X-MEN ETERNITY

eXcalibur #4: "Constant as the Northern Star"
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 now spread through time and space. "eXcalibur: Eternity" deals with a part of the team trapped in an alternate reality in the time of King Arthur.

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*Methinks I am a prophet new inspired...*

Parallel Earth #225
The British Isles
A Long Time Ago...

Lorna Dane soared high above the hills of England, trying not to think about any of the usual things that occupied her mind: Alex, her father (or lack thereof, depending on which blood test you believed), mutant rights, defeating supervillains. Instead, she was trying to remember the lines of that old speech Shakespeare had written about this land. So far, all she had was the first line, and then a couple of the meatier parts, here and there:

*This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle...*

*This fortress built by nature for herself...*

Right about now, Lorna would have given a lot to build a fortress for herself, blessed or not. Just a nice little Fortress of Solitude dealie, like those fictional heroes always had... a place where she could hide away and dodge the pain and return to her secret identity as... as a...

Did she even have a secret identity anymore? How long ago was it that she lived in Rio Diablo with Alex? That she was working on her doctorate, building a real life away from the X-Men? A peaceful life of discovery and learning and maybe, when the time was right, a family? Had that ever been a real possibility?

"*Damn* Malice," she muttered, thinking of the psychic entity that had possessed her years ago. Horrible as the possession itself had been, the worst part was that it taken her away from that life and into a series of increasingly bizarre adventures which had bound her, tighter and tighter, to the X-Men.

And yet... hadn't that been for the best?

Like it or not, Polaris was part of her. Maybe most of her. Secret identities were for the funny papers, the funny heroes like Spider-Man. As far as Lorna could see, there wasn't anything funny about being a mutant. In the eyes of the world, a mutie was a mutie was a mutie. They could be pariahs, as in Lorna's home dimension, or conquerors as they were here, but none of them... particularly Magneto's biological daughter... would ever know lasting peace.

"Ever" was a word that broke her heart when she thought about what she might have had... and what she would have now.

She banked off to the west, toward the line of a river, scanning the grass below her and the gray clouds all around for a hint of... something. A prodigal brother, who might hold her only key to undoing this mess. (* see last issue) She'd been searching all morning, and figured she was due for a stroke of luck.

Heaven knew she hadn't found any so far. Lorna had once dug through past civilizations for a living, but Medieval England did precisely nothing for her. Drafty houses, plagues, infrequent bathing... no. Emphatically no, thank you. Unless she cared to take over the whole dimension... but the whole villain thing was hanging over her head already.

Lorna sighed. Maybe that was why she was doing this. Maybe some part of her hoped, if she could be the one to set things right, untangle the knot in reality her half-siblings had created, she'd be vindicated. People would stop making jokes. People like Jean Grey, whom she'd been friends with for years, would stop treating her as an unreliable annoyance. She could go back to...

Lorna sensed a high concentration of metal ahead. The last couple of times, that had only meant (metaphorically speaking) gold in them there hills. But it *might* have indicated civilization, so she changed course and accelerated.

What had she been thinking about?

*This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England...*

Not *that*. The *other* thing.

Oh, right. She could go back... to what? Back to her own reality, as a Genoshan princess-in-exile? Yeah, *that* was working out. Back to Bobby Drake? Did she really love Bobby? Had she ever? Or was he just the last remaining person who didn't look at her...

The way Alex did. Wasn't that the crux of the issue? Getting together with Bobby had made Alex jealous. He'd wanted her again. He'd even acted willing to forget... their history. But it wasn't really the same. It probably never could be.

Anyway, Alex was so busy holding Queen Jean's hand these days, he hardly even bothered to...

*THWIP!*

"What the hell?" Lorna gasped, twisting in midair. There was a hole in her cape, about the right size for...

*THWIP!*

"Argggh!" About the right size for the arrow that had just embedded itself in the small of Lorna's back. Pain flared, more than she could cope with...

Suddenly the ground was rushing toward her and she was trying to use her magnetic powers to cushion herself but she couldn't quite clear her head and it was *so* close and Lorna wanted to scream but there wasn't time and it was like some horrible dream and--

She felt the impact, and then nothing else for a long time.

****

"You let her do WHAT?"

Sean Cassidy figured he ought to have been amused by the situation he found himself in: Here he was, the Banshee, veteran of Interpol and a thousand mutant battles, reporting to a sixteen-year-old slip of a girl, just as though she were the flamin' Goddess Brighid, and he a lowly worshipper. By rights, he ought to have laughed in her face.

Except that the girl, Mindee Cuckoo, this reality's manifestation of the Five-in-One group mind, had given him good reason to believe she and her sisters knew what had gone wrong with the Multiverse, and how to set it right. (* eXcalibur #2) And, well, the way her eyes glowed when she was upset *was* rather goddess-like.

"Now, lass, what'd yeh expect me t'do? Tie her up an' lock her in the closet? Lorna saw through us, right off. I've known Inspectors who weren't so quick on the trail."

"Why her and not the others?"

Sean shrugged. "Lorna's... like me, I expect. A bit lost. Nothin' t'do here but think. We could do worse than bringin' her into this.”

