Elsewhere in the same city

Bolker Bittershield, a halfling described by his own family as ‘born wrong’, was a man who hated his life at the moment. While he had long since established himself as an excellent warrior along with the rest of his phalanx, he and all his fellow soldiers had been sidelined upon reaching this plain, and given menial guard assignments. What kind of society goes to war with their worst soldiers at the front and their best in reserve?

Outrage stewed in Bolker’s mind, and he didn’t even notice the current of air that brushed by, or see his superior officer casually stroll by without demanding a salute.

Persona Grata rounded a corner, glanced around and then asked, “Shiva, have you found the hostages?”

The air swirled in front of Persona Grata, and formed into the shape of a well armed, blue skinned woman.

“Yeah, they’re down the hall. The guards keeping watch didn’t seem too impressive, but I didn’t get close. It could be a trap.”

“You mean you were unwilling to sacrifice those innocent people for the sake of your death wish?”

Shiva gave Persona Grata a look that said more than words ever could about how much she appreciated the other woman’s attempts to psycho-analyze.

“The lower level looks like it has political prisoners. They were going on and on about Darkstorm’s unlawful oppression, and how he couldn’t silence their voice forever,” Shiva stated evenly.“Might be worth investigating.”

“It would be,” Persona Grata reflected, “I need to do something regarding the hostages they took. Head down there and, without killing anyone, see if you can’t herd the guards away.”

“I make poisons,” Shiva scowled, “I either kill or I don’t.”

“No, you make chemical reactions,” Persona sighed, “give them hay fever, an itchy throat, something so that they will not be inclined to watch the cells too hard. Stop acting stupid, please. I don’t have the patience for it here.”

---

Several minutes later

Persona Grata glanced at the two unconscious guards, sleeping contently, and then to Shiva.

“Good job,” Persona complimented, “lead the way, please.”

The two women calmly walked down the stone hall. It wasn’t long until they reached a single cell that while possessing no bars, seemed to contain hundred of prisoners. Persona Grata knew instantly that it was because of magic, but it was somewhat disconcerting for the android to see such an obvious affront to logic and physics.

One woman stepped forward until she was within a inch of smoldering runes etched into the floor. The woman had scarlet red skin, pitch black hair and was dressed in rags, but still carried herself with a sense of dignity and purpose. Just a glance at how the other prisoners looked at her was enough to tell Persona Grata that this woman was their leader.

“Off-worlders,” the woman said plainly, “I am Noblewoman Cessilia. I can only assume that you have come here seeking allies against the scum Darkstorm.”

“Actually, to us you’re the off-worlders,” Persona Grata corrected, “and if you are a noblewoman, may I ask why you are in rags?”

“A simple question with an easy answer,” Cessilia replied with a world-weary sigh, “before he sought to abandon our world, Lord Darkstorm had all his critics and enemies taken from their home, swept up and taken to the dungeons. His excuse changed depending on whom he ordered taken, some were deemed spies, others zealots and even some for their own protection! His lies changed, but we all ended up here just the same.”

While Cessilia spoke, Persona Grata observed the prisoners around her. Judging on body language, no one disagreed with her assessment, and some even recoiled at the mention of Darkstorm’s name.

“And no one objected?”

“Whoever did was shouted down as anti-magic,” Cessilia growled, “there is no more vile insult in our world.”

“So am I to understand that you do not believe Lord Darkstorm’s accusations that we are the cause of your world’s ruin?”

“We all know your world is blameless, just a scapegoat for our so called lord,” Cessilia spat.

“So tell me then, just what are you and yours willing to do about it?”

---

Hellios hummed to himself, and reflected on his current isolation. Part of him knew that he’d have gotten this assignment whether or not he’d mouthed off to Chapman, but he also wondered if Chapman might have found a way to somehow make it more pleasant had he kept a civil tongue.

The solar powered hero reached up with his hand and caught a piece of metal. With a thought, he activated his vision powered, and melted the metal into liquid hot steel.

 

Then, while it was still malleable, he pressed it against a giant ball of steel and waited several seconds for it to cool.

Hellios looked at the sheer size of the crude weapon he was making. It was solid steel three times the size of the average house, and felt a chill run down his spine that had absolutely nothing to do with the freezing temperatures that surrounded him.

Leave it to Chapman to create his own nuclear weapons, Hellios reflected.

---

Faylin

 

The VIP seating for Kamau’s battle reminded Chapman of old movies set in the age of King Arthur. Colorful flags surrounded their simple seating, Chapman’s people were on one side, Darkstorm’s on the other. They were seated like nobility of old in preparation for a joust, not the deadly battle that was to come.

Chapman mulled over his options in his mind again and again, but kept coming up empty. He could feel the accusing glances of his subordinates, but did his best to ignore them and think about the situation objectively.

