Deeds of Blood and Valor |
What's Been Happening: The vampire hunter known as Blade has formed an alliance with the Pendragons Spitfire and Union Jack, warning them that the evil Baroness is planning some sort of supernatural revolution in Europe. The danger posed by the Baroness is compounded when Blade reveals that Spitfire's deceased son, Kenneth, fathered a child with the vampire queen. Meanwhile, Adam Crown continues to struggle with the legacy of King Arthur, whose spirit resides somewhere deep within Adam. After a series of bizarre visions, Adam now travels to Glastonbury in hopes of finding the true King within himself....
Glastonbury, England
Adam Crown strode through the grounds of Glastonbury Abbey, dressed in casual slacks, a light jacket and an open-necked shirt. Given his somewhat unassuming appearance, he looked no different from the teeming horde that had descended nightly on Glastonbury since the Black Mass Barrier had surrounded England and much of Europe. He kept his eyes forward for the most part, ignoring the New Age gurus huddled all around, offering their gifts of magick and wisdom. He also avoided the many salesman who offered him trinkets capable of doing everything from assuring himself of material wealth to gaining the love of any lady (or lad) he desired.
England, always a land of old traditions and history, had become more and more so since the Barrier had gone up. The old ways were alive and well again, offering alternatives to Christianity and other modern religions. The number of people practicing Paganism was on the rise and Adam felt both attracted and repulsed by their rituals. On the one hand, their chants and their ceremonies called to him on a primal level, awakening within him distant, ancestral memories of similar cults throughout the British Isles. Once, the Pagans had held sway over this land and a part of it remained theirs today.
But Adam was also a follower of Christ, having been reared in a middle-class Protestant home.
The conflict between Paganism and Christianity had once threatened to tear England apart -- and Adam wondered if that age-old war was being renewed, right here and right now.
Glastonbury itself was normally home to around 8,000 people, all of them calling this area of Somerset their own. Before the Barrier, it had been a small but thriving market town, gaining most of its fame from the remains of a great Abbey in the area -- the first Christian church built in the British Isles by Joseph of Arimathea. Many who set off on a trek to Glastonbury came there, to the ruins, to feel themselves somehow closer to God.
But others -- perhaps just as many, if not more -- came for a different purpose.
Glastonbury was also reputed to be the final resting place of Arthur, King of the Britons. And Adam, according to the servants of Avalon itself, was the reincarnation of that legendary figure.
Adam stopped just outside the Abbey ruins, standing firm against a brisk wind that had begun to blow. Leaves and small bits of debris circled his feet and Adam heard a woman's strong, clear voice ringing out through the air - "It is time for the king to ride out once more for the sword of the new dawn."
Adam felt his heart begin hammering in his chest. He looked about wildly for the source of the voice, for those words were the ones with which the Lady of the Lake had first pressed him into her service. With those words, his life as a university student was gone forever -- and the lonely world of the adventurer had become his only calling.
A flash of lightning illuminated the sky, revealing a pack of gargoyles flying overhead. In the distance, silhouetted against the moon, was a winged horse.
Tiny sparkles of light -- faeries -- danced about Adam's face, with tiny voices whispering in his ear. "Come back, ye have," they giggled, teasing him forward, into the ruins. "Come back to where ye bones have lain for so long."
Adam felt madness threatening to overtake him and he ignored the stares of those around him as he stretched his arms out from his body. He spun slowly, his head thrown back and his eyes reflecting only the heavens above. "I must save England," he whispered. "Help me."
And the faeries which danced and weaved about him laughed once more. "First, young sir, ye must find a way to save yerself...."
Adam felt himself stumble, the sudden unreality of the situation making his vision grow dizzy. The modern world seemed to slide away from him, leaving only the empty shell of Adam Crown to crumple to the ground.
Darkmoor Castle
Shevaun Haldane lit another candle, further illuminating the ancient chamber beneath her family's ancestral home. Years ago, when Shevaun had been but a child, she had occasionally snuck down into the castle's lower levels, but she'd never known about this room -- not until her beloved father, who had taught her how to immerse herself in both science and the occult, had died. When he'd passed, a whole new world had been opened up to her, one that had been fraught with danger but also with sublime happiness.
Shevaun had become Dark Angel.
And now she was a Pendragon.
"It feels more than a little strange having you guys over. I've never been a part of any cliques -- and being homeschooled here at the castle meant that I spent a lot of time alone."
