by Alex Irvine
“Stop!” someone shouted. The crystalline portal vanished and Strange lost his hold on the green circle. It, too, disappeared.
He looked up to see Wong furiously coming toward him from another part of the library. “Tampering with the continuum of probability is forbidden!” he said, almost shouting. It was by far the loudest Strange had ever seen Wong get.
“I… I was just doing exactly what it said in the book,” he protested.
“And what did the book say about the dangers of performing that ritual?”
He didn’t have an answer for that. “I don’t know. I hadn’t gotten to that part yet.” As he admitted this, Strange started to realize that he might have overreached. He maybe should have been a little more careful.
Mordo appeared at his other side, seemingly out of nowhere. “Temporal manipulations can create branches in time. Unstable dimensional openings. Spatial paradoxes! Time loops!” he shouted. “You want to get stuck reliving the same moment over and over, forever—or never having existed at all?”
Strange knew he was in the wrong. “They really should put the warnings before that stuff,” he said quietly, trying to lighten the situation up a little.
Wong wasn’t having any of it. “Your curiosity could have gotten you killed. You weren’t manipulating the space-time continuum; you were wrecking it.” He snapped The Book of Cagliostro shut and carried it back to its place. “We do not tamper with natural law. We defend it.”
As Wong put the book away, Mordo studied Strange. “How did you learn to do that? Where did you learn the litany of spells required to even understand it?”
“I’ve got a photographic memory,” Strange said. “It’s how I got my MD and PhD at the same time.”
“What you just did takes more than a good memory. You were born for the mystic arts.” Mordo was looking at Strange in a new way. There was anger still, but also some respect… and maybe even a little fear.
Strange nodded, taking the compliment, but it didn’t make him feel better. “And yet, my hands still shake.”
“For now, yes,” Wong said.
Strange felt a glimmer of hope. “Not forever?”
“We’re not prophets,” Mordo said.
Fine, Strange thought. But that wasn’t good enough. If he was born for the mystic arts, it was about time someone told him what the mystic arts were for. “When do you start telling me what we are?”
Wong and Mordo exchanged a look. Then Wong spoke while he walked to the Eye of Agamotto’s pedestal. He rotated the pedestal and the glowing globe of Earth appeared in the air above it. “While heroes like the Avengers protect the world from physical dangers, we sorcerers safeguard it against more mystical threats. The Ancient One is the latest in a long line of Sorcerers Supreme, going back thousands of years to the father of the mystic arts, the mighty Agamotto. The same sorcerer who created the Eye you so recklessly borrowed.”
“Agamotto built three Sanctums in places of power, where great cities now stand.” Wong pointed to three doorways, inscribed with large symbols, in the wall behind the Eye’s pedestal. “That door leads to the Hong Kong Sanctum, that door to the New York Sanctum. That one, to the London Sanctum.” On the globe, the three symbols appeared, and lines of power grew to connect them. “Together, the Sanctums generate a protective shield around our world.”
“The Sanctums protect the world,” Mordo added, “and we sorcerers protect the Sanctums.”
There was an obvious gap in what they were telling him, Strange thought. “From what?”
“Other-dimensional beings that threaten our universe,” Wong said.
“Like Dormammu?”
Again, Mordo and Wong looked at each other. “Where did you learn that name?” Mordo asked.
“I just read it in The Book of Cagliostro. Why?”
Wong rotated the top of the pedestal again, and again the scene shifted. The lights of Earth went out. “Dormammu dwells in the Dark Dimension. Beyond time.” The globe continued to spin, revealing a huge hole in its surface. Through it they saw an infinite space filled with corrupted worlds, and rippling with dark energies. “He is the cosmic conqueror, the destroyer of worlds,” Wong went on. “A being of infinite power and endless hunger on a quest to invade every universe and bring all worlds into his Dark Dimension. And he hungers for Earth most of all.”
Strange was starting to put two and two together. “The pages that Kaecilius stole…”
Wong nodded. “A ritual to contact Dormammu and draw power from the Dark Dimension.”