The girl shook her head. "We don't trust Lorna."

"I do."

"She'll complicate things," Mindee said. "She's not ready for what she'll find. *Nothing's* ready, yet."

"So yeh keep sayin'." Sean frowned down at her. "Are yeh absolutely sure about what yeh showed me?"

Mindee nodded. "That's how it ends, unless we stop it here."

"All right.” Sean sighed. “All right, then, lass, I'll have t'go after her, won't I?”

He crossed, a little stiffly, to the corner of the room, where he kept his Banshee costume in a trunk. He heard Mindee padding after him:

“You're still hurt. (* from his fight in issue #2) How will you make her come back with you?”

Sean grunted. “I was plannin' t'ask her.”

“And if she refuses? How far are you willing to go?”

Sean whirled on the strange girl, fighting the gut instinct to unleash a scream. “How far are you?”

“The Five-in-One has one goal,” Mindee said. “Stop what's coming. We'd like to do that by saving the X-Men.” She turned, got as far as Sean's door, and stopped. “But we'll do it however we can.”

Then she was gone. Sean knelt down-- listening to his knees creaking, feeling the protest of aging bones-- and began to get dressed. He wondered what Mindee Cuckoo had gotten him into, and whether he shouldn't be looking for a way out of it. And whether he could manage to remain alive in the process.

****

Jean Grey settled down on her bed, cross-legged, took a deep breath, and extended her consciousness outward. She'd tried this trick a dozen times since her rebirth, but she'd never known exactly what to look for before. Now she did.

Two days earlier, she'd fought the time-skipping mutant calling himself Merlin on the astral plane. (* last issue) His strength had surprised her, but more than that, the darkness at the center of his mind-- the strange, frightening Other that called to her primal, Phoenix persona-- had nearly been the death of her. He'd gotten the jump on Jean, but she could return the favor.

In stretching her perceptions, she saw the other minds in the area as lights, little candles scattered through the darkness inside her head. One of them, quite nearby, was particularly bright. Jean stopped short: she hadn't realized just how powerful Mindee Cuckoo was growing. The Five-in-One had come into its own as a telepathic force. Jean wondered... could they turn on Merlin together? Could she trust Mindee that far? Was she willing to risk a teenage girl in the fight?

Not unless necessary, she thought, and moved on. Other things to see, a few minor telepaths in this mutant-friendly world. Some nobles, one or two on the rank of, say, Emma Frost back home. Nothing really to worry about. There was something... deeper, a sense Jean couldn't quite catch, but she didn't think it an immediate concern. She continued...

There. The brightest light within her considerable range... except it wasn't a light at all. Jean could see that now. It was more of a... cold glow, a reflection, as though the mind she was sensing took everything into itself and all she could sense were the flickers it rejected.

She probed a little harder, always distant, always careful, until she could almost interpret the flickers, read them as thoughts... this mind didn't have psychic defenses like a fully human telepath. That was the flip side to its absorbing ability: If Merlin could sense her, he could fight her, but if he didn't know she was there, she could simply ride the waves rushing toward his mind, and see...

War. Devastation. Death.

Lynchings. Gassings. Stonings. Beatings. Need to run.

Deeper... another name. Slayer. A hatred, drawn from many, directed at one...

*Xavier.*

Jean carefully controlled her reaction. The slightest shock might warn of her presence. She divorced herself from the emotions, concentrated on *being*...

Where is he? The creature searches for him. He is the one who can stop it, the one who always stops it. Every timeline, every try, Xavier is there to stop it, or his students. It thrives on the timelines where they never came to be, and yet it needs them, because...

Too fast. The thoughts skirt by. No time, too much to do, can't find Xavier now. The children. Yes, the children know how to reach him. Finish this, take the ones you need, slaughter the children, then you'll find him.

Then it comes. Then it happens, as it should. Jean sees, reflected in its mind, the image it wants: The X-Men, dead upon the field, massacred defending their home. Friends, enemies, allies old and new. Bobby Drake stands alone. He's to be the last. The most important. Others, dead already. Hank is dead. Jean grieves. Logan's dead-- a pang so strong it surprises her, a longing never quite fulfilled. But it's nothing compared to...

SCOTT!

“NO!” Jean cries, and the Phoenix flame disrupts the vision, burning away everything. The mind behind the vision takes notice, is afraid, turns on her in shock. This time *she* has the surprise, this time it didn't see her coming. It tries to distract her with the vision, the pain of his death, the outrage that he's cradling that witch Emma in his arms, mourning *her* as he dies, not Jean. He's stopped loving her long ago.

*That's where you made your mistake,* Jean thought to the hostile mind. *You see, it doesn't matter. It's not about Emma and it's not about any physical standard of love. Scott and I are bound, always. If you want him, you'll have to go through me. And you can't go through me-- not in a fair fight. You will lose.*

*But my love,* said the Slayer's voice, and in her mind, Jean could picture Merlin's grim, self-satisfied smile, *why should I fight fair?*

He resists her-- the vision begins to fade. Jean struggles, but the Phoenix flame in her thoughts-- divides? Battling itself, pushing her out? She screams--

Jean fell right off her bed. She found herself on hands and knees, shivering and panting, her temples throbbing. She was nauseous-- she vomited all over the floor. She fought herself, slowly coming back to her body, regaining control.

