Dragons |
What Has Come Before: The Pendragons have found themselves befriended by an ancient dragon named Rathoon, who has told them of a dire plot to use the Dragonstone against mankind. Accompanying Rathoon to Paris, they have found themselves confronted with several warring factions -- a revamped version of their old foes, the Emissaries of the Dark, and the Cult of the Scriers, led by the sorcerer named Paradox, who seeks to use the Dragonstone to claim the title of Sorcerer Supreme. Meanwhile, Tina Thunderfist made her public debut, coming face-to-face with a mysterious vigilante in the process.
10 Downing Street
The tiny creature, leathery-skinned and horned, scuttled about the office, picking up papers and shoveling them hurriedly into a tiny waste-bag cinched at his side. His stomach growled but he knew that his master would feed him well when his tasks were completed.
The imp jumped in surprise as the door opened and he clutched his sack tighter against him. He looked about worriedly, concerned that he might have overlooked some piece of trash. Master got very angry sometimes.
The right honorable Thomas Wellington entered the office, his thin face showing the strain of recent times. As the Deputy Prime Minister in Great Britain's interim government, he'd been called upon to do many things that grated on his spirit. At heart, he wanted nothing more than for England to join the European Union in all things, to become part of the fabric of something greater. But the Barrier had changed all things, plunging all of Europe into a magical wasteland, where food and electricity were as scarce as the greatest of treasures.
And in the midst of all had come Doom.
Victor Von Doom, with his promises of wealth and protection, had seized control of the EU's inner circle and its metahuman police force, the Commonwealth. Great Britain, thanks mainly to its own share of metahumans, had so far been able to remain a relatively stable force in the great sea of change... but everything had its price. With shortages of all kinds mounting in the British Isles, a growing number of voices were arguing that the time had come to parlay -- even with someone like Doom. That troubled Wellington -- that his great vision of Britain joining the EU in full would come tinged with such foulness as allying itself with Doom.
Wellington brushed aside the imp who scurried about his office, finding his heart chilling at the very sight of the beast. He despised these things -- these affronts to the very nature of Righteousness. A devout Catholic, he worried over the rise of mysticism and paganistic beliefs... for he believed that these things were part of the End Times, when all of England must be forced to choose sides. Would they follow the Devil's minions... or stand with the true followers of Christ?
"Doom's a sorcerer himself," he murmured, seating himself behind his desk. "It wouldn't surprise me if he somehow engineered all of this. Maybe he and Blackheart planned it all from the start. Lord above, I should have known that Winthrop was up to something -- all his promises of nationalism... the man was stone cold in the soul. You could see it in his eyes."
"Maybe you should have contacted me earlier, then. I could have saved all of you a lot of trouble."
Wellington looked up at the metal monstrosity that dominated his office and shook his head sadly. Forgive me, Lord. For all of my sins. The ones I have already committed and the ones still to come. "You know what I want you to do?"
The cybernetic mercenary called Death's Head II made a grunting sound. "Listen, pal... Let's not waste anybody's time, okay? I've whacked more guys than you can imagine. Me and Tuck... We're the best in the biz. So if you want the tin tyrant to end up six feet under, who am I to argue?" Death's Head leaned forward, putting his hands on the desktop. It creaked under his weight and Wellington drew back slightly. Unnoticed by either, the imp moved farther back into the shadows, watching all. "But I don't come cheap."
Wellington nodded slowly, looking away from the horrible visage that confronted him. He felt dirty inside and he knew that he was playing a huge game of chance here... If he were discovered, his career would be in shambles. But he was a visionary, someone with a strong conviction that Christ were guiding him. "Doom has to fall. I don't care if you kill him or just remove him from power... But you must do something. Or else all of Europe is going to fall under his sway."
Death's Head II chuckled. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather just off him. Simpler that way."
The tiny imp pressed through the tiny door that had been made for him, eager to be away from this discussion of death and betrayal. He wondered if he should tell someone -- like the Prime Minister -- but he decided against it. Wellington was his master, after all. And a good servant never betrayed his master.
Never.
France -- the Lair of the Scriers
"I'm gonna kick some booty!" shouted the dragon named Rathoon, his voice echoing far and wide. There was a manic grin on his face, his eyes burning with eldritch light. He was a being of great age and strength, one who had slept through centuries, absorbing all that transpired around him through dreams and half-remembered fragments of conversation. His was a mind born of an ancient age, but no infused with the vocabulary and ideas of the twenty-first century. It made for a most disturbing combination. "Feets, don't fail me now!" he bellowed, landing hard on a group of thirty or so Scriers.
