| The Pendragons # 2 |
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| REESE PRODUCTIONS |
| The Pendragons # 2 |
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| REESE PRODUCTIONS |
The great chamber was dark, lit only a single candle that flickered in the wind. Shadows, long and slender, writhed on the walls as the man called Nekros focused on the task at hand. His yellowed, gaunt hand rose and fell as he knit the flesh below him back together. The body that lay on the lab table was a mismatched patchwork of bodies sewn together. An ebony face sewn onto the torso of a caucasian man, the hands delicate like a woman's. Nekros the Undying had created his own version of the Frankenstein monster, a perverse abomination against life, a madman's sick joke.
Nekros, however, was pleased by his handiwork. He had studied necromancy for almost a century, using the arcane powers at his disposal to bring life to those whose spirits had long since passed on. The feel of dead skin beneath his fingers sent a chill through him and the act of resurrection was particularly pleasurable for him.
Memories danced through his mind as he worked -- memories of an era long gone. The first World War had been a terrible affair, one that had convinced many that its horror could never, would never, be repeated. During this time, Nekros had lived in Germany -- using his arcane abilities to further the German cause. Nekros was no loyalist to the German ideal, however. Instead, he sought only the furthering of chaos -- for in chaos, he had found power.
Power that would be denied him because of the intervention of one man -- Albion.
The hero, dressed in his bright crimson and white, had battled Nekros again and again. The two rivals had finally clashed in the waning days of the war, when Albion had finally trapped Nekros in one of his underground lairs. As the necromantic workshop crumbled around him, Nekros had sworn vengeance on Albion and all he held dear.
Now, thanks to a pact with the devil himself, that vow would be fulfilled....
Nekros ignored the gore that coated his bare hands, reaching for a small vial of powder. He sprinkled the dust on the corpse's forehead, drawing a sigil with the long nail of his pinky finger. "Niun kor Sorvos."
The words seemed to bring about a change in the room, making the already damp air chill even more. A dozen tiny voices seemed to whisper in a cacophony of sound and the body on the lab table twitched in response. The thing's mouth opened and emitted a groan that sounded inhuman. Nekros the Undying took a step back and smiled.
The undead being sat up awkwardly, swinging its legs over the side of the table. It stared mutely at its creator, its eyes showing hints of inner torment.
Nekros stepped forward and ran a bloody hand over the thing's cheek, leaving behind a trail of slime. "From death comes life...."
The undead creature grunted in response, its mind a mess of unimaginable pain.
"...and from life comes death." Nekros closed his eyes, savoring the victory that would soon be his. Albion, the hated Albion, would soon know death's embrace -- and then he would belong, body and soul, to Nekros.
Peter Hunter leaned back against his desk, peering over the rims of his glasses and taking in the faces before him. It was his last class of the day and the students had adopted their bored expressions early in the period. "...The Thatcher years, for good or ill, continue to have an impact on British politics even today. Starting with --"
The sound of wings flapping made him pause. It started as a soft rustle but grew louder and louder until it drowned out the school room noises. The students all looked up from their daze-induced stupors, seeing that their instructor was staring off into space. His pupils seemed to grow and shrink madly as he murmured something so soft that none of them could be quite sure they heard him correctly -- "Avalon."
Peter Hunter shook his head to clear it -- the sound of the owls was one of the signs that he was needed as Albion. Sometimes, the owls were even capable of transporting him to and from the otherdimensional realm of Avalon, but he knew that it wasn't going to do so today. The trouble that was brewing was of a more earthly nature. "Class, we're going to break somewhat early today. I want your papers on my desk at the start of class tomorrow. No excuses!"
Hunter was out the door even before his students could react. He knew he'd acquired a reputation at the school for being eccentric, but he didn't really mind. All history teachers were eccentric in one way or another -- in his case, it just happened to be that he was one of England's foremost champions.
The sky was overcast and gray, but Peter Hunter paid it no attention - not even when the first drops of rain began to fall. He headed for a secluded wooded area behind the school and felt the power of the Pendragon overwhelm him. Peter Hunter vanished in a flash of light, leaving behind the warrior known as Albion.
With a mental command, Albion activated the mental link that joined all the Pendragons together. Forged by the magic of Wynter, it allowed the members of the team to contact one another in case of emergency. Wynter, I need to return to Lyonesse.
The response came quick and effectively as Albion vanished from sight in a sorcerous spell. A moment later, he was back in Pendragons Castle.
"Do you think you'll like it here, Cam?" Kate McClellan stared at her son with concern, worrying in the way that only a mother can. Her teenaged son was unpacking his things, putting them away while looking about the medieval castle that was now his home.
"It's going to be fine, I think. I really could live in the dormitory though, mom. I don't need to be here..."
