X-MEN ETERNITY

eXcalibur #1: "White Hot"
Rated PG-13 for violence and language

by R. John Burke
X-Men Eternity Message Board: http://solofan.proboards76.com/index.cgi

DISCLAIMER: The X-Men are a copyright of Marvel Comics. I don't own them, but this is only non-profit fan fiction. No money is involved and no infringement is intended.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: X-Men Eternity started (in Uncanny #1: The Shattering) with the events at the end of "House of M" and went in a different direction. Nothing that happened after that is cannon for our purposes, and in fact a few things have changed; the team is spread through time and space, and some characters who were dead, um, aren't. "eXcalibur: Eternity" deals with a part of the team trapped in an alternate reality in the time of King Arthur.

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Parallel Earth 225
The British Isles
A long, long time ago...

The lady's name is Rahne Sinclair, but you can call her Wolfsbane.

Meeting her for the first time, you'd probably notice only a short, wiry redhead, with a cultivated American accent barely concealing her Scottish origin. But Rahne is a mutant, possessing the talent of lycanthropy. In layman's terms, she's sort of a werewolf. But a cute one.

Once, she was a student at Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, as one of the New Mutants-- intended successors to Xavier's team, the X-Men. That didn't exactly work out, although Rahne did return to the Institute as a teacher for a short time. That didn't work out, either.

The point worth noting, however, is that Rahne Sinclair has led something of an unusual life. In her day, she's fought fellow mutants, alien invaders, evil robots, and would-be gods. She's even been chased by humans with torches.

If she actually burns as the stake today, however, it will be a first.

She trudges along in irons, on a dim, foggy morning, toward the pyre that has been built already by the people of the town. There's a great crowd of them, lining up around the square, anxious to see the witch get what she deserves for her sorcery. They little suspect-- or would little believe-- that Rahne is herself a devout Christian, and has often wondered if her powers aren't an evil curse.

Which is not to say she's in any hurry to burn to death. She'd happily fight them with all her might, but some power prevents her from transforming to her wolf state, and her human form simply isn't up to the task.

The power belongs to the man in black robes walking ahead of her-- tall, broad-shouldered, with a pockmarked face and a long beard. The man's name is Merlin, or so he says. But Merlyn, as least the one from Rahne's home, is the father of Roma, an entity who once championed the X-Men in their battle with the powerful spirit known as the Adversary.

To coin a phrase, the X-Men know Merlyn, Merlyn is a friend of theirs, and this fellow is no Merlyn. What he is, Rahne suspects, is a chronoskimmer... a mutant with the ability to see into future timelines. The fellow took a liking to the King Arthur legend and used his power to remake his world in that image. A warped image, containing little of the original legend and less than nothing of its nobility or grandeur. He's even modernized the language; people here sometimes talk a little like Shakespeare, but nothing like Chaucer.

It is a very different world than the one Rahne knows in other ways, too. With a few exceptions, such as the psychic vampire Selene and En Sabah Nur-- Apocalypse-- mutants didn't make much impression on her Earth until the mid-20^th Century. Here, the mutations manifested much earlier, when mankind wasn't even close to ready to deal with them, and the world is catastrophically changed because of it. At least one in ten of the people shouting at Rahne as she walks past are probably mutants. Some of them prove themselves useful to Merlin and are conscripted to his service. Others are done away with in ceremonies like this.

None of them seem to like werewolves very much. Old habits died hard; besides, someone with Rahne's animal senses could detect the aura of falsehood about Merlin a mile away, so perhaps that is why he finds it expedient to be rid of them.

Merlin halts in front of the pyre and raises his arms. The procession halts with him, and Rahne is hauled forward. She confronts him, briefly, before they chain her to the pyre. In this time and place, her new manner of speech is no asset-- the average folk have never heard of an American-- so she falls into more familiar patterns:

"Is this the part where I join ye or die?"

"No," he says, "this is only where you die."

Rahne moves on, grumbling: "Wouldna ha' joined ye anyway, ye wretched sot. If ye had yer manners, though, you'd ha' *offered*..."

Merlin smiles. The crowd cheers him on. He is in his glory. In the midst of this glory, he nods to the men who approach with torches, giving them permission to begin the festival. They touch their torches to the pyre-- Rahne chokes back a sob, then a scream, unwilling to believe it will really end in this manner.

There is a spark. There is a flame, white hot... but Rahne does not burn.

The pyre goes up in a blaze... an unearthly flame which, around the edges, takes on the outline of a terrible raptor, a literal Phoenix, and even Merlin looks a little afraid.

Then, from the heart of the flames, steps a beautiful woman... red hair, like Rahne's. Possessor of a mutant X-gene like Rahne's. But in every way that matters, nothing like Rahne or any other being in the world.

"Hello," she says to Merlin, standing between him and his prize. "Am I late for the party?"

The heat is incredible, the terror even more so. Rahne manages about half a prayer before she passes out, and all this becomes nothing but a hazy, indistinct dream, best forgotten. That's what it seems like, anyway. That's what it *should* be.

Unfortunately for Rahne Sinclair, and possibly for the Universe in general, it is very real.

****

Rahne awoke somewhat later, staring at a ceiling of carved stone, wondering about the number plate of the tour bus that ran her down. Then she remembered what happened and sat up, panicking...

"She's alive!"

No response; just the sun rising through her window, also carved from stone. Rahne ran to it and gasped for air, trying to remember, to figure things out...

Laughter from behind her, low and gravelly. Rahne whirled--

"Nice nap, girl?" Cain Marko, better known as the Juggernaut, sat at her bedside, keeping watch. He smiled, an expression that still didn't sit right on a face that had been recognized as a deadly enemy for far too long. "Jeannie said you'd be comin' 'round about this time. Shoulda known not to doubt her, by now."

"Ye've been here-- how long?"

"Day, maybe." Cain shrugged self-consciously. "Whatever Merlin zapped you with, it sure it took a lot out of ya."

"I--" she cleared her throat. "Thank ye, Mr. Marko. It was good of ye."

"Yeah, whatever." He glanced toward the door. "Heads up, boss lady's comin'."

Rahne started to object, inexplicably frightened at the thought-- but it was too late. A woman had already swept through the door, all red hair and flashing green eyes and long, flowing dress. Very regal, very strong... and not the slightest bit deceased.

Without a word, Rahne morphed into her wolf state, approaching the other warily. The older woman didn't flinch, just held out her hand and let the wolf have a good, long sniff. Finally, Rahne changed back.

"J--Jean Grey?"

Jean nodded. "Rahne Sinclair. It's been a while."

"Well," Rahne said, and sat down on the bed, "that's probably because I'm NOT FLAMIN' DEAD!"

