The Pendragons

# 9
Written by Barry Reese
 
Part Three - Finale
What Has Come Before: 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, Blackheart resurrected the evil Zarathos, called Soul-Taker by some. The two demons have managed to evade the heroes' attempts to stop their plan, managing to activate the mystical energies found in four different sites scattered throughout Great Britain. During this conflict, however, Zarathos was once more merged with his former human host, Johnny Blaze -- recreating the original Ghost Rider.

Now, the heroes converge upon London, intent on stopping Blackheart before the final phase of his plan goes into effect....

London was burning.

It began just after nine o'clock in the evening, when the snow that had been gently falling began to turn foul and black. The moon's shade of color shifted to a pinkish-red and the citizens of England's greatest city felt a chill pass over each and every one of them.

The flames flickered out in an ever-widening circle from 10 Downing Street, home to great men and women of the past. Now, it served as the lair to the demonic Blackheart and he delighted in perverting it to his uses. Water and other fire-fighting elements proved incapable of stopping these flames, for they were tinged with Hellfire and they burned the souls of all they touched.

It mixed with the strange, tar-like black snow to halt all traffic in the area. Cars could not pass through the black, sticky substance and the flames were bringing out a mad terror in those close enough to witness its effects.

The master of this travesty, Blackheart, chuckled to see his handiwork.

Black Mass had come. And in its wake, the world would never be the same again.

A brilliant blue sphere of energy shimmered into being atop 10 Downing Street, gently depositing its contents and fading from view. The wizard Wynter lowered his hands, letting the blue energy fade from his fingertips, and looked around himself at the spreading flames and the slowly falling sludge. Though few of his friends knew his secrets, he had come forth to them in the midst of the Avalon War, but he had always known that a far greater threat waited in the wings. And now it had come.

Albion stepped forward, accepting the mantle of leadership readily and easily. With the Black Knight lost on some errand at the behest of the Omniversal protector, it had fallen to Peter Hunter to guide the Pendragons -- and he had done so with grace and skill. Albion turned to face his companions -- the assembled Pendragons and their allies, the Ghost Riders -- and began to put into motion their plans. "Wynter and Betsy, point us in the right direction."

Betsy Braddock, heir to the heroic legacy of Captain Britain, put a hand to the side of her head. A glittering butterfly effect surrounded her eyes as she used her natural-born gift of telepathy, to seek out their foe. "Blackheart's mind is closed to me right now, but there are a number of people both inside the building and in the surrounding area in need. The mental cries for help are almost overwhelming."

Union Jack squeezed Spitfire's hand before moving to the side of the rooftop. "If it's alright with you, Peter, I'd like to take Betsy with me. She can lead me to the poor blokes trapped inside."

Albion nodded quickly. "Take Gawain with you, too. His strength may come in handy. Are you having better luck, Wynter?"

The mage's eyes flashed and he nodded, watching as Union Jack, Gawain and Captain Britain jumped over the side of the rooftop. "He is no longer in the basement. He has stepped outside and is moving."

"Where?"

The mage pointed to the west, his normally unflappable voice tinged with anxiety. "He waits for us."

"That bloody bastard," Spitfire whispered. "I'll see what's what and be back in a flash."

"No! Wai--" Albion sighed, as the red-and-yellow blur rocketed past him. At times, Spitfire's moods seemed to reflect her power -- the ability to rush forth at great speed.

"We should call back the others. We will need their powers to stop Blackheart."

Albion glanced at the Ghost Rider, staring briefly into the seemingly bottomless pits that were its eyes. The Spirit of Vengeance sat astride his mystic motorcycle, its engine revving. "Can you hear me, Betsy?"

Captain Britain's voice sounded in all their heads. "Loud and clear. We'll join you in a sec -- we've found some poor staff members of the Prime Minister's... They look fine but the Hellfire's done some horrible things to their minds and hearts."

"It burns their spirits, not the flesh. They have looked into their own hearts and been found wanting." The Ghost Rider turned to his companion, the merged being of Johnny Blaze and the demonic Zarathos. "Join me on my bike. YOu may ride with me."

