TALES OF THE PENDRAGONS	Tales of the Pendragons, featuring
#35
Early 1400s	Part Two

#35 - "Vengeance Unlimited"
Written and HTMLed by: Adrian J. Watts
Editor: Barry Reese

This is a timeslip tale; it diverged from the Pendragons Universe in the early-1400s, C.E.

The Isle of the Silent Ones :: Asgard

"Curse that meddling 'all-father' Wotan!" cried Lordrom, the green-and-yellow garbed Norse god of evil and mischief. "One attack against my half brother Donar, god of thunder, and he sentences me, his own son, to the Isle of the Silent Ones! Bah! I shall get my revenge! But how? How?

"Donar has chosen to live his life as a mortal: Harrold, King of Scandia. And since I cannot leave this isle and travel to Midgard myself, I must rely on my magicks to destroy him. My magicks frighten me, but I have no other option while trapped within this infernal wasteland."

Lordrom concentrated, a deep frown appearing on his face. A bright corona of green energy manifested around the evil god as he reached forth, across the rainbow bridge that links Asgard to the rest of the nine worlds, to the land he, like his brother Donar, called Midgard. He reached further and further, exploring the four corners of the world for a trap that might lure his brother within reach of his power.

He explored the land the mortals called 'No-man's land', a small expanse of land between Tintagel Head and London, in England. There was nothing there except for a few dark skinned primitives with spears. He went further east, to the nation called Germania, where a man reeled back and forth in his prison cell, muttering about how he would eliminate some mortal named Mordred Pendragon. He then explored the oceans directly north of Tintagel Head, where he found a most intriguing object: a golden box resting on the seabed.

But since he was only seeing this world, and was not actually present, he needed a servant to interact with the item, someone with a weak will that would agree to serve the villainous god no matter what. He found Namor, the SeaLord. Lordrom smirked. It was child's play to reach into the undersea monarch's mind...

Namor, lord of the seven seas and all that lies beneath! he said, I am in dire need of your assistance!

Namor frowned. None of his Atlantean people spoke in such a manner.

"Then show yourself, my ailing ally, so that I might see if you are worthy of my aid," Namor replied.

I cannot! said Lordrom. I am trapped within this golden case! If you break me out, however, I can reward you with a weapon of great power! One that could ensure your conquest of the surface world!

Namor didn't even think twice. The land-dwelling monarch Mordred Pendragon was a scourge to these seas, using them as a garbage dumping ground, among other things. Namor had tried many times to conquer the lands above, but had been thwarted at every attempt, thanks to Mordred's massive armies with their archers and catapults.

He reared back, and swam as strongly as he could into the golden box, which shattered like so many bound twigs, leaving its contents open and scattered for Lordrom to see. There were several mystical artifacts in the box, from basic charm amulets to magickal staves, but only one item interested Lordrom - the Asgardian Ebony Blade of Twilight lay half in and half out of the box. It was a sword of immense mystical power, and it had been entrusted to Donar for safekeeping centuries earlier.

Namor was displeased.

"What surface-dweller treachoury is this? Show yourself, mind-voice, that you may experience the wrath of Namor the First, scion of Atlantis!" cried the undersea lord. When Lordrom did not appear before him, Namor was even more angry. "Fine! Then I shall destroy your world with it's own weapon! This black sword!"

Namor grabbed the ebony sword, and used the wings on his ankles and the power of his own tremendous swimming skill to break up to Tintagel Head. He flew, and descended into the town of Tintagel, the only city on this northernmost tip of Scotland. Lordrom watched with pleasure as Namor tore apart the town with the aid of the ebony blade. People fell, beheaded or worse. Buildings were brought down in a thundering crash. How could Donar have been so stupid as to give this weapon to a mortal, that it may be discarded so carelessly?

But Lordrom couldn't worry about that now. He was trapped on the Isle of the Silent Ones, and couldn't raign in Namor, and his powerful weapon, on his own. He needed allies. Reaching out with his magic once again, he found the five people best suited to stopping the angered monarch, and sent them a silent but powerful call.