“Dammit,” Jean whispered. “DAMN him! How does he DO that?”

For the second time, he'd turned her against herself. The first time, by tricking her too deep into that blackness at his core. (* last issue) This time, by turning the Phoenix itself against her-- but how could he? If this Merlin-- Slayer-- whatever had access to the Phoenix force, he wouldn't be playing games with a bunch of mutants on Earth. The power hadn't been his, he'd only known-- somehow-- how to divide and conquer it.

But he'd been too late this time. Jean had learned some of the things she needed to know. His hatred for Xavier, his plan for the X-Men... but why, and how?

*The children know,* she remembered. *Slaughter the children.*

Jean convulsed as a chill raced down her spine-- she pushed herself off the floor and hit the door running. Her eyes were shut tight; she wasn't looking where she was going. She was seeking another mind.

She found Mindee Cuckoo in another of the castle's towers, climbing down from Sean Cassidy's room. They nearly ran into each other on the stairs. The girl didn't appear surprised to see her.

“You're too late,” she said. “I've sent Mr. Cassidy away.”

“I don't care about Mr. Cassidy.”

“You would,” she smiled, “if you knew where he was going.”

Jean took hold of the girl's shoulders, steeling herself for a psychic battle. But the Five-in-One did not attack, only... regarded her, almost... amused, as though a wonderful joke they were playing had just been discovered, and they were now able to laugh about it.

"It was you," she said. "You saved me from that... thing. (*last issue)."

"We tricked him. We had to. Can't go back to sleep yet, Miss Grey. Not *just* yet."

“Where's Charles?” she asked.

“We'll never tell.”

Jean shook her a little. “Don't you understand, we need Charles Xavier? I saw its mind! He's the only thing it fears-- he's the one who can stop this!”

Mindee nodded. “Go on, Miss Grey. You're starting to understand.”

“He thinks you know where Charles is.”

“He's right,” said the girl.

“He means to know. He'll kill you, and your sisters, and my friends with you!”

“Maybe.” Still smiling, Mindee pulled away from her. “But we'll never tell.”

Jean grabbed her-- not clumsily, with her hands. With her mind. Although she could feel Mindee's sisters coming to her aide, they could not overpower her directly. Her grip was too strong.

“Where's Charles Xavier?” she asked, bringing her power to bear on the girl.

A muscle in Mindee's jaw twitched. She was angry-- in that special, exquisitely self-centered way only a teenager could be. But it was more than that, too. This was... she was prepared for this. She had been waiting for it.

“We wouldn't tell him,” she said, “and we won't tell you.”

“Why not?” Jean demanded, strongly tempted to slap her. “Don't you know we're trying to protect you? Keep your secrets from him! Why are you hiding from me?”

“Because, Miss Grey,” she said, “we think you're about equally dangerous.”

In that moment, Jean couldn't argue. She felt pretty dangerous. If she didn't get some answers soon, somebody-- the Slayer, the Cuckoos, Sean Cassidy, but *somebody*-- was going to find out how dangerous she could be.

****

Alex Summers had done a lot of things in his long, semi-reluctant career as a superhero. A lot of very different, sometimes strange things. But he could honestly say that none had ever made his butt hurt quite so much as this.

Alex considered himself to be a rugged guy-- back when he'd actually had time to be a geologist, he'd lived off the land in some of least hospitable areas on Earth. Further, being a superhero meant he was in top physical condition, because it was just embarrassing to appear publicly in your Spandex with a beer belly. But he just wasn't cut out for or accustomed to sustained periods of cross-country horseback riding.

His mount was a high-spirited animal with white speckles on his nose; Alex called him Bobby because they both caused pain to the same general area. Bobby the horse was what stablehands knowingly referred to as "spirited," and in a human would have been termed "homicidal." Alex suspected he'd been given this horse on purpose.

He was out and about with a group of Merlin's knights-- mutants recruited as enforcers by the telepath who ran this realm in the name of the king. Possessing a flair for the dramatic, or perhaps a bad sense of humor, the wizard had named them in honor of King Arthur's knights of the round table. Hence, in addition to his teammates Jamie Madrox, Rahne Sinclair (Wolfsbane), and Cain Marko (the Juggernaut), Alex shared the ride with: Sir Galahad, possessor of enhanced strength and speed and bio-armor like his father Lancelot, for whose death he held Alex responsible (*last issue*), Sir Kay, a size-shifting metamorph, Sir Gawain, who stored up solar energy in a manner similar to the New Mutant Sunspot and channeled it into enhanced strength and flight, and Sir Bedivere, who used a telekinetic sword like Psylocke and wielded it at the speed of thought.

From what Alex could tell, Bedivere wasn't a bad guy. Delusions of knightly grandeur aside, he might have made an X-Man in better circumstances. Gawain meant well but tended to follow Merlin's lead. Kay was a thug, and Galahad... Galahad despised Alex so thoroughly, it was hard to tell *what* to make of him.

