Tales of the Pendragons #37 - Queen's Vengeance Timeslip Universe

#37 - "Morgan's Run"
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.

Morgan Le Fey swept her cloak behind her as she materialised in the physical realm. She had remained on the astral plane for weeks, recovering her energy, and she despised it. It felt good to be back among the tangible, in Scotland, in her son's seat of power... only now, the once-majestic castle that she appeared in was nothing but a smouldering wreck in north-west Scotland.

"What happened here?" she wondered aloud. She gestured, and before her danced lights and sounds in patterns never before seen or heard by mortal men. It showed the aftermath of her battle with Merlin the Mystic* and her son's subsequent retreat. I will find Mordred, she thought. I will find him and we will end all of this.

She began to use her magicks to move the various pieces of rubble and debris that littered the ground, searching for her son. After several minutes a large boulder gave way and beneath it, clutching the enchanted sword, Excalibur, was Mordred's limp form. Morgan knew her child was unharmed - the enchantment on Excalibur saw to that - but still, even he could not move boulders alone.

"Yes, mother..." he whispered. "I am fine. I have others here with me - Percy of Scandia and his manservant, Piotr."

"Percy is dead..." Mordred replied. "Yet Piotr, in his metal body, yet lives. Barely."

Morgan mystically moved more rocks and the corpse of Percy, being cradled by his young, metallic superhuman servant became visible. For a moment, Morgan almost felt pity. Piotr had not done anything wrong that she was aware of. He had never shown her any opposition, and from the looks of it he was willing to be loyal to the death.

"Piotr..." she whispered soothingly. "I will make you a deal. If you swear fealty to my son, Mordred, and I, I will restore Percy to life."

Piotr nodded his head slowly. He did not speak. In fact, Mordred realised that in their time trapped beneath the rocks, Piotr had never spoken or moaned. Perhaps, thought Mordred, he is mute? Morgan raised both hands above her head and allowed her own eldritch energy to flow from her fingertips and into Percy's lifeless form. The knight's injuries were slowly healed and, after a few minutes, he was able to stand and speak.

"Fantastic!" Morgan cried. "The brave knight Percy is now loyal to us, as is his manservant. Even now, the King's Vengeance serve you, seeking revenge on the Picts whom they believe destroyed you and this castle..."

"Oh, you just don't know, do you?" Morgan sighed. "Very well..." She made a series of complicated gestures and recited more than one incantation, and a wide arc of semi-transparent, green, interlaced energy spewed forth from her body. It washed over the land in all directions until it came across the King's Vengeance. Suddenly, and with little warning, the members of the King's Vengeance appeared in the castle before Mordred and Morgan.

"Yeoman Armorique! Stefan O'Rodge, of the northern French province or Amorica, travelled to Tintagel Head to lead your militia months ago. When he thought you dead, he helped assemble and forge the team you now see before you and, equipped only with sword and the enchanted shield you gave him, he now seeks to do whatever it is that you may require to be safe on your throne; safe from the Picts, safe from Lordrom, and safe from Merlin. Isn't that right, Stefan?"

"Yes, milady," Yeoman Armorique replied. "I pledge my life, honour and all service to the royal family of the Realm!"

"And then there is Peter Maximoff," Morgan continued, "your former messenger who is almost magickally swift, and who now uses his unnatural speed to serve him in battle. As you can see he is rather uncomfortable at the moment, having just been defeated by the Norse god of lies and deception, Lordrom, and his henchmen."

As Morgan finished speaking, Peter tried to rise. He struggled against his injuries - he thought that, as a result of Lordrom's attack, he had at least a few broken ribs* - and eventually found that he would not be moving in his current state. Still, as a token gesture, he raised his hand in a salute to his king.

"Thank you, Peter," Morgan said. "Your effort is appreciated. And so, I heal you." Morgan gestured again, and uttered one long incantation. Peter soon realised that his injuries were completely healed, and he rose to bow to his king.

"Wanda Maximoff is Peter's twin sister. Like me, Wanda is a sorceress, only her magickal ability is somewhat undefined. Combined with her brother's speed, however, she felled the Sea King Namor with a powerful energy spell that is unknown to me. The incantations are rather chaotic, and not the variety of magick with which I have sought to make myself familiar... but I digress... Wanda, bow to your liege," Morgan instructed.

