Guardians of Albion
Chapel Perilous
"I'm grateful they've given us work to do," Hermione Granger was saying, "but what about my actual job? Who's doing that? They'd better not be doing it too well, I don't want to get out of here to find myself redundant!"
The graceful woman seated opposite smiled. "Somebody once said that the graveyards are full of indispensable men." She replied. "I suppose they're equally full of indispensable women!"
"Some help you are, Purdey!" Hermione snapped.
Purdey leaned forward, the blue-green eyes suddenly intense in her elfin face under the bob of blonde hair. "This work is vital, Hermione, and so are you, or I wouldn't be here to keep an eye on you!"
"If you say so." Hermione allowed. "At least it's the kind of thing I can do. Right up my alley, collating data and trying to make sense of it! Neither Harry nor poor Ron is in anything like their comfort zone right now! Harry's a proper historian and you've got him looking at myths and legends, for Heavens' sake! As for Ron, he's really uncomfortable working for your lot!"
"He's not actually working for our department." Purdey pointed out. "We're just on loan, here, Steed, Gambit and I."
"Hmph!" Hermione said. "The funny people are still the funny people and they're all the same under the cloaks and daggers, is what Ron says!"
"Do you agree with him?" Purdey asked.
"I daren't disagree with him, he's huge!" Hermione declared. "Also, he's got a very cheeky grin and those twinkly blue eyes!
"Anyway, I think I've just figured something out. I'm going to need a map."
XXXXX
A pattern was emerging, Harry realised. It had begun when he decided to start taking the stuff they'd given him to read seriously. At first, it had all been fairy stories, but then something in the back of his mind, a voice that was his but not his, had urged him to look at them as he would at other primary sources.
To be fair, the books and documents he'd been given to go over were peculiar. Some were originals and relatively recent; the Cultes des Ghoules by the Comte d'Erlette dated to 1702, Friedrich von Juntzs' Unaussprechlichen Kulten to 1838 and Ludwig Prinn had produced De Vermis Mysteriis sometime in the 14th Century. Periods Harry had at least a grasp of. But each of these referred to works written long before, and the copies and fragments Harry had been given of these were undated and undatable! The Book of Eibon, The Seven Cryptical Books of Hsan, the Pnakotic Manuscripts, the R'lyeh Text. All apparently written before humans, as far as Harry knew, had been able to write!
Still, once he'd been able to suspend his disbelief, he'd begun to see a pattern, an emergent narrative. But there was another book, one that the older ones referred to often, but never directly quoted, which he was sure contained much that would tie things together. However, his questions and requests regarding this tome, variously referred to as the Al Azif and the Necronomicon, were met with rather too glib and quick responses about no copies being known to exist. Now books do vanish – no written records exist regarding the beliefs and rituals of the cult of Mithras – but Harry was sure that a book which seemed so important would have been preserved somewhere. Therefore, he concluded, there must be other things in this Necronomicon that somebody didn't want him to know!
"Steed?" Harrys' bodyguard, a tough-looking man in his fifties, with hawklike features and a penchant for elegant suits – the one he was wearing came from Kingsman -looked up with a smile.
"D'you mind standing in for my students?" Harry asked. "I'm a bit of an auditory learner, and saying it out loud helps me make sense of things."
"Of course, Professor." Steed replied. "Just don't expect any penetrating questions!"
"Huh!" Harry grunted. "I've learned not to, over the years!
"Right, if we take these texts as being true, which we are for the purposes of this work, then the first thing is that human history goes back a lot further than conventional historians think it does!
"Now we've always known that there were several species of humans around at one time, and these texts mention some of them. The ones the texts call Naugrim or Dverga, for instance, seem from the descriptions to be what we call Neanderthals. Then there are the ones called Periannath or Holbytlan, who were very small, and others, the Noroth or Jottun, who were much bigger than modern humans. They all seem to have rubbed along in the usual way – sometimes friendly, sometimes not – and to have advanced to at least a medieval level socially and technologically. There's stuff about towns, cities, villages, kings, nobles, knights, and so on.