Shevaun Haldane, the red-haired beauty known as Dark Angel, dropped the mystic construct that had carried her teammates from Lyonesse. The assembled Pendragons dropped into the midst of an already raging donneybrook between the secretive cult known as the Scriers and a newly revamped version of their old foes, the Emissaries of the Dark. Betsy, can you hear me? Shevaun asked.
Captain Britain's warm telepathic presence answered her immediately. Loud and clear. The link is working just fine. And we're going to need it with all those blokes to contend with.
The Scriers scattered as the Pendragons formed a tight circle in their midst. The Captains Kerosene and Britain remained in the air, alongside Rathoon, who was exhaling a long plume of smoke and fire into the Scriers. "Gully, I want you to focus on making sure that no one gets out of here -- no one!"
Kerosene nodded grimly. He'd felt a bit out of step amongst his younger comrades since joining the team, but here in the thick of combat, his experience could actually be of some use. "Steady on, lass -- We've got a dragon on our side. How could we lose?" To punctuate his point, he flew under one of Rathoon's bursts of flame and followed it up with his own fire blasts, ringing in a group of Scriers who were trying to protect some of their precious books of knowledge.
On the ground, Union Jack and Spitfire formed quite a duo, using their intimate knowledge of each others' skills and powers to work more effectively. Jack brandished his dagger at his opponents, slashing at whatever exposed portions of his foes he could find. Spitfire, meanwhile, literally ran circles around her enemies, sucking the air out of their very lungs and weakening them.
While their teammates were focused on the Sciers, a small band composed of Adam Crown, Dark Angel and Albion moved forward to confront the Emissaries and the enigmatic mage known as Paradox. Adam drew Excalibur and the magic blade gleamed in the light. "Shevaun, Cam -- focus on the bigger blokes. I'll take care of the bird in the armor."
Albion nodded. He, unlike many in the group, didn't really mind Adam's attempts at becoming more of a leader on the team. By far the youngest Pendragon, Cam actually felt glad that someone else was willing to take the decision-making role. As magical energy surrounded his fists, Cam stepped up to face down two of the more frightening members of the Emissaries -- the black-clad Venom and the flaming-headed Jack O'Lantern. He couldn't help but wonder what Jack O'Lantern would think if she only knew that the armored hero was in fact the same young boy she'd kidnapped once before. Trying to project the illusion of an experienced hero, Albion yelled "Stand down, you two. Don't make me hurt you...."
Venom's tongue snaked out eagerly. Thick ropes of saliva oozed from the corner of his mouth as he murmured "Look at the little tin can, Jack O'Lantern... I wonder if there's something creamy and tasty inside?"
Jack O'Lantern's only response was to rise up into the air onboard her flying platform -- and to toss down a series of explosive-filled pumpkin bombs.
Dark Angel, meanwhile, was pounding Captain Englander with a whole series of energy-based attacks. For the most part, they seemed to be effective, driving the powerful villain backwards. Hurricane, Englander's cybernetically-enhanced teammate, had been rendered inoperable by an electromagnetic burst from Shevaun, his twitching form lying on the ground below them.
The leader of the Emissaries of the Dark -- the Lady Mandarin -- reluctantly backed away from the Dragonstone, keeping her eyes on Adam Crown as he approached. "You're making a mistake, Pendragon. The prophecies are there for everyone to see -- this is an age of Chaos and Darkness. Avalon's light will be snuffed out."
"Better than you have tried that -- and failed." Adam swung his blade but he missed badly as she jumped high into the air, coming to her feet behind him. She moved with the grace of a cat, dropping down low and kicking out with a well-placed leg. The blow sent Adam off his feet and he landed hard, his sword skipping out of his grasp.
From afar, Captain Britain looked up from her own battle. She held an unconscious Scrier in one hand, her psychic knife flaming around her other. The sight of a woman in the Lady Mandarin armor made her heart skip a beat, for she herself had worn that armor years before. During her stint with the X-Men, she had gone through the Siege Perilous, a mystic artifact that had stripped her of her identity and left her in the body of an Asian ninja -- the Lady Mandarin. Years of changes had brought her back round to her original British appearance, but her time as the Lady Mandarin still haunted her.