Wanda did as she was told, bowing to King Mordred. The young king eyes her hungrily, and even thought of licking his lips, before realising that his mother would more than likely slice off his tongue for such an act.

"Clinton LeBarr, Longbow, was born of a French mother and English father. He is the realm's greatest marksman and the partner of Yeoman Armorique. Though eighty-percent blind in one eye, he has been able to compensate by forever covering that eye with a patch and becoming used to the use of a single eye.

"I could heal the eye, naturally, but that would destroy the years of training LeBarr has undergone to retrain his mind and redevelop his hand-eye co-ordination," Morgan explained. "Longbow, bow to your master."

"No," Longbow said before he curtseyed.

"Foolish cur!" Morgan snapped. She lashed out with a bolt of pure eldritch energy, which struck the marksman square in his near-totally-blind eye. The force was enough to knock him half way across what was once the throne room, and when he recovered, he realised his eye had changed - he still could not see from it, but it presented him with tactical information, such as distance, weak points in an enemy, and more. He examined Morgan with his new, magick-born eye, and for a moment he could have sworn he saw her look worried.

"Gigantus and his wife, Pixie - whose true names are Henry and Joan Pyment - have lived on a nearby island for some time, opting for exile after Henry developed signs of mental consumption that led to him attacking his fellow scientists," Morgan explained. "Henry developed a size-changing potion that has since been stolen and used by Erik Josten, the smuggler."

"Iron Knight you may know better as the royal blacksmith, Anthony Stark, whom you have had craft weapons and shields for your militia since taking power months ago," Morgan told Mordred. "He has since found ways to enchant the products of his craft, and uses such enchantments in battle to great effect."

"I hope you understand that I cannot bow in this armour," Iron Knight explained. Mordred did not react.

"These are your King's Vengeance, Mordred," Morgan concluded. "They have sworn their loyalty to you... oh, come now, why do you look so concerned?"

"The avenging servants of the king," Morgan finished her son's sentence. "That is why they are called the King's Vengeance. But if it makes you feel any better..." Morgan made a gesture that left everyone, except for herself, Mordred, Percy and the mute servant Piotr frozen in time. She then began to concentrate, to cast a complex spell that would take some time, and through it all, even as Mordred began to speak, Piotr looked on in sorrow.

Everyone had thought Piotr a mute. Throughout his entire childhood, no-one had heard him make a single utterance; then, when he turned fifteen and his skin changed into thick steel, it was thought that his new skin and lack of speech were the work of the devil and he was exiled from his Eastern European homeland to Scandia. In Scandia, he found work as the servant of the brave Sir Percy, the one man to whom Piotr would ever speak. Speech was certainly within Piotr's capabilities; he just chose not to use it.

"Morgan, mother, this is foolishness!" Mordred cried. "Bringing the Avengers here - didn't they defeat you enough times in the future in which I was born?"

"I feel that dominating them is better than fleeing from them, Mordred," Morgan explained, "and do not take that tone with me again. The essences of the future heroes have filled the souls of normal men in this reality, and these men can be used to do our bidding."

"You know as well as I that the Avengers always realise what has gone on and alter things to their liking!"

"If the Avengers do realise what I have done, it will not be before they find themselves the doers of ultimate evil," Morgan argued. "They will know that they have killed Merlin, and doomed this world for eternity."

In an earthy dwelling at the center of Tintagel Forest, south of Tintagel Head, Merlin the Mystic sat in a laboratory consulting his spellbooks and mystical orbs. He had found the secret to defeating Morgan Le Fey, of that he was sure, but it would take preparation.

He could detect Morgan's magick. It was an almost tangible thing to him - it washed across the world in purple waves, exerting the sorceress' influence upon the world's population. But all of the magick relied on Morgan. She was so insecure in her power that all of her spells depended on her remaining alive and in control. That was Merlin's advantage. He knew that the ebony sword of the Black Knight could dispel any magic if wielded correctly. What's more, Wotan, King of the Norse gods, had himself enchanted the sword with a powerful spell. On its hilt, written in norse runes, an inscription read:

"Whosever wields this blade, if he be a worthy kinsman of Lord Percy, shall wield the power of Wotan."

The sword was intended as an accompaniment to Donar's mighty hammer Mjolnir. The father and the son - Wotan and Donar - were supposed to battle fiercely in defence of the world one day; but upon Wotan's death his power was passed on to Donar by way of the ebony blade. Donar in turn handed the sword to his great champion Percy who used the all-father's power to battle for good.