The small group of Pendragons who stood nearby, sharing bemused expressions as they took in their surroundings, were almost as unique as Shevaun herself -- Warren Worthington, Cam McCllellan and Micky Moran. The four of them held enough power within their mortal frames to decimate a small nation, but they had each forsaken the paths of domination in favor of protecting their fellow man.
Warren, his wings folded against his back, moved over to examine a small glass bottle containing a mummified lizard. "Hey, I know what you mean. I usually went to boarding schools, but when I went home, I was the only kid about for miles. And my mutation always set me apart... It wasn't until the X-Men entered my life that I ever felt truly accepted."
Shevaun smiled at the handsome mutant, glad that he was trying to make her feel more comfortable. Inviting the team out to her home had taken a bit of nerve, actually -- though she'd always been a bit of a free spirit, she had grown more reclusive since her war with the Mys-Tech Corporation had ended. It had taken the unlikely arrival of Micky to break her out of the funk she'd found herself in. Since then, she'd been gradually warming to her new teammates -- particularly Miracleman and her old friend, Betsy. "It's hard to picture you out of the social loop, Warren. You're not exactly a wallflower."
Warren grinned at that, though a haunted look in his eyes suggested that her words may have unintentionally wounded him. "Sometimes you overcompensate, I suppose. Not that I can recall all that much."
Cam, the teenaged son of former Pendragon Kate McClellan, shook his head. "Betsy can't help with your memories?"
"Not so far," Archangel replied. "Ever since the Barrier went up, most of my past is a haze. I remember details, but not the emotional connections."
"She's not the only telepath on the team," Miracleman pointed out. Micky was obviously a bit uncomfortable in his current surroundings, but he was putting on a brave face. During his first tenure as a hero, the 1950s and early sixties, Miracleman had fought in a world that seemed strangely black-and-white. Heroes and heroines simply didn't traffic in the dark arts like this... "Has Shevaun taken a look in your mind yet?"
The three men turned as one to find a grinning Dark Angel standing with her hands on her hips. "Took you guys long enough. I didn't invite you out here just to ogle my ouija boards. I thought we could watch some movies and have some pizza, sure -- but I also thought I could clear the fog that's been in your head for so bloody long!"
"Good luck with that," Cam laughed.
Warren playfully slugged the younger man on the shoulder, sparking a brief but spirited wrestling match between the two. Before either of them knew what has happening, however, Micky had stepped in between them. "Calm down, gents. You'll break something!"
A look passed between Warren and Cam, forming a soundless bond between them. As one, they tackled Miracleman and pulled him to the ground.
Shevaun watched them with a faint smile. Boys, she thought to herself. Honestly, you'd expect this of Micky and Cam -- after all, they're still children at heart. But, Warren -- ! Still, what harm can it do?
Shevaun reached out with her telekinesis, gently moving some equipment aside before it could be damaged. She quietly moved back to the stairs, leaving them behind with their roughhousing. She didn't mind getting flying to town and picking up the pizza -- and it hopefully leave Warren exhausted enough that he wouldn't put a fuss when she told him how she planned to remove his amnesia.
One thing that Betsy hadn't noticed in all her attempts to help Warren -- and Shevaun blamed part of this oversight on Betsy's feelings for the handsome mutant -- was that the amnesia was not a natural mental state of affairs. It had the Barrier, a mystical event, that had led to the change in Warren's skin pigment and the alteration of his mind. It's going to take good, old-fashioned sorcery to clear up this mess. And Warren's mighty lucky that I'm more than a bit proficient when it comes to spellcasting....
The Slimelight Club, London
The sounds of heavily-thrumming trance music nearly overwhelmed Jackie's senses. Transformed several years ago from her natural age -- in her seventies -- to a woman who was now once more in her early twenties, Jacqueline Falsworth Crichton had warmed to much of the modern world, including dance music and the ever-present MTV. But there was something about the overly hypnotic trance music that set her teeth on edge. "So how many of these people are vampires?" she asked, casting a wary glance around the club. It was packed with Beautiful People, the sort who looked at home on the covers of Vogue and GQ. They wore a wide variety of clothing, ranging from expensive suits to the barely-there dresses that adorned a couple of pink-haired twins at the door.
Blade, dressed in black leather from head to toe, remained standing in the far back of the club, out of easy viewing. "Over half. The rest are mages, werewolves or wannabes."
