bastard that you can gut him," Grace replied. "I might try to do the deed myself if I get the chance."

Ghost Rider grunted, pleased to find a kindred spirit in Grace. He turned his head to the side, casting a glance at Dakimh the Enchanter. The tutor to Noble's current human host, Jennifer Kale, Dakimh had arrived at the behest of the sorcerors held prisoner by Blackheart. With their deaths, however, the intangible mage had remained behind to offer advice. "Can you tell us how the others are faring? We have heard nothing from Captain Britain."

Dakimh shook his head, looking weary. "I fear that the magic in the area has interfered with your friend's telepathic link."

The Spirit of Vengeance did as she said, glancing around. He saw nor heard anything, but his senses detected something foul and evil. "One of the perpetrators of this travesty remains."

Ghost Rider's chain whipped out, wrapping around the attacker's left arm. He used the chain to pull the man closer to him so that Ghost Rider could grapple with him. "Who are you?"

"He's one of the Pendragons' oldest and deadliest foes," Grace said, answering before the villain could open his mouth. "Magpie. He's a killer."

"Yes, I smell the death on him." Ghost Rider brought his flaming skull closer to Magpie's face, but the man continued to smile madly back at him. "Are you ready to face my Penance Stare? You will feel the pain of all your victi--"

Magpie spat in Ghost Rider's face, the liquid sizzling and evaporating on his Hellfire. "Sorry, old chum, but you don't put a scare into me. I've been the main boy for the Bane and for a lot of blokes who'd put you into a screaming fit. So," Magpie brought up an arm quickly, dislodging Ghost Rider's grip. "Sod off!"

Magpie did an acrobatic backflip, landing in a battle-ready crouch. He landed just in time to block a kick from Grace, who looked nearly as furious as Ghost Rider. "Why is that good people die off and bastards like you keep coming back?"

"Because people like me make deals with powerful patrons, Grace. It's not too late for you to switch teams." Magpie ducked Grace's blades, his smile never wavering. Not even when a series of shuriken embedded themselves in his left leg, bringing him down.

Ghost Rider's boot came down on Magpie's head, holding him still. Grace took the opportunity to disarm the villain by kicking the blades away from him.

"This ends now." Ghost Rider grabbed Magpie by the collar and hauled him to his feet, holding him so that his face was level with that of the Spirit of Vengeance. "Feel the suffering that you inflicted upon others."

Magpie's eyes widened and, for the first time since the battle began, he showed genuine fear. He screamed and screamed until even the battle-hardened Grace looked away. "What... exactly... did you do to him?"

"Nothing less than he deserves." Noble moved away, back towards his flaming motorcyle. He had only taken a few steps when the spectral image of Wynter appeared before him.

The white-haired mage looked grave as he said "You must return to Lyonesse at once. There are things that must be discussed if we are to stop Blackheart's plan."

Grace rushed forward. "We failed, Wynter! The site has already been activated."

"You are not the only ones," Wynter replied. "None of us will succeed at this. Destiny insists that this be played out in a different manner than we had hoped."

Ghost Rider tilted his head, sensing something in the air. "Zarathos! I sense him on this plane once more... He must be part of Blackheart's scheme to gain control of these lost souls!"

Wynter raised a hand. "Zarathos is no threat to us. Not anymore. Come to Lyonesse." With that proclamation, Wynter was gone, leaving behind two worried champions.

"How can Zarathos be loose in the world and yet not pose a threat to us?" Ghost Rider pondered.

"I don't know," Grace answered. "But I have a feeling that things are only going to get stranger."

There are many who would categorize Victor Von Doom as a villain, a madman bent on global domination. But such a description fails to encompass the many dimensions the man possesses.

To the people of Latveria, he is a guardian and a protector. To his mother, he was a loving and devoted son.

And right now, it is the Doom the man, not the Doom the villain, who holds sway. "The Doombots you requested... Why have you not used them?"

The demon Blackheart swirled before the armored tyrant, having dispatched his human guise at last. The four sites had been activated and the souls from all but one of the sites -- Stonehenge -- had been processed and distilled by the demon Zarathos. Their essence had fed Blackheart's own power and would, soon, allow him to craft his final spell. Even without all the souls from Stonehenge, he would still be powerful enough. With a sneer in his voice, he answered Doom's query. "They disabled many of the sorcerors for me... And the rest will be used to defend me when I begin my final preparations. The damned Pendragons have united with Ghost Rider and his ally, Blaze."