Yet Percy had been slain by Mordred Pendragon, wielder of the mighty sword Excalibur. The sword, and the enchanted armour that came with it, had been lost beneath the waves off Tintagel Head. A quick seeking spell found the weapon and armour, and an even simpler summoning spell retrieved them and placed them in the posession of Nathan Garrett, Percy's nephew.

So it came to pass that Merlin the Mystic had two champions by his side - the new Black Knight, Nathan Garrett, and Prince Namor, King of the undersea kingdom of Atlantis and all of its satellite colonies beneath the ocean waves. Both had reason to fight against the unjust rule of Mordred and his despicable progenitor and Merlin hoped that with their aid he would be able to forge an army powerful enough to destroy them once and for all.

"We have a difficult task ahead of us," Merlin explained to his allies. "Lordrom, the norse god of evil and deception, has enchanted a band of champions of his own. They were recently defeated by the King's Vengeance. If we can convince them to join with us, with their hatred of the Vengeance, we may be able to do what must be done to overthrow Mordred."

"Lordrom..." Namor snarled. He had faced, and been betrayed, by Lordrom once already. In fact, Namor was actually responsible for Lordrom's release onto the Earth.* He sought vengeance on the god. "Let me at him!"

"No!" Merlin snapped. "I am the only one here with the power to defeat the trickster god. Namor, you and Nathan must keep Lordrom's forces at bay." Merlin turned to his other charge - a young boy named Stephen. His apprentice. "Stephen, my young, strange apprentice. It is up to you to defend this small stronghold from anyone who may attack in my absence." He reached into his pocket and withdrew seven small crystal spheres which he handed to the young man. "Each of these orbs has been enchanted with a spell designed for a specific purpose. If the time comes for you to use them, you will know, and you will know what each orb is for."

"Very well, sea king," Merlin said. He raised both arms above his head, and in a wisp of black smoke he and his warriors were spirited away.

Lordrom, Simon Willhelm, and their Masters of Evil were licking their wounds after a merciless attack by the King's Vengeance. Despite outnumbering the Vengeance quite dramatically, the Picts and the Masters of Evil came close to being defeated. Had Morgan not teleported the King's Vengeance away when she did, Lordrom and his forces would most likely be reduced to worm food. They needed time to rest and recover, but they would not get it.

As the Masters tried to regain their composure after meeting almost certain death, three figures materialised on the ground before them - Prince Namor, the Submariner; Nathan Garrett, the Black Knight; and Merlin the Mystic, magician of the Royal Court. They took only a moment to survey their opponents... and so did Lordrom.

"Why, Merlin... and if it isn't Namor, too! How wonderful!" Lordrom sneered. "Surely you don't think you can defeat us here, in our stronghold, with the Pict army behind us?"

Merlin shook his head. "We are not looking for conflict, godling, although we will meet it where we find it. No... we have come only to talk. Battle can wait."

"Battle can wait... no longer!" Namor cried. He leaped into the air toward Lordrom, his fists raised ahead of him. The power of his mighty leap, coupled with the flapping of the wings on his ankles, made the Atlantean prince move like a living torpedo. He struck the norse god square in the chest, but his opponent did not move.

Lordrom was, of course, quite powerful - he was bred from the same hardy stock at his mighty brother, Donar. However, recently, Lordrom acquired one of the most incredibly powerful artefacts in the history of his race: an enchanted nornstone! Now his power was almost beyond measure, and the meager attack of a super-strong sea king would do little to thwart him.

"Namor..." Merlin sighed. "Nathan, hold these other warriors at bay. I must assist our wayward ally."

"... Hold them at bay? All of them?" Nathan asked. "Oooooooo-kay." Nathan Garrett raised the ebony blade of the Black Knight high above his head as dozens of Pict soldiers stalked toward him. He wondered how he could hope to defeat them when, suddenly, he found himself slashing, hacking, kicking and punching his way through the living obstacle course. The blows issues by his armoured fists seemed enough to shatter mountains, and as the ebony blade struck armour and flesh he could swear he saw the slightest vestiges of some ancient, undreamt of power flowing through the darkened steel.

The Masters of Evil did not act - at least not straight away. The Black Knight's assault left them dazzled. They could not determine how a man as young and slight as he could best so many hardened Pict soldiers so easily. They were wary to add their own blood to that already spilled... all except for Erik Josten, the man men called Goliath.