"I know. But Peter thinks it might be best if you stayed here from now on because of your connection to the Pendragon *. You were chosen by the Green Knight to house part of the Pendragon's power -- it was only because you were so young that you had to give it up."
(* See Knights of Pendragon volume one. Barry)
Cam looked at her. He was thin and pale, with heavy rings under his eyes. He'd been that way for the last few years, ever since Peter had retaken the Pendragon power from him. "He thinks the power might come back, doesn't he?"
Kate considered lying to him, telling him that they only feared he'd be at risk from their enemies...but she thought better of it. He was almost a man now and it was time to stop mollycoddling him. "Peter and Dane both think that it's very possible the Pendragon power could come back to you, yes. We want to help you become prepared for it."
Cam glanced out the window, watching as the Black Knight's winged horse Strider flew around and around the castle. Being here was like suddenly finding himself in the middle of one of his favorite fairy tales... "I guess it would be good if I could handle it next time. I'm not sure I want to become a bloody superhero though...."
Kate laughed. "Nobody says you have to -- we don't even know that the Pendragons power will return! Look, just enjoy yourself here -- I've seen you admiring Sersi already...."
Cam's blush made his mother laugh even harder. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed the top of his head. He was getting too hard for this sort of thing, she knew, but at the moment she couldn't have cared less.
Pendragons Meeting Room
"So you're not sure why you were summoned?" Sersi posed in the front of the mirror, admiring the way the expensive fabric clung to her form. She had gone shopping today, a frequent occurrence, and had come back with a plethora of items -- including a new evening gown.
Albion cleared his throat and looked away from the Eternal -- Sersi had a rather unnerving effect on every male who came within twenty feet of her. "None whatsoever. It wasn't a summons to Avalon itself -- I think it was a warning of some kind. Perhaps in the wake of the Avalon War *, our Pendragon powers are being altered somehow...."
(* The Avalon War ended in Black Knight # 6. Wrote-it-myself-Barry.)
Sersi smiled slightly, seeing Albion's uncomfortable expression in the mirror. He was charming, a gentleman -- something that a woman didn't see very often these days. Of course, Sersi had lived a very long time -- she'd actually heard of Albion during his early days in the first World War. "What are you going to do, then? Wait around for the menace to present itself?"
Albion frowned. Sersi was just teasing, of course, but she'd struck a nerve. He slapped his right fist into his left palm in anger. "You've hit the nail right on the head! How can we as Pendragons confront evil before it strikes? Groups like us are always so reactive -- but that kind of thing gets us and our friends killed! The villains have struck before we're even aware they exist...."
Sersi stepped across the room towards him. "Hmm. You have a point -- even during my stint with the Avengers, we generally waited for Dr. Doom or the like to make their move first."
"There must be some way to--"
Albion words were cut off as a chill wind filtered through the room. The Pendragons' castle was drafty even at the best of times, but this seemed...unusual.
Wynter, a sorceror as mysterious as his name was evocative, stood in the doorway. His long, straight white hair hung to his waist and his face was a mask of serene amusement. "Might I make a suggestion?"
Albion nodded, eager to hear out the wizard. Though none of them had lain eyes on the man before they'd encountered him during the Avalon War, all trusted him implicitly. There was an almost palpable sense that they had all met him before, perhaps in another life. "By all means...."
"Well, it may be possible for me to create a spell that could function as some sort of early detection device with regards to dangerous events of a global scale, perhaps even smaller."
Sersi shook her head. "And how will you manage to maintain such a spell? Is its duration infinite?"
"Of course not -- however, I have read that the American superhero group known as Force Works once used a computer called PLATO to predict disasters. The computer used a variation on Chaos Theory, amplified by the Scarlet Witch's mutant hex ability. If I had access to a similar computer, I could use my magic to amplify its range and effectiveness in much the same manner...."
Sersi considered it for a moment. "I could channel my own powers into it, as well. It should work. I could even create one if Dane gave me the plans for it -- I can rearrange matter however I see fit."
Albion smiled, his unease fading. This computer could make all the difference in saving someone's life. He'd lost too many friends over the years, the most recent being his friends in the Avalon War. He'd be damned if he'd not do everything in his power to prevent that from ever happening again.
Club Vampyre, London
"How can they be so bold?!" Jacqueline Falsworth Crichton clung to Joey Chapman's arm as they threaded their way through the gyrating crowd inside London's hottest new nightspot. Pale faced and dark-dressed, the club-goers danced to a pounding beat, their eyes closed as if in a hypnotic trance. For their part, both Joey and Jackie were dressed casually in jeans and t-shirts, their eyes ringed with drawn-on circles.
Joey steered Jackie towards a dark booth. "Why shouldn't they be? Who's going to believe their gimmick is real? You have to understand, Jackie, things like this -- and yes, I'm including Kenneth * in that category, for the moment -- can move about pretty freely. Goth culture is very popular these days and that makes it easy for them to blend into society."