Scandia, the throneroom of King Harrold/Donar

Donar sat upon his Scandian throne, quite pleased with himself. He was being attended to by two servants, one of whom acted as his grand advisor.

"How are you today, my liege?" asked the advisor.

"Oh, I am most pleased with your work, my advisor." said Donar. "Though one thought is always nagging at my mind. It has been weeks since I sent Sir Percy the Black Knight to Scotland to make an alliance with Mordred Pendragon. He has yet to send word or return. I fear the worst."

"As do I. As we learned days ago, Mordred's castle was destroyed by an unknown force," said the advisor.

Doh-naaaar, said a voice that could only be heard in Donar's head.

"Leave," Donar immediately instructed his servants. He watched as they scuttled out the door. "What is your concern, my evil half brother?"

Lordrom smirked. Donar recognised him. You have made a terrible misstep, Donar, he said, and now the ebony sword of twilight rests in the hands of the megalomaniacal sea king known as Namor. He shall use it to destroy the world and only the might of the god of thunder can stop him.

Donar frowned. "And why should I trust you, villainous one?"

Because you know I need Midgard to survive. What is a god of mischief without mortals to play upon?

Donar nodded in acceptance of Lordrom's words, and then he reached behind his throne, pulling out his mystic uru hammer, Mjolnir. He swung it around and around, until his royal garbs vanished, replaced by his seldom worn Asgardian armour. From his winged helmet down to his tall boots, Donar was indeed the god of thunder once more.

"Then I shall meet this base villain where he stands!" said Donar. He swung his hammer around and around once more, until it created a vortex that took him straight to the town of Tintagel.

Tintagel

The man known as Duke Stefan O'Rodge, the head of the Tintagel Militia which served under King Mordred to enforce the law in the town of Tintagel, was appalled when he saw what the sea prince was doing to his town. He readied the weapons which had been bestowed upon him by King Mordred himself and awaited while his "deputy" and longtime friend, Clinton LeBarr, readied his weapon of choice: the bow and arrow. Adjusting his sword and shield, Stefan led his friend to their horses and they rode into the town, to where Namor had last been seen.

"Ah!" said Namor. "Finally, this town's defenders rise to meet me! But why is there only two of you? Is Mordred's army now so pathetic that the two of you are the best he can send? Hahahahaha!"

Stefan O'Rodge said nothing. He didn't need to. One look at his friend, and an arrow was nocked and aimed at Namor, straight at the heart.

"Make one move and you'll be speared," said LeBarr. "That is your only warning."

Namor laughed. "You think a puny wooden shaft can harm me? Hahahaha!"

LeBarr fired. He hated when people mocked his skill. The arrow tore through the air, hitting Namor in the chest, just to the right of his heart, and blood began seeping out of the deep wound.

"You... you... you will die!" said Namor. He pulled out the arrow and leaped into the air, then flew straight at Clinton LeBarr, but not the slightest bit of concern marred the archer's face. He readied another arrow, and -- OOF! His horse bucked beneath him, obviously unable to take the stress of someone like Namor charging at it, but perhaps it was for the best - as it bucked, knocking LeBarr off it, Namor rocketed past. If LeBarr hadn't fallen off, he might well have been taken out by the flying king of the seas.

Stefan sighed. He didn't like having to fight, not when talking could easily resolve a situation, but the time for talking had passed, he realised, the moment that Clinton LeBarr first nocked his arrow. This would be a tough fight, Stefan knew, but a necessary one. He jumped down from his horse, drew his sword, and charged at Namor.

"Ah, the cowardly one now attacks!" said Namor. "Prepare to taste your own blade, surface dweller!" Namor charged toward Stefan, ebony blade outstretched, but Stefan did not give any ground at all. He knew Namor couldn't hurt him. Namor charged forward, faster and faster, raising his sword into the air, and then, with a smooth stroke, he attempted to bring it down upon Stefan. Stefan merely stepped to one side, holding his shielded arm in the way of the stroke. TWANG! The sword was bounced backwards with force equal to that placed upon it by Namor.

