Disclaimer: The characters of Gargoyles are owned by Disney Buena Vista Co. Chas (Charles) Quin Cassidy is owned by Javagoddess, and used with her permission. Marianne, Cameron, Bertram and Elaine MacLaren Ellis, as are Anne Pricefield Duane and the characters of Raveloe, are my own characters, and if you want to use her in fanfic, let me know first, thanks! This story is written to continue a great saga of unusual story lines, and means no harm to Gargoyles. This is rated M for violence and some adult situations.

To Slay or Not to Slay the Dragon

Part 8: Morgana's Pact

By Trynia Merin/Janeth Rhian


"I really don't see what was going on! Why leave home in such a state?" Lydia said over her cell phone. Cameron's sporty Porsche had all the latest gadgets, including a hands free digital phone.

"Do you really have to ask?" Marianne wiped away her tears. "They don't bloody believe me!"

"But you left Chas there, alone . . . "

"I just couldn't stand it a minute more," Marianne explained. "I'm so tired of them treating me like I cannot make my own decisions!"

"But to leave in anger . . . " Lydia said.

"Just tell me where you are," Marianne said. Already she quivered much like her mother must be, in anger and shock. What did she expect? Hi mum, here's my boyfriend, and oh, by the way he's half fairy! We're going to get married . . .

Bloody hell, she muttered to herself as angry tears dripped onto her hands. I've done it again! Ruined everything with my Scottish temper!

An abandoned Strip Mine, outside of Cambridge:

"A strip mine?" Marianne asked, pulling into the driveway Lydia indicated. She let out the clutch, pulling in.

"That was closest to the location given on the map . . . " said Lydia. Shrugging, Marianne set out after her friends. Anything to distract her from the memory of her parents' shouts.

All around her rose the sloping heaps of slag, a whole area of desolation. Someone had torn the side of a hill out, revealing the stratified layers of soil upon soil. Here and there mists rose off strange crystalline pools. Underfoot the stones crackled and slipped, and Marianne had difficulty trying to keep her step.

"Lydia, can you still here me? Where precisely are you?" Marianne asked.

"Over by the old blockhouse . . . used for blasting. I see a cave, near the mists. Arthur here says that his sword Excalibur just went mad . . . "

"Excalibur?" Marianne questioned, losing her footing for a moment. She gripped the phone with a shriek.

"We're going in. Look for the cave in the main side . . . by the hill in the far end . . . "

"Cave in the main side, far end," Marianne repeated, stumbling with her shoes striking up small gravel. One false step, and she would plummet into the gravel pools. Somehow that didn't' seem too appealing.

Over her cell phone Lydia's voice rose excitedly in pitch, "Arthur's halfway in. Oh . . . he says he sees strange markings. Much like those of the . . . oh wait . . . yes . . . I'm picking one up now . . . "

There came a crackling. "Lydia, you're breaking up . . . "

"I've got to sign off for now . . . going in . . . "

"Be careful," Marianne spoke, before her cell phone went dead. An eerie silence filled the air. There was no sound, except that of the road nearby. Already the sun was sinking lower and lower, toward evening. Why did Lydia insist on dragging this into night?

Come to think of it, didn't Arthur Morewood-Smythe come here with her? He had said something about leaving King Arthur behind.

Excalibur. King Arthur was with Lydia now! But she said nothing about Morewood Smythe.

What had happened to him? Did it really matter?

Her head flashed to the side as she heard footsteps, of someone shifting through gravel. Who could that be? She stopped, dead. The footsteps stopped. Perhaps some strange echo.

As she approached the far wall of the quarry, she felt a strange buzzing on her upper arm. Odd. Slipping up her sleeve, she felt the gold of her Celtic bracelet Chas had given her the other day. A jolt shot through her like a bolt of electricity. Strange, she didn't think she was creating that much static electricity.

Chas made it though. Who knows what magic it was enchanted with . . .

Again she heard footsteps, the scrape of something through gravel. Not moving her head, she glanced from side to side, seeing no one.

"Chas . . . if that's you, you're being an idiot!" Marianne gritted. "Come out, and stop playing about!"

No answer. She had crossed the main path, and saw a small series of mine openings in the distance. Like an overturned anthill, she saw the exposed caverns in the hillside. There came a feeling of intense heat around her arm, and she stopped cold.