Did he really have the option of refusing? How would Darkstorm respond to such a snub? By now, Chapman was positive that the Stealth Squad had infiltrated the city, but had no idea how far long they were into their sabotage efforts. In his pocket, he had a specially made signal device that could reach anywhere within a split second, but at the same time Chapman had a timetable. He knew as surely as the sun rose that he could send these people packing from his world, but only if he kept to the plan!

Without regard for Chapman’s plan, a horn was blown and the battle was officially started.

Kamau sized up his enemy, a heavy-set knight dressed in red armor and helmet with a T-slit. Kamau cringed, however slightly, when he realized the man’s armor gained its color from the sheer amount of bloodshed it was involved in, but decided it was of little importance. If nothing else, he respected the man’s honest nature.

“Have you any words before we begin?” asked Red Knight.

Kamau looked down at his necklace of religious icons, and then to Red Knight, “No. Actions are all that define life, and death, here.”

Kamau sprang into action, crossing the fifteen feet between him and his enemy within seconds. He swung his right fist towards the Knight’s throat, only to have it slam into his enemy’s claymore.

“You’re quick,” Kamau remarked off-hand. He swung his free hand, diamond knife aimed at Red Knight’s stomach, but the Knight caught him by the wrist seconds before the knife threatened to disembowel him.

“Dragons are my area of expertise, but are not the only foe I have encountered,” the Knight boasted, “You have to be a little quicker than that, to catch me.”

“Understood.”

 

A column of solid earth, the size and width of an average trash can, shot out of the ground and slammed into Red Knight’s mid-section, and knocked him through the air like a kick ball. Kamau concentrated, and the moment his foe hit the earth, he willed the column of earth to shoot from the ground like a cannonball.

Red Knight was too swift though. He was on his feet in seconds, and batted the chunk of earth away with his sword as if it was a tennis ball. He then pointed his sword at Kamau, and a gout of flame lunged forth from the blade.

Kamau brought up a wall of solid earth, and began to sweat as the heat washed over him. He could feel the earth he summoned beginning to turn to molten rock, and no small amount of willpower to hold it in place.

For a second, the heat stopped and Kamau breathed a sigh of relief.

Then the wall of earth he’d summoned exploded as the Red Knight tore through it like a missile. Kamau was thrown back by the sheer force, went limp, and rolling with the impact. He tucked himself into a ball and rolled to his feet, knives in each hand.

“So your magic allows you to control the earth. Very impressive,” Red Knight remarked honestly, “however, I have fought and beaten mages with the same ability.”

Kamau said nothing, as he absorbed his diamond knives back into his body and summoned his glass sword to his right hand. Kamau grinned savagely as Red Knight took a step back. It wasn’t because he could make glass was stronger than diamonds, no. It was because one had to stare, to catch it at the right angle just to see it, let alone defend against it.

A better weapon, Kamau couldn’t imagine.

Kamau moved in slowly this time, then broke into a run and leapt into the air. As he came down again, Kamau aimed his sword for Red Knight’s neck, and the Magical Champion just barely brought his sword up in time to block the strike.

Kamau’s glass sword was cleaved instantly, but the second it passed Red Knight’s enchanted sword, it lengthened, tearing a jagged cut across Red Knight’s armor.

“Arrgh!” Red Knight screamed in pain, but that’s not how he reached. He brought his sword arm down, slamming his elbow into Kamau’s shoulder and dislocating the arm. He then swung his right hand, and connected with a haymaker that sent the African Warrior skidding back some twenty feet like a puck across ice.

“First blood to me,” Kamau observed. Almost as an afterthought, he took his still working arm, grabbed his upper bicep and popped his shoulder back into place.

“It is last blood, not first, that determines victory,” Red Knight didn’t even seem to notice as his blood was added to his crimson armor.

“Oh, rest assured, I will to get the rest of it.”

Without another word, Kamau and Red Knight threw themselves at each other.

---

Silverclaw squirmed in her seat as she saw Red Knight and Kamau clash. She literally winced when one of Red Knight’s haymakers connected with Kamau’s ribs.

“Why doesn’t he turn the earth into quicksand or something?”

“Kamau’s control over the earth is limited by the amount of exposure he has to it,” Sabra explained, “if not given time to prepare, he one of the weakest known geo-morphs known.”

“Oh crap…”

“You needn’t worry,” Sabra said reassuringly, “he’s deadlier than the most powerful geo-morph. He will be fine.”

Silverclaw nodded and tried to relax. But even though she wanted to trust Sabra’s information resources, she found it hard to ignore what she saw with her own eyes and became increasingly worried.

---

Avalon

There was a brief flash of a rarely seen color of green, and what had once been an empty room now contained Dr. Strange, Union Jack, Commando, Darkstar and Cybermancer.