“Uhhh… okay.” Strange chuckled at how insane that sounded. He could accept a lot, but there were limits to everything. “Okay. I’m out. I… I came here to heal my hands, not to fight in some mystical war.”
Mordo and Wong both looked at him with disgust… and pity. Strange didn’t care. He wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t a guardian of Earth against interdimensional monsters. He was a doctor. And he wanted to be a doctor again.
Before either of the Masters broke their silence, the deep chiming of church bells rang in the library. Wong looked at one of the doors that seemed to be the source of the disturbance.
“London,” he said.
The door burst open and a figure staggered through the portal beyond it, stumbling a few steps into the room before falling dead on the floor.
CHAPTER 8
Through the still-open portal, Strange saw a tall man wearing a sorcerer’s tunic. His face was disfigured by some strange gray-and-purple decay around the eyes, but those eyes… they burned with power and hate.
“Kaecilius!” Wong shouted. “No!”
As the words left Wong’s mouth, Kaecilius raised one hand. The air over his head glowed and a sphere of magical energy formed. Looking straight through the portal at them, he brought his hand down.
A fiery explosion blasted out through the library. Smoke and rubble crashed into the room, and the force of the explosion blew Strange through another door. He landed hard and rolled up against a wall, slamming his ribs against the stone. It was dark except for the glow of the portal he had just passed through… but even that flickered and disappeared as he got to his feet.
Where was he?
“Wong?” he called out. “Mordo?”
There was no answer. Strange walked through the darkness and found himself in a large room with a stairway leading up. There was faint glow here from dim lights set into the walls. Beyond the staircase was a door. Through its windows, Strange could see what looked like daylight. He walked toward the door, still feeling the effects of the explosion. He could be anywhere.
But when he pushed through the door, he saw an instantly familiar sight. Cars rolling slowly down a side street. Pedestrians walking and laughing. They looked at him with surprised expressions on their faces, and he remembered he was dressed in the robes of Kamar-Taj, and was completely out of place. He also still wore the Eye of Agamotto on its chain around his neck. Strange knew this place. Was it possible? He turned and saw the address plate on the front of the building: 177A BLEECKER STREET.
He was in New York City. Greenwich Village, to be exact. Strange took a step back and looked up. There, high on the building’s facade, was the symbol of the New York Sanctum.
So, the explosion back in Kamar-Taj had blown him through the open portal to here. There must be a Master here, he thought. All three Sanctums were supposed to be guarded. He had to find whoever was in charge here and tell them what Kaecilius had done. London was under attack and Kamar-Taj was damaged, too. Strange wasn’t sure how much time he had to get help.
Strange turned and went back into the Sanctum. He called out as he walked through the foyer toward the staircase. “Hello?” No answer.
He went upstairs and found himself in a room with three glass doorways. Through them he saw three different landscapes: From left to right, they were a dense forest, an open ocean, and a mountain he didn’t recognize. He opened the center door and a salt breeze blew the hair back from his forehead. It also stun
g in the cuts on his face. This was a different kind of portal. Strange shut the door and saw a large knob set in a pedestal in the middle of the room, inscribed with symbols. He turned it and the vista through the door spun and changed. Now it was an arid desert.
He kept searching. Most of the top floor was filled with cases displaying different artifacts, although Strange didn’t recognize any of them from his considerable reading. A red cloak with an ornate collar hung in a tall glass case. It seemed to ripple as he approached. Odd. He looked at it for a long moment, wondering if it was a threat. “Hello?” he called again. Still, he heard nothing. Am I alone here?
As he formulated that thought, he heard the distinctive sound of folding matter from downstairs. Apparently, he wasn’t alone any longer, if he ever was. From the top of the staircase, he saw Kaecilius and a pair of his Zealots enter through a portal. One of the Zealots was relatively slight, but her face seemed implacable. The other was enormous, and in any other company would have been the most intimidating member of the group. Facing them in the foyer was a Master whom Strange didn’t recognize.
Kaecilius, however, did. “Daniel,” he said, his voice full of surprise. “I see they made you Master of this Sanctum.”
