The Uplift Protocol: Hidden Legacies Issue 8

Issue 8: Mordred Oath

 

            Ahh, yes. Morrigan might have been my birth mother but the one who nurtured me within that space between waking and reality? Morgana—Mordred

            Many hidden knives. Ones that my previous life did not detect until it was too late. The true fall of Camelot began with a spark of anger.—Arthur

            The black scrawl. Much like the Weave has its script. This was the realm of Unity.  Brought into the world by the one true Lady of Chains, Morgana. Yet still, I was the only one who could perceive the Amarche. Due to their gift of Dark Matter sight. It would be a needed boon on my climb. The Cliffs still reside in my memory. Dark edifices that I had to conquer to see the Light of Life once more.—Sleeping in Starlight, a memoir of the 22^nd century.

Camelot

Age of Heroes

Date Redacted/Syncing with Archives

 

            Arthur swung Excalibur in a wide arc. The sun’s rays reflecting off the white metal.

            Mordred heaved himself to the side. His dodge worked but he found his foot caught on the uneven terrain and he pitched forward. His lip bursting as he cartwheeled face-first into the hard ground. Arthur offered a hand to the young man. Mordred glared, “You did that on purpose! Some hero you are!” Arthur pressed his lips together. Holding back his real feelings. They had all tried to get through to the young man but the bitterness clung to Mordred like a second layer of skin. Always brooding. That unsettling glint in his dark brown eyes.

            The eyes of a devil.

            Arthur withdrew his hand as the 15-year-old scrambled to his feet. The blood a shade too dark across his lips. Arthur brought Excalibur up into the ready position.

            “Again!”

            Mordred’s growled, “That sword cheats!”

*****

            Mordred glared at the summer sweet sky. His mother was trailing him from above. Her crow form readily apparent. None of them understood. They feared his dual heritage. The Dreaming had shown him. The dark lady whispering the lore of the real to him. Hiding him from the eyes of the Light Shamans that plagued this planet. He was the chosen of God. Mist curled around his feet as he headed towards the woods encircling Camelot. He would find no allies there. His eyes locked onto the faint footsteps outlined in the underbrush. Crimson droplets upon Wolfsbane petals. Their purple color a stark contrast to the greens, browns, and golds around him.

            His mother’s panicked cawing sending a thrill through him.

            Whatever upset her delighted him.

*****

            The Morrigan circled frantically.

Seeing the outline of the Dark Shaman’s teleportation symbol through the tops of the treeline. Her calls reached Guinevere. The Queen of Avalon bowed her head. The fall would come sooner rather than later. The waters and staff never lied. Camelot was on borrowed time. She would have to secure Avalon and the Leyline that was shrouded there. No matter what time she peered into, Mordred would serve Unity. Knowingly or not. She recalled the Morrigan. Using her amulet to add weight to her words.

“We cannot save him. Morgana has already ensnared him. Only Convergence may save his soul now.”

*****

            Mordred knelt. Inhaling the scent of the Wolfsbane. He removed his cloak. His chest plate. Letting the air hit his worn muscles. King Arthur was a fool. Mordred’s raven dark hair came to the small of his back. Two braids on either side tickling his cheeks. His thoughts rested on the Queen. Far too good for the likes of him or Arthur yet she doted on Excalibur’s wielder. A throaty chuckle brought him out of his wayward thoughts. Her black within black eyes was all-seeing. “Dear Mordred. Why ponder those low-bearing fruits when you could master the secrets of the very Cosmos itself. I will show you the cunning of your father’s line.”

            The forest shifted. Chariots of fire battled giant golden monoliths.

            One gray bedecked figure rose taller. His face motionless. The chaos around him merely a footnote. He pointed, “The Collective means to stop us. We will have this planet. Unleash the Artock.” Mordred pressed his hand through the vision.

It left a resonating tingle on his fingertips. Morgana’s voice coiled about him, “You see. Your father commands the very stars themselves. What use is Camelot?”  Black Scrawl crawled up his arms. Her hands wrapped around his neck. Warm lips on his neck. “Let me show you true power dear Mordred!”

Nar Lysis, Italy

Ruins of Matan

Present Day

            Mordred peered down into the scattered ruins. This place used to be a Light Shaman refuge. Most locals said it was haunted. It was merely on the cusp of the Dreaming. Which was why those cursed sorcerers, mages, and naturally foolish do-gooders flocked here. They still battled the Dark Shamans over the territory around Stonehenge but this place was now for his use. Or would be. He sensed the men before they even appeared. The cold bite of metal resting near his lower spinal column.

A rouge guttural voice snapped, “Why do you tread here. Speak wisely little one. Your good looks won’t save you.” Mordred uttered the words. “The Lady of Chains, carried by the whispers of Wolfsbane, the one path known to all.”