"You sure?" Cain said. "I been tryin' to wrap my mind 'round this for weeks, an' all of us bein' dead makes more sense than anything else."

"All of us?" Rahne asked.

"You're the eighth," said Jean, "and, I think, the last, though I haven't been able to search the way I'd like. My telepathy isn't what it used to be."

"Could ha' fooled me."

"That was mostly for show," Jean said, and smirked. "I'm not sure how much of me is here and how much is... still elsewhere, but my powers seem to be around forty percent at the moment."

"Forty percent o' the Phoenix?" Rahne asked, and the other woman nodded. "Well, thank th' Good Lord it's nae fifty."

Jean laughed. "Believe me, I'm sort of enjoying being mortal myself. Not that a little more juice wouldn't come in handy against Merlin..."

Rahne growled, almost like the wolf she was. "He's a fraud."

"I know, but he's also a formidable telepath. In my present state, I'm not sure I can match him. If the Phoenix Force returns to me full-strength, maybe..."

"That happens," Cain said, "we got bigger problems."

"Fair enough," said Jean. "Fortunately, Merlin's not sure he can take me, either-- and I'm doing everything possible to convince him he wouldn't have a prayer. Telepaths are nobility here... so I've got something of a following. For the time being, we've forged a truce."

"How di' we get here, though?" Rahne's head was in her hands; she had a monstrous headache. "Where's home, an' how'd we leave it?"

"I think that's my fault," Jean said. She proceeded to explain how the Scarlet Witch had tried to change the Universe, and she-- reacting, more than thinking, once awakened from her slumber in the White Hot Room-- had fought back. The telepathic equivalent of a clash of continents, it had shaken everything up-- including scattering groups of X-Men across the Multiverse. (* As seen in "Uncanny X-Men Eternity #1")

"We do have one advantage," Jean said. "With us, we have one of the Stepford Cuckoos, Mindee. She seems to be able to speak to her sisters through their group mind, even across realities. She's put us in touch with home, and with the other stranded teams." (* Also seen in "Uncanny #1" and the other series #1's.)

"I'll wager Scott's thrilled," Rahne said, forgetting herself for a moment...

Too late. Jean turned away. "I... haven't really told him, yet. The other members of the team have been making contact for us. He... the last thing he needs now is a distraction."

"Distraction? You're his wife, lass!"

"Not anymore!" Jean's eyes blazed orange for a second-- a reminder of the Phoenix-- and Rahne flinched. "I'm legally dead, Rahne. For all we know, when this is over, I'll go back to being dead. Why complicate things?"

Cain put his feet up on a previously beautiful piece of furniture. "Plus, he's bangin' Emma Frost."

"Thank you," Jean said while Rahne spluttered, "*very* much for the reminder."

"Just sayin'."

Rahne stuck out her lower lip. "If I was in your shoes, I'd fight fer 'im."

"You're assuming I'd want to," Jean said, very cold. She walked to the door. "Merlin's arranged an audience for you with the King. Let me do the talking."

"I canna wait."

Jan disappeared. Rahne grabbed the pillow off her bed, turned, and flung it at the Juggernaut. He almost fell off his chair.

"Ach, ye flamin' idjit! '*Bangin' Emma Frost*?'"

"Well... I figured... why sugar-coat things?"

"-Mo creach-, I'll sugar-coat yer heid, ye pillock..."

She trailed off. What was the point? A change of clothes, something more period-appropriate, had been laid out at the foot of the bed. Rahne held them up to her and confirmed that they would, in fact, do. She pointed to the door, and Cain Marko, looking slightly disappointed, lumbered his way out of the room.

*Adultery, sorcery, and the Phoenix, too. What a boggin' mess we're in this time...*

"Mr. Marko," she said, just before he was out of earshot. "Who's -we-, by the way? Who else is here?"

"A few old friends," said the Juggernaut, and he grinned.

****

The men on horseback trod through the marketplace as though they owned it, which they did.

Some of them wore decorated armor, others just helmets. The one in the lead wore nothing but a regular tunic and breeches to protect his chiseled physique and sandy, pretty-boy locks. They'd christened themselves the Knights of the Round Table, but to Jamie Madrox's way of thinking, they weren't much more than thugs. They had the powers, the coolest mutations, and the willingness to sell out to a self-styled Merlin. Thus, they got to be Lancelot and Gawain and a whole bunch of other guys whose names would get them beat up on the playgrounds of the 21^st Century.

They also got pretty near anything they wanted, including the peasant woman who was minding her own business beside a fruit stand until one of the 'knights' pulled her up onto the back of his horse. She yelped and pounded the fellow on the back, but he didn't seem to mind. When her husband showed up, the knight's right arm turned into a lance and stuck itself under the guy's throat.

*Great*, Jamie thought, *a metamorph. Because I really wanted to deal with one of -those- today...*

Before he could interfere, however, the procession of horses stopped. A tall blond fellow stood in the road before them, hands folded casually behind his back. Jamie knocked on wood a couple of times, sending dupes off to get into position...

"Stand aside!" the lead knight said.

"Let her go."

The knight sneered. "Do you know who you're addressing, fool?"

"Can't say I care."

"I am Sir Lancelot of the Lake. These are my worthy knights."

"That's cute, pal. What's your real name?"

Lancelot sneered. "Sir Kay does the wench an honor by choosing her."

The blond fellow, thoroughly unimpressed, cast a glance at the captive woman. "You honored, ma'am?" The woman ignored him and kept right on fighting. "She doesn't look honored."

"Begone, fool, before I lose my temper." The man calling himself Lancelot dismounted his horse and drew his sword. Suddenly he blinked. "I do know you. You're one of Lady Jean Grey's companions. I've seen you hiding behind her skirts at court."

"Pattern recognition and comprehension skills and everything. I can see why you're in charge."

The knight advanced and put the tip of his sword against the blond man's throat. "Think'st thou to mock me?"

"No," said the man. "I think you mock yourself pretty well. Here's what I *want* to do, Lance, since you asked: I want to travel forward one thousand years in time, pop open a beer, and watch 'The Sixth Sense' on HBO. Unfortunately, that's not happening. I'm stuck with the hero gig. So here's what we're *going* to do. You're going to release the woman, go home, and never again allow your troupe of rejects from a Renaissance Faire to force themselves on *anyone*. Otherwise, I... hurt you very badly. Now, what do you say?"

Lancelot laughed out loud. "Bold interloper. I like that. I may not kill you. In fact, I thank you for adding sport to my day."

Because he was expecting it, Jamie Madrox noticed before anyone else when the blond fellow began to glow. He took a few steps back, hoping his dupes were smart enough to do the same.