Daniel, Strange thought. He must be Daniel Drumm. That was a name he’d heard in conversations among the Masters at Kamar-Taj.
“Do you know what that means?” Drumm responded.
“That you’ll die protecting it.” There was respect in Kaecilius’s voice. His disfigured face was serious as he created the translucent blade of a Space Shard between his hands. Drumm raised a shield as Kaecilius lunged. The Space Shard deflected off the shield, but weakened it. Drumm, creating a weapon of his own, struck back, but Kaecilius had tapped the power of Dormammu. He was much more powerful than even this Master could hope to become. He shattered Drumm’s defenses and drove the blade of the Space Shard deep into Drumm’s belly.
“Stop!” Strange shouted. He was halfway down the stairs, rushing to help Drumm.
Kaecilius spent a long moment looking at Strange. “How long have you been at Kamar-Taj, Mister…?”
“Doctor,” Strange corrected him. He would put up with being Mister Strange to The Ancient One, but not this maniac.
Kaecilius looked puzzled. “Just Doctor?”
“It’s Strange.”
“Maybe,” Kaecilius said, misunderstanding completely. “Who am I to judge?”
Strange couldn’t believe that in the middle of all this destruction and death, they were stumbling over basic introductions and titles. Kaecilius, too, lost interest in the conversation. He jerked the Space Shard free of the dying Daniel Drumm and charged toward Strange.
Strange created a cable of energy between his hands. Kaecilius was running up the wall as if gravity had turned on its side just for him. At Kaecilius’s command, the Zealots came after Strange, too, chasing him back into the interior of the Sanctum. He countered their attacks, striking with the energy whip he had conjured. Kaecilius threw the Space Shard like a spear, straight at Strange’s head. At the last moment, Strange deflected it. It smashed into the wall, which splintered into a small version of a Mirror Dimension portal before disappearing.
Strange ran for the glass doors. He couldn’t face Kaecilius and both Zealots on his own. Behind him, Kaecilius cast a spell, and the floor unfolded beneath Strange’s feet. As fast as he ran, the glass doors got farther away and the Zealots drew closer. Strange turned to face them. He spawned two separate energy shields, just as Mordo had taught him.
One of them flickered out. Of course.
Kaecilius swung upside down and walked on the ceiling toward Strange. The Zealots were on the walls and the floor. Strange fought them off as best he could, striking one of them back down to the floor with the energy whip. Then Kaecilius folded and bent the entire room around him, spinning it so Strange tumbled from floor to wall to ceiling to wall. He had just gotten his feet under him again when Kaecilius tipped the space the other way. Strange found himself hanging from a window frame. Below him, Kaecilius’s Zealots stood, waiting for him to fall.
One of them, the woman, stood directly in front of one of the glass doors. The center one, the one he had spun from ocean to desert. A heavy vase fell past him and smashed through the door. Other debris followed, scattering down the sloping sand dune on the other side.
Strange had an idea. It was a little crazy, but he didn’t seem to have a choice. He let go and fell, hitting the Zealot with both feet and driving her through the door. She skidded and tumbled down an enormous dune, and he found he could stand again. Reality wasn’t bent in the same direction here.
He got to his feet and reached for the knob in the center of the room, but as he did the other Zealot attacked. Strange grappled with him and desperately fought him off. He spun the knob and the desert landscape vanished, replaced by a steaming jungle. The slender Zealot was now trapped wherever the other side of the portal had been. Enraged, her fellow Zealot charged Strange, who used his own momentum against him. He got under the Zealot and flipped him through the air… and through the portal into the jungle. Quickly, he spun the knob again, revealing yet another landscape.
Even though Strange was elated by his victory, there was still Kaecilius.
The dark sorcerer created another pair of Space Shards, one for each hand, and came after Strange, his haunted eyes glowing with the energies of the Dark Dimension. Strange ran for the artifact gallery, creating another energy whip as he went. He grabbed a magic lantern of some kind and spun to face Kaecilius, who stopped and kept his distance, waiting to see what Strange would do next.