“Nice to be in our own reality,” Commando observed.

“You will never know how true that is,” Dr. Strange replied.

“Do you suppose that Chapman is back from his diplomatic mission?” asked Darkstar.

“I certainly hope so,” Dr. Strange said, “I need to report our findings immediately. Time is of the essence.”

“Give me a moment to get connected to our systems,” Cybermancer checked her HUD, and to her relief saw nothing of concern, “the truce still seems to be in effect. Chapman’s still in the city, but according to the monitoring devises he strapped on before he left, he’s fine but tense.”

Darkstar shrugged, “Well, at least things didn’t get out of control while we were gone.”

---

Kamau saw stars as Red Knight’s fist slammed into his jaw, and another slammed into his ribs. Kamau could barely feel his body when Red Knight grabbed his face in his giant hands, lifted him into the air and then slammed the back of his skull into the ground.

Red Knight stood over the bruised and battered Kamau, his sword poised for the final killing stroke. Kamau struggled to stay conscious, unwilling to die in darkness. Every inch of his body ached, and he couldn’t even muster the concentration to melt into the earth.

“It was a fine battle,” Red Knight said with complete honesty, “but it could only end one way!”

The sword came slicing down, and seconds stretched into hours for Kamau. Knowing that death was fleeting seconds away, struggled to find peace but his heart rebelled. Even with certain death rushing towards him, Kamau remained defiant.

-Thunk!-

To the surprise of everyone, Red Knight’s sword sliced into the earth just beside Kamau’s head. The blood stained knight then took a step back, and offered his hand to Kamau. Still baffled by what had just happened, took the hand and was hoisted to his feet. Red Knight then knelt down, and bowed on one knee.

“You humble me with your respect,” said the dragon slayer.

It was all a bloody game, Chapman snarled to himself. But he was surprised when he looked at Lord Darkstorm, and saw the man’s upper lip curled in disgust. Chapman began to wonder, were things supposed to end differently?

“I am deeply sorry for our deception, but we are unfamiliar with your culture,” explained Red Knight, “so it was necessary to know just how far your people would go.”

“And if I’d won?” Kamau asked.

“We would not have held it against you because you simply did what you had to,” Red Knight said plainly, “though I would have been a little inconvenienced.”

---

Later

 

The challenge now finished, Chapman and his people were making their way back towards the magical carriages that had ferried them out to this private battle field. Excalibur and Lord Darkstorm’s retainers walked lock step behind their leaders, who were having a private chat.

“Your world has an interesting way of displaying diplomacy,” Chapman remarked to Lord Darkstorm, “but I hope now that we have found a middle ground, we can truly begin.”

Lord Darkstorm, disappointment still etched in his forehead, nodded, “I hope you understand, there is much to discuss. The distribution of ethereal energy, the means by this it was allowed to occur and other matters. We had to be certain of your commitment.”

“And there is the matter of the people you’ve taken for interrogation,” Chapman added, “it’s too easy to forget things like that, I suppose.”

Chapman noted how Lord Darkstorm looked at him, as if Chapman had just confessed he thought the world was flat.

“Yes, there is that as well,” Lord Darkstorm said dismissively, “I trust there are people you need to speak to before we begin?”

“Of course. And after such a fine meal, we need a good night’s rest,” Chapman said, “so matters of state, I’m afraid will have to wait until tomorrow.”

“A pity. If you’ll give me a moment, I will summon the chariot for you and your people…”

“No need,” Chapman reached into his pocket and activated a signal device. Three breaths later, Excalibur’s HERMES teleporter system had locked onto them inside the walls of the city, and teleported them over a thousand miles away to Avalon, in the span of a blink.

Chapman wished he could have seen Darkstorm’s face when he realized how effortlessly Excalibur had removed themselves from his center of power. Chapman hoped that Lord Darkstorm was canny enough to realize the implications. After an entire evening flaunting his own power, Lord Darkstorm was upstaged in one single act that screamed vulnerability, in front of all his people. A better diplomatic smack to the face, he couldn’t imagine.

---

Avalon, later

“So we’re clean?” Chapman asked.

“Yes. They cast a number of intrusive spells on you and the other members of Excalibur…”

“Jerks ought to respect diplomatic immunity!” Silverclaw spat.

“…but removing them was child’s play,” Dr. Strange stated.

The entirety of Excalibur’s main strike-force, including Hellios (who had just finished his mission), and guest Dr. Strange, were sitting about the briefing room. Chapman, thanks to jet (teleporter?) lag had no idea what time it was, but his body voted night. Subsequently, he was in a hurry to start (and finish) this briefing, and then retire for the day.

“So, Dr. Strange, what can you tell me about their homeworld?”

Dr. Strange steepled his hands together and for a moment, didn’t speak. Finally, he said…

“They broke their universe.”