Goliath used his science-borne powers to grow to titanic proportions, easily dwarfing the Black Knight in moments. He raised a massive, tree-trunk-width sinewed hand toward the comparatively microscopic warrior and struck with the full fury of his oversized fist. Nathan was able to dodge the immediate blow but a shockwave rippled through the earth, knocking him off of his feet and sending him straight into a wall of onrushing Picts.

The Beetle and the Tinkerer decided to join the battle. The Tinkerer rapidly crafted weapons never before seen or conceived of in all of reality and handed them to the armoured Beetle for use against the Black Knight. The new, laser-based projectile launchers fired directly on the Black Knight's armoured form, but although they all hit, the knight did not stumble. Instead, he grabbed Pict after Pict and deployed them as human shields. He would one day regret that, but he knew that at that moment in time his safety was more important for the security of the actuality than the safety of any number of Picts.

With renewed courage the last remaining member of the Masters of Evil flew into action. Melany O'Rourke, the woman known as Songbird, ducked and weaved through the battle, straight toward the Black Knight. From watching the others, she knew that a direct assault would lead nowhere. Instead, she had to use her wits, to create a solid sound orb large enough to entomb the armoured Black Knight and cut off his access to life-sustaining oxygen. With great concentration she did as she felt she had to, and the Black Knight was captured.

On the other side of the Pict camp Lordrom was matching his wits against two foes of his own - Namor and Merlin. The sire of Atlantis was unleashing the full might of his own god-born strength (he was, after all, the son of Poseidon), but to little avail. Merlin, in turn, was doing all he could to keep Lordrom off-balance, casting spells and hexes to dazzle and stun the powerful norse god. Lordrom, however, was doing almost nothing to keep himself safe - when compared to that of any foe, even Merlin, Lordrom's power was inconceivable.

"I tire of this," Lordrom said flippantly. With a simple gesture he summoned a blast of eldritch energy which, directed at Namor, tore the amphibious monarch's right arm out of its socket and cauterised the resulting wound at the same time. Namor was dazed from the blow, and he stumbled straight back into the Black Knight's battle.

Namor lashed out against the Picts and Masters of Evil that had besieged the Black Knight. They thought his only weapon was his remaining arm, but they were wrong. With one swing of his left arm he grabbed a Pict soldier and tore the ribs from his chest. With an almighty heave he threw the bony projectile at Songbird who, taken by surprise, released the Black Knight from his bondage.

The Black Knight rejoined the battle, matching black steel with magickal energy blasts. But the weight of numbers pressed hard against Namor and Nathan began to wear the heroes down, and they soon found their options limited.

"Namor," Nathan remarked. "My sword possesses a lot of power. I may be able to hold these soldiers back, but anyone nearby will be injured. Badly. Get out of here. Help Merlin."

"Go!" the Black Knight cried, and Namor took to the air. The Black Knight swung his sword, searching for the nearest target - he found it in the Beetle and, driving his sword deep into the malefactor's armour - but not entire through it - he channeled and unleashed the combine energy of the sword and magickal garb to create a large explosion that knocked all of the Masters and Nathan backwards and into the realm of the barely conscious if, indeed, they were conscious at all.

After seeing the defeat of his ally, Merlin reached out with his right hand and summoned the ebony blade of the Black Knight to him, and with it in hand he continued his assault on Lordrom. Now, Lordrom paid attention; he knew full well the origin of the Black Knight's sword and the shocking power that it could command. He also knew that only a relative of Sir Percy could command the full power of the blade, but that any individual could still use a portion of its might.

"You have just taken our little contest to a new level, mystic," Lordrom snarled.

"As it must be..." Merlin said solemnly. He struck with the ebony blade again and again, even though each time the blade was deflected by the awesome power of the nornstone-equipped Lordrom. But Lordrom could do little to fight back - his power was so consumed with defending him from the attacks of the blade that he could not direct enough attention to the nornstone to be able to defeat Merlin.

"It seems we are at a stalemate," Lordrom remarked. Merlin did not reply, at least not in words, as he unleashed a mystic storm the likes of which had never been seen upon the Earth. The sword channeled his power against Lordrom and continued to keep the god off-balance.