"Mister," the blond said, "you may call it sport... I call it HAVOK!"

Alex Summers cut loose with a blast of concentrated plasma that would have burned a hole in a latter-day tank. It was always a little disconcerting to realize just how powerful the man could be, and how tightly he kept it under control. Now, though, Jamie just hoped he'd put *enough* charge into the blast.

In this screwed-up society of mutant-eat-peasant, a guy didn't get to call himself Sir Lancelot of the Lake for nothing.

Oh, he was thrown all the way to the city limits by Havok's blast... but he came charging back just as fast, his turtle-like natural "armor" having shunted into place in time to save his life. With a single leap, he was back at the head of his knights, while they fanned out around him.

"Jamie!" Alex called, noticing him at last. "This is gonna get rough; better keep that crowd back!"

"My friend," Jamie said, stepping forward at the same moment as half a dozen duplicates, "give me a little credit. I *am* the crowd."

"Oh. Nice. How many can you take, then?"

"I'm guessing?" Jamie dodged, just barely, as the mutant calling himself "Sir Kay" lashed at him with that razor-sharp arm. "Maybe this one..."

"Well... that's something."

It might have been an optimistic appraisal, at that; Kay seemed to grow in size as he lashed out, again and again, with commendable skill. This world's false "Merlin" might have been a charlatan, but he didn't skimp on training his enforcers.

Jamie reacted with all the martial-arts training of a lifetime he hadn't technically lived, knocking the giant on his heels, going for pressure points-- of course, the fun thing about fighting fellow mutants was, you never knew how screwed-up their physiology was, or even if they *had* pressure points. Metamorphs especially.

Alex had his own problems; the obscene "Lancelot" was incredibly fast, and as lethal as Sabretooth. Jamie's companion could dodge and leap and barely evade death by sword, but he couldn't get a clear shot at another plasma blast.

*Probably aimed to take the sucker down with a quick, hard kayo. Nice idea. Didn't work. Now we've got trouble.*

Speaking of kayos, in fact... Jamie fell to his knees in sudden pain and looked around for the source... one of the other knights had skewered one of his dupes. As always, the experience was agony. Two more dupes went after Kay twice as hard, for payback, but they were batted aside. The situation was spiraling out of control.

Just as Kay raised his sword and Jamie Madrox cursed himself for ever doing anything except living in a reinforced bomb shelter while his duplicates lived for him... the tide turned again.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECCCCHHHHHH!!! was the best impression of the sound made when a ripped-off English legend met up with a ripped-off Irish one: In this case, the Banshee, the ghostly hag whose scream summoned people to their deaths.

Sean Cassidy, the X-Man known as the Banshee, didn't usually kill people. Usually. But then, Sean had been having issues lately and these freaks were starting to be *really* irritating. As he soared in from above, his sonic scream blasted "Sir Kay" halfway to the New World. That evened the odds a little.

The best part, though, came a second later, when all the knights except Lancelot himself suddenly froze solid, grabbed their heads, or otherwise experienced technical difficulties.

"Greetings, gents," said the woman flying in tandem with Sean. She fluttered to the ground, green hair flowing behind her in the breeze. "My name's Polaris. Do you fellows know about magnetism yet? I forget. Well... you'll learn. For example, your armor must be getting *very* tight right about now..."

Lorna Dane clenched her fist. One of the knights screamed. Even Lancelot broke off his attack, astonished by what was happening to his men.

"That's enough, woman!" Sean said, as another knight hit the ground. "D'ye intend to massacre 'em?"

"It's a thought," Polaris said, but she relaxed. The X-Men surrounded the remaining knight.

"Well?" said Alex. "Had enough?"

"You and your monstrous companions have dishonored me. I won't forget that."

"This is me still not caring," Alex said. "Do you yield?"

The knight growled. There was a great deal of fight in him; even, Jamie grudgingly admitted, a certain nobility. He lowered his sword.

"For the moment," he said. The assembled heroes breathed a sigh of relief. Lancelot's shaken knights started picking themselves up off the ground.

Which turned out to be short-lived, as a voice started shouting in their heads: --Alex! Lorna! What do you all think you're doing?--

"Sorry, Jean," Alex said aloud. "It kind of snowballed..."

--We're on thin ice as it is, and you start a brawl? You need to get back here, right now.--

"Look, I'm not going to..." But Jean Grey had already cut the telepathic connection. Alex Summers sighed and offered a shrug to his opponent. "In-laws. What can you do?"

Lancelot growled, disinclined to share in the humor. Instead he mounted his horse and waited for Alex to step aside. When the other did, reluctantly, he urged his horse forward and was gone, his cadre following him.

Jamie reabsorbed his dupes. None of them had learned anything interesting. One had been struck solidly in the groin. *Lovely* memory to own.

When he could breathe again, he approached the peasant woman. "We're sorry about that. We didn't mean..."

She shrank from him automatically, ran to her husband's arms. The two of them rabbited without so much as a thank-you. Jamie sighed

"Back home we're hated and feared because we're muties," he said. "I'm used to that. Here, we're hated and feared... why, exactly?"

"'Cause we're so very pretty," Sean said wearily, and turned aside.

"It's because we're like them," Alex said, gesturing down the road the knights had just traveled. "These fellows aren't just giving Camelot a bad name, but mutants, too."

"How do we stop them?" Lorna asked. "That's the thing."

"Don't we have enough to worry about saving *one* world?" Jamie asked.

Nobody answered; he figured that meant he was right, but they didn't want to admit it. Just as well; he'd probably disagree with himself soon enough.

****

At the window of a small cottage on the corner of the square, a man who appeared too young for his white hair stood, staring out at nothing in particular.

"Peter? What's all the commotion out there?"

He turned and moved through the cottage. His sister was in the bedroom, convalescing. He wasn't sure if she would ever get better. He wasn't sure what would happen if she did. He stopped at the door.

"Nothing, dear one. Merlin's lapdogs making friends, as usual."

If he squinted, he could still see the formidable, dark-haired beauty his sister had one been. Now she was pale and feverish, as though her body was reacting to the terrible stresses her mind had undergone.

Some of the villagers feared she had the plague. The man who called himself Peter might have wished it was only that.

"We should... help them," his sister said, trying to rise.

Peter hurried to her side-- and he was a world-class hurrier. "No--no, you're not nearly strong enough. And... these people wouldn't want our help."

She stared at him, brown eyes perhaps really seeing him for the first time in a long while. "I haven't been myself."

"No. But you'll get better."

"I think-- I've done something terrible. I feel that, but I don't remember..."

"It wasn't your fault," he said, and took her hand. "It's ancient history."

She smiled. "You're good to me."