And what she saw next made her blood freeze in her veins.
The Lady Mandarin raised her right hand into the air... and summoned a psychic knife of her own. She drove it deep into Adam's skull and the Pendragon's scream of pure agony made almost all the combatants turn and stare.
"Bloody hell," Betsy whispered. "She has my powers...."
"We have greater problems, I'm afraid."
Captain Britain looked up to see that Rathoon was towering over her. He held a dozen or so Scriers in each clawed hand. "What do you mean?"
"There," the dragon said, pointing towards the masked figure known as Paradox. The sorcerer had grasped the Dragonstone in the confusion, rising into the air until he was far above the fray. Rathoon growled low under his breath. "We're seriously screwed now, my friends."
Lyonesse
Suzi Endo stepped off the boat, grateful for the chance to be on dry land again. She'd never taken to the sea, always preferring to feel something substantial -- and unyielding -- beneath her feet. That's not completely true, she thought to herself. Flying isn't so bad. Flying and walking. They're the best means of travel.
Smiling softly to herself, she thought of the Cybermancer armor that had become so much of her life's work. It was contained in a small briefcase that she held at her side and for a moment she had the perverse desire to pull it on and fly straight into the Pendragons' castle, announcing her presence with some dramatic spiel about wanting to team up and save the world.
Then reality returned to her and she felt both stupid and ashamed. I'm no superhero. Never have been and never will. Remember that.
"Ms. Endo?"
Suzi glanced up the shore, taking note for a moment of how beautiful it was here. There was a soft wind blowing, carrying the faint scent of honeysuckle, and the lapping of the waves behind her made for an idyllic moment. If not for the three large men who were unloading her equipment from the ship, Suzi would have been tempted to strip off her clothes and go for a swim. Forcing herself away from the many fanciful thoughts that seemed intent on disrupting her attention, Suzi stepped forward to greet an attractive young woman with straight brown hair and intelligent eyes. "Hello. Are you a member of the Pendragons?"
The woman laughed, smiling broadly. "Oh no! My name is Ginny. I'm a friend of Adam Crown's. The team had to leave right away, so they asked me to stay and meet you."
Suzi felt a moment's irritation that the Pendragons hadn't bothered to at least leave an actual member of the team to welcome here to Lyonesse, but she knew that it was petty to feel that way. Her experiences with Iron Man had made it abundantly clear that sometimes heroes had to sacrifice manners to get their jobs done. "Well, you may call me Suzi." She pointed towards the crates that were being unloaded. "And that is PLATO, which will revolutionize the way your friends go about their duties. A mixture of magic and science, combining the best of both worlds."
"Uh-huh." Ginny's reply -- and her glazed expression -- made it obvious to Suzi that she had accidentally slipped into salesperson mode again. It was hard to break the habit, as Suzi had been forced to fight for her ideas again and again over the years. "You won't need those guys to get your stuff into the castle, though."
Suzi blinked in surprise. "Some of those crates are extremely heavy... Unless you are one of those who gained magical abilities...?"
"No," Ginny answered, though her tone indicated that she had, in fact, been altered by the Barrier. "It's just that Lyonesse comes with plenty of help."
Suzi followed the woman's gaze, gasping aloud as six large figures lumbered forth from the forest. They were mostly naked, their loins covered only by small strips of cloth, and had blubbery, gray-tinted skin. The ogres moved past the woman and the stunned boatmen, easily hefting the boxes up onto their broad shoulders.
"This," Suzi muttered to no one in particular, "Is going to take some getting used to."
France -- the Lair of the Scriers
A dragon's life is much like any other -- they are born, they enter into an awkward adolescent phase, they have courtships and broken hearts... it's just that all of this is done at a much grander scale than humanity ever gets to experience. For that, Rathoon felt sorry for the mortals that surrounded him, for their loves and their griefs would ever be less than this own... but he also envied them. They would never know what it was to be the last of their particular species of dragon, nor would they know the shame of having failed in the only really important task they had ever been given.
Rathoon should have been chuffed over the whole thing -- being revived into a bold new era, accompanied by mortals of great valor... Instead, he felt buggered six ways to Sunday. This was not how it was supposed to have gone -- No sir, not at all, Rathoon thought to himself. "We have to stop him," he murmured to Captain Britain. "The magic contained in that stone could tip the scales in this world of yours."