Not a team to inspire confidence, but the X-Men hadn't been given much choice-- they were knights, willingly or otherwise (* see last issue). As long as Merlin didn't order them to raze a village or something, they'd play the game for a while. Maybe they could keep the other knights out of trouble.

Alex frowned out over the landscape, shading his eyes although there wasn't much sun. He picked out a reddish brown shape approaching through the green, and urged his horse to the head of the group, next to Galahad.

The other mutant frowned. "Thy beast approaches, Sir Alex."

"That 'beast' has a name."

"We dare not speak it," muttered Sir Kay, "lest you suspect us of making untoward advances."

Kay hadn't forgiven him for their first meeting, when Alex and his fellow X-Men had taken exception to the knight forcing himself on a peasant woman (* issue #1), in flagrant violation of the actual round table's code. Alex shrugged.

"With *her?* Go ahead and try it."

"What do they use for life insurance in this century?" asked Jamie Madrox, bringing his own horse up beside Alex. "Shiny pebbles? Beads and moccasins?"

"Whatever it is," Alex said, "make sure it's paid up."

The beast in question skidded down the nearest hill, morphing as she approached-- from wolf to transitional state to pert Scottish lass. Alex wondered how much he'd pay to see Rahne Sinclair dismantle one of these cretins, and decided it was in the five or six figures.

"There's trouble up ahead, a'right," Rahne said, a bit out of breath. "A lot o' scents, lot o' tracks. Bonfires, not long gone out. Seems t' have been a heavily armed force. 'Tis all Greek t'me, though... erm, not to mix my histories... an' I canna guess who or why."

"I can," said Galahad. "Mordred's on the move."

"Oh, like we didn't see *that* coming," Madrox said.

Alex shrugged. It did stand to reason that a culture modeled after Arthur would have its Mordred as well... the legendary bastard son of the king, destined to end his reign. Or did it? Merlin called the shots in this dimension, didn't he? Why would he create an arch-enemy for himself?

Aloud, he asked Galahad, "He's got an army?"

"A *rabble,*" said the knight.

"Well, whoe'er they are, they're nae far away," Rahne said.

"He won't be so bold as to attack us yet," Galahad said. "We must proceed stealthily."

"HEY!" called a deep voice. "What th' hell's goin' on up there? Can we get an instant replay, fer us guys who ain't ridin' thoroughbreds?"

"Nice stealth," said Madrox.

Alex winced. There wasn't a horse on Earth-- in any reality-- whose knees wouldn't have buckled at the thought of supporting the Juggernaut, and Jamie Madrox's suggestion that they find an elephant, or perhaps a triceratops, to do the job hadn't panned out. Fortunately, this was a world full of mutants; as on Alex's Earth, some of them could fit in seamlessly and others... decidedly couldn't.

Dagonet, or "Sir" Dagonet as they called him, was named after Arthur's court jester in legend, and had the misfortune to be a man in the shape of a beast-- eight feet high at the shoulders and rather resembling a large throw rug. He glared at the powerhouse on his back.

"I shall refrain from commenting upon your own breeding, Master Cain."

"You better," said the Juggernaut. "I shoulda walked..."

Rahne groaned. "Not this again. Marko, we've covered over a hundred miles..."

"So what? Th' Juggernaut don't get tired."

"Can the Juggernaut run like a horse?"

Dagonet snorted. "He can certainly eat like one. And smell like one."

"You ain't no air freshener yerself, Mr. Ed."

"Enough!" said Galahad. "Sir Cain will take the lead beside Lady Sinclair. Be watchful."

If she'd been the wolf, Rahne's ears would have perked up. "Expectin' trouble, are ye?"

"I wish to discourage trouble. For now."

"I'll go, too," said Alex. Galahad turned to object, but the X-Man cut him off: "We may work for you at the moment, but these are still my people. If you want to put us in danger, that's part of the job... but we will all walk into danger *together*."

Madrox cleared his throat. "I notice 'all' didn't seem to include me."

"No, hang back, Jamie. But be ready to send me a lot of you in a hurry."

"We aim to please," said the Multiple Man. Alex nodded to Rahne and Marko, and they eased their mounts forward.

"Well," said Galahad, "as you have outlined the plan, perhaps you'd like to carry it out?"

"Thought you'd never ask," said Alex.

With Rahe Sinclair on one side and the Juggernaut on the other, Alex Summers climbed the hill in search of a war. What Galahad didn't know-- what the other X-Men didn't know, although he imagined they might be thinking along similar lines-- was that Alex hadn't yet decided which side of the war he was on. An enemy to Merlin might be a friend to them. If so, perhaps Alex would give Galahad a chance to settle their grudge sooner than he thought.

He didn't expect the son would enjoy the outcome any more than the father had.

****

Lorna Dane awoke with a fuzzy head and a sneaking suspicion that she should be in more pain than she was. She'd been shot with a freaking *arrow*, after all. Given the state of medicine here, she really ought to have been dying. Instead, she had... a mild ache in the small of her back and a bit of stiffness when she moved. Either she'd just become one of those mutants who spontaneously developed a healing factor, or...

