Note: I know how this thing is going to end, but found myself in need of a transitional sequence. "WWMD,*" I asked myself. "If I were a sorcerer from Arthurian times, what sort of attack would I mount?" [*What Would Mordred Do?]
And then, of course, it hit me.
Thanks again to everyone reading this- we are getting close to the end, honest!
Chapter Fifteen
Loki emerged from the cave first, Thor following closely behind, a hand extended in case Loki became wobbly. Loki pretended not to notice, and did not remind his brother how they had gotten into the cave in the first place. Instead, he looked up at the sky.
"The moon appears to be in the same position it was when we arrived," he whispered. That might mean no time had passed, or it might mean they had emerged at the same time of night a thousand years in the past or future. The only way to find out was to investigate further. Loki paused, listening for any sounds of Mordred's presence. He heard nothing. "All right. Let us see whether Excalibur is still here to be found. The Lady may have been offended by my actions and sent someone to retrieve it."
Or, of course, Mordred might have found a way to break the protective enchantment, and taken it himself.
Loki started forward, thought of something, and turned back to Thor, unslinging the baldric that held Excalibur's scabbard. "When we find Excalibur, I should probably keep it in my hand. I find this scabbard a little awkward when it is empty. Would you be so kind as to carry it for me? Please?"
Thor looked confused by the request, which was understandable given that the baldric was hardly heavy or cumbersome to wear, even in Loki's currently weakened state. Loki carefully kept his face calm, neutral, not suspiciously innocent or too persuasive: Thor was not stupid, and if he realized Loki was trying to trick him into wearing the scabbard, he might also figure out why Loki would want to do so.
Apparently the unconcerned expression worked: Thor nodded, accepted the baldric, and Loki waited until he had himself turned away before he allowed relief to seep into his expression.
As they turned toward the stone path, the brothers saw lights in the sky, heading in their direction, and heard the sound of jets.
A moment later, the Iron Man and a helicarrier shuttle landed on the terrace before them. Steve- suited as Captain America- Fury, and Coulson stepped out of the vehicle and all four walked toward the brothers.
"Well, this is a relief," Loki called to them. Coulson, who was carrying an electric torch, shone it over the brothers, carefully angling it so as not to blind them. Steve exclaimed in shock, and Fury uttered an oath.
"What in hell happened to the two of you?" he demanded. "You look like- like the ghost of Banquo, and his equally-murdered brother." Apparently, not even the conversation he and Thor had just had could stop Loki from flinching at those last two words, because Fury sighed impatiently. "Knock it off, Loki. That wasn't an aspersion, it was Shakespeare, and if you plan on hanging around this part of the world you'd probably better read him. Just don't believe a thing he says about Richard III. Tudor propaganda, every damn word. Now, why are you two covered in blood, whose is it, and where in hell is Mordred?"
There was something familiar in Fury's voice, but it took Loki a moment to recognize it: Fury was using exactly the same tone he did when he told Stark to shut up. And perhaps it said something pitiful about Loki's lingering need to feel included, but he found himself ridiculously warmed by the realization.
Thor spoke up, in the tone of a soldier reporting to his commander, which was another interesting revelation. "We caught up to Mordred, but he bewildered me with an illusion and then ran me through with a sword. Fortunately, my brother- " Thor shook his head, a smile of what could only be described as delighted pride breaking out on his face. "I was once inclined to tease him by saying he was better at tricks than at fighting. It turned out he had a remarkable one up his sleeve. It also turns out he is better at healing mortal wounds than at cleaning up the blood created by them, but I think I have no complaints about having to polish my own armor, when I have a moment."
Coulson looked slightly puzzled, which for Coulson was very puzzled indeed. "How could you have gotten mortally wounded if you were carrying Excalibur's scabbard? And why do you even have the scabbard in the first place?"
Thor frowned. "I did not, at the time. Loki just asked me to carry it for him a moment ago. And what do you mean by- ?"
"After Mordred injured Thor, I threw Excalibur down the hill to distract him, and I was just about to go look for it," Loki interrupted, speaking rapidly. "If you will excuse me- " He turned away, and Thor reached out a big hand to grab him by the shoulder. There was nothing rough about the grip; apparently Thor remembered either that his brother was not quite himself, or that he did not like to be manhandled. It was still firm enough to hold Loki. "The scabbard?" Thor prompted.
Coulson glanced at Loki, and then at Thor. "I seem to have let a cat out of the bag. Sorry, Loki. I had trouble sleeping the other night, so I looked up Excalibur on the Internet. The scabbard is supposed to be able to protect its wearer from injury- that is, if that's the original scabbard."
"Apparently it is," Loki said resignedly, "since when I arrived to try to help Thor, Mordred also attacked me and was unable to inflict any injury. He was the one who told me of the scabbard's power, which was unknown to me until that moment."