Namor, having barely escaped the Black Knight's force blast, entered the ship that had carried the Masters of Evil across the English Channel. He was looking for a weapon, anything that might help he and Merlin defeat Lordrom. Delving deep into the sea vessel's hold, he found a prisoner. Her name was Karla Sofen, of Scandia, and once she had been a servant to Donar himself. Then, with the power of the nornstone at her command, she became the villainous Nornstone. Lordrom had thought her treacherous and taken the nornstone from her. He kept her prisoner within the ship, even as he used the power of the artefact in battle against Merlin.

"Lady, are you alright?" Namor asked as he released Sofen from the bonds with bound her. "Did Lordrom do this?"

Sofen thought for a moment. She knew the ways of the nornstone, even how to overcome its power. But was it right to tell this man, this stranger, how he could best not only Lordrom and Mordred, but even Donar, king of Scandia? Or was it better to use the stranger, to have him reclaim the nornstone in her name?"

"I... I know how to combat the nornstone's power," Sofen said. "But first you must - "

As Namor and Sofen spoke within the confines of the ship, Simon Willhelm watched the battle between Merlin and Lordrom with great interest. He was confused, and lost - Lordrom had told him that the King's Vengeance were responsible for destroying Avalon, but he had no idea why they would then be fighting the great Merlin. But he trusted Lordrom, and while he didn't know what action he should take, he knew Lordrom would not steer him wrong.

Merlin continued to send torrent after torrent of spells at Lordrom's defensive form, never able to get through the norseman's barriers but able to keep Lordrom so on-the-defensive that he could not retaliate. He knew, in his heart-of-hearts, that he would tire long before Lordrom... but he had to keep trying. He was ready to hunker down for the long term, and it came as a complete surprise when -

Namor blew through a hole in the ship's hull, aiming straight for Lordrom. He could see the nornstone attached to the god's belt, and that was his target. Sofen had told him how the nornstone was physically weak, and how the simplest manipulation could shatter it into thousands of useless pieces. Namor, his strength and flight as his servants, was to retrieve the nornstone for her - at least, he was going to try.

"Wha - ?" Lordrom and Merlin asked in unison. They were both distracted by Namor's sudden attack, and they both stopped their spellcasting efforts as they tried to avoid the onrushing amphibian. Lordrom was the first to regain his composure, and he unleashed the full fury of his own, god-borne powers, coupled with the nornstone, against Namor's form. The Atlantean monarch disintegrated into so many pieces of matter before he even reached Lordrom and, scattered to the wind, he soon became lost forever.

The nornstone, now accessible as part of Lordrom's offensive arsenal, was soon turned to Merlin. The aged mage recoiled as Lordrom approached, his body literally seething with god-like and magickal energy. Merlin was not going to be a match for the newly-empowered Lordrom, but there was someone who might be.

"Ho, King's Vengeance!" Mordred cried as he and his minions, including Sir Percy and Piotr, approached on artificial winds borne of Morgan's magic. "Our two greatest foes stand before us. Destroy them!"

Merlin took the opportunity to send one last blast of eldritch energy against Lordrom and this time it got through. The god staggered, glared at Merlin for a moment, and then declared: "Power! I need more power!"

He took sight of Simon Willhelm, hovering in the distance, observing the battle. Utilising the power of the nornstone he reached out, creating a conduit between himself and the man who was entirely composed of pure magic, and began to siphon the energy. He started to grow, even as Willhelm shrank, and his musculature began to increase while his features became twisted and evil. Bolts of lightning and insanely powerful winds started to blanket the area, and it soon became apparent that Lordrom had surpassed any previous conception of godhood.

"Lordrom, you fool! You mad, desperate fool!" Merlin cried. "There is only so much power that can be contained by one man... or god...!"

"Silence!" Lordrom's voice was so loud that it shattered trees. Without so much as a single visible motion Lordrom set the Earth to attack its former master, Merlin. Tree branches grew rapidly, and vines and grass entwined to restrain the former master of mysticism, but Lordrom did not kill him... yet.

Instead, he reawakened his Masters of Evil and set them to attack the King's Vengeance. They fought valiantly, as they had before, but they were weakened after their battle with the Black Knight and Namor. Besides, while Mordred held the sword Excalibur he could not be harmed. All of this left Merlin only one option.

"Karla Sofen!" he cried. "Attend me!" Karla Sofen cautiously approached the imprison magician, who was still holding the ebony blade of the Black Knight. She kept her distance, but came close enough to hear Merlin speak to her without Mordred overhearing.