"But then another species comes along, and they aren't really human at all. They're called the Fae, and they don't come from outer space, but from another dimension. At least, that's what the texts imply, they say the Fae come from 'the Lands Between', not 'the Worlds Beyond'. Which is weird, because some of the guys from the Physics Department go on about quantum mechanics and the 'Many Worlds Theory' and whether all those words are 'decoherent' or 'quantum entangled'.
"Anyway, these Fae are split into two communities, Summer and Winter. Both of them rely on magic rather than technology, and they start to teach the humans magic. Also, it seems Fae and humans could interbreed, so quite a bit of that went on!
"Then a few centuries later, along come some others, and these are from outer space! They called themselves the Kree and their leaders were Mar-Vell the Mentor, Ronan the Accuser and Mari-Ell the Defender. It seems that some treaty or other meant that the Kree Empire was responsible for Earth. Kree law mandated that a planet with intelligent life-forms should be investigated by a Mentor, an Accuser and a Defender. It seems that Ronan believed that the Fae had corrupted humans to the point where they should be wiped out to make room for another intelligent species to evolve. Mari-Ell thought that if the Fae could be made to leave humans alone, they'd do better. But Mar-Vell was convinced that humans had immense potential that might be needed in the future.
"In the end, they agreed that the Fae should be banished from this dimension and humanity left alone to make their own way. But some of the Fae didn't like that, so they decided to massacre all the humans instead and keep the world for themselves. The Kree weren't strictly allowed to interfere once it came to open war, and the Fae weren't keen to fight their own kin at first.
"But there was a hybrid, half-human, half-Fae, called Myrddin who was an incredibly powerful magician as well as being a genius. He joined forces with another hybrid, a warrior named Arthur, and they established a kingdom called Logres where humans could come for sanctuary, and a fortress-city named Camelot, where Arthur summoned the greatest human or pro-human warriors. The Fae wouldn't help directly, but Feanor, Craftmaster of Summer, gave Myrddin a magical spear and a Cup of Healing, while Eol the Wintersmith gave him two powerful swords, Excalibur and Albion.
"The leaders of the rebel Fae were the Lady of Summer, Morgana, and the Champion of Winter, Sir Morgul, who rode a firedrake. There was a battle, the Champion of Humanity, Sir Launcelot, used the Spear to kill Morguls' firedrake and Arthur killed Morgul in a duel, using Excalibur. Morgana and Myrddin fought a magical duel, which Myrddin won hands down, Morgana attacked him with a sword, and he killed her with Albion.
"But Morgana had two children. A daughter, Morgian, by her human husband King Lot and a son, Mordred, by Arthur. Morgian managed to erase Launcelots' memory and he wandered off the battlefield. Mordred pledged allegiance to Arthur, then stabbed him to death as soon as he turned his back.
"But by this time Myrddin had finished with Morgana, and neither Morgian nor Mordred wanted to face him, so they fled. Then the new Champion of Winter, Sir Mablung of the Heavy Hand, and the Champion of Summer, Sir Glorfindel the Beloved, brought the Fae army to mop up.
"Once the dust had settled, the Kree stepped in. They booted the Fae back into their own dimension, put the most powerful human-Fae hybrids in what seems to be suspended animation and 'sealed away magic'. Then they meddled with all the humans' memories and scattered them across the world before sinking the lands in which all this had happened. But the stories all say that magic will awaken someday, when humans are ready."
"Fascinating." Steed remarked. "So all those myths and legends…?"
"Are a lot older and truer than we thought!" Harry said. "At least the bones of them are. Later writers will have altered and embellished things to suit themselves!
"But the stories also talk about the 'Night Terrors'. Hellhounds, Trolls, Vampires, demons of various kinds, that Morgana and Morgian used to keep their human subjects terrorised and subservient before the rebellion started. Some of the stuff we've seen lately ties in with that.