"And so you decided I should have it?" Thor demanded, shaking Loki gently by the shoulder. "You do realize it is not better for you to be killed or wounded than me, do you not?"
Loki, who realized nothing of the sort, adopted a wheedling tone as he replied, "It seemed to me that one mortal injury in an evening was plenty for you. Think how distressed- " He broke off, realizing the words on his tongue were "how distressed Mother would be, if anything happened to you," which he was suddenly sure would make his brother very angry. Thor seemed convinced Mother would not like it any better if Loki were the one killed. He found that difficult to believe- he knew she would be upset, of course he knew that, but there was simply no reason for her to be as upset- but this was hardly the time to argue about it.
"Take the scabbard back," Thor said, sweetly, but between his teeth. "Now." With bad grace, Loki acquiesced. As he slung the baldric across his shoulder, Steve cast him a sympathetic look, but Loki was not foolish enough to think Steve would help him persuade Thor to keep the scabbard himself.
"Hell, I'd be happy to carry the damn thing, if you're going to fight about it," Stark spoke up. "I've got no objection to being impervious to injury. Also, I noticed Excalibur lying on the ground by the path as I flew up, so apparently Mordred didn't get it after all. It's right down there."
"Thank you, Tony," Loki replied, slipped out of Thor's grip and went off in the direction indicated, as fast as he could manage and not go tumbling downhill. Tony Stark gestured at Thor to stay where he was, and followed Loki himself.
"Any guesses where Mordred might be?" Stark asked, as Loki picked up Excalibur.
"No. Not far, I would think. Although I seem to have been wrong in my assumption that he intended to confront Morgan Le Fay: almost as soon as we arrived, Mordred turned his attention to Thor."
"Oh, yeah?" Stark asked. "Hit him with his big fear?"
Loki did not so much shrug as wriggle. "If you will excuse me for a moment," he muttered, trying to concentrate on Excalibur.
"No problem," Stark replied. "Have anything to do with you?"
Loki glared at Stark. "Why would it?"
Stark shrugged. "Just wondering. I have the feeling you might be his soft spot."
"Tony- " Loki began, warningly.
"I also have a feeling he might be yours," Stark went on.
"You are indeed a perceptive one," Loki snarled, but his heart was not in it.
"Went after Thor to get at you, did he?" Stark prompted.
"Something like that," Loki admitted. "Now, will you give me a moment? There is every reason to expect Mordred to return, and I would really prefer not to be swaying on my feet when he does." Stark made a be-my-guest gesture, Loki raised Excalibur, and Stark shielded his eyes.
"That really is the coolest thing in the world," Stark said wistfully, as the glow faded and Loki returned the sword to its scabbard. "Now what?"
Loki gestured to him to follow and they jogged back up to join their companions. "As a matter of interest," he addressed Coulson, "how long ago did Thor and I leave the helicarrier?"
Coulson thought about it. "We were about five minutes behind you, so- ten minutes, tops."
"We spent at least an hour in that enchanted cavern, probably more," Loki said thoughtfully. "And the confrontation with Mordred took time as well. And yet almost no time has passed. The same thing happened when I visited the Lady in the River Brue. But when I investigated Mordred's chamber, I was missing for three days, though to me it felt like minutes."
"You think that means something?" Stark asked.
Loki shrugged. "Probably. I am at a loss to tell you what, though." He looked up at the ruin. "At the time, I believed Mordred had perhaps not visited his lair in several days, but when I returned to the helicarrier and learned how long I had been gone, I should have realized my impression was faulty, that the problem was time passing in the lair at a different rate than outside it."
"Yeah, well, things were happening pretty fast," Fury shrugged.
"That is no excuse," Loki replied, shaking his head in disgust. He indicated the ruin. "This entire hill is a powerful site, but the tower is of human construction, which may explain why Mordred chose it for his hideout. He may, indeed, have retreated there to decide what to do next." Squaring his shoulders, Loki started up the path toward the tower. A stride or two later he realized the others were accompanying him. "I am not at all sure you will be able to pass through the portal," he warned them.
"Only one way to find out," Stark said cheerfully.
"If you think we're letting you go in there alone, you're nuts," Fury added.
"Right," Steve agreed. "No way you're doing this by yourself."
"Besides, I was able to pass into the enchanted cavern in your company," Thor pointed out.
"That seemed to be a deliberate choice on the part of the magical agency who revealed it to me," Loki replied, glancing at his brother. "I very much doubt that Mordred will welcome any of us-"
Coulson interrupted. "Holy. Shit." His tone still sounded matter-of-fact, unless you happened to know him rather well, and that combined with the uncharacteristic vulgarity made Loki whirl to look in the direction Coulson faced, back toward the tower.