The other 5 men froze.

Their beady eyes locked onto their leader’s face.

Another phrase rose. Pitched in such a way that Mordred knew the man wasn’t human.

“H’thas Ni’tha”

Mordred responded, “And so he shall consume the world. The sky, the soul and the very flesh of Creation.”

They guided Mordred to the faded circle at the heart of the ruins. The shift into the Dreaming was instant. A drawf with five arms greeted him, “Oh! Mistress will be pleased. Come! The Wielder will have his price!”

*****

            This area was overabundant with thorns. Cold wind and flickering green torches. Mordred held his piece. Knowing that dear Morgana loved her theater. Almost as much as she loved him. A gray cloaked man sat next to her. His face shrouded. Mordred called out, “I have arrived, dear lady!” She examined him cooly. Noting that the body he inhabited bore a disturbing similarity to the Avalonian caretaker. She motioned for Mordred to sit on her left. While the gray stranger interjected, “I know you are angry with me but think of the possibilities!”  She purred when the gray one planted a tender kiss upon her head. In a rather familiar fashion. It was then that he noticed a faint outline of one black withered wing. While the man had both. Speckled with gray at their tips. Mordred swore he saw the wings shift. One moment feathery. The next? Leathered and shrunken. He shook his head.

            He’d figure that out later.

            Morgana chuckled, “My son. This is Mordred. You are to be as brothers.”

Set smirked. His deep baritone inquisitive, “Brothers? While Mordred wears that guise? I’d say more kindred spirits!” Mordred smiled.

“I have brought you the blade!” She examined it.

Her tone subdued, “Dear Nylis has been injured.” She caressed the black blade as its crimson sigils pulsated. She continued, “Set, you will assist Mordred in repairing it.”

He pressed a fist to his heart, “Of course mother.”

Mordred quirked an eyebrow, “What will we have to do first?”

She smiled, the scorching power pooling below her feet, “Bring me the heart of a Bardaxian!” Set held in a breath. His body shaking, “Ahhh, what kind of Bardaxian dear mother?” He already knew the answer.

She replied, “The one with the purest heart!”

Mordred, from the look Set, was bestowing upon him, knew what that would entail. His silken feminine voice curled disgustedly, “Ahh. So you need a newly born? Our best bet? Follow the Banner. Those four-footed drool machines love her.”

New Ashbury (Texas)

North Ashbury High School

August 3^rd, 2114

 

            Moonlighter and some Light Shaman C.A.P members evac’d the girl. Doc had kept her vitals stable as Moonlighter disabled some of the more explosive enchantments on her. I knew this wasn’t my area of experience but they assured me that they’d be able to save her. Guinevere's story hadn’t been a pleasant one. “So Chronos has children seeded all over?” Her silence was all the reply I needed. To think, what the Sister used on me was also a part of his experiments. Doc wrapped her arms around me. I pushed the thought away to the deepest trenches within my mind.

            Focus! Was anyone at the school in danger?!

            We exited the library, making our way back to the reunion bash, when old Mr. Hardy, the school’s electrician exclaimed, “Well I’ll be! Good to see you Cornbread! Or was it Corn Muffin?” Doc grinned, “Cornfed.” The older man smiled, “That was it!” I pointed at his belt. “Anything else needs fixing here?”

            He nodded, “The lights are acting finicky on the 4^th floor again.” Another set of footsteps. Mr. Ned Fletcher, dressed in workman's overalls, gray boots, and a padded undershirt of tan, waved at us. “No worries Mr. Hardy! The Trinker’s Guild is here to assist!”

            A bardaxian, in the shape of a Collie, barked, while Fletcher waved Hardy back to the dancefloor. “Some of the graduates say the sound system needs a look-see. I'll have a gander at that 4^th floor!” He had adopted an American accent. Both men shook hands and Fletcher waited until Handy was out of sight. Or earshot. “Moonlighter says there’s another gift up there from the Bane Flower.”

            I picked up the heartbeats of over 2 dozen people. The shimmers of their Light Shaman aura’s flaring to let me know what was up. “Let’s go.” A battlesuit formed over Fletcher’s broad frame. The same happened for everyone else. Including my parents.  Mom eyed me with that steely gaze of hers.

            >>Let’s go clean out the trash.<<

            A cluster of three men came forward, their armor adorned with more holy sigils than a crusading knight of old. He handed me a card.

            ///The Pinkerton’s Ghosts: For when you need more firepower in the name of the Weave. The modern calling of the Dues Vult Brotherhood. Chapters now Operating in England, The USA, Europe, and beyond! ///

            A trio I’d keep my eyes on.

            No names were exchanged. From the weight of the card, it was nigh indestructible. Even if I couldn’t use magic, this thing was powerful. Dad examined it, “I think I know a few jobs that men of your caliber can handle!”