"You're my responsibility," he said. "Get some rest, dear one. I'll return soon."

He was at the door in a split-second; it was too painful to stay. He walked back into the main room shaking his head, still wondering how it could possibly have come to this...

That's when he saw the shadow. He had seen it before, always at the fringe of his vision, and wondered... and now, at once, he knew. It spoke to him.

--You cannot save her, Pietro Maximoff. You might as well give up.--

He whirled at top-speed, and saw the thing: Black, bottomless, nearly man-shaped but also... not. It faded away. "I know what you are, monster. I have seen you before."

--No, Pietro. You have never seen anything but what you wanted to see.--

Pietro jabbed a finger at... where it had been. "You did this to her!"

--Not so. I never even appeared to her directly. She made the opportunity. Can you blame me for taking it?--

"You must have... you warped her. Attacked her mind. It was never her fault. Wanda is a good person... a hero! *I* am a..."

--Selfish boy,-- the thing supplied, having appeared again at the corner of his eye. --And you used to call yourself an Avenger. You're not worthy of the name, or of her. You're right, Pietro. Your sister is a hero. She is strong. It takes so little to corrupt the strong ones... often, one needs only show them what they desire.--

"Is that what you did?" Pietro whispered, hands clenched into fists.

--Encouraged only. Tainted perceptions, slightly. Don't blame me for your sins, boy. If either of you had stopped this at the beginning, I wouldn't be here. I must thank you that I am. But now your usefulness-- and hers-- is at an end.--

"I will stop you. I will..."

--What?-- it mocked him. --Punch me very fast? I tremble.--

Pietro bolted-- from a dead start, he whirled around the room in half a second, intending to catch the thing off-guard. He passed through it... but it was Pietro, and not the creature, who fell to his knees. He felt frozen solid, could barely breathe. His mind boggled at the intensity of the chill he felt...

--Enjoy your stay in this shriveled reality, boy. You will never go home.--

"W-wrong," he stammered, through frozen lips. "Game's not over yet. While she lives, she will fight you. And I won't let her die."

A sound... laughter, perhaps. The clouds concealing the creature billowed and broiled. --Face facts, boy. The Scarlet Witch has destroyed herself. The Phoenix is fragmented. Xavier is gone. None other can stand against me.--

"The X-Men..."

--Tell them, if you wish. I have revealed myself to one of their number already. (* the Angel, in "X-Factor Eternity #1") Knowledge will not save them.--

"You talk a lot," Pietro hissed. "You do little."

--We're not all of us impulsive fools, Pietro.-- The blackness began to fade away. --I do what I must, and nothing more. I didn't have to corrupt her. You did that for me.--

"NO!" Pietro cried, shaking his fist. "It doesn't end here. For what you've done to my sister, monster-- to ME-- I swear I will destroy you!"

--How?--

The blackness faded, and with it the echo of mocking laughter from its depths. And kneeling there on a dirt floor, furious and half-broken, Pietro Maximoff had to admit he posed an excellent question.

****

The man who would be King Arthur on this world turned out to be nothing but a fair-haired boy, still in his middle teens. He had a tendency to look at Merlin sideways every few seconds, as though seeking the "wizard's" approval. Rahne, and presumably everyone else in the blessed kingdom, knew where the authority really lay.

"What is the meaning of this, Jean Grey?" the boy asked. "After we extended our hand to you in friendship, offered you the best of our Kingdom, you show your gratitude by disobeying our commands and disrupting our most holy of ceremonies?"

Jean stepped forward, now flanked by Alex, Sean, and Lorna. "The girl is a countryman of mine, Your Majesty. She has committed no crime and means no harm."

"She is a base and evil creature!" Merlin exclaimed. "Her kind is not tolerated here!"

"Well... back home we're a little more liberal."

When Jean smirked just so, she really could look quite infuriating. She managed to goad the telepath into stepping up to do his own dirty work:

"Often have you told us, Lady Grey, of the strange land in which you were born and your perilous journey to arrive here. Perhaps you'd like to tell us exactly where it is."

"Sure," Alex muttered. "Soon as you tell -us- who won Super Bowl XL."

Merlin's lip twitched; he was very good at ignoring references to his chronological travels when necessary, but not so good at abiding smart mouths in general. He paced in front of the throne.

"Great deeds have been done in this kingdom by we who command the Holy Magicks. Truly, it is a place smiled upon by God. We will not have its power corrupted by foul beasts and demons!"

"Scratch Nightcrawler off the guest list," whispered Lorna.

"What wrong has she committed?" Jean pressed.

"She breathes," said Merlin. "That is enough."

It was all Rahne could do not to morph and carve him a more open mind. She'd dealt with irrational hate-mongers before... her biological father had been one... but at least they had the excuse of ignorance. To *know* that Merlin was only playing off the fears of this primitive people because she was a danger to him...

Someone cleared her throat. The Queen, this realm's Guinevere. A few years older than the monarch and as stunningly beautiful as legend would have required, she hadn't said a word since Rahne was presented, but she spoke now:

"I have known many evil people, but none so terrible that I fear the simple fact of their existence."

"Thank ye, Your Majesty," Rahne said, bowing low. "If I may speak... I see tha' God does smile upon this kingdom. Ye've been blessed with prosperity, health, and... such great bonnie friends as Merlin. Ye have my pledge, I mean ye no harm. If ye believe in God as ye say, then I ask ye to exercise the greatest of His blessings... mercy, Your Majesty. I ask your mercy, and nothing else."

"The devil speaks with a silver tongue," said Merlin. "But I think actions speak ever so much more loudly than words..."

He gestured, and Rahne's world fell apart. As he'd prevented her from transforming in the square, now he triggered her mutation involuntarily-- and she morphed into the wolf for all to see. The King and Queen drew back in terror; several members of the court gasped. One screamed.

At the same time, Merlin hit her with a telepathic burst-- every negative emotion in the book. Hate, rage, fear, jealousy, loneliness. In her human form, Rahne would have been hard-pressed to overcome them. In her wolf state, where instinct and predatory nature were so much closer to the surface, it was all but impossible. Rahne snarled like the wild thing she was.

--NO,-- she heard Jean say, in her head. --Merlin's trying to trap you. He wants you to go berserk. I'll help you fight, Rahne, but you have to ride it out.--

Don't WANT to, her mind said. Want to fight him kill him EAT him MAKE IT STOP!!!

--I know,-- said Jean, icy calm. --But you won't.--

As she'd promised, Jean reinforced Rahne's willpower as she struggled with the wizard. Some of the oppressive weight drowning Rahne's logical mind seemed to lift. She lowered her head, hackles up, growling and pawing the cold stone beneath her feet. The battle was hard. She feared she'd never gain any ground. At length, she did.