"If these stories are true, then maybe one or more of these hybrids have woken up with a hankering for the old ways?"
"Which also would mean, surely, that this magic – whatever it actually is – is also making a comeback?" Steed asked.
"Which is going to really turn things upside down!" Harry said.
XXXXX
"The Chapel Perilous?" Mordred said. "Are you sure, sister?"
"Beyond any doubt, Mordred!" Morgian said. "For two reasons.
"The first being that the Chapel is the nearest confluence that I can draw power from. If it is unsealed, I will be able to draw more, do more. The second, brother mine, is that the Chapel is the hiding place of some of Merlins' treasures! Specifically the other Black Sword, Albion!
"Before he died, your traitor father committed Excalibur to the keeping of the Kree Accuser, who stood witness to the battle."
"To my shame, I dared not challenge him for it." Mordred murmured.
"No shame, brother!" Morgian said. "No shame, but wisdom! A Kree Accuser is not a being to be challenged, even by such as we are! But when Ronan departed, he gave Excalibur to Nimue, to keep against this day, and it is now wielded by Gawain. But Merlin placed Albion, the Gaebolga and the Bleeding Chalice in the Chapel before he went to the Crystal Cave. To stand against the Red Knight, you will need a blade to equal his.
"So you must go to the Chapel and unseal it, Mordred. I will give you a talisman which will prevent the Drow who guard it from waking. But you must bring away only the sword! In some way, the treasures are tied to the charm which holds Merlin in the Cave. If all of them leave the Chapel, then he will awaken sooner and with greater might!"
XXXXX
"He's creepy!" Spitfire said to the Commando. "He looks like a human, and he moves like one, and he answers questions if you ask him, and does it in a human voice. But it's like he's sleepwalking!"
"He is, after a fashion." The Commando told her. "In full Auto mode, when his software was working, he could pass for a human. Now, of course, he can only do what I tell him to, as if he were in some kind of hypnotic trance. The Manual mode was designed for emergency use; for if the VI crashed, or he exceeded his parameters."
"Makes sense." She allowed. "So, back there, you used my given name, you've never done that before. Why?"
"You were upset, Spitfire." The Commando said simply. "Brassnecks' story has that effect on humans. It would have been disrespectful to your feelings to have been formal at that point."
"Oh." She said. "Well, your cousin here still creeps me out, so I'll leave the pair of you to it!"
She moved off, falling into step with the Cat.
"So, what is it with you and Rusty?" He asked quietly.
"He's more humanlike than he lets on, Will." She told him. "You sense it too, it's why you're always joking with him and taking the piss. He tries to play it all distant and machine-like, but the mask slips from time to time. I think he's just scared to let himself show any feelings."
"Maybe." The Cat acknowledged. "But there's another angle, Jenny. He might be keeping a rein on his feelings in case he scares us. He's a giant robot, programmed to fight and, if necessary, kill. Do you want to imagine what he'd be like if he ever let himself get angry?"
"Ouch!" Jenny said.
They were on Salisbury Plain, an area the public were kept away from because for many years it has been the main training grounds for the British Army. As a result, almost the entire plain is a vast nature reserve supporting many species adapted to life on the rolling chalk downlands. Military activities, by their nature, are sporadic, varied and do not leave permanent traces, apart from craters which, when filled with rainwater, provide habitats for even rarer creatures and plants. Not that any of Excalibur, apart from Herne, had much interest in that aspect. They had come here because it was open ground, but at the same time far away from prying eyes. They placed the Iron Man robot in the centre of a hollow and arranged themselves in a ring around the edges, giving them height advantage. Then Union Jack placed the alien device on the robots' head, where it immediately attached itself and began to twinkle with small purple lights. Jack retreated to the edge of the hollow.