Whirling about, she brought her arm smack into the figure moving behind her. Arthur Morewood Smythe gurgled as her hand shot around his neck.

"Hurgh!" he grunted as the flat of her hand struck him on the forehead.

"Oh god! I'm so sorry!" she gasped, catching him as he fell.

"Gasp... Dr. Ellis . . . sorry to disturb you..." he said.

"What on Earth are you doing sneaking up on a person like that! I almost bloody knocked you flat!"

"You shouldn't be here . . . " he said, taking her arm. "It's not safe."

"I beg your pardon, but Lydia called me. Why aren't you with her?"

"I tried to tell her, stop her. But she refused. She's gone off with that Arthur fellow . . . "

"What is going on here," Marianne asked him.

"We've got to go in, and get them out of here before it's too late," Arthur Morewood Smythe said.

"If you're so keen on that, then why don't you go in yourself and get them? Why sneak up on me?"

"You're the only one that fool Pendragon will listen too," said Morewood Smythe. "He's got her under his control! This mine . . . isn't abandoned . . . "

"What? She told me she got clearance . . . none of this makes bloody sense!"

"Please Dr. Ellis, we must get them before it's too late . . . "

"Let go of my arm, you're hurting me!" Marianne growled. He whirled her to face him, eyes unusually bright.

Marianne's bracelet burned her arm like white-hot fire. She gasped at the intensity. A chill crept over her like a tidal wave. "Wait . . . you're not Smythe, are you?" she ripped her arm out of his grasp.

"What are you talking about of course I am . . . "

"No . . . you're acting very strange . . . " she backed away, hands held before her. "I don't know who or what the hell you are, but if you don't tell me what's going on . . . "

"And how do you propose to threaten me?" he asked, his voice rising in pitch.

Suddenly he exploded into a hairy creature before her eyes, fangs dripping with saliva as he hunched over. "If you won't cooperate, you will join them in their folly!" came a voice like a rasping shriek.

"Oh damn," Marianne got out before the claws descended upon her. It was identical to those two creatures which attacked her and Chas at the hotel!

Chas felt the ley lines surging with their power. Silver threads to his third eye, he saw the strange interwoven mess converging in the distance. "Tis there," he muttered to himself.

"Don worry Mary I'm coming," he thought to himself. Fear surged up in his belly, washing over his whole body. The next few minutes were the most excruciating as he finally reached the entrance to the quarry. He practically ripped his helmet off as he leapt from his cycle.

Only for a moment he stopped, sniffing the air. An odd acrid whiff of something made him wrinkle his nose in distaste. The same stench as from the hotel!

Long legs carried him across the entrance to the quarry, in the direction of the adrenaline surge. Marianne had come this way, he could sense her fear, her anxiety moment by moment.

Marianne, he called in his mind. Hoping she'd hear him and be reassured.

His toe caught something and he almost tripped. A small black object, the green light flashing on it urgently. He scooped up the small portable digital phone, beeping anxiously like something alive.

"Hello?" he answered it.

"Chas . . . where what? Where's Marianne?"

"That's precisely what I want t' know!" he called back.

"I had gone into the cavern, and was telling her where to go . . . " Lydia's voice came.

Suddenly Chas pulled the phone from his ear, wincing in pain as Lydia's scream pierced his eardrums.

"Lydia!" he shouted. Dead silence.

A loud low rumbling shot across the quarry, much like thunder. All the ley lines strained and flashed momentarily with a mighty power. He rushed toward the source, reaching under his jacket. Twin blades crackled to life in his nimble hands.

Marianne's blade swung yet another time, slicing into thick furry flesh. A howling scream sounded while claws raked against her armor. Two more lateral strokes and the figure crumpled to the gravely sand. She breathed, chest heaving in and out.

"So much for that bright idea," she laughed, glancing at the twisted hairy shape. It was quite dead, she realized when prodding it with her armored boot.

It was then that she heard the low rumble, crackling as thunder on the ground. It wasn't continuous, but a rhythmic sort of pounding. Coming in the direction of the cave. She was almost there, then stopped dead in her tracks.

For Arthur Pendragon raced out, Lydia at his back. Excalibur exploded with a blaze of light before him. What was behind him made her blood run cold. A huge shadow fell across Marianne, eclipsing the sun.