Slowly, with teeth bared in Merlin's direction, Rahne approached the thrones. Arthur was nearly hyperventilating, but Rahne wasn't aiming for him. She approached Guinevere, who was wide-eyed with terror but unwilling to flinch.

With a final effort, Rahne dispelled the last of Merlin's influence from her mind. She sat down beside the Queen's throne and whined. Guinevere reached out to her.

"No, don't!" Merlin cried.

The Queen ignored him. Slowly, cautiously, she extended a hand to Rahne... who licked it like a pup, then curled up at her feet while the Queen scratched behind her ears.

Guinevere laughed. "Truly a fearsome beast."

"Your Majesty mustn't be taken in by..."

"Will you bring us a cat next, Merlin? I'd like something to sleep at the foot of my bed."

Most of the court laughed. Lancelot, looming in the background, did not, although his eyes didn't leave the Queen. Anger radiated off Merlin in waves.

"You don't understand the danger of--"

"We are satisfied," Arthur interrupted. "The girl is no threat to us, and we will grant Lady Grey's request for her release. Her conduct will ever be the Lady's responsibility."

"Of course, Your Highness, thank you," said Jean, and bowed. Behind her, Lorna stuck her tongue out at the wizard.

"As you say, Your Majesty. Your will be done." Merlin glowed. "By your leave?"

Arthur gesture, and the wizard stalked away. He did have two telepathic comments as he swept past their group:

--This isn't over,-- he sent to Jean, and to Alex: --Pittsburgh. Terrible officiating.--

Then he was gone, with Lancelot just behind him. Slowly, Jean and the others relaxed.

--Um, Rahne?-- she sent telepathically. --You can, you know...--

--Oh.-- Rahne purred for the Queen once more, then stepped away from the throne and morphed. "Thank'ee, Your Majesty. I've been tryin' ta scratch tha' spot for months now."

The Queen laughed again. Even Jean smiled. Somebody brought out flaming pins and started to juggle them. It probably wasn't over, but a breather was nice.

****

Alex Summers was alone in his cavernous and ever-drafty bedchamber, trying to pretend the time he'd spent roughing it in the desert with Lorna was enough to prepare him for the complete lack of modern conveniences he knew now and a bed that seemed to be stuffed with broken glass, when he heard a small knock on the door.

"Please be the Chinese takeout I ordered," he said, and sat up in bed. "C'mon in."

"Alex, I..." Jean Grey entered the room, carrying a candle. She frowned when she saw his half-dressed state and disheveled blankets. "I didn't think you'd be asleep yet."

"Well, the nightlife here is lacking. What's on your mind?"

Jean came and sat on the edge of the bed. "I've been thinking about Merlin. What he said."

"I know... the officiating wasn't *that* bad."

She snorted. "I meant the other part. We ought to be ready in case he moves against us."

"You do the Phoenix thing and Cain builds him a casket. What's hard?"

"Alex..."

"Sorry; I think Madrox's sense of humor is rubbing off on me. And this is all so unreal..." He propped himself up on one elbow. "Two other things I think: One, we ought to get as close as we can to the Queen. Gwen's got a head on her shoulders. Two, this isn't really what you want to talk about."

Jean Grey frowned. "How'd you know that?"

"Telepathy. Plus, if you wanted my opinion on strategy, you'd have asked me in the morning instead of storming my bedroom in the middle of the night."

"I'm not storming. And it's eight PM."

"I'm not complaining," Alex countered, "and if it's dark, it's the middle of the night here. When we get home, I'm building a shrine to Edison. I..." he sighed. "Sorry. Inappropriate, again. I just... Scott would know how to deal with this."

Jean turned away. "Scott didn't know how to deal with a lot of things."

"Ah-ha." He reached out with his free hand to take hers. "You ought to tell him, Jean. Really."

"I pushed him into this," Jean said, into the darkness.

"You what?"

"Never mind. Just..." she sighed. "How are they together, Alex? Day to day, I mean. Is she good for him?"

Alex sat up all the way. "He thinks she is. No doubt she does, too."

"Anybody disagree?"

"Rachel's taking it hard. Kitty'd cheerfully phase her into the center of the Earth and bury her."

Jean chuckled. "Bless Kitty. And... Logan?"

Alex could only see one little angle of her face, silhouetted in candlelight. It didn't give much away, and Jean wasn't telepathically broadcasting, either. He shrugged.

"He'll mourn you 'till the day he dies, Jeannie. But... he's a creature of the moment, you know that. At the moment... well, we're dealing with it. All of us."

She nodded. "Last question, then: Is Scott happy?"

"He..." Alex frowned. "Yeah, I think he is."

"Thank you, Alex." She patted his arm and started to go.

"Jean...!" Alex started to go after her, realized he wasn't wearing much, and settled for making his point with words. Then he realized he had none. "You should... that is, I think... I don't know what I think. I'm inept at relationship stuff."

"It's a Summers trait."

"I might be even more inept than Scott. I left my fiancée at the altar for a woman I fell in love with while comatose. And I slept with your clone."

Jean arched an eyebrow. "Yes, by all means, let's bring *that* up now."

"Yeah, um. What I'm trying to say is... Summers boys make mistakes. Big ones. Great, big, gigantic... world-shattering mistakes. But when we love somebody... we *really* love them. We just don't have any idea what to do about it."

"Work on that," Jean advised him, and walked out.

****

Jamie Madrox had a job to do. Just one job; on the surface, a simple one. Trail the big, scary guy with the sword until you figure out his game. All in a night's work, for a self-professed private detective. Or was that, a knight's work? Whatever.

He shadowed Lancelot out of the castle, down into the village, and then past the village, to a cave set into the hills just beyond.

*Steep* hills, actually. Jamie bit back a curse as the rocks nearly gave way beneath him, and he scrambled for a handhold.

*Idiot, why didn't you ever send a dupe off to be a Sherpa or something? It's not so much the possible-death thing as the he-probably-heard-that thing. Okay, it's the death thing too.*

But Lancelot didn't even look back; he just kept climbing. He must have had enhanced endurance in addition to the other tricks; a regular multiple of a man like Jamie Madrox was quickly left behind in the dust.

He hadn't gotten to be the 3^rd-best PI in the greater Mutant Town area by giving up easily, however. Jamie legged it out, one exhausting climb after another, until finally he reached the penultimate ledge. At the top, just a few meters away, Jamie could hear the Dastardly Plot Already in Progress:

"...you're insane this time, old man!" Lancelot was saying. "Make them knights? Do you think any of them possesses the mettle?"

"No," said a deep voice. Merlin. Nice. "That is precisely why you'll extend this olive branch. Once Lady Grey's... charming companions... have swelled your ranks, I will arrange a crisis. Something... formidable."