            The only reason I could tell we had this much backup, despite the magical cloaking, is because they wanted me to know everyone’s heartbeat. Fletcher was placed at the center. Along with Nola. Eddie and my parents brought up the rear. I opened the 4^th-floor access stairwell. The stale aroma of burnt leaves wafted down. Bits of black scrawl on the railings. As we edged closer to the affected area, tendrils of mist curled around my ankles. The collie growled. Her ears set back. Nervous pacing as she stated, <<She planted a Grinkin within the Dreaming here.>> The Weave had a few layers. That layer was usually a boon to the Light Shamans. White’s power rumbled. My normal clothing was replaced by the radiance of my Defender uniform. The butt of my spear thudding on the hardwood floor.

            Faint white glimmers burned within its depths.

            I used the tip of the spear to ease the doorway open.

Black tendrils recoiled from its inner light.

Doc muttered, “Again?” She hated tentacles.

*****

            The Pinkerton trio readied their blessed bombs.

About the size of a human palm. Loaded with holy shrapnel. It wouldn’t wreck anything within the physical realm but with Star poking open the yawning maw of the Dreaming, these lovely bundles of magical nitrate were just what the doctor ordered. One of them in particular had a score to settle with Morgana. He shouted, “Fire in the hole!”  He lobbed the present into the crack that the spear had opened. The sharpshooter of their merry band readied his grav-tracer. It could be utilized in close quarters or from mid-range. The stock of the rifle was laced with wards and protective runes. Each burning gold in the presence of evil.

He hated Grinkin. This thing was just the opening appetizer in the realm of wicked entities. That shadowed tendril being was a Shade. The one they would face would be much more entrenched. The rest of the Light Shamans flooded into the corridor as Star pushed the shade back. Her face resolute.

*****

            I watched in slow motion as the grenades entered the darkened corridor. Beyond the initial spark, the black mass shifted, revealing dozens of milk-white eyes. Its maw opened as it swallowed the grenades whole. I had no idea if the blast would reverberate back so I drove my spear into its mouth, sealing it shut. It thrashed against my arms and legs. Tiny red barbs attempting to gain access past a very irate White. I gritted my teeth, shouting a war cry as I launched myself down the hallway. I would have preferred to fly but I wasn’t sure what would manifest in this Dreaming. This was not my realm of expertise so I followed the teachings of Moonlighter.

            Within the Dream, air could be water, while land could be the sky. The vile creature warbled, its many limbs thrashing as the magical energies ate away at its insides. Lorain’s hand shot out. Bringing me to a stop. The wall before us fading. The incessant calls of animals and lush jungle forest curling around my feet. The sharp crack of a mid-range grav rifle blew past me. Nailing a winged nightmare to the yellowed bark.

*****

            Moonlighter gave thanks that Eliza had cleansed Earth’s Weave so long ago. He watched as Dr. Zanzibar maintained the anchor to the physical world. J’dax and the Golden Bulleteer provided demi protection while Moonlighter and Tidalwave maintained a more magical barrier. Without that cleansing, they would have been lost to the corrupted Dreaming realm of  Morgana. He knew what the Arcane Council wanted. They needed the flesh of the Grinkin. It was massive in size. 20 feet tall. Skin covered in pustules. Each loaded with Dark Shaman poisons. They wanted Fletcher to examine the rune work upon the spinal column. They believed that he would be able to help them reverse engineer a device that could detect dark energy.

            By harvesting the flesh the other Light Shamans could develop a proper antidote.

            Since those poisons were a favored weapon of the enemy.

            Dr. Zanzibar intoned, “By Iron Line and Fire Both.” His forehead furrowed. His eyes glazed over as he rocked back and forth from a cross-legged position. J’dax asked, “Why so many Shamans? Wouldn’t it be easier to move with a smaller group?”

            Moonlighter responded, “Usually yes. But each Shaman is acting as an anchor after a certain length. The main heavy hitters are those Pinkerton fellows for this mission. I saw their mettle a few years ago clearing out a Void Walker nest. Since all of them walk in similar circles.”

            From the Artock Fleet invasion.

J’dax knew of it. Since the elder Odessen kept him updated. The Sister had left many unfortunate surprises. He was just thankful humanity had a wellspring of magical practitioners to defend them. He hoped Typha would gain such a boon as well.

*****

            I saw why they wanted me to stay aware of all the human heartbeats.

            They were creating a chain back to the land of the normal. I spun, my spear whirling as I struck, the heavy thud of the serpentine body twitching. Black scrawl spewing from its wound. Puffs of smoke rising as it met any point along the shaft of my weapon. The jungle grew quiet. The earth rose. Covering everyone. A giant hand closed in about me and squeezed. I slowed my breathing.  All the heartbeats were still present.