Joey Chapman -- the man who had inherited the current mantle of Union Jack -- finished off his second pint and set the empty glass aside. Though he appeared to be dressed casually, his alien costume -- acquired on the Beyonder's Battleworld -- was actually mimicking the clothing's appearance. At his slightest mental prod, the costume could appear over his flesh. Given how the suit had recently been acting, however, he wanted to avoid that as long as possible. He'd been drinking tonight not just to relax his nerves, but also to placate the symbiont as much as possible. The vibrations from the music seemed to unsettle it and Joey's head ached as a result. "When's the queen bitch showing up?"
Blade looked at a watch on his wrist. "Any minute now. It's midnight."
Spitfire sighed, pulling her short coat tighter against her. She was dressed like a modern girl, showing lots of leg, but she felt ancient here. Bloody humorous, that. Some of these vampires are even older than me, I'm sure.
Joey tugged at Spitfire's sleeve, pointing across the way. "Look. Isn't that Jennifer Kale?"
Jackie followed his gaze, finally spotting an attractive young blonde who was dancing with a rather saucy-looking tart in a crop-top. "I believe it is. I wonder if she's here for the same reason we are?"
Joey shrugged. The Pendragons had worked with Ghost Rider during the Black Mass crisis and they had all learned about Kale's connection to the Spirit of Vengeance during that time. "Who knows*? At least we'll have some help if things start falling apart."
(*You'll know if you check out Ghost Rider U.K. # 13 for the other side of all this.)
"She's here."
Both Pendragons turned at the sound of Blade's words. The music had suddenly come to an abrupt halt, leaving only the buzzing of voices behind. A spotlight suddenly illuminated the stage, where a tall, pale woman stood. She wore a thin bodysuit that hugged her every curve, with gossamer webbing hanging from the sleeves. Her voice was hauntingly beautiful, with the confidence of one born to lead. "Welcome, children of darkness. Welcome to the beginning of something profound. I am the Baroness Blood and I give you these words of comfort: this Barrier was just the beginning. This is now our time. The time of the Immortal."
Joey felt his lover tense behind him and he put an arm around her gently. "Stay calm, Jackie. We have a plan, remember?"
Spitfire nodded absently, but she barely heard his words. Her mind was filled with memories -- of the original Baron Blood, who'd brought such shame to her family name; of her beloved son, Kenneth, who'd been seduced by the Baroness into becoming the second Baron Blood; and of the grandchild she'd only recently discovered, who was still in the clutches of the vampire queen. "This is so hard, Joey," she whispered.
Union Jack nodded gravely. His heart ached for her, truly. Kenneth had been his best mate and Jackie had come to mean more than life itself to him. He shared her desire to plunge into the fray, hoping against hope to survive against the tide of evil before them. "Patience, luv."
Onstage, the Baroness was continuing her spiel. The crowd seemed to be hanging on her every word, more than eager to accept her leadership, it seemed. "The governments of Europe are in disarray. More than half of them are already turning over the keys to the kingdom. They think Doom and his Latverian forces will protect them. They are wrong. We are the wolves who will prey amongst the sheep -- and all of our Europe is our hunting grounds!" A roar of approval nearly deafened the heroes, who joined in to avoid any signs of dissent.
Joey felt the symbiont cringe at the sudden noise. Sonics. I read that sonics disturbed it. I might have to remember that....
"I have placed agents in all levels of government, throughout England and France. They are loyal to me and, thus, to all of you. I propose that the heads of the various covens, guilds and societies come together and form--" The Baroness paused in her speech, her eyes narrowing. For a second, she seemed to sniff the air, like a wild beast stalking her prey. She glared out into the crowd. "Familiar blood is here tonight, my friends. Very familiar."
"We're in trouble," Blade whispered. His hands flew back to the swords that were hidden beneath his jacket. They whistled out from their scabbards, gleaming in the light. "Head for the exits. Remember the plan."
Someone nearby hissed like a snake, pointing at Blade. "The slayer! The vampire slayer is here!"
The sudden turn of events would have frozen lesser men and women in their tracks. But in this case, Joey had activated his costume's unique properties at the first sign of danger. His Union Jack uniform flowed over him and he generated a quarterstaff from the costume's skin. Using it to pound his way through the crowd, he yelled out "Jackie! Don't do anything stupid!"
The experienced heroine laughed, grabbing him about the waist. As a werewolf launched itself towards them, she rocketed forward with him in tow. "I'm not a loose cannon, Joey! I've been doing this since long before you were born!"
