The Pendragons Issue # 64	Brought together in defense of Avalon and the British Isles, the Pendragons are the officially-sanctioned heroes of Great Britain. Originally led by the Black Knight, the group is composed of surviving members of the old Knights of Pendragon group, as well as several other heroes. Willing to die for their beliefs, the Pendragons stand united as Britain's best defense against threats of a superhuman nature. Special "Silver Anniversary" Pendragons logo created by Kell Carpenter, inspired by the logo created by Des Davies! Pendragons Roll-Call: Captain Britain (leader), Nocturne, Union Jack, Spitfire, Micromax and Red Sonja.
Written by Barry Reese

What Has Come Before: The Pendragons journeyed into the Bavarian mountains to combat the Emissaries of the Dark. Though they were victorious and prevented the return of the Bane's leader, the Red Lord, the Pendragons did not emerge unscathed: Captain Britain's uniform was ruined, while Micromax suffered several broken bones. The team's victory was ensured by the timely arrival of a warrior woman named Red Sonja, whose spirit has returned within the mortal form of Mary Jane Watson-Parker. Now the Pendragons return to Lyonesse, to tend their wounds and welcome their newest member, while Nocturne turns to a former teammate for help in a more personal area....

"I've had these visions twice now. The first time Betsy saw her as well... I felt her in my arms. It was Shevaun, but much older."

Wynter sipped his tea, staring out over the waters surrounding Lyonesse. The enigmatic mage wore a long robe that was off-white in color, contrasting nicely with the bone-white of his skin and hair. "And what did she tell you?"

Gray Poldark, the Pendragon also known as Nocturne, shifted in his chair. They were seated on one of the castle's many terraces and he could see the other members of the team helping Mary Jane unload her belongings from the boat that had carried her from the mainland. He wished he could join them... but he also wished to know more about the visions that were plaguing him. "She told me that Betsy had to die."

"And you saw something similar after rescuing Rathoon?"

"I used the Looking Glass," Gray said, gesturing towards his helmet, resting on a table before them. The eyepieces glittered in the sun, as if responding to his words. "I felt a compulsion to do it. I saw myself killing Betsy, while Adam's new Darkmoor kingdom crumbled all around me*."

(*The first vision was seen in Pendragons 60, the second in issue 61)

Wynter cast a glance at Gray, noting the pensive expression on his companion's face. "You believe this future to be inevitable, don't you?"

"I don't know what to believe. I just... I'm sure it was Shevaun. I know it. Somehow she'd sent a message from the future, warning me. And then the Looking Glass..." He turned an agonized expression towards Wynter. "You're the greatest wizard I know. Help me."

Wynter ignored the praise, focusing instead on the threads of magical energy that clung to Gray. All of the Pendragons had a magical aura about them, a bit of blessing from the forces of Avalon. It gave them enhanced stamina and strength, as well as augmenting their ability to repel the Bane. But not all the auras were identical... each had their own small 'signatures' to them, allowing a practiced spell caster to recognize them.  "I do sense Shevaun's magic about you. It's faint and somewhat different than her usual aura... but she has definitely weaved a spell about you."

"So you think it was her, from the future? Could it be from the present, somehow? We haven't talked to her since she stayed on the other side of the Barrier*."

(*See issue 59)

"I can attempt to contact her and verify this -- but I suspect that you are right and that this vision was sent backwards through time. It does not mean, however, that it is inevitable. Time is fluid... if there were no hope of altering the future, Shevaun would not have bothered sending you a warning."

Gray's eyes widened and he visibly relaxed. "I hadn't thought of that... and I don't even know what that future is like. Shevaun obviously didn't fare well but I can't imagine how killing Betsy would change that."

"Wynter? Mom just called and wants to know if we're coming home for dinner."

Gray turned to see Cam McClellan standing in the doorway. He hoped the youth hadn't heard much, but he reminded himself that Cam probably knew how to mind his own business. The boy had recovered well from his time amongst the Bane* but there was still an air of melancholy about him... and a slight greenish-tinge to his skin, lingering reminders of the physical and emotional transformation he underwent.

(*Which ended in Pendragons # 46)

"I am almost done here, Cam." Wynter rose from his chair, setting the empty tea cup next to Nocturne's helmet. "Please wait for me outside."