For a few minutes, nothing changed, then the lights stopped twinkling and began to glow steadily. The robot seemed to shake itself, then spoke:
"It is advised to shield your eyes."
At Jacks' nod, the others complied, except the Commando, whose vision was able to instantly adjust. The robot said something else, in a completely alien language. There was a flash they could all sense, even with shielded eyes, and something else stood where the Iron Man had been. Perhaps four feet tall, with slender torso and limbs, no external genitalia. An overlarge head with large dark eyes in a pointed face with a small nose and puckered mouth. It looked round at them all.
"S'ngac?" Jack asked.
"Friend Michael." The voice was high-pitched and piping. "It is strange to note your extelligence so resembles your garment."
"You look just like the aliens on those bloody silly UFO 'documentaries' on digital TV!" The Cat said.
"Ah!" S'ngac replied. "You will be Will the Feline, the one who possesses no filter?"
"That would be me!" The Cat allowed. "Some bugger been telling tales?"
"Friend Michael speaks much of his team, his people." S'ngac responded. "They are of importance to him. But this garment is one such as many Qys use when we wish to not inspire terror and express friendliness. It is as they say 'muchly harmless'."
S'ngac had slowly come up to the rim of the hollow, and the team gathered round him. He looked round at them again. "So here are Jenny and Rusty the Metal Warrior." He said. "But these I do not know. Both are nature-born, but one borrows the garment of a human. It is then true that this world lives in a way others do not!
"Sadly, my moments here are of limit, or I would wish to study most. But this world is a protectorate of the Kree and I may not remain. Please to waiting."
He seemed to concentrate for a moment, then with another, less brilliant, flash, the Iron Man robot reappeared nearby.
"That is your property, Qys do not steal." S'ngac said. "I have never worn a non-organic garment before. It was not much comfortable. Now I shall put on a garment suitable for translight travel. I face a long sojourn, unless I can, as you say, 'itch a lift' from the Bentusi or Ferengi.
"Farewell and gratitude, Friend Michael. The Kree are a benevolent folk, you are in good hands!"
He turned and went back down the hollow, once there, he admonished them to cover their eyes again. When they next looked, there was a creature resembling a large horse with a reptilian hide of bright gold. The head, however was long and narrow and sprouted jewelled antlers. The mane and the tail appeared to be made from fire. S'ngac gathered himself, and leapt, shooting upward in a blaze of fire and vanishing almost at once.
"Did any of that," the Cat asked, "make a shred of sense to anybody?"
"The Kree I know of." Hernes said. "Mar-Vell the Mentor, who spoke the Prophecy, was of the Kree."
"Oh, I know a fair bit about the Kree and the rest!" Spitfire said.
"Then why," the Cat asked, "didn't you tell us?"
"You never asked." She answered. "My Dad and my step-mum always warned me about spoilers. Anyway, it really wasn't relevant until now. But I can tell you a bit."
Jack, who had moved off to answer his commlink, now returned.
"Maybe later, Jenny." He said. "Right now, the Intel and Analysis people have found a lead. Let's go!"
XXXXX
Logan came awake, fully and immediately as he always did, and was almost instantly aware of his surroundings, as he had always been. Until he got sick. But as he studied the vaulted stone ceiling above, assessed the fur-covered couch on which he lay, separated out the array of scents that came to his nostrils, he realised that he was as healthy as he had ever been, perhaps more so. He lay still, keeping his breathing deep and even, and listened to the quiet conversation taking place nearby.
"No, Sir Feanor," the White Lady was saying, 'twas not I that kept him alive, though I did aid and sustain him while you removed the poisonous metal. But so soon as you took the first fragment from him, his own healing powers began to work, and by the time all was done, he no longer needed my aid."
"By the Golden Tree!" Feanor replied. "Then his powers of healing are such that I have never seen the like! What I gave him can only make them greater, Nimue. Was this your intent?"