Betsy Braddock looked around her and saw that, for the most part, her team was prevailing in this conflict. The Scriers were proving to be easy prey for the Pendragons and even those in battle with the Emissaries were holding their own -- Albion had dispatched Jack O'Lantern, for instance, and was now left with Venom alone. "Can you deal with Paradox alone?" she asked.
"I can certainly try," the great dragon replied. He cracked his knuckles dramatically, puffing out a plume of smoke as he did so. "Paradox!" he bellowed, and the ground itself shook with the reverberations. "That stone is the property of the dragons! Give it up now, before I plant my clawed foot up your behind!"
The enigmatic mage known as Paradox made no sign that he heard the dragon, instead choosing to concentrate all his attention on the Dragonstone itself. Magical energy swirled about the stone, causing a deep rift in the rock to widen and separate. The energies of the dragons themselves, housed for millenia, began to spill out into the mortal plane.
Rathoon launched himself into the air, his limbs outstretched. He lashed out at Paradox, striking the sorcerer with all of his ancient might. The blow should have been enough to tear a mortal being to shreds, but it merely sent Paradox flying away from the dragon, the magical stone shattering in several pieces. It was too late, Rathoon knew, to stop the stone from being used. But he could certainly make sure that the magical power was harnessed by its rightful owner.
He held out a claw and begun summoning the energy to him, seeking to bind it to his will. Unfortunately, he felt not just one, but two, souls join his in an attempt to control the power. Paradox, still reeling from the blow, was concentrating his not inconsiderable might on the stone's energies, while down below, the Lady Mandarin clutched at a black stone in the palm of her hand. Though not a sorceress herself, she had been gifted with the item by the Parliament of Darkness, charged with the unholy task of gaining this power for the shadow lords.
The Lady Mandarin's attention was turned from the Dragonstone by a tapping on her shoulder, however. Glancing back, she saw Captain Britain confronting her, psi-blade at the ready. "I believe you've stolen an old identity of mine," Betsy whispered. A catty smile slid across her face. "Can't say I like having you rummaging through my old laundry."
Mandarin barely had time to react before Betsy's psi-blade slashed deep into her abdomen. Psychic pain caused the woman to howl in agony but she did not black out. Rather, she staggered back and summoned her own blade. "Betsy Braddock," she hissed, disgust evident in every syllable. "Hadn't expected to see you again so soon. Still tarting yourself up, I see. At least you have the good sense to ditch the thong this time around...."
Betsy's psi-blade parried Lady Mandarin's thrust, but the words were hitting home. The villain apparently knew her -- and detested her. Betsy stared beneath the woman's helmet, seeing Asian features that were eerily familiar -- but also hard to place. It was almost as if there were some force around the woman's face that subtly altered her features from time to time, hiding her identity.
As the two women fought with almost identical styles, Rathoon and Paradox continued to struggle over the powerful energies that hovered above the fray. The splinter of Doctor Strange's soul spoke with a voice as cold as the grave, warning "Stay away, dragon! I have come to this world to make amends for my past actions! The power and mantle of the Sorcerer Supreme is mine by right!"
"Sez you," the dragon retorted. "In my day, such titles weren't just handed about -- they were earned!" Rathoon summoned as much of his eldritch power as he could and funneled it directly at Paradox. The blow was beyond even Paradox's abilities to control and the mage shimmered and shook as the magical energies that comprised his form were ripped asunder. He yelled out in torment and rage, his voice sounding eerily like that of Stephen Strange, the man from whom he had been birthed.
Rathoon, who had never known Stephen Strange, was nonetheless moved by the transfiguration of the being before him. Paradox's face, normally dark and hidden, became that of a man in his mid-40s, with silver lacing the edges of his hair. The man's face reflected the misery of always being a piece of a soul, a broken-off, scattered nothing that had never become more.
And then Paradox was gone, leaving Rathoon to claim his prize....
"Oh, no," Rathoon whispered. He blinked and looked about wildly, but the magic was gone, having been spirited away to parts unknown. "I have failed again!"
The dragon's wail sent shivers down the backs of all those who still stood below. Captain Britain and the Lady Mandarin both looked skyward and it was at that moment that Captain Englander rammed into Betsy's side, knocking her flying. She landed in Captain Kerosene's arms, who just managed to lower the flames about his arms and hands to avoid harming her.