When the boy had departed, Gray whispered "Is he ever going to be alright?"

"That's a relative term. He's improved a good bit and I've taken him under my wing, tutoring him in how to use his powers. The Pendragon spirit never left him... the power is still there, but he has trouble accessing it. A mental block, I presume. When he is willing to forgive himself, he'll be able to redeem the name of Albion."

"You'll let me know if you manage to find out anything?"

Wynter nodded. "Of course. In the meantime, I would share my concerns with Captain Britain." Seeing the look on Gray's face, Wynter held up a hand. "She's the team leader... and is quite familiar with dystopian futures. She can handle this."

"Thanks again. I really appreciate this." Mary Jane Watson-Parker stepped into her new bedroom, her daughter supported in her arms and against her hip. The little girl's head rested on her mother's shoulder, her eyes tightly closed. The trip over to Lyonesse had been fairly short but Anna had played hard and was now very tired. 

Scott Wright set the heavy box down on the floor and grinned. At his heels was Joey Chapman and both men were covered in sweat. "No worries. It'll be nice to hear the sounds of children on the island. Sometimes it gets a bit stuffy around here."

"Yeah, well, I've never been considered a stuffy girl, so you don't have to worry about that with me."

"We're lucky blokes, I can tell you that." Joey set down a suitcase and ran a hand through his hair. "Two supermodels on the team, plus my wife, who's just as gorgeous. This is easily the best-looking lineup we've ever had."

"Just remember who's body you're supposed to ogling," Joey's wife said, entering the room. Jacqueline was dressed in a smart-looking sweater and slacks, looking nothing like the 80 year old woman she truly was. Since receiving a transfusion of plasma from the android Human Torch several years ago, she'd been restored to the vitality and appearance of a woman in her mid to late 20s... and she relished this second chance at youth. She kissed her husband on the cheek and then reached out to stroke Anna's tousled head of hair. "She's lovely. Looks just like you."

"She has her father's nose," Mary Jane responded, hugging her daughter tighter. "I just hope he gets to see her again before she's all grown up."

"You have many years before she's reached that point," Jackie said, smiling reassuringly. "Betsy and I were planning girl's night out this evening. Suzi's coming, as well... Would you like to join us?"

"Well, Anna...."

"Will be fine. Gully can watch her."

At the mention of his name, the holographic form of Gulliver Jones appeared in the air. He looked trim and fit -- just as he had back during the second world war, when he'd briefly won the heart of Spitfire. "I promise to do a very good job."

Mary Jane hesitated, only because things had been so bizarre of late. Finding out that the spirit of an ancient warrior woman was lurking inside you and that not one but two villains were out there, just waiting to kill you... Stop it, she told herself. Venom's in jail and Kulan Gath's dead. Nothing to be frightened of. Smiling with more confidence than she truly felt, she replied "Sounds like fun."

"Wonderful," Spitfire said. "I'll come get you around eight." Leaning closer, she surprised Mary Jane by kissing her on the cheek and whispering "Welcome aboard, MJ. If you're half the hero your husband is, you'll do more than fine."

Mary Jane stared after her as Spitfire stepped out of the room, her hand clasped in her husband's. How does she....? she started to wonder and then stopped. Betsy. She's a telepath. Damn... I'm sorry, Peter. I've spoiled your secret, haven't I? Still... I think I can trust them. It's way past time that I set down some roots here, for Anna's sakes. And Lyonesse is as good a place to do that as any.

Mordred stepped into the pit of Hell, his lip curled in an expression of disgust. He hated dealing with demons of any sort, finding them revolting in the extreme. He'd embraced the Bane for the power they could grant him, but he'd never loved them. They were a means to an end, nothing else.

Just like Morgan's always treated me, he thought bitterly. Even this little quest of hers... It's hardly for my benefit, I'd wager. She's going to gain something from it.

He trudged through the fiery landscape, the smell of sulfur thick in the air and the screams of the tormented echoing through the caves and plains. Morgan had told him that the prophetic visions he'd been having lately -- of Darkmoor's fall and the death of Adam Crown -- would only be brought about if he could free the souls of Noble Kale and Blackheart from their prisons. His search had led him to Mephisto's realm, but he'd elected not to boldly march in and demand the prisoners be turned over to him. 