"For this he came into the world, Feanor." She said. "But little time by our reckoning, but many lives of Men, ago. His life has been hard and lonely and filled with battle. He has been forged as a weapon is, tested and found true. He is the Sixth Walker, and his dominion will be Justice, for he knows no compromise, is true to himself and yet full of compassion for those wronged."
"He is also awake and listening!" Feanor replied with a laugh. "Come, Sir Logan, here is food and wine. You need to eat while you tell me how a Child of Dust comes by the healing and the keen senses of the Fae!"
"I don't know." Logan said as he came over. "That's the answer. As a kid, I was always sick – I caught everything, but only once. By the time I was ten, I was as healthy as a horse. Then things got weird, at thirteen, my senses were sharpening. I could see, hear, smell more than anyone. I was gettin' stronger, faster than I had a right to be. I had a temper, the other kids stayed out o' my face. Then one day a gang went for me. I was holdin' my own until one of 'em knifed me. That was the first time my claws popped out, the first time I went berserk. I killed three of 'em and had to run. Never really settled anywhere since.
"But for the how and why I'm what I am, you haveta ask Charles Xavier or Moira MacTaggert. I'm no egghead an' all that DNA stuff is way over my head!"
"A strange Telling, my friend." Feanor allowed. "But who placed Telchars' Metal on your bones?"
"I don't know of no Telchar." Logan said. "We call the stuff adamantium. I was an agent for Department H in Canada. I screwed up a job -they wanted me to kill a man, which was no problem, but then they wanted me to kill his wife and kid. But I realised that his wife didn't know what he'd been up to, and I don't kill kids – not ever! So they threw me out and I went on a drinkin' spree and one night I got grabbed. If I'd been sober they couldn't have done it.
"They took me to a place they called the Weapon X Project. Guy in charge was called Stryker, but he answered to somebody else, I don't know who. He put the adamantium into me, and then tried to brainwash me into some kinda super-soldier killin' machine. But I broke out and wrecked the place. Lost my memory for years, until Xavier did a deep dive and fetched it up.
"So you took it out? But you did somethin' else, I can feel it!"
XXXXX
"OK, so one of the clever people did a geographical analysis of the attacks." Union Jack told his team. "Between surveillance from police helicopters and Army drones, backed up with traffic-cams and the old Security Network, they managed to trace the bulk of them back to a common point of origin."
"Which we're now heading for, I take it?" Spitfire said.
"That's right." Jack said. "They don't expect there to be a lot there. This is a recon mission, to see if we can figure out how they got there and if we can choke the attacks off at source."
"What manner of creature is a 'drone'?" Herne asked.
"Not a creature at all." The Commando explained. "A drone is any vehicle or mobile device, on land, sea or air, which is unmanned and controlled remotely – from a distance – by an operator. They're used for reconnaissance, spying and surprise attacks, mostly. Especially on high-risk targets if they want to avoid casualties."
"Cowardly." The Hooded Man noted.
"Lives were held cheap once, today less so." Herne admonished him. "Though in days gone by, 'unmanned' had a different meaning!"
Shortly after, they arrived. A grove of ancient oak trees formed a corridor, not unlike the nave of a church, Jack noted. At the end of the corridor, a large, rough stone was set in the ground in front of a steep hill that rose behind the trees.
"I know this place." The Hooded Man announced.
"Indeed." Herne agreed. "Friends, it behoves us to be wary. Yonder grove and hill were once known to all as the Chapel Perilous. A place of ancient magic, full of danger for the uninitiated. It is said that Merlin hid some of his treasures here, before the Sleep took him."
"For what it's worth," the Cat ventured, "I'd be happier if we rested up somewhere and came back tomorrow. Going to be dark soon."
"That's actually a good thing." Jack said. "The attacks happen at night, and start from here. If we're on the spot, as it were, we won't have to go looking for clues, and we can thin the bad guys out before they hit the city."