"Good Lord!" she gasped. Almost thirty feet high a head and shoulders thrust vertically, massive shoulders and gnashing fangs. The only word that came to mind was giant. Ogre . . .

Dressed in skins, larger then life. Like something out of a fairytale book, climbing out of the cave. It had to bend over doubt to have gotten out of there! No matter how it did, because now it reached for Lydia Duane.

Arthur threw her to one side, blocking her body with his own. Excalibur struck the Giant's hand, a stinging cut biting deep.

While the Giant roared in pain, Arthur grabbed Lydia in his arms, backing away. He whirled, swinging Excalibur in a glistening arc. A fire flash exploded right into the Ogre's face, giving him precious time. Still, the giant advanced.

Screaming, Marianne raced forwards, "Hey, ugly! Over here!"

It turned it head, rapidly. Marianne raced forwards, swinging with blazing energy from Wavedancer. How could she hope to fight something that big? Her arcs of light tossed from Wavedancer flew, only to be battered aside by a huge club. He brushed aside her next volley with an annoyed grunt. It only seemed to make him more angry. How on Earth could she fight something that size, who seemed resistant to light?

Just then she remembered when she was fighting the Dragon. That lance... it might well give her the reach. If she hit it in the foot.

She concentrated, pulling all her strength. The ogre had turned to the fallen King Arthur, who was slowly managing to shake off his blow. Lydia climbed off him, getting well out of his way. Arthur again placed himself between her and the giant, Excalibur raised before him. The club swung dangerously close.

Suddenly Wavedancer vanished to her hip. She placed both hands together, and a long lance appeared in place. The same lance that George had handed her. On her wrist appeared his shield. "Give me strength," she prayed quickly. Taking a deep breath, she charged. The giant had its back to her fortunately. She'd only have one chance.


From afar, Chas Cassidy saw the horrible scene. He rushed forth, swords held before him. Still, he was too far away. He saw Marianne rushing in, a ten-foot lance in her hand, shield upraised.

"Gladrel Olorin Eluthain!" Chas shouted, loosing a fireball towards the ogre. The meteor arched upwards, crashing right into the creature's face. Angrily he clawed at the flames singing his hair.

His foot slammed into King Arthur, who rolled over and over till he lay quite still. Marianne charged, thrusting her lance deep into the one leg still connected to the ground. A loud roar came as she pulled it free, and stabbed deep again.

She failed to notice its huge spiked club arching down. It slammed against her shield, knocking her backwards. Chas hurled another fire blast, knowing if he made a false move, Marianne could be crushed if the Giant could fall. He hurled yet another fireball, barely grazing the ogre's shoulder. Using the distraction, he reached Arthur and Lydia.

Marianne hurled her lance, the thing skewering the Giant's midriff. Another angry swing slammed bodily into her, sending her flying. Chas's eyes widened in horror as the ogre scooped up her battered form, all set to crush it to death in his large fist.

"Mary!" he screamed, a guttural cry ringing in their ears. His eyes blazed orange red with their own fire. Lydia and Arthur drew in their breaths sharply. For Chas seemed to undergo a very odd transformation.

His long neck rippled with energy, electricity shooting over his form. The body lengthened, merged and stretched into sapphire light, expanding to gargantuan proportions. Within its hand the giant clasped the prostrate form of Marianne Ellis.

Two monstrosities faced off. For in the place of Chas Cassidy stood a forty five-foot sapphire Drake, his fangs bared at the ready. Huge wings unfolded on either side of the scales. Ultramarine with beryl glints rippled over powerful muscle and sinew. A low roar sounded in the Dragon's throat, crescendoing to a loud trumpeting challenge. Fire slammed into the Giant's body, searing over his form. A cry of fear erupted from its throat as it dropped Marianne.

The Dragon moved like lightening, its wing blocking Marianne's fall, pulling her to safety as its claw gently closed round her.

Arthur Pendragon rubbed his head. Lydia Duane shoved her shoulder under his armpit and lifted with a grunt. He let her push him to his feet, his sword arm useless at his side. She grabbed Excalibur and used it as a counterbalance to push up.

Chas struck first, his tail sweeping the hill giant off its feet with the force of a whiplash. Downwards arched the massive spiked club onto the Dragon's sapphire flank. Fire exploded in lashing tongues toward the barrel shaped chest. Still dazed, Arthur shook his head, and let Lydia pull him to the shade of large boulders in the abandoned quarry.