Excalibur exchanged confused looks with one another.

“Come again?”

“Let me start from the beginning. At first glance, I know magic may seem all powerful to you,” Dr. Strange began, “but I assure you, it is not. On the grand scheme of things, while I wield tremendous power, I do so only because the practitioners of magic are so few and far between, in this reality, comparatively speaking.”

“So what you’re saying is that if there were a hundred more magic users, your power would decrease,” Union Jack summarized.

“There would need to be far, far more than a hundred. But yes. While there is an impressive amount of magical energy out there with which to work, there are very few who can access it and fewer still who understand the real implications of magic. Compared to the totality of reality, there are only a handful of magic users in this dimension.”

“What do you mean?” Sabra asked, as she did everything she could to commit this conversation to memory flawlessly. Magic was one of the few areas that the Mossad had a little trouble with.

“Magic does not ignore physicals,” Dr. Strange said, “we bend them, manipulate them as needed and when done, reality returns itself to its original form. The more skilled practitioner can actually tie a knot with reality itself. That’s how curses and prophecies come about, bundles of mystical energy woven into reality like a thread.”

“I’m beginning to see where this is going,” Cybermancer observed.

“It appears to me that Darkstorm’s people have, for thousands upon thousands of generations, relied upon magic for societal progress, instead of technology. When I was in a medical tent, they were still using leeches. We saw nothing more advanced than the wheel, and what I felt…” Dr. Strange’s voice trailed off for a moment, “what I felt when I stopped denying it, was a vast open, bleeding wound. They took, exploited or stole every iota of magical energy they could get their hands on, as a society, and did so without understanding the full implications of their actions. But abuse anything too much, and it will fail.”

That’s why Darkstar’s black energy changed colors. That’s why Union Jack’s energy daggers activated and burned through solid rock without leaving a mark on him. In their world, the laws of physicals themselves are like wounded animals, limping along.”

“How is that possible?” asked Scarlet Scarab, “I’ve heard of worlds that are nothing but magic!”

“In some worlds, magic flows as easily water,” Dr. Strange replied, “but in that world, it was as rare as it is here. And the whole of humanity used it, relied upon it, for thousands of years to sustain their stagnate society. For instance, rather than create a common language they wove a translator spell into the spirit of their planet.”

“…why did I think they just naturally spoke Russian?” Darkstar mused aloud.

“Because they wove it into nature,” explained Dr. Strange, “magic is about working with the natural world, complimenting it. But to change nature like that…they essentially forced a square object into a round hole, and have been doing so for far too long. They tried to bend the rules of magic and eventually they broke. When that happened, rather than correct their errors, they compounded them by continuing to do the same things. They made the same mistake again and again, until reality itself protested.”

“That’s why my poker buddies kill unauthorized magic,” Commando volunteered, “they know magic is the problem, but not how to fix it. They damn near cried when I said we were workin’ on it.”

“But how could they let that happen?” Silverclaw asked, “I thought magic was, I don’t know, kind of spiritual? They had to know they were doing something wrong, feel something, didn’t they?”

“We’ve all done something we knew was wrong at one time or another,” Dr. Strange replied, “and our political leaders have raised self-deception to an art form. If I had to guess, that’s what happened here. Those that used magic ignored the implications, simply believing that they would either fix it in time or something that the next generation would correct.”

“So basically, they exhausted their own natural resources, came looking for a scapegoat, and found us,” Chapman summarized, “is that the jist of it, Doctor?”

“That comparison is…adequate, I suppose.”

“Wouldn’t be the first country to blame someone else for their own screw-ups,” Cybermancer observed, “but we have to look at the worst case scenario. Not every one of Darkstorm’s people is a screw-up at magic. Someone has to know that we’re not responsible.”

“And any appeasement would be construed as guilt,” Chapman concluded.

“There’s also the matter of the portal they used to enter our world,” Dr. Strange warned, “on their world, it could cause a creation even. A part of it is tethered to their city and if the spells around it were not properly dismantled, well, the effect wouldn’t be as destructive. It would just destroy this solar system.”

Chapman rubbed his forehead in irritation, “This just gets better and better. Can you sever the connection?”

“By myself, no. But give me eight hours, and I can gather the people with the right expertise.”

“So what’s the plan, Chapman?” Commando asked, “we can’t keep dicking around with these guys much longer. They want what we can’t give and whether or not they know it, they got a bomb just primed to explode.”

“I’m well aware of all those things,” Chapman said, “as luck would have it, the Stealth team is still safely inside Darkstorm’s city. So my orders are simple. All of you are going to get some rest, and in ten hours, when Strange has his people together…we’re going to put our collective foot up Darkstorm’s arse and keep it there until he and his people gotten the hell out of our world.”

---

NEXT ISSUE: The all new Excalibur goes to war, and it is not pretty...