"It is well." Herne said, glancing at the westering sun. "I will soon be able to shift form to fight the better."
"You do realise, or maybe you don't, that there is a passage into that hill?" The Commando said.
Jack squinted. There was a dark patch in the green, certainly. "You may be right, Rusty." He said.
"Of course I am, I can see it." The mech replied.
"Yeah, well we don't all have electric eyeballs!" The Cat reminded him.
"This is ill news!" Herne said. "If the Metal Man speaks truth, then someone has entered the Chapel without arousing its guards! We must find out if they are still there, and what they might have done or taken! But we may not approach without arousing the guards."
"The guards being?" Jack asked.
"Drow." Herne told him. "Dead Fae who refuse to enter Mandos, but instead fall into Angband, the Iron Hells. There they are clad in forms of darkness. They are grim and fell, but their bodies may be slain as mortals may, forcing their spirits back into Angband, to be remade in torment."
"Let's go, people!" Jack said. "Be ready!"
As they approached, the sun set, but the leaves of the trees began to glow with green light.
"The Chapel is awake." Herne noted, then abruptly shifted into his giant, stag-headed form, just as the Drow came.
They were tall and slender, with the not-quite-human faces of the Fae. Their skins were ebony black, their hair stark white and their eyes glowed red. They wore armour of grey iron, but the blades of their swords and the points of their spears were red. They said nothing, made no sound, but simply charged.
The Cat was never still, darting from place to place, his weapons were two heavy, clawed discs which he swung on monofilament lines. The lines themselves could slice through flesh and bone, and the discs inflicted terrible wounds.
Spitfire had the robust skeleton and muscles of the Shobogan people, as well as their enhanced nervous system to boost her reflexes. With two hearts, and very efficient lungs, she did not tire easily. Her weapons of choice were a pair of long knives she used to parry, cut and stab with great skill.
Union Jack had perhaps five times the strength and speed of a normal man. His uniform was made from Kevlar, reinforced at key points with high-impact ceramic plates. He had years of experience and fighting skills, enhanced with heavy, spiked metal knuckledusters.
The Steel Commando had no need to hurry. No sword or spear could harm him, and a single blow was enough to dispatch any opponent.
Herne was a juggernaut of destruction. Stronger even than the Commando, he could heal instantly from any wound while in contact with the earth. He could crush enemies with his fists, or gore them with his steel-hard antlers.
The Hooded Man flitted around the edges of the melee, sending in a stream of arrows that never missed and always killed.
But the Drow were numberless. More and more came out of the hill until their sheer weight of numbers began to tell, pushing Excalibur back, confining them until they were surrounded, grouped closely round Herne and the Commando. For a moment, all was still – the metal titan and the ancient hunter formed a bulwark the Drow were reluctant to challenge.
In the silence, the Commando heard chanting. He located the source. On a small platform above the entrance to the hill stood a female Drow in elaborate grey robes. She was chanting while weaving complex patterns in the air with a slender wand. Every so often, the wand would flash with red light and more Drow warriors would emerge from the hill.
He quickly informed the rest of the team. "I think this lot may be waiting until they're sure they have enough men to take us." He finished.
The Hooded Man fired at her, but the arrow vanished in a flash of fire before it reached her. It was long range for a pistol, but the Cat's shot was equally ineffective.
Then a new element entered the fight, as two figures attacked the Drow in the rear.
One was a short, broad-shouldered form in a tight, black costume, his head and face concealed with a hood. He crashed into the Drow, never stopping, never slowing, laying about him with silver claws that cut metal and flesh with ease. His movements and fighting style were immediately familiar to Jack. Surely not. He thought. He retired.
The other was tall and gaunt. Dressed in grey with a long cloak and a slouch hat. He sent gouts and globes of white fire from his upraised hands, reducing Drow to ashes.
"Hit them!" Jack barked, and Excalibur surged forward.
The fighting was fierce and savage, but the team all knew that unless they could slow or stop the supply of Drow, there was no winning.