"This shield was enchanted by the good King Mordred himself, amphibious one! None can harm me while I still wear it!" Stefan ran at Namor himself this time, his own sword outstretched and aimed right where LeBarr had harmed Namor earlier. But Namor was no fool - he twitched the wings upon his ankles and took to the air, flying over Stefan, and touching back upon the ground behind him. He drew the ebony blade once again, but --

THWOOM!

A whirling hammer tore from the sky, hurling right at Namor. It slammed into his arm with the force of a thousand storms, causing the amphibious man to drop his sword.

"I say thee nay, oh basest of villains! No mortal 'ere shalt perish while Donar, son of the all-father Wotan, is present to protect them!" cried Donar, dropping from high above the mortal combatants through a votex in the clouds.

Namor immediately turned to face this new threat, rather than his previous combatants. In his opinion, this newcomer was the only one who may be even a remote threat to his victory. He took to the air again, diving and swooping at the groundbound Donar.

"What is this!?" cried Donar. "Fight me on the ground, like a true warrior!"

"You wish for him to be on the ground, thunder god? Then on the ground he shall be!" called a new voice, followed by a streak of purple energy that surrounded Namor, causing his ankle-wings to momentarily become stiff and brittle. As Namor fell to the ground, a streak of blue swirled around him again and again, with an arm occasionally reaching out to attack. But once Namor seemed to be beaten, the swirling stopped, and there stood a man.

"Who art you, my friend?" asked Donar.

"I am Peter Maximoff, son of Magnus and messenger for King Mordred," said the rapidly moving male.

"And I am his sister, Wanda," called the voice that had been responsible for the purple, mystic energy that had caused Namor's collapse. "It is a welcome feeling to be battling at your side, god of thunder."

"What do you mean, Wanda?" Donar asked.

"My brother and I are expatriates from Transia, the small nation with which Scandia has been at war for months," Wanda explained. "Our people wished to force us into fighting you, which is why we fled to England."

As Donar and Wanda conversed, all eyes were pointed away from Namor, except for one pair that watched the situation from a place where no mortal foot has ever tread.

They're all fools! thought Lordrom. Chatting about their own powers while Prince Namor makes his escape back to his undersea realm, the ebony sword of twilight still in hand. Fie! But there are stiill four mortals who might oppose him, whom I have not yet contacted...

The Isle of the Silent Ones

Once again, Lordrom furrowed his brow and peered across the great, multi-coloured expanse that was the rainbow bridge. His eyes found their target on Midgard once more, and once again it was in the town of Tintagel, in a blacksmith's workshop.

Ah! thought Lordrom. The one I seek is here! Anthony Stark, the world famous blacksmith, specialising in the production of mighty weapons and armour for Mordred's knights! He will be certain to aid me!

Anthony Stark, heed my words! Lordrom spoke to the man, through a method not unlike telepathy. Outside your shop, a battle of life and death yet carries on, between the noble Tintagel Militia and the most base of villains, Prince Namor of Atlantis! You are needed!

Anthony Stark did not even question this voice - Merlin had often spoken to the people, on Mordred's behalf, in such a manner, and he just assumed it was him once more. So he donned his most powerful of armour, charged with a portion of Merlin's own mystic energy, and took to the air outside his shop, flying along to where Stefan O'Rodge, Clinton LeBarr, the Mighty Donar, and Wanda and Peter Maximoff stood.

"I am here to aid thee, grand warriors. Where is your enemy, Namor?" he called down. All eyes pointed to where Namor had been laying after Peter Maximoff's assault.

"He's GONE!" cried LeBarr.

Atlantis

In the undersea kingdom of Atlantis, all hell was breaking loose. Namor had returned, telling his advisors and the city's citizens of the tricks played upon him by the surface dwellers. Now, his entire Imperial Guard had assembled, ready to march forth to Tintagel.

"Come forth, my noble soldiers! Today we strike at the surface dwellers again, and with your might added to my own we are certain to win!" cried Namor as he and his army swam south to Tintagel.