(* Kenneth Crichton is Jacqueline's son, transformed into a vampire by the Baroness in the 1998 Union Jack limited series published by Marvel.)
Jackie's eyes flashed as she sat down. "Kenneth isn't anything like these... creatures! He was taken against his will and --"
"So were most of them, Jackie!" Joey looked around and then lowered his voice. "The fact is, once you're one of the undead, you either adjust to your new existence or you don't. If you do, that means embracing the fact that you have to kill to survive -- and that's what Kenneth has done. He's not your sweet, sickly boy anymore...."
Jackie looked away, her eyes shining with tears. "But he's in thrall to the Baronness... and he's made a child with her! We have to do something to free him. Even if it means...."
Joey sighed. He'd known this was coming, ever since Jackie had invited him to this club. She wanted him along, not because Kenneth had been his best friend and not because she needed emotional support, but because she wanted him to do what she couldn't. Kill Kenneth, if need be.
He reached out and clutched her hand, squeezing it softly. When she looked at him, it was hard for him to remember that she was old enough to be his grandmother. Thanks to a youthful rejuvenation, she was young as he -- at least in physical form. She was beautiful and scared, a combination that had led him down dangerous paths in the past. "We'll do what's necessary, but let's not jump the gun. We came here to find out about Kenneth's whereabouts and that's all we should be worrying about."
Jackie nodded, wiping her eyes and once more trying to adopt the guise of a young clubhopper. Though she did a fair job of it, Joey could still the haunted look in her eyes -- and it was one he shared.
Pendragons Castle, Midnight
The surf lapped gently on the shores of Lyonesse, a howling wind breaking across the surface of the water. A slender hand, stitched onto a wrist that was not its own, reached up from the water and grabbed hold of a sturdy rock. With a moaning grunt, the creature pulled itself up onto the shore.
Nekros had done good work, implanting within the undead creature a single thought -- to find Albion and retrieve him. It walked in a halting manner, one of its arms bent at its side. In several places its stitching had come undone, causing its skin to hang at odd angles.
Onward it trudged, a slow moan escaping its lips.
Inside the castle, the man called Wynter paced the halls. He required little sleep and preferred to use the nighttime hours to explore. The island was home to a surprising number of animals, once again giving credence to the thought that Lyonesse was a gift to the Pendragons of some kind.
He turned down the hallway where the team's living quarters were based and noted that several of the doors stood open. The Black Knight was away * and Sersi was staying at Garrett Castle this evening to wait for him. Joey and Jackie were out on the town and Kate had taken Cam with her on a story for Astra News, leaving only Wynter and Albion in the castle tonight.
(* See Black Knight # 7 for more!)
Wynter liked Peter Hunter quite a bit and he considered knocking on the man's door to see if he were awake -- perhaps the two of them could talk a bit. Wynter had not opened up to anyone since the Avalon War, plagued as he was by memories of the past, but he knew that he would have to do so soon. After all, the very fact that he was alive again at all meant that someone bad was on the horizon....
Deciding that tonight was as good a time as any, Wynter paused out side Peter's door. He was just about to rap on the door when he heard a cracking sound, like a table being smashed against the wall. "Peter? Are you all right?"
An inhuman grunt was the only reply and Wynter immediately went into action. His lips whispered ancient words and his hands filled with energy in response. He fired two eldritch blasts at the door, which blew apart easily. The sight that greeted Wynter as he strode into the room froze the blood in his veins.
A patchwork man was crouched in the window, holding the unconscious body of Peter Hunter over his shoulder. Peter had been taken unawares, apparently, for he still bore the aged look of a history professor. Before Wynter could even utter a spell, the walking corpse jumped out the castle window.
The sorceror moved quickly and peered down to the ground below. The creature had landed awkwardly, breaking one of its legs. It peered up at Wynter and roared, emitting some form of noxious fume.
The cloud of air rose to the window, enveloping Wynter in its grasp. He hacked and coughed, tears stinging his eyes. "Necromancy... someone is practicing... necromancy..."
Wynter fell backwards, his head striking the side of the bed. He was unconscious immediately, a small bit of blood trickling to the floor.
First blood had gone to Nekros.
In Pendragons # 3: Albion's battle with Nekros comes to a disturbing end, while Baron Blood II makes his first Pendragons appearance!
AUTHOR'S NOTES
Hope you're enjoying the series so far! If you'll notice, I haven't really been focusing on the team in the standard superhero manner -- I want to keep to the flavor that John Byrne established in his Alpha Flight run. That means a lot of small groups of Pendragons involved in multiple storylines, with the entire group getting together only in extreme cases or for special storylines. Hopefully, I won't slight anyone with that approach.
Barry Reese
You can reach me at aric_dacia@yahoo.com