"Not another dragon," Lancelot groaned. "I'm still picking scales out of my beard."

"You won't confront this one. When the time is right, you will lead them into battle... you will let them strike first... and you will watch as they are destroyed."

Silence, for a moment. Jamie tried not to breathe too loud.

"What makes you so sure you can create a dragon they cannot kill?" the knight asked. His voice sounded closer than before...

"I have powers to sustain me beyond your fondest dreams."

"I hope your power is as great as your boast, old man." said Lancelot. Definitely walking toward the edge. Jamie folded himself up as small as he could. "If it is, I might like to obtain it. After the Queen is mine, as we discussed."

"Of course, warrior. No partnership is permanent. In the meantime, though... see to that."

*That?* Jamie Madrox wondered, about half a second before the sword swept down from above to nearly cut him in half.

****

Rahne Sinclair saw it happen in glorious detail.

When Jean sent Madrox out to spy on the knight, she'd rather thought someone ought to spy on Madrox. She loved the man dearly, but well, as his beloved Bogart characters went, he was less Sam Spade than he liked to think; more like an endearingly schizophrenic Captain Queeg. His capers could be hit-and-miss. So she'd shifted into her wolf form and tracked him silently, just to keep him from breaking his blasted head.

But when they'd reached the tall rise, Rahne had doubted her ability to climb that in wolf-form, so she'd circled about, hoping to find one of the other slopes was more gradual. Which it was; she'd scampered up the southern side without difficulty. But Rahne had also lost valuable time; she started running when she saw the distant figure of Lancelot begin to creep toward Jamie's position, and was running all-out by the time the blow struck. The bugger simply knelt at the edge, swung his sword, and skewered poor Jamie to the wall.

Rahne howled at the top of her voice, causing both Lancelot and Merlin to look up suddenly; the latter was in her way, and she clawed him on the way past, but she was more concerned with the swordsman; she meant to have his sodding *throat*.

It occurred to her later, much later, that given Merlin's established level of power, he could easily have stopped her doing so, and to be concerned about why he hadn't, but at the time Rahne was too angry. She pounced with a blood-curdling growl and fell on Lancelot's chest, on the very edge of the abyss. She morphed into a transitional state, to get the best of both worlds: Fangs and vocal chords both.

"Did ye know," she hissed, "tha' some say the Bible originally commanded us nae t' kill *wi'out cause?* If this ain't cause, I dinna know wha' is."

"What makes you think you can kill me?" Lancelot asked. He dodged the swipe of her claws, rolled and kicked... and suddenly Rahne was flying through the air, with only a long drop and cold ground before her. She yelped...

...but didn't fall far. Something-- an enormous hand-- caught her by the scruff of the neck. Rahne felt her whole body nearly snap from whiplash, then the reassuring solidity of the ledge she'd been deposited on.

"Heard yer pretty tough, pal." said a gravelly voice above her. "Think you can rumble with the Juggernaut?"

"It shall be a pleasure..."

The next thing Rahne heard was WHAM! The next thing she saw was a shape that looked like Lancelot flying from the ledge, head over heels. Nobody bothered to catch him.

"Guess not," said Cain Marko's voice. He sounded a little disappointed.

"Ach, ye great lummox, if ye were'na such a minger, I'd kiss ye. Pull us up-- both of us! Quickly, man... he's dyin'!"

A moment later, Rahne was back on top of the rise, courtesy of the Juggernaut's personal elevator, and kneeling beside the body of Jamie Madrox. There was an alarming amount of blood.

"Jamie... Jamie, lad, c'mon now. Ye canna die on me... not after all. Dammit, ye silly bampot, speak to me... Jamie... please. Please speak to me."

She felt thick fingers on her shoulder. "C'mon, kid. I don't think..."

Jamie drew a shuddering breathe. Rahne's heart skipped.

"One word," he said, "Dup..."

He never finished that word. His breath left him; then he disappeared.

"'Dup' what?" said Cain Marko, oblivious.

Rahne would have belted him if she weren't laughing so hard, and crying at the same time. She turned and threw herself into the arms of the real Jamie Madrox, who was just coming up the hill behind them, looking dazed. So Rahne played nice and hugged rather than punching him in the jaw.

"But ye canna ha' been a dupe... I followed ye all th' way from..."

"Saw that," Jamie said. "Decided to follow you following me. Actually, follow Cain following you following me. Who's Sam Spade now, huh?"

"Yer still an idjit," Rahne said, and cuffed his jaw. "Dinna do that ta me again, ever! Ye cost me three o' my nine lives."

"Cats have nine lives," said Cain, "not wolves."

"Hush, you."

"C'mon," Jamie said, stepping out of the hug. "I absorbed our friend just in time. We have to tell Jean what they're planning..."

****

Lancelot wasn't dead; that natural armor of his seemed able to absorb any impact, making him as tough as Colossus. By itself, that was shame enough, but to make matters worse, he turned out to have suckered them.

He swept into the court on Merlin's heels. Neither of them looked happy, glowering at people in general and specifically the X-Men contingent, all of whom had gathered to address the King.

--Rake my flesh with your filthy claws, will you, girl?-- Merlin sent to Rahne, who stood at Jean's side. --You'll soon regret that.--

The king recognized Jean. "Lady Grey? You wished an audience with us?"

She took a deep breath and stepped forward. "Your Majesty, I regret to tell you... last night, several of my companions discovered..."

"I will tell you what they discovered!" said Merlin, stealing her thunder like a master showman. "They discovered a foul plot against Your Majesty. A plot conceived... by me!"

The courtiers gasped. Several of the knights stepped forward, brandishing swords.

Cain whistled softly. "Didn't see that coming..."

"What is the meaning of this, old man?" the Queen said. "Answer well, or..."

"Of course, my Queen. I confess I doubted the loyalty of Lady Grey and her companions, so I conceived a plan to test them. Spoke lies within their hearing, to observe their reactions. To my surprise, they have proved themselves your loyal subjects."

"Well," Jean murmured, "this might be a good thing..."

"There is no longer any reason to delay my recommendation: That Lady Grey's champions be knighted at once, and made true protectors of your realm!"

"...or not."

"Oh, come on!" Alex said. "This is what he wanted all along-- and now he's done it so that we can't back out!"

"An' we poor dolts fell right into it," Rahne said.

"Not your fault, Rahne. Man ought to be in politics."

"He *is*," said Lorna.

The King was silent for a moment. "Is this your wish, as well, Lady Grey?"

"Well... Your Highness..." Jean began. "We are... very grateful for your friendship, but..."

"Then it's settled!" Merlin said. "Bring forth your companions!"