He preferred subterfuge whenever possible. You mean you're a coward, a voice whispered in his head, but he pushed his fears and doubts aside. It's common sense, he thought. Not cowardice.

"Whatever gets you through the night," a voice said. It was feminine and full of taunting. 

Mordred whirled about to see a red-skinned female watching him from the shadows. The stench of the Devil was strong on her. "Mephista?" he asked, trying to inject a sneer into his voice and failing.

The daughter of Mephisto crept into view, her yellow eyes glowing fiercely. "My father will destroy you if he knows you're here... You're uninvited."

Mordred summoned a bit of eldritch energy, which swirled about his hands. "I am the child of Morgan Le Fey. I am a servant of the Bane. I go where I want." 

"Bold words, pup. You've come for the Angel of Death and my brother? Or just one and not the other?"

Mordred paused, unsure of how much he wanted to say. What if she ran and told her father? Should he try to destroy her now and be done with it?

I cannot remember the sun. 

Strange how this realization leaves me chilled.  Try as I might, I cannot recall the feel of warm summer wind upon my face, nor the touch of a woman’s skin upon mine.

"What was that?" Mordred asked, staring about. "Did you hear... words?"

"They're in your head, son of Morgan. But they're also in his. I've been spying on his thoughts."

Mordred followed her gaze, spotting the flame-skulled form of Noble Kale. He was held in a mystic prison, separated by Blackheart by a lava-filled abyss. "His thoughts... He writhes, as if in pain."

"He is in pain," she laughed. "But he is about to turn a corner, I'd wager. He's making peace with who and what he is... but will my father be as pleased with that as he thinks he will be?"

Mordred ignored her, closing his eyes. He felt... saw... things through Noble Kale's eyes. The experience was terrifying and uplifting all at once. He saw endless torments as all those whom Noble had 'failed' came forth, part of Mephisto's scheme to break his spirit. In the end, however, Noble was too strong... too powerful. He knew that the rays of sunlight would shine upon again, eventually*.

(*See Tales of the Pendragons # 18 for more on this.)

"How wonderful," Mordred sneered, pulling away from the link he'd forged. "He's finding hope in Hell."

"It's testimony to his strength," Mephista stated. "To find beauty in torment is rare, indeed."

Mordred grunted, but bit off a sardonic retort when he saw both Noble and Blackheart fall free of their prisons. They tumbled to the steaming earth, both looking weak and injured. "They're... free? But why?" Mordred turned back to Mephista, but saw nothing. She was gone, disappeared like a wraith.

Thanking this sudden turn of fate, Mordred hustled to their sides, gripping each with a hand. "Come with me, my friends... and be free of this place."

In a swirl of magic, they left the realm of the Devil... never hearing the mocking laughter that chased after them.

Rathoon felt his control slipping, almost losing his hold on the illusory spell surrounding him. It usually wasn't difficult for him to shift into his humanoid form, but today was not an ordinary day. He gazed upon the injured form of his lover, Fin Fang Foom, and saw the deep wounds that marred the alien dragon's flesh. "My magic is not enough," he whispered. "Those bastards have killed him."

"He's not dead yet," Suzi Endo replied, staring into a microscope nearby. She saw the dragon cells filled with infection and pursed her lips. "And he won't die at all if we keep working. There's got to be a way to help him."

Rathoon tenderly stroked his lover's cheek. Fin Fang Foom was a Makluan, an alien being whose form resembled that of an earthborn dragon. All of his race were able to alter their size and appearance, leading many of them to hide amongst humanity... but they were all seemingly destroyed by the Mandarin*. "But Fin reformed... so why couldn't they?"

(*See Iron Man v. 1 272-275)

"What did you say?" Suzi asked, looking up from her work.

Rathoon smiled. "Did you know that Fin Fang Foom is just a terrible translation of his true name? It actually means He whose limbs shatter mountains and whose back scrapes the sun. Isn't that beautiful?" He turned to see a look of confusion on his friend's face. "If Fin was able to reform his molecules, why couldn't other members of his race? If anyone could know how to heal him, it would be a Makluan... I just need to find one."

"And how do you propose to do that?"

"I'm sure that two intelligent beings such as ourselves will be able to figure something out, Suzi." Rathoon grinned at her, showing his canines. "And let's not waste a second, shall we?"