"It is all down to you, Sofen," Merlin said plainly. "All of this - well, most of this - has been part of my plan from the beginning, from the moment Morgan altered this reality. Now, you must play your part - "

"There is no time to explain that now, Sofen. As you can see, I am otherwise occupied," Merlin explained. "But we must draw out Morgan if we are to have any hope of defeating Lordrom, and to do that, you must kill me."

"Morgan is the sorceress mother of King Mordred," Merlin explained quickly. "She has enough power to defeat and destroy Lordrom, but she will not do it unless she is safe in her power. She will only be safe in her own power when Mordred is slain and she is free to rule the realm. The only way to slay Mordred is to destroy the enchantment I placed on Excalibur... and the only way to destroy the enchantment is to kill me!*"

"I'm not asking you to be a killer," Merlin replied. "I'm asking you to be a hero."

Karla Sofen thought about that for a moment. Was that what she wanted? To be a hero, to save the day? That was part of her goal when she took Donar's assignment to spy on Zemo and his smuggling, but she didn't want this, she didn't want to be at the center of the most powerful fight ever in the universe. But if she could stop it... wasn't that her duty? No! She only had to look after herself, her country, her -

She tore the ebony blade from Merlin's hand and, with one strike, cut off the magician's head. In a time so short that to some it seemed to have happened minutes earlier, the ethereal form of a fully-empowered Morgan Le Fey arrived on the scene. She looked, pityingly, upon her son. She had thought she loved him, once, when he was first born. But now he was going to die by the same hand that had given him life. She began an incantation, but was stopped when Lordrom struck with a powerful magickal blow.

"You're powerful, godling," Morgan said. "But I am power!" She made a motion with her arm, and the future-essences of the King's Vengeance and Masters of Evil was drawn into her, redoubling her power. She lashed out at Lordrom, who not only countered her strike, but added his own.

"You are not as powerful as you think!" Lordrom cried. He struck again and again, keeping the sorceress unable to attack. Or so he thought.

"ENOUGH!" she roared, and as Lordrom had done to Merlin minutes earlier, she turned the Earth against her opponent. The very earth tore from the ground and formed a shell around Lordrom, held in place by vines, bent branches, and roots. It was child's play for Lordrom to cast the restraints off, but the distraction cost him dearly as Morgan took the opportunity to strike against the nornstone. It fractured, slightly, with such a minor effect that neither mage even noticed.

The battle raged for close to an hour until, in a great cosmic coincidence seldom scene across the multiverse, Morgan and Lordrom struck one another with identical spells at the same time. The effect was to hold them in a kind of temporary stasis, with the nornstone, as a kind of mystical battery, absorbing the identical energies. It would have left Lordrom more powerful than his opponent if not for the minute fracture - the nornstone was unable to take the strain and it shattered, as Karla Sofen had hoped before, into thousands of useless slivers. Morgan and Lordrom were blown to the ground where they gasped, almost powerless - their magickal energies had been largely absorbed by the nornstone.

Mordred was quick on his feet. He dove toward the spot where Lordrom lay, with Excalibur firmly in his grasp. He raised the sword above the weak god's head and, with one blow, he cleaved the god in two, straight down the middle. He then turned his attention to Morgan.

"Silence!" Morgan screeched. "The enchantment on Excalibur has been broken and you can be slain... and I have power enow to vanquish you!"

"Oh, mother," Mordred sighed. "You would not have enough power left to stand. Please, you lived your entire life without a shred of dignity. At least die with some."

Mordred raised the sword again, and struck. He drove the blade deep into his mother's heart, and her body ceased moving - forever. He turned to Piotr and Sir Percy and motioned for them to follow him. Sir Percy, the obedient automaton, did as he was instructed. Piotr, however, looked grim as he followed his master into the forest.

Karla Sofen looked at the wreckage before her. The King's Vengeance was dead. The Masters of Evil were dead. Merlin was dead. The Black Knight... was alive! As Karla watched, Nathan Garrett slowly staggered, injured, to his feet. He approached and laid out a hand to retrieve the ebony blade. She returned it to him, and the two paused for a moment to survey the enormous amount of damage before them.

TALES OF THE PENDRAGONS	Tales of the Pendragons, featuring
#37
Early 1400s	Part Four