"That is not necessary, Noble Kale," the original Ghost Rider replied, its words an odd mixture of both John Blaze's normal inflections and Zarathos's more flowery mode of speaking. The original Ghost Rider held up his hands, shooting forth hellfire from them. In the center of the flame, a burning bike appeared. "I can provide transportation of my own!"

Grace and Kate McClellan exchanged a glance, both feeling uncomfortable in the presence of the Ghost Riders. For Grace, much of that stemmed from having watched Noble Kale unleash his horrific Penance Stare upon Magpie. Grace looked into Kate's eyes, asking "Are you going to be alright, luv? No one will think the less of you if you want to go back to Lyonesse and be with your son...."

Kate smiled wanly, hugging herself tightly for warmth. "That's not true. I would, for one. Now, stop tempting me."

"The mortal should have returned by now," the original Ghost Rider said.

Albion frowned, knowing it was the truth. He had advised caution, wanting to feel out the situation before launching an all-out assault on Blackheart. But everything felt like it was unraveling. All of the Pendragons could sense it, as the glory and beauty was stripped away from the land they protected.

He started to mention this to the others when they all heard the clear sounds of a woman screaming in obvious agony. A second later, they saw what appeared to be a small meteor hurtling through the air towards them from the west. The sound of the screaming became louder and louder as the flaming object began to descend towards them at a rapid rate.

"Move aside," Noble Kale ordered. The Ghost Rider stepped forward, unwinding his mystic chain. He spun it through the air before launching it at the flaming object. He caught it easily and continued spinning the object by the chain in ever-decreasing arcs until it landed easily on the rooftop. The heroes saw Spitfire, bathed in Hellfire, her eyes wide. Over and over, she murmured "Kenneth! I'm so sorry! Kenneth... my baby... I'm sorry!"

The Green Cathedral, Avalon

A medium-sized brown owl swooped low over the cathedral*, circling twice before darting inside the open-air structure. The bodies of many champions of Avalon lay here, housed in a protective area reserved for only the greatest of heroes.

(*One of two owls sent forth by Wynter back in issue # 4.)

In the midst of the well-wrapped bodies adorned with flowers and bit of faerie dust, sat a handsome young man with longish black hair. His eyes were confused, befuddled by sleep. He remembered only snippets of how he came to be here... A great sacrifice, the cold, dark embrace of death itself....

The owl landed at his side, hooting loudly. In its claws it held a heavily-wrapped object of great length and weight. The owl seemed measurably more relaxed by having shed itself of the burden.

The young man smiled, reaching out to stroke the owl's feathers. "Avalon," he murmured. "I'm in...." he paused, seeing the face of his trusted companion, Breeze, peeking out from beneath the bandages enshrouding a nearby body. He rushed to her side, pulling away the cloth until he could see her face. She looked at rest, peacefully sleeping. "Beautiful girl, how did you come to be here?"

He turned away, sorrow in his heart, and once more beheld the owl and its precious package. Bending down to lift the object, he recognized the feel of it immediately and he hurriedly unwrapped it to reveal a heavy iron sword of great age. Nicks and chips in its blade told whispered stories of its many battles and he could feel the power of the blade pulse through him.

But something was missing. Turning, he strode out of the Green Cathedral, past the softly falling leaves and the tiny swirls of pixies that flew at his heels. The owl watched mutely as the youth stopped at the shore of a large lake. He hefted the blade high into the air, hurling it with all his might into the still waters. 

It landed with a splash, sinking low.

And the youth waited, patiently, for he knew what would happen.

For it had all happened before.

The still waters parted and a pair of female hands bore the sword up from the depths, refashioned and repaired. It gleamed brightly in the sunlight and the youth waded into the waters to claim it gently from the offering hands. "Excalibur! Sword of Kings!" he whispered, with an almost palpable sense of reverence.

A woman's voice came into his mind then, soft and reassuring. "You have reawakened me, great king. My injuries are healed at last... but the time has come for you to leave my realm and return to where you are needed most. Go forth, in the time of England's greatest need. Go forth -- spirit of Arthur, spirit of the undying lord!"

And the young man known as Adam Crown raised the sword high, saying "I pledge my strength and my heart to the Lady of the Lake and Avalon! Let no threat befall England while it lies under my watch!"