The doorway was glowing, and light poured out of the glassless windows, as though the entire structure had become a lantern. As the group watched, the light dimmed and smoke began to boil out of every opening in the tower. At the same time, Loki became aware of a growling, humming roar. When he looked around at the others, it was abundantly obvious that this time everyone could hear the same sound he did.
"What in hell- ?" Stark exclaimed, the Iron Man mask clanging shut over his face.
"That can't be good," Coulson understated, his voice back under control.
"I think not," Loki agreed, just as the dragon's head cleared the top of the tower, still rising, and its wings unfurled into a span nearly equal to the height of the ruin.
"Holy- " Steve breathed, which was as apt a comment as any, and then the dragon was perching on the top of the tower, much as Loki had a few days before but infinitely larger. It stretched its long, elegant neck downward, opened its mouth, and hissed fire and rage at them, wings still spread either for balance or in threat. Everyone scrambled backward.
"Is that- ?" Thor asked.
"Mordred? Either himself or something controlled by him, I have no doubt," Loki replied. "Stay back, all of you, and whatever you do, do not become angry."
"What?" Steve asked, his tone registering disbelief. Loki could hardly blame him for being surprised by the admonition.
"He is being profligate with his magic and, without support from Morgan Le Fay, it may not last much longer," Loki explained, looking up at the dragon. "However, he seems to feed upon fear and anger. I realize it is a bit much to ask you not to be afraid at the moment, but please, please do not get angry." He glanced around and recognized the futility of his request: Stark was clearly the type who channeled fear into anger; all the dragon would have to do was look at Loki and Thor would lose his temper; and Fury… well, Loki had never met anyone whose name was so ridiculously appropriate, including dwarves who gave themselves absurd names, like Glod Orcslayer Greataxe, to boast of their feats in battle.
Coulson and Steve, on the other hand…
Loki unsheathed Excalibur and drove the blade downward into the earth, uttering a few words in the Alltongue to ask the assistance of whatever magical forces were willing to help him. Behind the group, another glowing portal opened. Loki turned toward his brother and his comrades.
"I apologize most sincerely for the necessity, and will free you the moment it is practical," he promised rapidly, raised his right hand, and cast Thor, Stark, and Fury through the portal, which immediately sealed itself upon them. Then he turned back to Steve, who looked thoroughly bewildered, and Coulson, who had raised an eyebrow. "They will come to no harm. May I beg your assistance?"
At which moment the dragon pushed off from the top of the tower, flapped its great wings, and became airborne.
"What kind of assistance?" Steve asked, eyes fixed on the monster, as the three instinctively gave ground.
"We need to distract it, harass it, tempt it into casting flame and whatever magic it possesses at us. That which does not kill us makes it weaker. Also, please remember, Mordred is a creature suffering terrible mental pain and anguish."
"Are you trying to make us feel sorry for him?" Coulson demanded.
Loki grinned. "In fact, yes. Whatever works to prevent you from feeling fear and anger toward him instead. If he exorcises those emotions, there may be something left to reason with. In the meantime, try not to get killed, and- run!"
The trio split up, retreating at top speed in three different directions, as the dragon charged. It paused a moment to identify Loki, and then gave chase. It crossed Loki's mind that he had not asked Coulson whether Excalibur's scabbard protected its wearer specifically from injury in battle, or from a host of ills including incineration and consumption by dragons.
Oh well. As the humans would say: only one way to find out.
Loki stopped, wheeled, raised Excalibur. The dragon also came to a hovering stop in the air above him before landing with a reverberating crash that shook the tower, rearing up on its hind legs, wings spread in a display of awe-inspiring terror. It was a beautiful creature, really, were you in a position to view it that way: long and sinuous, with a shapely head rather like that of a predatory reptilian horse, mainly of a deep green shading paler on its belly with dark purple scales and leathers accenting its head, legs, and wings. Had it been less than seventy feet long, or not quite so eager to kill him, or (preferably) both, Loki would have been most interested to make its closer acquaintance.
Under the current circumstances, he would have greatly preferred to give ground, and that at a speed that might best be described as "fleeing for his life." Instead, he stood fast, gathered all the magic he could find, and cast it as a shield toward the dragon.
He had already observed that Mordred seemed to be in a state of emotional turmoil bordering on insanity. He saw no reason to alter this impression as the dragon directed fire in his direction, a long continuous blast that would have cooked him in his tracks had it not been for the magical scabbard which, it transpired, did protect its wearer from dragons. As it was, he was still uncomfortably warm, and grateful the shapeshifting spell that held him in his Aesir form appeared to suppress all Jotun physiology because, scabbard or no scabbard, a Jotun would have been in very serious trouble right about now.