On the Isle of the Silent Ones, in far off Asgard, Lordrom sighed. This was not the way he wanted things to go, not at all. But, he still had three mortals he could call upon to stop Namor: Gigantus; Gigantus' wife, Pixie; and Simon Willhelm, the man of wonders, whose body was made of the very stuff of magick.

Lordrom reached out again, his green corona of mystic energy stretching futher and further across the plane that was called Midgard. Eventually, he found two of the three that he did seek: Henry and Joan Pyment, who lived on a secluded island far off the coast of Tintagel.

Gigantus, said Lordrom. You are needed most dearly in Tintagel! The madman Namor has struck agai --

"Nothing doing!" said Gigantus. "I've stopped listening to you little voices in my head. When you made me --"

Lordrom couldn't bear to listen to the man's apparent mad ravings. He needed Gigantus and Pixie to help.

GIGANTUS! cried Lordrom. I AM LORDROM,. THE NORSE GOD, AND YOU SHALL DO AS I SAY! Lordrom used his magick, stretching it right to its limits, to create a huge bolt of lightning that pierced the barrier between the Isle of the Silent Ones and Midgard and struck Gigantus' house, turning it into a smouldering pile of ash.

Gigantus didn't need a second warning. He raced off, grabbing his wife, and jumping into his boat for the long trip to Tintagel, and then Lordrom went looking for Simon Willhelm. He found him, a noble mystic living in the magical realm of Avalon, using his body's magick to repair the damage done there by Morgan LeFay.

Lordrom didn't need to speak with Willhelm, however. His body was made of magick itself, and Lordrom was a master at manipulating such things. He used his own magic to 'bond' himself to Simon, and took physical control over the man's body. He took to the air, flying to Tintagel, a short trip from Avalon, and as he arrived so did Gigantus and Pixie.

"Ah, more mortal heroes arrive to give us aid in this most dire of times," said Donar. "Namor, the evil prince of the undersea realm of Atlantis has fled back to the depths from whence he came, and not one of us is capable of following him."

Anthony Stark shook his head. "That isn't entirely true," he said. "My armour is equipped for underwater exploration, thanks to Merlin's enchantment."

"And I don't need to breathe," said Lordrom through Simon. "Such is a mere fraction of my abilities."

Donar frowned. He could recognise something in Simon's demeanour. He realised that the newcomer, this being of magick, was none other than his evil half brother Lordrom. But that would be a matter for another time. Lordrom was trying to help, after all. He deserved this one chance.

As Stark and Lordrom leaped into the ocean in search of their amphibious prey, few noticed the huge swell of water appearing on the north side of Tintagel, where Mordred's castle lay in ruins. Tintagel had one chance. Taking his place high atop the cliffs at Tintagel Head, Donar began to swing his mystic hammer, Mjolnir, around and around once more. Slowly, the water did begin to calm itself, but that was not enough. Wanda Maximoff took her own position and used her magickal energies to try to calm the swelling tide. Finally the water gave way to allow Prince Namor, and several thousand of his followers, to rush out of the ocean and storm the town.

Within moments, the battle was in full swing. Stefan O'Rodge swung his sword and shield back and forth, the shield's enchantment allowing it to return to him anytime he lost it in the midst of battle. Clinton LeBarr stood atop a high pedastal, firing wooden shaft after wooden shaft at the assembled Atlanteans. Peter Maximoff was right in the middle of the battle, hurling sword and fist into the fray. Pixie buzzed around the heads of her enemies, using her magic-born powers to cause them to lapse into unconsciousness with the merest touch. Donar hurled his hammer back and forth, tending to do more damage to the castle grounds than the enemies they fought. Wanda use a great deal of her magic to form a barrier around the castle, preventing further insurrections. Anthony Stark, in his impenetrable armour, stood in the middle of the battle, drawing as much attention away from Wanda as possible.

But where was Lordrom?