"You're all right," said a low voice. "They have a healer."

Lorna's head jerked up: She lay on one side of a simple tent, while a man in dirty, torn clothes sat cross-legged on the other side. The fellow had tousled silver hair, an assortment of bruises, and an all-too-familiar sneer...

"Pietro!"

"Hello, Lorna," he said. "Looking for me?"

"In part. I was mostly looking for Wanda."

The man called Quicksilver nodded. "By coincidence, so were they. They've taken her."

"And you haven't taken exception...?"

Her half-brother gestured down at his state of disarray. "I wasn't fast enough."

"That's hard to believe."

Pietro shrugged. "They have a healer *and* a leech. He's right outside this tent. While he remains, we are exceedingly mortal."

"Well." Lorna slowly rose and stretched, checking herself for further injury. "This is quite the mutant army."

"Yes. It belongs to a fellow who thinks he's Mordred, fabled traitor of Arthurian legend. I tried to assure him that wasn't possible, but he thinks *I'm* the insane one. Imagine that."

She took a step toward him. "I'm not sure he's wrong. You beat Sean Cassidy within an inch of his life, Pietro. (* eXcalibur #2)"

Quicksilver shrugged. "You're one to talk. Don't I remember you nearly killing Charles Xavier, back on Genosha?"

"I wasn't myself."

"If only we could all use that excuse, Polaris."

If Lorna could have whipped up some metal to plunge through his heart, she would have done so. But Pietro was right: her powers appeared to be on holiday. She forced herself to calm down.

"You're acting unusually... mellow, Pietro. Know something I don't?"

"Only what happens if you walk outside." Pietro nodded toward the flap in the tent. "There's a tremendous freedom that comes with being beaten to a pulp ten times. One no longer feels compelled to attempt the eleventh."

"We should work together," Lorna suggested. "Get out of here."

"...so I can lead you to Wanda?"

"Yes," Lorna admitted. "She can fix this."

Pietro stared at her for a moment. "I prefer it here, thank you."

Lorna steepled her fingers in front of her, considered, and took a chance: "Waiting for the Slayer to rescue you?"

If Pietro had been at his Quicksilver best, he'd have been at her throat. Instead, he lurched to his feet somewhat awkwardly and pulled back his fist, then caught himself and turned aside.

"Feel so damn slow," he murmured. "Is that the shadow's name, Slayer? I never knew."

"You warned Sean about him (* in #2)," Lorna said. "You must know something."

"I know I want to kill it."

Lorna offered her hand. "Help me get out of here, and we will."

Slowly-- probably the only thing he'd ever done slowly in his life-- Pietro squared his shoulders. "Well... what's one more beating between siblings? Understand: Wanda's still off-limits."

"We'll see... brother."

Pietro nodded, accepting the temporary truce; they addressed the tent opening together. Before they could take the first step, the flaps blew inward. A couple of guards appeared, then parted, revealing a woman with china-doll skin, black hair, and even blacker eyes, clad in flowing robes. Pietro rushed one of the guards, but she gestured and he was thrown to the far side of the tent. Another gesture, and Lorna joined him.

"I thought you said no powers, Pietro!" she hissed, struggling with forces as strong as any telekinesis she'd ever seen Jean Grey use.

"Perhaps she's not a mutant."

"Or perhaps her power transcends such slight limitations," said the woman in a rich, regal voice. She didn't appear to be struggling to keep them in place. "Lorna Dane of the X-Men? I'm Morgan le Fay."

Lorna frowned. "Not the old Avengers villain?"

"I think not." Pietro shook his head. "She had a bit more style. Everything in this dimension is false; why shouldn't they have a counterfeit Morgan?"

The newcomer smiled. "Counterfeit? I'm insulted, Pietro Maximoff."

"Good. You know who I am?"

"Wrong. I know who you *were.*"

She clenched her fist, and Lorna heard something-- or maybe a lot of somethings-- SNAP. Pietro let loose a small, strangled sound and then went limp. Morgan le Fay, whether or not she was the bona fide Avengers version, cast his body aside.

Lorna struggled and swore. If she could access even a little magnetic power to fight this person... but as hard as she reached out, she felt nothing. Morgan advanced, stopping just inches from Lorna. The barest gesture, and Lorna's head turned by itself, until they were staring each other in the eyes.

"I am sorry about that," Morgan said. "Were you very close?"

"No. But he was an ally, and a brother. When the X-Men find out what you've done--"

"He was in league with it. He helped it corrupt your sister."

Lorna scoffed. "I'll be killing you, all the same."

"That's nice, dear. You keep your dreams. In the interim, perhaps you'd like to help me defeat the Slayer?"

Lorna's struggles ceased momentarily "You're fighting it?"

Morgan le Fay smiled. "My dear... that's why I *exist*."

"After what you just did, there is no way I will trust you."

"I don't need your trust. Only your help."

"He could have helped you, too," Lorna said, glancing at Pietro's body. "He said he wanted it dead."