Claws ripped and tore at the Giant's tough hide. Snorts and roars sounded with sickening cracks. The Dragon's long neck snaked around, the fangs plunging into the Giant's neck. There came a snap, punctuated by shuddering muscles as the Giant's nervous systems overloaded. Blue lightening cascaded all up and down, sizzling flesh and the odor of charred hair stinging Lydia and Arthur's nostrils with its acrid stench.

Over its fallen prey the Dragon raised its head with an exultant angry roar. Long wings spanned, fluttering. Then an anguished cry choked in its throat when the blue eyes looked at her form in its claw. She sagged in his grasp, broken like a cheap doll. Her armor fizzled out of existence long ago. Gently, with the greatest care the Dragon slipped its muzzle near the fallen warrior, sniffing her. A long forked tongue licked over her form, at her cheek.

"Good Lord," Lydia managed to get out at the scene. Arthur slowly came to his senses, blinking rapidly at the fallen giant's bulk which blocked his view of Marianne. All he could make out was a massive neck dipping, then rising with an anguished piercing tenor shriek. Such a sound wrenched their ears with its discord.

By the time they limped over to her the Dragon's muzzle brushed tenderly over Marianne's body. The strangest sound, a cross between a clarinet and a cello resonated from the Sapphire's throat. Soothing vibrations reached them, almost healing it its caress.

"Mary . . . " Lydia mouthed. That strange angle her leg bent at seemed far unnatural.

"Milady . . . "

The Dragon turned its head, snarling low in its throat. Arthur raised a hand toward it, "Hold now . . . we are allies . . . "

A shimmering crept along the Dragon's form. All at once it collapsed like a deflated parade balloon into the shape of the graceful photojournalist. Chas leaned over Marianne, voice choked in his throat as he lowered her to the ground in his arms.

"Mary please, stay wi me!"

"Aha," came a sharp cry from the side. Arthur Pendragon and Lydia Duane turned to see the shape of Morgan Le Fay materializing. "You stupid fools! You should have run in fear when you had the chance!"

"Sister, are you responsible? God help me . . . " Pendragon growled.

"You should do well to ask that brother dear," she cooed. "Yes, I summoned the shadow beings, and the Ogre. But it was only to stop you from entering the cave!"

"Why . . . " Lydia stammered out.

"You would have surely met a worse fate opening it, and could have well sealed all our dooms! We have mutual enemies in this. But even now your fool quest has endangered one to whom you have placed your trust . . . "

"But the maiden?"

"Will surely die if you do not surrender this quest. For it is not a place you must enter . . . "

"Curse you . . . " Chas gritted under his breath. "If she dies so help me . . . "

"I am not without compassion, Taliesin," she said, glancing at him with a bit of sorrow. "I have respect for she who is your chosen mate. She will not die. For even now I have the power to alter probability . . . "

"Save your magic," Lydia stammered out.

"Not that," Chas whispered. "Her body could not take it. I will not place myself in your debt, nor her!"

"Regardless you are a fool to refuse me. But as you have done so," Morgan muttered a sharp sound in her throat. "And so be her death on your hands . . . "

"Why . . . " Arthur stammered out. "Who has lead us here? If you have to kill us . . . I shall fight you I swear."

"Nay. This is a gateway to another realm. One which for the sake of Britain must remain closed . . . "

"Is this not the imprisoned place of Merlin?" Arthur demanded.

"Nay, brother," she said. "It is a false marker that you followed. One that which pointed to the accesses of the Drau, the Dark ones. Those whose kingdom must be shut at all costs. No, you would do well not to open it..."

"So you would take their power?" Arthur spat. "How do we know you don't intend to open the way if we leave?"

"The stench of their magic is upon ye," Chas growled. "If only I had known . . . "

"No. They would not let me rule as I wish," said she calmly. "Power such as this must stay as it is. My methods do not have the seed of this, only the shade. You would have unwittingly destroyed us all with this release . . . "

"And where is Merlin?"

"Not far, but farther still. For there are several meanings to that riddle . . . and you will be wise to listen well. Even now the Unseelie rival my power. Yet soon not even they would be able to stop me..."