Then a smile spread over his ruined face. “You don’t know how to use that, do you?”
“What?” Strange looked at the lantern. It was true. He had no idea what it was.
So he did the obvious thing. He swung it at Kaecilius, who batted it aside with the Space Shards and attacked again. Strange parried his attacks, but Kaecilius got him off balance and knocked him into one of the glass cases. Strange got up and Kaecilius easily knocked him down once again. Scrambling across the floor, getting desperate, Strange dodged the Space Shards one more time, only to have Kaecilius kick him backward into yet another glass case.
Then Kaecilius went for the kill—and over Strange’s head, a fold of something red shot out and tangled Kaecilius’s arm. Kaecilius jerked free of it, but another fold blocked his next swing. He dragged Strange away from the case to the railing over the long drop to the foyer. Strange was too battered to defend himself. Kaecilius hit him once, twice, and a third heavy punch knocked Strange over the railing.
The red robe with the ornate collar flashed past Kaecilius and after Strange. The corrupted Master stood watching, puzzled… and a moment later, Doctor Strange rose into view again, wrapped in the cloak, the Eye of Agamotto shining on his chest. He felt a new power coursing through him. Was this what Mordo had meant about a relic choosing him?
If so, it was excellent timing. He braided another energy whip between his hands and snapped it out toward Kaecilius, who caught it on the blade of his Space Shard. Sparks of arcane energy showered the floor as Kaecilius struggled. Then he yanked on the Space Shard, and Strange flew past him to crash on the floor. He got up and the cloak dragged him backward. What was it doing? Kaecilius advanced.
Strange looked up and saw an ax in a bracket high on the wall. He went after it, but the cloak stopped him in his tracks, pulling backward. What was going on here? Weren’t the artifacts supposed to help the Masters? Kaecilius sprang forward and the cloak itself lashed out at him, knocking him down. Still, it dragged Strange away from the ax. He tried to fight it, but it was too strong.
As he reeled backward, the cloak caught an odd framework in a shadowed corner and threw it toward Kaecilius. A moment later, Strange understood why. The framework wrapped itself around Kaecilius’s arms and legs, binding him on his knees with his arms held behind him. The frame moved with a mechanical purpose, tightening everywhere it
could. Then it completed its work, covering his mouth with a series of interlocking small plates. Kaecilius resisted only for a moment. Then, knowing he was trapped, he said something behind the plates.
Curious, Strange went to him and uncovered his mouth.
“You’ll die here,” Kaecilius said. He was calm, even serene.
“Oh, stop it,” Strange said.
“You cannot stop this, Mister Doctor.”
“Why—” Strange stopped himself. It wasn’t worth correcting Kaecilius’s mistake about his name. “Look, I don’t even know what ‘this’ is,” he said.
“It’s the end and the beginning,” Kaecilius said softly. “The many becoming the few, becoming the One.”
Strange didn’t have time for more mystical ravings. He got enough of that back in Kamar-Taj. “Look, if you’re not going to start making sense, I’m just going to have to put this thing back on.”
“Tell me, Mister Doctor,” Kaecilius began, and Strange lost his patience.
“All right, look. My name is Doctor Stephen Strange.”
“You are a doctor.” Kaecilius sounded surprised.
“Yes.”
“A scientist,” Kaecilius said. “You understand the laws of nature. All things age. All things die. In the end, our sun burns out, our universe grows cold and perishes. But the Dark Dimension… it’s a place beyond time.”
“That’s it,” Strange said. He walked up to Kaecilius with the mouth covering. “I’m putting this thing back on.”
“This world doesn’t have to die, Doctor,” Kaecilius said, more emphatically. Strange paused. “This world can take its rightful place among so many others, as part of the One. The great and beautiful One. And we can all live forever.”
“Really?” Strange challenged him. “What do you have to gain out of this New Age dimensional utopia?”
“The same as you. The same as everyone. Life. Eternal life. People think in terms of good and evil, but really, time is the true enemy of us all. Time kills everything.”