Mordred did not seem deterred by his inability to either burn Loki to a crisp or pass through the magic to rend him limb from limb or (more probably) devour him like a canapé. He simply kept breathing fire like a horn player holding a single continuous note, apparently confident his magic could outlast Loki's, or simply too distraught to care.
Had it been a case of Mordred's borrowed magic versus what Loki could salvage of his own after rescuing Thor, there would have been no contest. However, it appeared whatever magical entities ruled Glastonbury Tor were no more eager to have Midgard- or England, anyway- ruled over by an insane, long-dead despot than the clearing in the forest had been. Loki found himself buffeted between the assault of Mordred's flames and the opposing magical forces using him as a conduit. What powers he possessed of his own were fully occupied keeping him on his feet and maintaining the structural integrity of his body.
"Hey, dragon! Hey, dragon-dragon-dragon!" a voice shouted from somewhere off to Loki's left, and he had momentary leisure to reflect that Steve seemed to have very little experience in taunting dragons, if this was the best he could do, before the flame receded and he realized it had worked, the dragon had turned its malice on the new tormentor. The creature was apparently too furious to be choosy of insults. As it prepared to shoot flame at the tiny red-white-and-blue figure, an even smaller, round shape came sailing toward it and the fiery blast was diverted in the direction of Steve's flying shield. Whatever the shield was composed of, it was fireproof, and it described a great circle in the air before returning to Steve's hand.
The dragon had vented its frustration with flaming passes at the shield, but now its attention was directed back toward Steve. Loki was about to intervene when Coulson appeared, uphill and a little distance from the ruin.
The problem with electing Coulson as one of Loki's allies was, as a human with no superpowers, Coulson was utterly physically vulnerable.
The great benefit of soliciting the assistance of Coulson was the man's preternatural self-possession. Devoid of magic or weapons of any real power- his little handgun or even a pulse rifle would be a joke to such a monster- Coulson also drew the dragon's attention with taunting. Coulson, Loki noted, was more creative than Steve, uttering jibes directed at the dragon's parentage- Loki heard references to hamsters and, puzzlingly, the scent of elderberries- and he seemed to derive great enjoyment from delivering them, which apparently preserved him from anger.
It was hard to tell whether the dragon actually understood the words, or indeed was inclined to be offended by them, but it whirled with remarkable agility for a creature of its size and flapped up the hill toward Coulson. By this time, however, Loki observed it was spitting sparks rather than breathing flame, its beautiful green scales had become dingy, and it seemed to be getting smaller.
It was still more than large enough to dispatch Coulson, who stood his ground as though utterly confident either in Loki's plan or his own ability to handle dragons. In fact, Loki really did not have a plan, but he twisted together enough magic to deliver himself in front of the creature and toss up another shield. The dragon collided with it and sagged.
"Mordred," Loki said, authoritatively, borrowing his tone from childhood memories of his mother- as much as he loved his father, there was still too much fear in those recollections for him to dare attempt that tone. So Mother it was, kind and firm and understanding, though perhaps a little disappointed. "Mordred, come out of there."
And either the tone worked, or Mordred had exhausted his borrowed magic with the ridiculous display of the dragon, because suddenly the monster was gone, and the scrawny figure in the green cloak stood before them, eyes reddened and face twisted. Far away in the back of his mind, Loki suddenly realized why it had been so difficult to persuade Thor to fight him on the Bifrost: the last thing he wanted to do was add to the burdens carried by this poor crazy creature, and he didn't even love him.
Coulson, not exactly a warm and friendly type, had the sense to back away as Steve walked over, hands down, shield turned away, no threats offered. Loki cautiously lowered the magical shield and edged forward.
"It is over, Mordred," Loki said gently. Mordred turned unseeing eyes upon Loki, raised his right hand listlessly, and tried to… do something. Probably blast Loki and his damnable words into oblivion, if Loki was any judge of Mordred's state of mind, which of course he was. There may have been a little curl of green fire visible in his fingertips, but aside from that Mordred's power was spent. He stared at his hand with an expression of unutterable misery, and Loki took an involuntary step forward, his own hand reaching out without conscious thought.
"What… what are we going to do with him?" Steve whispered, although it seemed Mordred was unable to hear him anyway. Coulson shrugged, looking as nearly troubled as Coulson could, although it was impossible to tell whether he was concerned about the erstwhile sorcerer's mental state or simply considering the complexities of incarcerating what amounted to a ghost.
"I have no idea," Loki admitted, privately resolving that, whatever they did with Mordred, it was not going to involve the magic-draining restraints.
"It's time to send him home," said a new voice, young and male and incongruously cheerful.
Loki, Steve, and Coulson turned to see who had joined them.