"Now, wait just a..."

"Hold! A word first, Your Majesty?" The words came from Lancelot. The King nodded. "Twice now, I have fought with these strangers, and twice they have treacherously humiliated me, fighting without regard for honor. They are not knights."

Merlin glared at him. Jean noticed. This was a twist even the wizard hadn't expected.

"Before you accept them," Lancelot continued, "let me fight the Lady's champion in single combat. If he wins, let him have my place and determine my fate. If he loses, let me determine theirs. This is my right, as honor demands."

"Great," Jamie murmured. "Billions of evil mutants scattered throughout millions of realities, and we're stuck with Worf of the Klingon Empire..."

The King, as ever, looked to Merlin for guidance. The wizard cleared his throat and started to speak, to undo the damage...

"We accept!" Jean said, before he got the chance. One of the courtiers cheered.

"Awright," said the Juggernaut, cracking his knuckles. "I like a guy who don't know when to quit. I'm gonna use yer skull for an ashtray, Lancey."

"Not you, Cain. Alex." Jean took a deep breath. "Alex accepts."

"I do?" At a telepathic prompt from Jean, Alex cleared his throat. "That is, I do. Sure."

"Alex, no!" said Lorna. "Jean..."

"I can take 'im, Jeannie," said Cain Marko. "I can take 'im easy."

--I need you for something else, Cain,-- she said telepathically. --Trust me.--

"Then it's settled," said Lancelot, stepping forward. "With Your Majesty's permission?"

The King looked to Merlin, but his adviser had turned aside, still brooding. He sighed. "Yes. Very well. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, then," said Lancelot. He winked at Alex. "Don't be late."

He walked away. The assembled X-Men stood where they were, no one willing to be the first to speak.

"I'm going to have to kill him," Alex said at length, "aren't I?"

****

The night fell, cold and clear. Alex Summers stood on the balcony of their adopted home, looking out over the surrounding village. His fingers were steepled together, his eyes searching. He wondered if it was really as peaceful down there if it looked. He wondered if this world would ever have a chance to be peaceful, or if Merlin's little game had robbed it of its childhood-- its years without Magnetos and Brotherhoods and, well, Juggernauts.

By the time the 21^st Century rolled around, no doubt, these people would be so used to mutants that there would never be the kind of prejudice Alex faced every day of his life. But they would need incredible luck to survive that long.

"Where are you, Charles?" Alex murmured. "They need you..."

According to Mindee, Charles Xavier wasn't in any of the five timelines encompassed by the Five-in-One. According to Jean, the possibility existed that he was... nowhere. Alex didn't believe that. His old teacher couldn't really die. For that matter, it seemed, neither could any of his X-Men. Sometimes Alex thought it would be nice if they could... if all the fighting could ever, permanently, end.

He was so wrapped up in thought that he didn't feel the slight hum of magnetic forces acting against each other until Lorna Dane had landed right beside him. Alex didn't know what to say to her; he looked in the other direction.

"Evening," she said, touching his shoulder. "Pretty night."

"Yeah."

She was silent for a moment. "Alex... do you remember that time I went a little crazy?"

He arched an eyebrow. "The time at the wedding, or the time when you were possessed by Malice? Or the time on Muir Island? Or..."

"Point made," she said quickly. "Pick a time."

"Okay. What's -your- point?"

"My point is," she took a deep breath, "you should have killed me."

"I don't think I ever could have done that."

"Yes, you could." Lorna squeezed his arm, made him look at her. Alex remembered a time when all he'd wanted was stare into those green eyes all day long. "I know something about the sort of mind you're facing here, Alex. You will get one chance. You need to pull the trigger."

"I tried to do that the first time!" he protested.

"No, you didn't. You thought you did, but you were holding back. You *always* hold back, Alex, dammit..." Lorna looked away. "At everything."

Alex pressed his hand to the bridge of his nose, willing the headache away. "You're telling me to incinerate him."

"Yes. Immediately. Mercilessly. Or you're going to die." He felt Lorna's hand on his cheek. "I don't think I could handle burying you."

"Excepting the times you, well, tried to bury me..."

"Okay! Yes, thank you! We all remember the super-villain... attempted murder... thing. You know, I was going through a phase, I had issues, but I'm in anger management, and... screw it." Lorna sighed. "Do what you have to do, Alex. Be safe."

The air hummed again, and she was gone. Part of Alex hated himself for that last comment; part of him was glad he'd chased her off. He couldn't deal with Lorna now. He had issues of his own.

He was, after all, a Summers.

****

"Need ya for somethin' else, Cain... suuuuure... Pretty-boy Alex, who don't even *like* to fight, gets to rumble. Meanwhile, I gotta traipse 'round the countryside in the middle of the night with you yahoos, an' I ain't had a decent scrap in weeks, an' the frustration's really kinda building up an'..."

"If you don't shut up," Jamie Madrox said, panting slightly from the climb, "I'm going to make about 40 dupes and *then* you'll have something to fight."

"Heh," said the Juggernaut. "Forty to one? Which of my hands d'you want tied behind my back?"

"Shut up, the both of ye!" Rahne said. "I need to concentrate, t'make certain we're not bein' followed..."

Silence, for a moment. Then: "I'm serious. Either hand. Or both. Want me to hop on one foot?"

"Cain!"

"Yeah, yeah..."

They made it, in relative silence, to the top of the rise. Rahne caught the scent of Merlin, and of several knights, but all were old-- not that Cain Marko's overpowering reek of testosterone made it easy. But she didn't hear anything, either, just the wind whistling past. So she led them forward.

The cave where Merlin had met with Lancelot was dark now; not a problem for Rahne's eyes. She started in...

Cain was right behind her. Jamie was not. He stood at the edge of the rise, staring over...

"Jaimie, lad?"

"I'm coming," he said, and shivered. "It's... like visiting your own grave, you know?"

"Not really."

"Take my word for it." He followed Rahne into the cave. Therein, he struck a match.

Rahne recoiled from the sudden light, the scent of burning sulfur. "Where'd ye get that?"

"Had a book on me when we woke up. I've been rationing them."

"Holdin' out on us, you mean," Cain said.

"Quiet!" Silent as a ghost, Rahne padded along the walls of the cave. It was a small, unremarkable space. Old, ragged, nothing special... nothing... she paused. Sniffed a few times. She morphed into her transitional, werewolf state.

"Mr. Marko," she said, "this is your cue."

"Well, at least I get to pound somethin'." Marko took two steps forward and swung from the heels, shattering the wall of the cave. For a moment, Rahne feared the whole thing would collapse on them, but it stabilized... and now there was a tunnel, pitch-black and ominous, leading down into the ground.