Lordrom, in his new form, sat high in one of the castle's towers, watching Donar with growing anticipation. He watched, rapt, as Namor took to the air, ebony twilight sword in hand. He kept watching as the sea-faring prince came down once more, his blade aimed at Donar's back, where the god could not see his approaching enemy. Namor struck, the blade sinking deep into the thunder god's flesh. Donar slumped to the ground, as the pain from the wound was too great for even he to remain standing. Lordrom still watched as several of Namor's minions swarmed over the thunder god's agony-wracked body.

"Lordrom, my brother!" cried Donar. "Help me!"

Lordrom smirked from his hiding place. It would be so easy, using his new physical body's powers, to aid the ailing Donar. But his whole journey to Midgard was designed to destroy his half brother and get revenge on Wotan, and here was his chance. No, he would not help Donar this day. He licked his lips, awaiting Donar's final moments before the journey to Valhalla.

Gigantus, though apparently mad, was not so callous. He swept the seamen up with his massive arm and, with a flick at the elbow, he hurled the underwater warriors away. Donar stood, the pain still great, but ready to fight nonetheless.

Now Lordrom had to take an active role. He streaked out of his hiding place and splashed straight down into the ocean and toward Atlantis.

"Namor!" he cried, loud enough to be heard even on the surface. "End your attack or I will destroy Atlantis where it stands!"

Namor scowled, but did not halt the attack, so Lordrom raised his hands in a magical gesture, and caused a huge amount of rock and sand to crash down upon Atlantis, killing many of its citizens. He laughed as he picked off the survivors until Namor dove, deeper and deeper, toward him. Lordrom didn't even think twice. He flew through the water, and back to the castle. If he thought Namor, while the sea king helf the twilight sword, he'd be dead within seconds. When he returned to the castlehe found that the mortal heroes had already won the day, and were chasing off the remaining Atlanteans. Donar, however, was still gravely injured. Now was his chance!

Lordrom hurled himself from a nearby parapet, falling straight toward the barely standing Donar. He crashed into him, knocking him to the ground, then struck him again and again with mystic energy. But he had neglected the other heroes. First, a spinning shield slammed into his chest, knocking him back, followed by an arrow that passed straight through his arm. Then Gigantus grabbed him with his strong hands, holding him as Wanda and Stark pelted him with magical energy, disrupting his physical form. But that was not enough to defeat him.

He began to laugh, then stopped as he saw his approaching doom. Namor flew through the air toward him. He crashed into him with the force of a thousand blows, knocking the god far, far away. Then Namor landed, while all of the heroes kept their weapons and powers trained upon him.

"Stop," said Donar. "This man is not our enemy. He, like all of us, was misled by the figure we just defeated."

"That is okay, mighty Donar. While I am greatly displeased with what has transpired, you were misled. I shall go now, to assist my people, and we will not battle again this day," said Namor. "But this does not mean my war with the surface world has come to an end." He departed.

"You are a powerful force," Donar said to the mortal heroes.

"We are not united," said Peter.

"Maybe we should become a united force," said Wanda.

"Yes!" said Pixie. "Someone destroyed the castle. We could find out who and gain vengeance!"

"You're all welcome to join the Tintagel Militia," Stefan O'Rodge said.

"No," said Gigantus. "That cannot be. If we are to unite, it must be as a separate force."

"Why?" Stefan asked.

"I have my reasons."

"Then how about... the Avengers? Or better yet, the King's Vengeance?" Pixie suggested.

"A good name," Anthony Stark commented.

"A great name," Clinton LeBarr remarked.

Donar smiled broadly. "Good luck, mortal heroes," he said. "I bid thee farewell." He departed. Pixie tried to get him to stay, but he ignored her.

"I suppose we need a leader," Anthony Stark said. "I think - "

"I will lead," Stefan replied. "I know more about leadership than any of you, and if we are to serve Mordred, it is only fitting that I, as his chosen champion, should lead."

Gigantus sneered, but no-one spoke up.

"Then prepare yourselves, King's Vengeance, for we have a difficult task ahead of us!"

NEXT: Merlin!

Feel free to send comments, questions or concerns to bella1@netspace.net.au

May 4, 2005