Doom clasped his gauntleted hands behind his back. He disliked Blackheart intensely, but he was wise enough to recognize when a being had its uses. And Blackheart most certainly did. "Just remember to limit your spell to Great Britain. The rest of Europe is to be free of your taint."

"Of course." Blackheart moved forward, his dark, featureless face betraying no emotion. "So are you ready to enjoy the spoils of victory?"

Doom forced himself to remain calm. This moment was the reason why he had allied himself with such a vile creature. "You have them both?"

Blackheart held out his left hand, revealing two objects that pulsed gently. One of them was a golden brooch, shaped in the image of a closed eye. The other was a black sphere, with a reddish center that swirled about as if alive. "The Eye of Agamotto, taken from the lifeless corpse of Dr. Strange. And, the other, the bound soul of your mother, housed for these many years in my father's realm."

Doom kept his voice steady as he reached for the Eye first, examining it. Blackheart chuckled, sensing how badly Doom wished to reach for the soul-orb, but knowing that the Monarch of Latveria did not want to reveal his want. At last, Doom reached for it, holding it in the palm of his hand.

In that moment, for one glorious second, Victor felt the presence of his mother's spirit in a way that he had not since her death. He could smell her scent, feel the soft caress of her hand and hear her reassuring voice.

Doom clasped his hand tightly around the orb, realizing once more that Blackheart was with him. "Our business is done," he said, wishing to dismiss the demon from his life.

Blackheart bowed low, stepping back. "Your mother's soul will be in your care for 24 hours, then she'll move on to the next phase of her existence -- and I give you my word that she will be tormented no more."

Doom nodded, turning away. His mother was free of Hell... and that was worth any price. Even if it meant that all of England would suffer.

"...and reports are now being confirmed of mass deaths throughout the United Kingdom. Official estimates are that close to 2500 people may have died in the past several hours, with little evidence as to the cause of death. Coming on the heels, however, of Kate McClellan's stunning words on the BBC newscast, many people in Great Britain are understandably on edge...."

Bansi flicked the remote, silencing the words of the CNN broadcaster. Outside, lightning was beginning to flash through the snowclouds and a deep rumbling seemed to be growing louder and louder in the distance. "I'm scared as hell, mum."

Bansi's mother, an immigrant from India, sat nearby, staring out the window at the steadily worsening weather. She'd moved in with her son last year, when her health had begun to fail, and though neither would admit it, the situation was a nice one. She had helped Bansi tidy the small flat up a bit and he had helped her regain interest in a world that had begun to pass her by. "Something bad is coming. I feel it in my bones."

Bansi nodded slowly. This stuff about the Prime Minister was hard to believe, but given the strange weather lately, he was willing to give it the benefit of the doubt. Running a bookshop like Strange Tomes, with its large occult section, had made him open to such ideas.

A sudden, harsh rapping at the door to the flat made both of them jump. Bansi's mother looked at him with wide eyes. "Did you invite one of your girlfriends over?"

Bansi grinned. That was a private joke between them, poking fun at Bansi's lack of social life. He'd had high hopes for his new employee, Jennifer Kale, but she'd shot him down when he'd invited her to a Christmas party.

The young man crossed over to the door, peering out through the small peep hole to see who was on the other side. Through the snow, he could make out a large man, with an unshaven face. He appeared to be staggering, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

The man glanced up, his eye catching Bansi's own. Through the door he whispered, "Help me... I'm going to die out here."

Banshi shivered. The man sounded horrible and -- even worse -- he'd brought a hand up into Bansi's view. It was covered with blood. "I'm sorry but... I'll call the police for you. But I'm not opening the door...."

Bansi turned back to the door as a thump startled him. He peered through the peephole just in time to see the man fall backwards into the snow. He lay still and quiet, bleeding onto the snow.

Bansi whispered to himself "Why am I doing this... I'm going to regret this... I'm an idiot...." even as he unlocked the door and stepped outside into the freezing snow and rain. Thunder rumbled louder as he knelt beside the injured man, feeling for a pulse. "Sir? Are you alive?"