CNN Headline News

"...and the world continues to hold its breath as the British Isles are blanketed tonight beneath what can only be described as a full mystical assault. Just hours ago, reporter Kate McClellan -- a known member of the superhuman group the Pendragons -- went on the air and accused British Prime Minister Clive Winthrop of being a demonic entity known as Blackheart. This was met with widespread skepticism at the time, but with reports coming in of mass deaths throughout the United Kingdom and a strange, oil-like liquid falling from the skies, the nations of the world are beginning to recognize that something is very, very wrong in Great Britain. We now go live to reporter Trish Tilby, on location in London...."

"Brent, what you see behind me is like something out of Dante's Inferno. A strange fire burns here in London, leaving buildings and flesh intact -- but searing the minds of all it touches. Just fifteen minutes ago, I watched a man literally gouge out of his own eyes after being burned by the flames. And the sludge that continues to fall is beginning to affect electronic equipment, as you can see from our static-filled transmission."

"Trish, are any of England's heroes on the scene?"

"Yes -- the Pendragons are here, along with two beings who both resemble the Ghost Rider creature that's so recognizable to residents of the Northeastern United States. In addition, other heroes like Micromax, Shamrock and Wolfsbane have been sighted throughout the United Kingdom, struggling to keep the peace."

"And what about the British government? Any official response from them?"

"Not at the moment, Brent, though the military has been mobilized. We understand that the Royal Family has been taken to a secure location as well. There are also unconfirmed reports that the Avengers, the Fantastic Four and other groups were en route to England when a rash of robotic attacks broke out throughout the United States -- whether or not there is a connection, or even perhaps if the robots are some sort of diversionary tactic, is unknown. Basically, until we know more, we just have to pray that this situation doesn't get any worse...."

Blackheart felt his power growing stronger and stronger. He could sense the fragile framework of life all about him, could peer into the hearts and minds of beings on the other side of the globe. He was flush with his newfound ability, laughing madly even as his Earthly form began to grow in order to encompass the energies that swirled through him. He rose up higher and higher, until he towered over London and felt as if he could have reached out to pluck the moon from the very air above him. The black mass that fell all about him was recrafting the world below in his own ebony image, stealing away the features of the land and burying them beneath the stench of Blackheart himself.

In the moment of his surpreme triumph came sudden pain. Blackheart, looming as large as any mythical dragon, glanced about for the source of this intensifying pain and found himself staring down at a pack of annoying insects. Grace, one of the more bloodthirsty Pendragons, was slashing at his feet, while the sentient machine known as Gawain hacked at his ankle. "Begone!" Blackheart roared, kicking out. He had already dispatched the foolish, prideful Spitfire, and now he sent both Grace and Gawain hurtling through the air.

Albion flew quickly to his love's aid, catching Grace before she crashed to the ground. For Gawain, however, there was no one to stop the android's impact. The Pendragon smashed into a thousand pieces, his head rolling to rest at the wheel of Zarathos's bike. "These mortals have no place here, Kale. They will only serve as cannon fodder."

The Ghost Rider began to streak forward, leaving a trail of Hellfire in his wake. "They offer their spirits nobly. They will be avenged!"

"&squawk#" Gawain's eyes flew open and he looked upwards at Zarathos. "How...fares...the battle?"

The original Ghost Rider accelerated, crushing Gawain's head 'neath his wheels. "Better for some than others, machine!"

Noble Kale glanced behind him as Zarathos raced to catch up. He did not trust this new incarnation of the original Ghost Rider, though he had seen nothing yet to prove his suspicions correct. For now, he mused, he hoped that Zarathos would prove a useful ally. The two Ghost Riders zoomed around Blackheart's feet, Noble lashing out with his chain while Zarathos cast burning Hellfire about the demon's lower torso.

Noble Kale accelerated towards the wizard Wynter, who was floating nearby with Kate McClellan supported on a small magical disk. The electricity-wielding heroine was sending lightning bolts at Blackheart, who was beginning to stagger beneath the combined assaults. Up high, Captain Britain alternated physical attacks with mental blasts that seemed to affect even the son of Mephisto. Albion and Grace were likewise conducting hit-and-fly attacks, with Albion providing the transportation while Grace, perched on his back, delivered slicing cuts from her blades. "Wynter! I must get closer to Blackheart -- I have defeated him in the past but on the ground, I can do little!"