"Jean called it," Jamie said, staring. "Down the rabbit hole, anyone?"

"Aye," said Rahne. "Better leave a couple of dupes to stand guard... an' send one back to Jeannie with a report."

"On it," Jamie stand, and stamped the ground three times. "Okay, guys. Huddle up. Here's what we're going to do..."

"It's dark in here," said one of the duplicates, shuddering. "I hate the dark."

"Wuss," said another duplicate.

"Guys... please!"

"Manifestin' the 'li'l scared baby' side of yer personality, Madrox?" Cain asked.

The Multiple Man frowned at him. "Do you know, Cain, I once had a duplicate spend a month studying ways to kill you, specifically? He came up with forty-seven."

"Forty-eight!" said the third dupe. "I just thought of a new one!"

"Keep it in mind," Jamie said, glaring at Cain as he ducked into the cave.

*Men*, Rahne thought, and followed...

****

Jean Grey was sitting in front of a roaring fire, deep in concentration, when Sean Cassidy stepped quietly into the room.

"Just heard from a Madrox," he said. "There's a false wall, back of the cave. They're headin' down."

"I hope they're careful." Jean said. She would have warned them telepathically, but she was exerting too many resources in running interference with Merlin. Hopefully between keeping his attention on her and keeping Lancelot focused on Alex, the others would have the freedom to pursue their mission. At least, that was the plan.

"Ye're worried," Sean said, sitting beside her. "Don't be. It was a good call."

"I just hope I can pull it off," Jean said. Her head hurt, and she'd barely started. "I feel so weak, Sean..."

"Would ye rather be the Phoenix, then?"

"Of course not. I... yes. Maybe." She sighed. "I want a lot of things, Sean. Most of them will never happen."

He nodded. "I know the feeling... but Jeannie, now, if ye'll forgive an ol' hardchaw for speakin' his mind..."

"Always."

"Well... I'm to contact Emma tonight, as ye know. If Scott's there, it seems to me..."

Jean turned away. "I'm needed here, Sean."

"See here, Jean... now, there's been a lot o' bad blood between you an' Scott an' that's your affair, I'll not take sides... But, well... I know if I could have Moira back, even for half a minute, there's so much I'd like to say. Ye've got that chance, both o' ye. Don't throw it away out o' anger."

"Thank you," Jean said, still not looking at him. "I'll think about it."

Sean Cassidy hesitated, wanting to say more-- but at last he shrugged his shoulders and turned away. People had to work things out for themselves... even if they were acting like addle-brained idiots. Sometimes especially then.

****

The place underneath the ground smelled wrong, like metal and petrol and... other, less identifiable things. Not scents that should have existed in any Camelot, no matter how tainted. Unfortunately, they came and went: Sometimes Rahne was certain she smelled them. Other times they vanished entirely, often just when she needed to decide which way to go. She'd been tracking the smells as best she could down a long, twisting downgrade. They seemed to be on a main path of some kind, with steep drops to either side. Fun.

"You can see where we're going, right?" Cain asked, not for the first time.

"Yes, Mr. Marko. Keep after me..."

"And you called me a baby," Jamie said.

"Hey, I ain't scared! I just don't like the idea of gettin' jumped down here! We don't even know what we're lookin' for..."

"Yes, we do," Rahne breathed. Pausing as the ground leveled out, she glanced to both sides-- sensing nothing but open space in either direction-- she took a leap of faith off the path.

"Rahne!" Jamie cried, and lunged to catch her. Unfortunately, he lost his balance and fell on his bum. Fell... all of three, maybe four feet.

Rahne tested the ground all around them... solid ground, where she'd been sure there was a chasm. "Playin' shadow-games wi' us. There was never any drop."

"You mean we can't trust what we see down here?" Cain asked. "Or... y'know... don't see?"

"Exactly right," Rahne said. She shut her eyes tight, but it didn't help. *All* her senses were confounded, not just her eyesight. Explained the hit-and-run scents.

"What could be doing this?" Jamie asked, but almost before he posed the question, Rahne had the answer.

"It's like the Danger Room," she said. "And tha' means... Mr. Marko, walk straight ahead, would ye?"

Cain was still on the main path. He hesitated. "Look, I dunno, I think we should..."

"Just keep goin' straight, Mr. Marko. If ye feel anything in your way, bash through it. You're the Juggernaut, after all... are ye not?"

"Yeah." Cain cleared his throat. "Right. Here goes nothin'..."

Taking a few steps back to get a head of steam, Cain Marko charged down the path... then out onto open space... then *though* what should have been solid rock, demolishing it. Brilliant light streamed in from the other side.

"He did it!" Jamie said. He stepped forward...

But Cain Marko had no sooner crashed through into the other chamber than he stepped out again. "Uh... gang... we might have a li'l problem."

"Meaning what?"

Cain jerked his thumb back into the adjoining chamber. Rahne approached cautiously, peering in...

There was a dragon curled up at the other end of the room. A green, long-necked, winged, fire-breathing dragon with glowing red eyes. It cocked its head to look at Rahne, and she shuddered from the intensity of its glare.

"Trouble?" she stammered, taking a step back. "What trouble? 'Tis only a wee one..."

****

Westchester, New York
Present Day

In the den of the Xavier Institute, Emma Frost was carrying on a conversation with a teenage girl whose manner and inflections perfectly copied those of Sean Cassidy, the Banshee. The first few times they'd used her Cuckoos as "living conduits," speaking through them to their missing team members in other timelines (* as in "X-Force Eternity #1"), Emma had found it thoroughly bizarre. Now it seemed like second nature. Phoebe Cuckoo had even taken on Sean's Irish brogue.

"...made a hash of things so far, but we'll have it under control soon enough, don't ye worry, lass."

"I've every confidence, Sean," Emma said, pouring herself a glass of wine as she spoke. "We're still working on ways to bring you home. I'll keep you informed. Anything else?"

"Not a... oh. Well... stand by." Phoebe's stance suddenly changed; the Emerald Isle in her voice was replaced by a flatter, harsher American accent. It was as though she'd suddenly become another person. One altogether familiar...

"Just one more thing," the girl said. "Emma, darling... sweetheart... just between the two of us:

"I'm back."

Phoebe flinched as the telepathic connection was severed. Emma Frost studied the glass of wine in her shaking hands, threw it against the wall, and took a long swig straight from the bottle.

END

In eXcalibur #2: The Duel and the Dragon!

And see the other "X-Men: Eternity" titles: Uncanny X-Men, New X-Men, X-Force, and X-Factor, starring the rest of the team. Online now!

Scheduled Next: "Uncanny X-Men #2: Brotherhood's Keeper." Coming soon!