"Did he? And you took him at his word?"

"We were teammates once," Lorna said. "That means something."

Morgan le Fay shrugged. "I think you're a very poor judge of character, dear. But suppose... for the sake of argument... it was within my power to give him back to you? Would that earn me ten minutes of your time?"

Lorna glared at her. The enchantress did not appear to be joking. She gave a single, brief nod. Morgan gestured to her guards, who dragged Pietro's body from the tent. Lorna averted her eyes.

"Oh, don't look so upset." Morgan grabbed her chin between thumb and forefinger. "I'll have him restored by nightfall. Perhaps I'll shave off a few of those rough edges in the bargain."

Realization exploded in Lorna; she fought harder against the telekinetic bonds, to no avail. "You... planned to do this. From the start. You... murdered him... to make a point?!"

"Well," Morgan smiled, "you must admit: Now I have your full attention."

****

Rahne kept growling softly to herself as she crept along the ground beside Alex Summers. Her hackles stood straight up, and every now and then she'd freeze and shake herself, as though throwing off invisible spiderwebs. At length, Alex called a halt and dismounted.

"What is it, Rahne?" he whispered, just loud enough for the two of them. "You're acting very much like a skittish cocker spaniel I once knew. No offense, but it's a bit embarrassing."

His young teammate morphed, but only as far as her transitional state. She snapped her jaws, spattering him with saliva. "I canna smell 'em anymore, but they're close."

"Let 'em come," said Cain Marko. "I'm ready fer a fight."

"Have I any say in that?" asked Dagonet.

"Hey, this ain't no free country. You limeys don't invent that Magnum Carter thing fer years."

"Magna Carta," Alex said.

"Whatever."

Something-- it proved to be a snarling Rahne-- slammed into Alex's side, knocking him down a millisecond before he heard the sound:

THWIP! An arrow sailed through the space where his heart would have been. Another deflected off the Juggernaut's helmet with a PING! A third embedded itself in one of Dagonet's haunches. He bucked and reeled, throwing his rider.

Then Alex saw them, coming over the rise: Soldiers in black tunics and silver armor, wielding swords or lances or clubs, and-- oh, good, one of them had green skin. So they had mutants, too, and apparently they weren't as skittish as Galahad thought about the prospect of a fight. Alex and Rahne scrambled to their feet:

“Ach, I dinnae understand why I didn'a smell 'em!”

She attacked in her transitional state, launching herself at the nearest rider and knocking him off his mount. Alex charged up and blasted the ground beneath another horse, causing the animal to stumble. He couldn't get a clear count, but they were certainly outnumbered...

He turned and called, “Madrox! I need a charge, quick as you can!”

“A charge?” Cain Marko asked, while pounding one of their attackers. “That twerp's the cavalry now?”

“Watch and learn, Cain,” Alex said, blasting again.

A moment later there was a rumble of hoofbeats, Galahad leading his knights over the hill-- backed by dozens of Madroxes, shouting and cheering, bringing the odds to just about even. They weren't armed, but with Jamie's martial arts training to use against a pack of brawlers, made slow by armor, they might as well have been.

“Haw!” Cain Marko said. “Way t'go, Braveheart!”

“Flamin' showoff,” Rahne muttered, while slashing down another soldier.

While the Madroxes swarmed in and among the enemy, Alex kept blasting. Rahne and Marko likewise took care of business, and even Dagonet trampled an opponent or two. Although a couple of energy-weilders among the attacking army tried to return fire, they were forced steadily back.

The knights were doing their jobs, too: Galahad skewered opponents one after another, while Gawain blazed white-hot with the energy he expended and Bedivere dueled four enemies at a time. Alex was forced to admire their technique, their courage...

Then Galahad stopped short in the middle of the battle, turned, and made a gesture with his hands. Alex wondered what he was doing... then, suddenly, he thought he knew...

“Aw,” he murmured, “hell. Rahne, I think--”

He didn't get to finish what he was saying; Sir Kay, the deluxe-sized shapeshifter, had been fighting back-to-back with the Juggernaut, but when he saw the signal, he morphed his arm into a razor-sharp spike...

...and drove it through the nearest two Madroxes, whose wet screams suddenly echoed across the battlefield. Marko turned in surprise, to see another deadly skewer headed for his midsection...

POW! Kay took a bolt from Alex in the chest and staggered, just before he could finish the deed. Cain Marko drove a couple of gigantic fists into his midsection, knocking him down...

But that was only *one* of them. All over the field, Madroxes reacted in confusion as Galahad and his knights started slaughtering them-- although Bedivere held back, looking bewildered. Gawain even burned a hole in Dagonet's side. The beast/man howled, his screams mixing with those of the prime Madrox. The psychic feedback of losing so many dupes must have been agonizing.

Rahne muttered something furious-sounding in Scots Gaelic that Alex didn't want to translate, although he thought he heard the word for “sheep” in a context that sounded immoral. He could fill in the rest from his own imagination. Marko was making his feelings known with his fists, and was now pummeling Sir Gawain as mercilessly as he ever had Colossus, back in his villain days.