The mage nodded, sensing the truth in Noble's words. The Spirit of Vengeance was also an aspect of death itself and it carried within it the potential to slay even immortals. But will even that power be enough to turn the tide? I had sought to bring us aid from elsewhere, but neither the undying king nor the wandering shard has arrived. Perhaps I have failed us all....

Forcing himself out of such thoughts, Wynter distracted Blackheart by generating a powerful mystic burst of energy about the demon's head. Blanketed inside a localized magic storm, Blackheart lost his footing and came crashing down amidst the city, smashing nearly a city block beneath his bulk. "Now, Spirit of Vengeance -- go forward!"

Ghost Rider ran his bike up Blackheart's leg, speeding along his torso towards the demon's foul, stygian-black face. Behind him, he heard more of the Pendragons attacking, seeking to keep the demon off-balance. Noble wished that Union Jack had left behind the injured Spitfire and joined the fray -- not because he thought Joey Chapman could truly harm the demon-lord, but because every blow counted.

The Ghost Rider jumped off his bike, landing on the chin of the giant demon. He lashed out with his chain, striking Blackheart in the nose and causing it to send forth a wave of blackish blood. "Demon! You have terrorized innocents for the last time -- Here, today, your punishment comes!"

Blackheart looked down to see his greatest foe staring up at him. Their eyes locked and Ghost Rider flooded him with the dread power of his Penance Stare. Blackheart resisted, but Ghost Rider tapped into the awesome powers that belonged to the angel of death. The son of Mephisto and the heir to Hell itself howled as pain rushed through him. He felt the torment of all his victims, all those innocents who had died in this most recent assault on humanity.

Albion landed near the demon's eye, watching as Blackheart's terrible face twisted and altered, reflecting his horrible agony. Grace whispered to him "That's quite a power, isn't it? Almost as bad as anything Blackheart has."

Albion shook his head. "No... As terrible as this seems, all Ghost Rider is doing is showing Blackheart how terrible his actions have been. It was Blackheart who so casually destroyed so many lives."

Blackheart howled and twitched before his head fell back hard, and all became silent.

"I can't sense his mind anymore," Captain Britain said. She hovered in the air above Blackheart, her colorful costume now covered with the black mass that seemed to writhe in a rhythmic fashion.

"We should sever his head and burn the body. That's the only way to be sure of killing a demon." Union Jack, supporting a still weary Spitfire, clambered up to join his teammates. "And I found Gawain a fair distance away. What was left of him, anyway."

"If the villain is dead, then why does the sky still bleed his foul creations?"

Albion glanced upwards, noting that the sky now shimmered a faint pink, the same color that the moon had changed. "Something's still wrong. It's not over."

"My power should have been more than enough...! I have the power of death!"

"And perhaps that would have been enough -- before I had gained the power to complete the prophecy!" Blackheart stirred beneath them, his voice booming out. His words were laced with pain and it was obvious to all that had been hurt badly. "Die, my enemies! Die!"

Energy shot forth from the demon's eyes, striking the Pendragons and the Ghost Riders at full force. Zarathos and Noble Kale shattered in places, bits of their bones flying away like shrapnel. Spitfire, still groggy, managed to grab hold of Union Jack and whisk him away, but they still felt the edge of the blast and fell forward, unconscious. Grace and Kate McClellan landed on the ground, falling the great height from Blackheart's chest to the city streets below. Even the wizard Wynter was staggered, his pristine white robes, which had remained clean even in the face of the black mass, now spotted with blood.

But none felt the blow harder than Albion, who had stood the closest to the villain's eyes. The leader of the Pendragons was thrown far from the villain, his mystic armor breaking and shattered as easily as the man's bones within. When he landed near his beloved Grace, his youth seemed to have been sapped away and aged, dignified Peter Hunter lay there instead.