"We need to kill that witch!" The Commando bellowed.
In answer the man in grey called out a few strange words. A high, shrilling sound came from the hill, then a golden shape emerged. A spear or javelin, perhaps six feet long with a terrible, barbed head at one end, and a semi-circular blade on the other came spinning end over end through the air, straight for the Commando. He put out a hand and the spear settled into it.
The shrilling stopped, but the spear vibrated in his grip. The Commando hefted it once, to test its balance, then drew back and hurled it at the witch. It screeched as it flew, but the cast was true and the witch was struck through the heart, collapsing into dust with a fearful howl. The spear rose into the air, and came back to the Commandos' hand.
All around, the Drow simply fell where they stood. Union Jack heard muttered curses from under a pile of them.
"Cat?" He asked. "You dead, mate?"
"Yeah, I'm fucking dead!" Came the reply. "Get me out from under this lot and I'll walk it off!"
But the Drow bodies were crumbling away already, the armour and weapons were taking longer, but swiftly and visibly rusting to nothing.
The tall grey-clad figure was approaching the Commando. Herne, back in his human form, went to meet him.
"Lord," He said, bowing his head, "our thanks for your aid. As ever, you come unlooked-for."
"You chose your allies well, Walker of the Woods." The Phantom Stranger allowed. "But I must speak with yonder metal man. Come!"
The Commando was examining the spear closely, but looked up as they came near.
"A fine weapon." He said. "But I find myself unable to identify either the metal it is made from, or its power-source."
"The metal comes from elsewhere." The Phantom Stranger told him. "The source of power is also what you would call extra-dimensional.
"That is the Gaebolga, forged long ago by Feanor, the greatest craftsman of the Summer Fae. He laid the geas upon it that it can only be wielded by one whose might in arms and honour surpasses all around him. It was given to the Fae warrior Sir Cuchulain, then Champion of Summer. When Cuchulain was betrayed and slain, Feanor offered the spear to Sir Glorfindel, the new Summer Champion. But Glorfindel refused the weapon, preferring sword to spear. So Feanor kept it in his hoard.
"Later, when some of the Fae rebelled rather than leave the Mortal Plane, Feanor gave the spear, as well as the Bleeding Chalice, to Merlin. Merlin placed the Gaebolga in the midst of Arthurs' Round Table, where the mightiest warriors of this Realm gathered, and the Spear chose Sir Launcelot who thus became Champion of Humanity. Launcelot used the Gaebolga to strike down Ancalagon the Black, the firedrake ridden by Sir Morgul the Black Knight. But when Launcelot was robbed of his memory by Morgian, he left the spear on the field. Merlin retrieved it and placed it in the Chapel Perilous.
"Tonight I called it forth, and it chose the one its' geas required. The spear is yours now, Warrior of Steel, as long as you wield it in honourable cause!"
"I will do my best, sir!" The Commando replied.
The Phantom Stranger nodded. "Await me here, I must go into the Chapel and see what may have been taken and what remains."
Union Jack had gone over to the man in black, who glanced up as he approached and said in a familiar, whiskey-roughened voice.
"Same scent, different uniform. Gone back to your roots?"
"You could say that." Moran allowed. "So that is you, Logan? I recognised your style, but you've got faster!"
Logan pulled the hood back. It was the same rugged, fighters' face, but subtly different. The mouth was less grim than stern now, and the eyes, though still intense, no longer held that hint of inner conflict.
"I heard you were sick." Moran said. "Dying, in fact. I must say you're looking good on it, better than I've ever seen you, actually!"
"Yeah." Logan nodded. "I got cured, and even a few upgrades. Someday I'll tell you about it, but I gotta go soon."
"So the Wolverine is back in business?" Moran asked.
This time, Logan shook his head. "Nah, Wolverine's the past. I'm a Walker now, the last of the Six. You can call me Justice."