Gulliver Jones winced from the pain in his side -- cracked ribs that he'd picked up during the battle -- but kept a stiff upper lip. "Have we lost the day, luv?"
Betsy sent a telepathic warning to Dark Angel before answering Gulliver, warning her that the Emissaries might be trying to leave -- but her warning came too late, as Englander sped upwards into the sky with Lady Mandarin in her arms. Venom, dodging energy blasts from the young Albion, managed to commandeer Jack O'Lantern's flying platform and follow suit.
"Should we give pursuit?" Dark Angel asked, flying up beside Gully and Betsy. Captain Britain pulled away from him and began flying under her own power.
"No... Let them go. We've got the Scriers and two of the Emissaries." She gestured towards Jack O'Lantern and Hurricane. "Besides, we should stay with Rathoon. He needs us."
Dark Angel didn't need to look below to know that was true. She could feel the dragon's pain through her own mental powers and she knew that Rathoon was feeling shame and failure to a degree that was staggering.
For mighty Rathoon, the last of the great old dragons, was beginning to cry. He had lost the sacred magic and where it had gone, he had no clue.
Epilogue - Latveria
The magic coalesced into a coherent form, taking on a generally masculine shape and form. The being's garb was mostly greenish-gray, though a golden helmet matched similar boots and gloves. The figure looked about itself with great gravity, obviously looking for certain items of great importance.
He was in a great storehouse of things, located deep in the heart of Victor Von Doom's personal lair. A great portrait of a beautiful young Gypsy adorned one of the walls, with various degrees and textbooks lining the bookshelves. There was more than a fair share of mystic devices to be found as well... including the ones that caught the strange being's interest.
He moved forward, wrapping his gauntleted hands around the crimson fabric that hung on the wall. He pulled it forth and wrapped it about his shoulders, fastening it gently. The Eye of Agamotto came next, lifted out of a small display case... it pulsed with renewed energy, as if pleased by its new owner.
"Who dares invade my sanctum?!" The figure turned, noting with a complete lack of fear that an armored gentleman had entered the room. Dr. Doom, tall and proud, pointed an accusing figure at the stranger, his voice echoing with rage. "Those items are mine, claimed as spoils of war -- and if you seek to take them for your own, then I would know your name, so that I may inscribe it on your tombstone!"
Eldritch energy flared around the stranger's gauntlets and he turned fully to face Doom. A lesser man than Victor would have gasped at the sight before him and the words that he spoke, but Doom merely stoically stood by as the being declared "Names have no meaning for such as I. Not any longer... But if you must have a label to attach to me, then let it be one with a legacy of bravery attached to it. Let me be called
Doom fired a blast of powerful energy, but his attack never struck home. The newly christened Doctor Strange had taken flight, passing through the very walls of the tower. He remained standing there for a long moment more, seething in silence. Over the past few months, things had gone his way on every front... but now the tidings seem to be growing ever more darker. His own attempts to peer into the future had met with mixed success, but they all seemed to point to at least one thing: that Victor Von Doom was heading towards sorrow and loss.
The sovereign ruler of Latveria made a fist, whispering "If that is to be the case, then I shall go down fighting... and all of my enemies shall tumble into the fires of Hell alongside me!"
Next Issue: As Death's Head II journeys to Latveria, we turn our focus on Albion and the Penance Council. Where will their alliance take them? And what price will have to be paid? Also: Rathoon takes his bad 'ol self to London to do some stylin' and profilin' as only a dragon can!
AUTHOR'S NOTES
Definitely not my strongest effort, but this issue was an absolute bear for me to write. Now that it's behind us, though, there will be some very interesting fallout, I promise. Stick around. It only gets better from here. :-)
Have you noticed a sudden influx of background characters in the Pendragons Universe as of late? There's been a pile of them, ranging from the heroes of the Dark Guard to the new Doctor Strange to Tina Thunderfist to that mysterious chap with the bird-motif from last issue. Look for a new anthology series to spring up soon, to accommodate our growing universe.
A letter from Gary Dreslinski (author of Black Knight: Destiny Walk) this time around:
Remember how I wasn't sure about #26? Well #27 erased those doubts. The Dragon *should* join!!! He's one of my favorite original characters!!!! I really liked how the characters interacted in this issue.
Thanks! It's nice to know that Rathoon has his fans. :-)
You can reach me at aric_dacia@yahoo.com