"Can it be repaired?" Betsy Braddock stared at the tattered remains of her uniform, which was spread out before her and her brother, Brian.

The King of Otherworld picked up the burned helmet and sighed. "What in the name of Merlyn were you doing this time? Going toe-to-toe with the Fury?"

"Something like that." She ran a hand through her long purple-tinted hair. "How are things between you and Meggan?"

"Par for the course, which is good." Brian's eyes flashed as he summoned the power that was his birthright, mystically repairing the fabric of his sister's uniform. "Same for you and Gray, I hope."

"He's been very distant lately. I'm worried we rushed into this relationship and now we're not sure where to go."

"I don't know him well, but he seems to love you."

"Yes... and Jackie thinks I should be patient with him. That maybe something else is bothering him."

Brian stepped back and admired his handiwork. The costume looked good as new, its micro circuitry enhanced with the magic of Otherworld. "Have you felt anything from him mentally? Worrisome, I mean."

"Brian! I'm not going to spy on him."

"Never said you should... but surely you'd sense it if he were seeing someone else."

"I don't think that's it -- thankfully. It started when we saw an image of Shevaun at--"

Brian looked over at Betsy, noticing that her words had trailed off into nothingness. "Are you all right?"

Betsy stepped past him, walking towards the open window in his private chambers. Normally, the lush green grass of Otherworld and the happy meanderings of its citizens were what one saw from here... but this time, Betsy was staring straight at an image that chilled her to the bone. She saw Rachel Summers... her body and mind twisted almost beyond recognition. The young girl had come to the present from a horrific future in which mutants had been hunted down like dogs... and, as the daughter of that world's Scott Summers and Jean Grey, she'd briefly worn the mantle of the Phoenix alongside Brian in Excalibur. "Rachel?"

"It's begun, Betsy. The sequence of events that I've feared for so very long." Rachel's voice sounded ethereal and distant, but full of the passion that Betsy remembered so well. "Has he seen her?"

"Who?" Betsy asked, ignoring the troubled look on her brother's face.

"Shevaun. Has Gray seen her yet?"

"Yes! We both did -- she looked ancient...."

Rachel swam forward, moving through the air like it was water. "Then we don't have much time. The seeds of doubt have been sown." She reached out and touched Betsy's head, filling it with knowledge.

Betsy saw Molly Fitzgerald -- the Celtic Phoenix -- going insane, laying waste to most of Leeds. She saw the Hulk lying dead at her feet, blood flowing freely from his nose and mouth. And she saw herself -- as Captain Britain -- trying to place the same sort of mental blocks on Molly that Prof. Xavier had once placed on Jean Grey, hoping to reign in her power. She saw it going horrifically wrong, unlocking the full potential for destruction within Molly... and most of Great Britain burned. 

"No," she whispered.

"That's the future from which that Shevaun Haldane comes... she believes that Molly must be allowed to deal with her power on her own and that the best way to stop you is to kill you."

"That doesn't sound like Shevaun...."

"She's been tainted, Betsy. The fabric of the universe that she wears is not healthy. She's become corrupted by it, unstable. She's begun trapping individuals who could oppose her and--" Rachel looked off to the side, as if staring at something that Betsy could not see. "Watch your back, Betsy!"

Rachel disappeared in a fiery blaze, leaving Betsy to stare at empty air.

"Betsy!" Brian said, grabbing hold of his sister. "Please... answer me!"

"I'm okay, Brian... honestly." She pulled back, touching her forehead. "But I need to go. There's trouble brewing with Molly -- and I think I've found out what's been wrong with Gray, as well." She kissed him on the cheek, grabbing hold of her uniform. "Thank you ever so much!"

Brian watched her go, a faint smile on his lips. There were days he missed the excitement of being Captain Britain... but sometimes, like today, he was more than glad to let Betsy have the experience all to herself.

This issue pushes along several simmering subplots (the Ghost Rider thing, Gray's visions, etc.) and also launches us into a new storyline... one that will shock quite a few of you. 

A letter from Harry M VanHoudnos III:

Barry, as a LONG time X-Men fan, (I started reading Uncanny during the early 130's during the Dark Phoenix Saga) I remember this rotten Sorcerer! And if it takes Conan's ex squeeze to take him down to stop this madness then SO BE IT! Just keep the action flowing nice and easy, and everyone will be happy.