Alex himself fought his way to Galahad, knocking down soldiers left and right, and got to the big man just as he was putting a sword through another Madrox.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“Following orders,” said the knight, and he swung his sword toward the X-Man...

Alex's fist came up against his forehead, already burning with plasma. “So help me, if one more of Jamie dies, I will burn your freaking head off.”

Galahad stayed his arm. The two men locked eyes.

“Go,” Alex whispered.

The knight took a step back and gestured to his companions. Gawain blasted into the air. Kay slowly picked himself off the ground. Glancing warily at the Juggernaut, he returned to his mount. Bedivere didn't seem to know *what* to do, but finally trudged after the others.

The soldiers in silver-and-black were pressing their advantage against the remaining, weakened Madroxes. Alex was going to have his hands full in a minute. He lowered his fist, but kept glaring at Galahad:

“You people seriously need to read the code of the Round Table.”

“Merlin makes the rules here,” said the younger man. “For what it's worth... no treachery was planned on my part. I was as surprised as you were.”

“I really don't give a damn.”

“I don't expect you to.” Galahad backed away, then turned and ran to his horse.

Suddenly one of the Jamies fell to his knees and began to reabsorb the others. He'd been taxed to his limits; Rahne ran to him, but she didn't seem to know what to do... and now there was nothing between the X-Men and Mordred's advancing soldiers...

Cain Marko had been kneeling with Dagonet, inspecting the strange mutant's wound, but now he took a stand beside Alex, eyes simmering.

“Blaze a' glory, huh, Alex?” he said. “Betcha I can take down more'n you can before they nail us.”

“Cain, I'd really rather not think about it...” He trailed off and frowned, his thoughts drifting elsewhere: *Why did Merlin-- the Slayer-- pick now to betray us? And... what if we're not the only ones?”

****

Back in her chambers, Jean Grey approached the Five-in-One's group consciousness from about the tenth different angle, and still got nothing. Whatever it was that linked Mindee's mind to those of her sisters also acted to effectively shield her from anything but the most invasive mental scans. Jean could make one of those, but it would involve stripping the girl's defenses, hurting her, doing the kind of damage Charles had warned her against for years...

*You don't make it easy,* she thought, *do you, girl?*

Mindee's sense was almost as weary as Jean's, by now, but she managed to round up some flippancy: *It's not our game, Miss Grey. We're just really good at it.*

Jean sighed, wondering what tack she could try next... when suddenly she caught of flash of something, not coming from Mindee, but nearby and approaching fast...

She gasped and broke the telepathic contact. Mindee's eyes reflected her own alarm.

“Did you feel--”

“Yes. They're coming for you."

Five minutes later, loud thumping at the door fought rough male voices for attention in the corridor outside Jean and Mindee shared a look.

“Ready?”

Mindee nodded.

Jean reached out with her teke and swung the door open. A knot of soldiers almost fell to the ground, cursing and snarling, but finally their leader stepped forward. He wore officer's rank and had a couple of teeth missing from his yellowed smile:

“Lady Grey. You and your companion are under arrest, by order of Merlin.”

“The king won't allow--”

“The King's locked in his tower. Merlin has taken the throne.”

“Discarded subtlety, has he? I can do that, too. You get one warning: You're not welcome here. Go away.”

The officer grinned and hefted his sword. He seemed to be calculating the possibilities inherent to attractive female prisoners. “If you resist us--”

“Should we resist him?” Jean asked Mindee.

“Don't look at me. You're the Phoenix.”

“That's right.” She turned back to the officer with eyes literally burning. “I am.”

BOOM.

Several minutes later, a pair of figures stepped out of the smoldering remains of the tower where Jean Grey and her companions had-- past tense-- been housed. They were only a pair of unarmed women. There were still any number of soldiers encircling the structure.

Nobody tried to stop them from walking away.

****

Alex let the attacking soldiers get as close as possible, meanwhile storing up as much energy as he could. His intention was not to fire, so to speak, until he saw the whites of their eyes. If he could wade deep enough into their midst and then detonate, he might take out enough of them to give Rahne a chance to get Jamie to safety. Somehow. Maybe.

Alex took a deep breath. Mordred's troops were shouting, just inches away with swords bared. Their shouts were deafening--

--and then he could hear only: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Alex hit the ground beside Cain Marko, both of them covering their ears. Rahne howled like the wild thing she was. But the effect on the opposing soldiers was even greater. They shrank from the sound as though it had cut a trench between them and the X-Men. Some of them seemed rather disoriented, shaking their heads as though they weren't sure where they were. Then, almost as one, they turned and ran.

Alex didn't even have time to process what had just happened before the source of the sound hit the ground beside him. Alex winced, for the Banshee appeared to have used up the last of his strength in that well-timed scream. Still a little lost as to *why* it had saved them, Alex turned the other man over...

Sean Cassidy was barely conscious, bleeding from the mouth, and pale. What the hell had possessed him to even try to fly-- much less fight-- in this condition?

"Sean? Sean, can you hear me?"

"That I can, boyo. In fact, you're a touch too loud fer me poor ears."