"Peter!" Grace, her ribs broken and blood filling her lungs, managed to crawl over to her lover. She felt tears welling up within her and she lay her head across Peter's chest. "Peter... please. Are you okay?"

The aged professor swallowed hard but ended up coughing, flecks of blood appearing on his lips. "I...failed... England."

Grace looked at him, reaching up to brush away the hair that fell in his face. "No. No, you didn't fail. You're going to be okay. We're all going to be--"

Grace's voice trailed away as the body of Noble Kale shattered to the ground beside her. Most of his leathers were gone and the white bones that made up his body were cracked and broken. She looked up to see Blackheart standing again, still weak and injured, but once more unbowed.

Grace lowered her head and cried, even as the man she loved breathed his last.

Peter Hunter, kind and gentle, had been an unusual kind of hero -- one who had valued intelligence and integrity as much as physical power. With his death, all hope seemed to seep away.

Blackheart's voice boomed out and it seemed that every resident of the British Isles heard his words. "It is done. The prophecy has been fulfilled!"

And, to punctuate his words, energy swirled all about him, rising up to form a barrier around Great Britain. It wavered there, flooding the land with the old magick, the wild magick. On Dun-shi Hill, the Faerie burst forth once more, standing openly on a world that had once turned its eyes on them. Throughout the English countryside, fell beasts rose from the Earth prisons in which they had been bound centuries before. Men and women with an affinity for magic felt themselves shudder as newfound power coursed through them.

And at the center of it all was the blackest of hearts, the foul being who was now Ruler of the Isles of Magick.

Somewhere in the English Countryside.

The large gray owl paced once more over the patch of cold earth. It scratched at it with its claws, hooting gently. The black mass fell all around it, but the bird would not be deterred from its mission. The wizard Wynter had bade it find the lost shard, the missing piece of the Pendragon spirit. That search had brought it here, where the owl had tried unsuccessfully to revive the being below.

Approaching footsteps made the owl quiet down and it lowered its head, unsure whether or not to take flight.

"Easy, boy. I'm a friend." Adam Crown stepped into view, Excalibur sheathed at his side and a gleaming green-tinted shield on his arm. The owl flew to his shoulder and Adam smiled softly. The bird recognized him.

Kneeling, Adam placed a hand on the cold earth. "It's time to rise. England has need of you." Silence greeted his words and Adam frowned. How long had this hero lain here, beneath the cold earth? Since the early 1960s, at least, when his arch-foe, the evil scientist with the bizarre name, had managed to trap him in some form of suspended animation. "If you won't rise of your own accord, I have no recourse but to use your magic word... May the Lady of the Lake grace us with her blessing. KIMOTA!" Energy seemed to pulse upwards from the ground below and it was enough to knock Adam backwards onto his rump. The owl flew skyward with a flustered hoot. "Sorry, boy. Couldn't be helped. Now... Did the bloody thing work?"
 
Adam watched as the ground seemed to push upwards. A hand appeared, followed by a colorfully-garbed arm and torso. At last, the man who had protected England in the Fifties and early Sixties rose up to stare around himself with glittering eyes. "Where am I? Where's Gargunza?"

"You're in the year 2003. And I can explain everything else en route." Adam moved forward to offer his hand. "Adam Crown, servant of Avalon."

The handsome blonde male looked at him for a moment before clasping the offered hand. His touch was electrifying to Adam. "Nice to meet you. I'm MIRACLEMAN!" After a firm handshake, the modern marvel jumped into the air, letting out a triumphant hoot of pleasure and pumping one fist into the air. Though he knew that many years had passed and some new threat was obviously troubling this Adam Crown fellow, Miracleman could not suppress his almost child-like happiness. He was back... and he would protect his country with all his heart and soul. 

 

London

Blackheart waved his hands through the air, shaping the barrier that now enclosed the British Isles. It would not filter out oxygen or sunlight, but larger items, particularly living ones, would not be able to pierce it. Here, inside the barrier, Blackheart would rule forever.

"Demon!"

Blackheart looked down to see Wynter and the Noble Kale Ghost Rider rising to meet him. The Spirit of Vengeance looked so weak that he could barely stand and Wynter's eyes flashed with rage and power. Blackheart sneered at them, "So... Not all the gnats have been dealt with, eh?"