Chas blue eyes grew cold at the sound of the word, Arthur's eyes narrowed in anger.

"But out of sake for what we once had, Taliesin I warn you beware of them. For you have made many enemies among them, as I have."

"Leave me," he choked. She vanished, a look of regret on that face perhaps?

"The Unseelie," Arthur choked. "Dark elves did this?"

Morgan turned to Chas. "Farewell my erstwhile love. May you be happy with the woman you have chosen . . . for she is not long for this world. I could have saved her . . . "

"Never will she owe you her life," Chas gritted, at the fading figure of Morgan.

It was then that Lydia's cell phone crackled into life. The ethereal mists vanished, taking the giant with it. They simply stood in the gravelly pits of the abandoned strip mine. "Hello . . . get me General three two," Lydia stammered out. "Emergency!"

"Mary!" cried the tenor voice of her lover. "Mary! Stay wi me!"


All was stillness and silence to Marianne. Slowly she felt her consciousness swallowed into dark. A small flickering candle faltered in the cold wind, slowly puttering out.

The sights and sounds of breaking bones and the ground fast roaring up under her suddenly stopped. Overhead rose the anguished wail of Olorin, that dragon of which she had once known. Spectral scales glistened in the dying sunlight. Yet Olorin yet not, for the next moment she could hear the anguished cries of Chas leaning over her. Could it be he was connected with the dragon in an intimate way she had not before realized?

Her next thoughts vanished into the black mist that seeped over her consciousness. Darkness fell, the light fast vanishing. Marianne felt nothing and everything passing away. Then through the dark, shapes took form. Waste and void formed a small flickering radiance that sputtered into a spark.

It was terrifying yet free of pain to her. How nice it would be to go asleep for eternity in the dark, for it was not a void but a nighttime rich with embracing presence. Now that the darkness had a form, she could begin to hear voices, a flood of many pouring in around in a cacophony she struggled to drown out. Then a pure clear tone split through, drawing her closer and closer. Only her will seemed to exist as she hurled herself to the single note drowning out all others the more she moved.

There was a pinprick of light ahead, and she screamed in fear and sudden joy at the odd blurring passageway. A sensation of moving so fast yet painfully slow, for the light ahead beckoned, a universe away. She could not approach fast enough, till she reached its threshold. When it seemed she was ten feet away she found her feet again, and a shrouded huddle of figures, faceless holding their hands out to her.

It was terrifying . . . yet free of pain. Her heart pounded, and seemed to fill with light. As if in response to her fear, the figure before her suddenly became recognizable. "Gramma?" she asked.

Hands grasped hers, pulling her forwards. A lined face merged into youth. At her elbow stood another person, with hair that was as dark as hers, a mirror image.

"Mary MacLaren," she mouthed.

Two women, smiling at her with nothing but love and sadness in their eyes. Past them an infinity of light and sound. She glanced down, seeing the strange clothing of silver light swathing her body.

Marianne heard another song, sad and sonorous from behind. She turned to glance into the darkness to see another light faintly traversing. A faint sapphire light tinged with warm fire that slowly expanded to the figure of a fellow in Bardic robes. The Taliesin.

"I am sorry," she said to the two, turning. "I... there . . . is so much yet to do . . . but I hurt so badly . . . "

"It is your choice," said her Gramma. "You have born so much. Come home . . . stay with those who love you . . . "

"I love you, Mary me girl," came the plea of the Taliesin, his dark hair blowing softly over his face, the Aegean eyes moist with tears. "Please . . . stay with me . . . "

"Rhynth..." she found herself stammering, as his hand gripped hers tightly. "I'm so sorry . . . it's all so sudden . . . "

"Branwynn... please . . . come back to me," he whispered faintly. Already he became spectral, as a ghost. Her hand passed through his, the emerald sleeve blowing in silent wind.

"Gran . . . what do I do?" she asked, turning to her. Another figure had replaced her, a robed man, slightly bearded.

"Are you . . . " she asked.

"Not He, but a servant," said the figure softly, touching her shoulder.

"Andrew," she cleared her throat. "Do I have . . . to go back? I... love him . . . "

"Go . . . there is so much yet to be done . . . and he loves you," said Andrew, slowly receding as he planted a kiss upon her forehead.

"Branwynn . . . stay with me!" he cried. "Don't let me face the centuries alone . . . "