"Sean, what are you doing out here?"

The Banshee groaned "I was lookin' fer... Lorna."

Alex blinked. "Lorna? Isn't she back with Jean?"

"She had the run an errand, y'might say. I went t' look for her... an' what do I find but this lovely donnybrook? I hope yeh don't mind me intrudin'."

The Juggernaut laughed. "Far as I'm concerned, Irish, you can intrude like that any day of the week."

Sean nodded wearily. "Ah, I've a throat on me... have yeh, by chance, a drop o' water fer a fallen hero?"

Cain got him some water and helped him drink, while Alex went to check on Madrox. He found Rahne scolding him, as usual, though he couldn't have said what for-- Jamie had performed his part of the plan perfectly, even heroically. It hadn't been his fault Merlin had turned on them, and done so with a strategy specifically designed to disable the Multiple Man. (For that matter, *why* had he done so? Too many things weren't adding up...)

"How are we doing?" he asked them both.

He caught Rahne in mid-rant: "...ye bampot, ye pillock, ye idjit, so help me..."

"You're cute when you're all worried and flustered." Jamie winked, then turned to Alex. "*We* are all right, boss. Mostly."

"Mostly?" Alex asked.

"Yeah-- you see, I was losing strength so fast, I sort of went into emergency absorption mode, and while that worked for the dupes on the field... well, I left half a dozen on guard back there..."

Alex glanced back over the hill-- there were five extra Madroxes looking on with some degree of consternation. He shrugged.

"So reabsorb 'em, Jamie. As long as you're..."

"I *can't*."

A beat passed. "I'm sorry?"

Jamie shrugged. "I'm surprised, too-- but then, I never took a pounding quite like that. I can't pull them back in, Alex. At least, not now. Let me rest for a while, I'll see what I can do..."

"Ach, I *said* ye were an idjit," said Rahne. "What're we t'do with an extra five o' ye?"

"Five?" Jamie shrugged. "Start a basketball team?"

Alex looked back on the other Jamies once more, felt a weariness down to his bones, and sighed. "Terrific..."

****

Morgan le Fay left Lorna in her tent unguarded, on the theory that she would not leave without Pietro. In fact, she was strongly tempted to do just that-- but after all, faint heart never reset the Universe. She decided to play out the hand.

Evening had just set in when a couple of guards in black and silver dumped Pietro Maximoff on the floor of the tent, then turned and walked out. Lorna hurried to check his vital signs-- thready but stable. She exhaled a slow breath. She hadn't really believed Morgan could do what she said...

Pietro's eyes blinked open. "What happened?"

"Well... you were killed and brought back to life."

"Again?"

He passed out. Just as well. Lorna didn't have much to say to him, anyway. Morgan le Fay, on the other hand... Morgan was...

Here! The strange, dark woman marched through the door and levitated Lorna back to her feet.

"Would you *please* stop doing tha--"

"How did he know?" Morgan demanded, getting into her face.

"What? Who?"

"That damned Irishman! How did he know? How did he manage to appear just then? What aren't you telling me?"

Lorna shook her head. "Lady, I don't even understand the conversation."

"He broke my connection!" Morgan snarled. "That scream of his blocked my control! We've lost irreplaceable manpower, as well as your friends!"

"My... friends?"

The enchantress nodded. Lorna could feel her telekinetic pressure increasing, almost like a vise. "I was going to have them brought here after Merlin's men were dead. Your Banshee got in the way, and I was unable to explain my intentions or give any orders at all! What's your game, girl? How did you know to do that?"

Lorna tossed up her hands. "I can't even begin to... wait, your control? Are you keeping Mordred's army in line telepathically?"

A smirk. "Well, you don't think people are lining up to fight Merlin willingly, do you?"

"That's completely unethical, not to mention--!"

Morgan gestured, as though tossing Lorna aside, and she hit the floor next to her brother.

"This is a war we must win," Morgan said, and swept from the tent.

"For who?" Lorna asked. But, of course, nobody was conscious to answer.

****

Back in the city, the man who called himself Merlin in this timeline was having a most interesting conversation. Usually that required him to appear as psionic shadow or hitchhiking in a foreign mind, a dismal state of affairs. Here on his home ground, in the dimension he'd shaped for himself, he could slip into something more comfortable-- his natural body, or as close to such as he possessed.

All the better to scowl when he said: "I don't understand. They should have encountered each other by now. Somehow Morgan failed to unite my foes against me-- the poor dear so despises me, I hate to see her frustrated. And yet... she failed."

His visitor shrugged. "It's the girl. Somehow she knew Cassidy was what they needed, and just where to send him. You want them? You'll have to get rid of her."

Merlin nodded. "How clever of you to notice. Can you take care of it?"

"Will I get what I want?"

"Complete freedom." The wizard smiled. "And autonomy. The one who dominates you shall be killed, and you alone shall remain... at my side. Is that agreeable?"

His guest-- the sixth remaining duplicate of Jamie Madrox-- stepped out of the shadows and grinned. "Consider it done."

END

In Issue #5: "Gift of the Madri"
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