Wynter pointed a finger at him. "You have slain two of our number today -- both noble Gawain and brave Albion have fallen. But as long as one of us still lives, you will not succeed."

"I have already won, fool! All that remains now is to finish shaping the barrier!"

"Even if you win today, there will be others who will rise up to stop you. It is part of the human spirit... they do not take kindly to dictators." Ghost Rider's flames were flickering out, but the Spirit of Vengeance reached out to clasp Wynter's hand.

"How sweet, Ghost Rider... that you seek comfort in the mage's company. But this time, you have no hope." Blackheart's eyes flashed as he prepared himself to destroy the heroes once and for all.

"You forget, old foe -- that this time, I am merged with a mage."

Wynter and Ghost Rider combined their mystical might, as Jennifer Kale whispered magic incantations in Noble Kale's mind. The two mages launched a powerful assault on Blackheart, causing him to scream. The barrier buckled, going wild without someone to shape it. It expanded widely, spreading out towards the rest of Europe. "No! You fools -- I have to control the barrier!"

"What you have to do, base villain, is realize that you are doomed to failure! The undying king and the wandering shard are returning."

Noble Kale cast a glance at his companion, wondering at his words. Did the mage have some secret plot?

Blackheart lashed out with his hand, striking a force field that appeard around Wynter and Ghost Rider. It buckled but held. "What are you speaking of?!"

"I believe he means us."

Blackheart turned to see a beautiful man floating before him. He wore a blue bodysuit, with piping of gold and red. "Who--?"

Miracleman backhanded him with all the strength he could muster and even the heir to Hell was wounded. Blackheart staggered as Miracleman continued his assault, joined by the mystical might of Ghost Rider and Wynter.

The villain howled in pain as his power, so much of it wasted already, began to bleed out from his many wounds. He began to shrink, drawing down to the size of a mortal man once more. When he swayed on his feet, trying to adjust to his new size and power, he noticed that a man dressed in golden armor was approaching.

Adam Crown stood amidst the broken and bloodied forms of the Pendragons and he felt a mixture of pain and rage. "Too many beings share your views, Blackheart. They think that might makes right. But they are wrong. Because might for right is the only way that life should be lived. In the name of Avalon, in the name of England, I punish you for your sins."

Excalibur flashed through the air, its blade seeming to sing with power as it slashed through Blackheart's neck. His head flew into the air, end over end, spilling black blood onto the ground.

Ghost Rider Noble Kale caught it in mid-air. "Before, you said you were too powerful to be slain by me. Let us see if that is still true...."

Blackheart screamed and screamed, a sound that would haunt the survivors for as long as they lived. A demon was dying and its passing was marked by horror, pain and regret.

When it was done, Ghost Rider tossed the head aside. It shattered into dust and blood, giving evidence that Blackheart was no more.

Adam Crown sheathed Excalbur, watching as Miracleman landed nearby. "The black mass snow... It stops."

"Yes," Wynter said. "The spell is complete, though Blackheart did not live to enjoy his new realm. Magick reigns supreme here now... and I fear that a long period of readjustment lies ahead of us."

"At least we won this battle," Miracleman said, his face full of regret that he had not risen before now and saved more lives.

Ghost Rider stared at the miles-wide devastation and the almost palpable sense of magic in the air. Casting one final glace at Grace, still cradling her lost love in her arms, he said "We are not victors, Miracleman. We are only... survivors."

"Then let us begin to pick up the pieces, my friends." Wynter stepped past them, seeking out the injured and living. Slowly, the others followed suit.

A new era was upon them.

Coming Up Next Issue: The Isles of Magick crossover is over, but questions remain -- How will England respond to the new laws of magick that govern it? Which members of the Pendragons will remain with the group and which will take this as an opportunity to leave? And, finally, how will the group react to the terrible wounds they've experienced?

AUTHOR'S NOTES

There you have it -- the final part of "Isles of Magick." I'm pretty sure it raises just as many questions as it answered, but that's the way good stories are, I think. They make you want to know what happens *next.*

A few comments on how things went:

You can reach me at aric_dacia@yahoo.com