Union Jack held on as they burst out into the night air, the sounds of mayhem nipping at their heels. The speedster slowed as they approached a dark van parked a block away. The back doors popped open, revealing a bearded man wielding a shotgun. "Whistler!" Joey exclaimed. "We were spotted. Blade's still inside!"
"He'll take care of himself, don't worry." Whistler pulled them inside, revealing a rather stunning amount of weapons and computers in the process. "The important thing is that I got a trace on the Baroness when she fled the building." The older man, a companion and near-father to Blade, pointed at a monitor. "She's in a black limo, moving east. We'll follow the bitch back to her lair -- and then we start the real work." He smiled coldly. "You two ready to go vamp killin'?"
Jackie responded with such vehemence that Joey stared at her. "Definitely. I want the Baroness to suffer!"
Darkmoor Castle
With the taste of pepperoni still fresh in her mouth, Shevaun reached out to place her fingertips on each side of Warren's head. Cam and Micky were upstairs, watching a tape of Top of the Pops, leaving Dark Angel and Archangel alone in her lab. She'd cleared out a section of the floor, giving them plenty of room. "Okay, Warren... I'm going to telepathically probe your mind. You might feel a little pressure, okay?"
Warren smiled at her. "I'm an old hand at this, Shevaun. After living with Jean Grey, Prof. X and Betsy, I can handle anything you throw at me."
"Now, that sounds like a challenge," she laughed. Dark Angel pushed outwards with her mind, slipping her telepathic probe in easily. She found Warren's mind wonderfully free of the sorts of emotional hang-ups she herself possessed. Right now, he was thinking about the pizza he'd just eaten, the coolness of the floor beneath him and the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of her breasts... Shevaun blushed terribly, pulling back slightly. She cleared her throat and reminded herself that she was working now. "Here it comes, Warren. Once I'm on the deeper, subconscious level, I can weave a few spells that should realign your chakras."
"Sure thing."
Shevaun pressed on, delving in as deep as she could. She felt Warren flinch and she sent out a calming wave to him. Here, at his emotional center, she could see his entire life laid out before her. Meeting Professor X, the death of his mother, the first time he'd made love to Betsy, the pain of losing his wings and regaining them through the machinations of Apocalypse... it was all there, neatly presented.
Too neatly.
Shevaun bit her lip as she navigated through the memories and thoughts before her. Everything was there, just as it should be -- but it was all major events. There were no secondary incidents, like Warren falling and skinning his knee or the first time he'd experienced arousal. It was only a large swath of things that she would expect to find there. The X-Men, Apocalypse, even Betsy... There were no surprises. And that, in and of itself, was surprising.
She moved on, going deeper than she normally would. She feared what she might find, but she had to know. Yes, she thought, There it is.
Shevaun pulled back slowly, not wanting to injure him. He was staring at her with somewhat worried eyes. She could feel how violated he felt, how naked he truly was. And she understood now, why he had all these memories but they were so hazy, so indistinct. Why he remembered them, but did not feel them.
Warren's voice held a note of concern. "Shevaun? What did you find?"
Dark Angel rose on unsteady legs. She avoided looking at him, didn't want to make eye contact with him. "There's a bigger problem here than we thought."
"What is it?" he asked, standing as well.
With a heartfelt sigh, Shevaun replied as succinctly as possible. "You... You're not Warren Worthington. You were only led to believe you were. We all were. A cunning ruse, designed to withstand all but the most intense of psychic probes."
Archangel blinked in surprise, his face registering the full shock of the moment. "But... If I'm not Warren Worthington, then who am I....?"
Glastonbury
Adam Crown awoke to the feel of a damp washcloth settling over his forehead. There were voices about, whispering and laughing. He tensed, having grown accustomed during his time as a Pendragon to finding danger in the most unexpected of places.
With cat-like reflexes, his arm shot out and his fingers locked around the wrist of the nearest person. A feminine gasp made him open his eyes in surprise, for this was no obvious foe perched on the edge of his cot, but a stunningly beautiful young woman, with doe-like eyes and straight brown hair. The girl was dressed in a simple summer frock, but it emphasized a fine figure and was adorned with various small buttons and patches, each showing the heroic Albion in one pose or another.
Around them, a group of about twenty men and women stood about in growing alarm. Most of them, too, wore patches declaring some sort of adoration to the Pendragon who'd given his life against Blackheart so many months ago.
"Who are you?" Adam tried to keep his voice as non-threatening as possible, but it still contained a note of anger. He was growing tired of these visions, which were coming close to making it impossible for him to function normally. Taking in the people who were watching him, he added "And where the bloody hell am I?"