Whatever they needed had arrived.

*****

            Another whine and another mark. The grav rounds shredded the muscle of the wrist holding Star. She broke through with a grunt. Her spear slipping through the gap of the Grimkin’s thumb and forefinger. It howled. Its feet trampling the jungle vines. Transmogrifying them into numerous coils of black scrawl. A swath of the creature’s moldy hand tumbled to the earth as the Pinkertons fired sanctified arrows into its hide. Severing the left-hand knuckles. Star focused on its chest. Lorain back-peddled as the other hand came slamming down. That wrist burned as it reached back up to swat away at the demi aiming for its heart.

*****

            This thing had no soul. I focused my dark matter beams. Finding an odd mix of writing on its chest. Dark Shaman. Black Scrawl and Void Walker. This might have been a living creature or group of people once. But no longer. While most of its body was fueled by the energy unknown to me, its spine was Void Walker technology, with the words for “Titan Refuse 22b-8” scorched upon each break. If I kept it focused on me, it would ignore Doc and the others.

*****

            Nola summoned the Four Winds. Each bringing a bolt of Lightning down on the head of the brute. Its lantern-hued eyes turned towards her. But Star wouldn’t let it go after the artillery. The large demi woman took a page from her brother’s book and launched her spear at its right eye. Its hiss of pain as it fell to one knee, howling as it couldn’t dislodge the weapon, distracting it from the sorceress priestess. She held her mirror aloft. Working with the Pinkertons to dismantle its corroded warding. Her face contorted. Sweat trickling down her spine. Morgana’s foul words crashing against Nola’s protections. Eddie could see the hidden clash of magic. He aimed his duel phasers, as he dubbed them, at the Grimkin’s belt. One of the enchantments was on the buckle.

            That thing reminded him of a caveman. All misshapen. He comm’d the Trio, <<Any other place besides that belt with some evil ward on it?>>

            <<Base of the neck, both wrists, heels, spine, and its forehead!>>

            The Pinkertons added the belt information for later.

            The Puzzler had been an apt demi name for the young man.

*****

            Doc fired at the black scrawl.

Each micro grav round laying waste to the jungle around her. General Murphy had his firearm in one hand. Taking aimed shots as well. Then he would cross his arms. The light of his bracers clearing more corrupted enemies as they got close. In particular, the flying ones. J’ino was beside him. Back to back. Using the sanctified metals as a whip. Her matter manipulation had grown while they had all lived within Matarn’s old prison. She was glad it was no longer called Pandora’s Box. The Tower suited it much better nowadays. The ground heaved once more and stilled. The tip of Star’s spear rammed clean through the other eye of the Grimkin. There were days Lorain was exceedingly glad she wasn’t a Light Shaman or a Weave Speaker. What they protected people against was even more strenuous than the normal demi patrol.

Without Star to distract that monstrosity, they would have taken casualties. The murky light faded. A faint blue mist pooled around them. Then in a blink, they were all in the school hallway. With a rather tired Dr. Zanzibar beaming at them. “Think they have any actual alcohol at that reunion of yours?”

Eliza laughed, “If they do, it’s not going to work on me, but I think you all deserve a keg or three! My treat!”

*****

Auggie sat next to Cooper. They were distracting the crowds until Eliza could return. He ambled up to the stage. Taking his time to re-trace those old steps. The crowd laughed as both he and his German Shepherd compatriot tackled the first round of medium-sized cake. It was delicious! They had even put a dash of cinnamon on the light layer of whipped icing. His ears perked up and he let out a happy bark. Lorain and Eliza were back. It had felt like hours. He pranced around them. Noting that a relieved look entered their eyes.

Cooper joined in.

He had heard the old tales of the Black Scrawl.

Emris had given Bardax a boon as well. With more Light Shamans than they knew what to do with. So the mandate had been simple. To welcome their older cycle brothers and sisters. They would need everyone if they hoped to bring Eliza back. Emris had finalized the finishing touches on the Crystal matrix. His tail wagging as his friend carried him around in her arms. He could walk. But this was the best.

What else could a Bardaxian want?

*****

            Hilary watched through a TA Drone. She had all the right press credentials on it. No enhanced anything. Placed in a sterile container when not in use. So nothing of herself would leave any trace. Her fingers clasped under her chin.

            “The dogs. You always loved them. There’s so many.”

            Her crooked smile twisted as she saw that Doctor fawning over the cripple.

            Deep down she knew no one would look at her like that.

            Her gaze narrowed. “No matter. Enjoy this moment. You won’t have many more of them!”

 

Issue 7: Here

Issue 9: Here

 

Link to Pinkerton's Ghosts: Here