Peter Hunter and Joey Chapman -- Albion and Union Jack respectively -- were the last to return to Lyonesse. They, like the others, had failed in their mission though Peter and Joey drew some comfort in that their failure had been one of timing and nothing else. Zarathos and Blackheart had claimed St. Mary's long before the heroes had ever arrived.

As they stepped into the team's meeting room, they found a somber group of adventurers, many of whom were huddled together in small groups, consoling one another. Spitfire and Captain Britain were sharing stories of their separate battles, while the two Ghost Riders -- Noble Kale and John Blaze -- stood together in the rear of the room. Many of the heroes were learning of Blackheart's followers, like Magpie and Lord Hawk, for the first time.

Union Jack moved towards Spitfire, who favored him with a smile -- the first she'd offered him in days. "You okay, Jackie?"

"Better now that you're here," she said. She kissed his cheek with a sigh. "I'm sorry for being a jealous old cow."

Joey squeezed her hand. "Not now. If the world's going to end, I'd rather have us talking about how cute we both are and not about all the times we've been bloody fools."

While two would-be lovers reconciled, Albion took his spot alongside Wynter. "How fares the planning?"

The white-skinned mage sighed, seeming weary in spirit as well as body. "A plague of sorrow falls across the land, Albion. Even we are not immune to it. Blackheart has the power he needs -- it only falls to him to decide when to use it. That is, however, also to be his downfall. He holds so much magical power now that he stands out like a beacon to me -- the wholesale slaughter of the world's magicians has eliminated the number of beings who could have confused me, leaving only Blackheart in my vision." Wynter tapped the holographic Monitor Sphere that rotated before him. "The foul villain rests beneath 10 Downing Street."

Albion turned to face the others, his mind having been made up. "Listen to me, all of you!" At his commanding tone, the rest of the Pendragons and their guests turned as one. "The battle is not lost. We now carry it forward, to the heart of the enemy's lair. We do this not just for ourselves and not just for our children, but for our children's children. All of us have been blessed by the divine -- the Pendragons, the Green Man, even the angels of death and vengeance. We must use our gifts 'til the last."

Albion's words seemed amplified by his own natural skills as a leader. He had been an inspiration to British soldiers in the Great War and throughout the decades since and now he worked his magic on his friends and colleagues. He could see it in their eyes and faces, the new determination... they would not, they could not, fail.

In the back of the room, John Blaze looked on in silence. His fleshless skull burned now, giving him the horrific appearance of death itself. At his side, Noble Kale, similiarly deformed, watched him. "Why, Blaze? Why did you do this yourself?"

Blaze shook his head, sending little flickers of flame into the air. "Because it needed to be done... It's so strange, though. I feel Zarathos in my head, coming through in every other thought. It's like we're truly merged for once... and I'm not sure I like it. I mean, I used to play at the whole demon thing, calling other people mortals and talking about my demonic powers... but now I actually think that way, at times." Blaze glanced at Noble, feeling closer to him than he ever had before. He had blamed Noble for so much during their association, but now he knew that Noble was, in fact, the only person on Earth who knew what he was going through. "At least he's not fighting me like he used to. Maybe that means I can put these powers to good use against Blackheart."

"You're not telling me anything I don't already know, pal. Believe me, once we're done with this, I'm getting Wynter and Jennifer hard to work separating me from Zarathos!"

Ghost Rider did not respond, though he knew that Jennifer, deep within his mind, read his thoughts. If you fall under the sway of Zarathos, Blaze, I shall have to put a stop to you. I pray it does not come to that....

Next Issue: First, check out Pendragons # 9 for the explosive climax to "Isles of Magick!" Then, come back here for our eighth issue and the first in what can only be described as a frightening new world. Featuring the return of Caretaker and Vengeance -- and the debut of a new villain!

We're now headed towards the big finale of "Isles of Magick," which will alter the landscape of the Pendragons Universe. I've tried to balance the action-oriented nature of the plot with my usual subplot/characterization-driven style and I hope I've managed to maintain your interest. After "Isles..." I promise no more big crossovers for a looooong while.