The girl pulled her wrist free with a look of hurt in her eyes. "My names Ginny. When I saw you collapse, I thought I recognized you, so I convinced Brent to bring you back to the caravan. You're in one of our tents. We're friends."
"Who's Brent?"
"That would be, Mr. Crown." A tall, well-built man with spiky black hair moved forward. He wore jeans and a ripped t-shirt, with an image of Albion emblazoned across the front. "I'm the leader of the caravan."
Adam rose from the cot on which he'd lain, casting one more glance at Ginny, who was rubbing her wrist. "I'm sorry," he whispered to her. The girl smiled back at him and Adam was once more aware of how attractive she was. Turning back to Brent, he asked "Why the fascination with Albion?"
"We worship him. He's one of the prime figures who helped remake the world and he gave his life so that we might live, free of the demon's rule."
That statement brought Adam up short. He looked at the eager, hopeful faces of those around him. This... cult... worshipped the man who'd been Adam's teammate for so long in the old Knights of Pendragon. He wasn't sure how to feel about that, but he was grateful for their help. "Thank you for taking care of me. I've been a bit unsteady on my feet lately."
Ginny spoke from Adam's left. She had moved closer to him, holding her injured wrist against the flat of her stomach. "You are Adam Crown... Aren't you?"
Adam saw the look in her eyes, a strange yearning... and he wondered at it. "Yes. I am."
Brent clasped him on the shoulder. "Then come with me. For I think we have something that belongs to you."
Adam followed after him, Ginny at his side. The crowd parted for them, though many of them reached out to touch Adam's arms as he passed. There were murmured prayers and whispers of thanks as the trio stepped out into the early morning air. Evidently, Adam realized, he'd slept through the whole night.
There were numerous cars and vans parked about, with tents interspersed amongst them. "Who are all these people?" Adam asked.
Brent gestured to them in a familiar way. "They are followers of Albion, just like myself and Ginny. All of us felt a stirring in our souls when we learned of Albion's story -- a man who fought for England since the first World War, giving his life ultimately to help defeat Blackheart. And now he's returned to us once more. That's enough to change anyone's life."
Adam frowned. Returned? They must have seen Cam on the news. I knew he shouldn't have run about in that armor of Albion's -- And hiding his face behind that helmet only confuses people. Deciding that he shouldn't dispel their notions at the moment, Adam pressed on with his earlier line of questioning. "But what they are doing here? How did they come together?"
Brent led him towards another tent, looking at him over his shoulder. "Two weeks after Albion's death, I began to have visions. Visions of Glastonbury and the rebirth of Arthur. There's a new age dawning -- one in which England will be reunited again. All the petty differences of the past will be wiped away. We'll have our honor back."
Adam turned to Ginny. "You had visions, too?"
The girl nodded, her eyes seeming to bore into his own. "Yes. I saw..." a blush came to her cheeks and she looked away, "I saw you. And me. Here. I had to come. And when I did, I met Brent and the others. It all feels like something out of a dream!"
Before Adam could respond, Brent had opened the tent's flap for him. "Here, Mr. Crown. This is what we've been saving for you."
Adam hesitated for a moment. He didn't know these people and still wasn't sure he could trust them. He held his right arm out from his body and the great sword Excalibur materialized in his grasp. A shield shimmered into view on his left arm and his entire body followed suit, his clothes transforming into the golden armor that he normally wore into battle.
He saw the look of awe and admiration in the faces of Ginny and Brent, but ignored it as best he could. Stepping into the tent, tried to prepare himself for anything.
He failed.
For there, propped up against the back of the tent, was an open coffin. And inside was the skeleton of a man dressed in medieval armor, with a broken crown atop his head.
Before him lay the final remains of Arthur, King of the Britons.
Next Issue: Adam Crown takes a step closer to claiming his legacy, but will he find happiness -- or only the bitter taste of disappointment? Plus: Dark Angel probes the mystery of "Archangel's" true identity and Spitfire squares off against the Baroness and Nekros!
AUTHOR'S NOTES
Hope you're enjoying the current storyline, which will wrap up next issue. After that, we'll be in the stretch run towards out big 25th issue, which will be a biggie, I promise!
I chose to focus a good bit on Adam in "Deeds of Blood and Valor" because he's been shuffled into the background a bit lately. He's got a lot of possibilities, I think, and you can expect him to move into some new directions after this storyline.
You can reach me at aric_dacia@yahoo.com
