The HaRT Knight Decaverse

Fall of Tír na Angelus

Chapter 03

Royal Adviser

“I can do it, I know I can,” Alexander said. He breathed hard as he threw his hands to his sides in an attempt to physically prompt the magic to take form, but there was nothing.
“Come now, Alexander. You’ve been at this for the entire day without stopping to eat or rest. I’m begging you, please stop,” Dante pleaded with the young prince. “As I’ve told you repeatedly, most Angelians only have enough powers to produce magic once they reached puberty, even then, they don’t train in the use of magic until they reach thaumaturgic maturity at twenty-one.”
“I can do this, Dante. You just wait and see, I’ll show you,” Alexander said through gritted teeth.
“Alex, if you persist with this you could hurt yourself or even damage your magic potential. If you do that, your mother will have me flayed,” Dante said.
“Oh, please, Dante. Mother needs her great adviser too much,” Alexander said. “That, and you’re the only man in the world with all that random information in your head.”
“Now boy, at least speak to me with a speck of respect,” Dante said frowning.
Alexander did not answer. He continued to flail his arms about as he tried to get the magic to work. For a second it was like his ice eyes melted, became smoke, and then froze again. The next moment power exploded from the boy and Dante had to shield his eyes from the incandescence of the young prince’s aura. An arc of yellow fire shot from both his hands and slammed into a nearby wall where it melted the sword that had been on display there.
Alexander’s seemingly endless aura of magic power vanished, and he smirked at Dante as he said, “Told you.” The words barely left his lips when he fainted.
Dante swooped in and caught the prince before he hit the ground. He stared at the boy, affection and admiration vying for dominance in his heart. Dante had been in his fair share of magic battles against some of the most powerful beings in all of Anarchos, he had trained countless people in magic, but never had he encountered such a power. The small prince held inside him power so vast it had seemed without limit.
The mental and physical strain of his first-ever feat of magic had taken everything out of Alexander though. He was out cold, and even if he were awake, the wizard suspected his little body wouldn’t be able to move.
Dante stood up with the sleeping boy in his arms and strode out of the room as he whispered, “Time for bed, my little miracle.”
#
After Dante had tucked Alexander into bed, he had taken a seat next to him, and watched him as he slept.
“He’s asleep already? Usually this time of night he’s still bouncing off the walls,” Queen Milara said as she entered the room.
“The lad has had an exhausting day,” Dante said. Noticing the concern in her eyes, he said, “Did you feel it? The immensity of his aura?”
He had guessed correctly. Milara had felt it and had immediately leaped to the worst possible conclusion, that her son was in danger. Understandable, Dante thought. The poor dear has lost almost everyone in her family.
With the revelation that it was in fact, her son’s power she had felt, she said, “What? That massive flash of magic energy, that was Alex?”
“It was. He managed his first feet of pyroturgy today,” Dante said.
“Fire magic, at his age?” Milara said.
Her surprise was understandable. Dante had been thinking about it himself since he had tucked the prince in. He had been so overwhelmed by the astonishing amount of power Alexander had produced, he had not taken in the skill needed to produce that arc of fire. No matter how much power there was in a person’s blood, magic was a difficult art to master, and Jördai magic—also known as fairy magic or the elemental arts—was a particularly fickle branch.
Milara brought the wizard back from his thoughts as she asked, “Has anyone ever managed elemental magic with such power at his age before?”
“Only Marcus,” Dante said as he thought about it for a second or two. “He managed on the day he turned five, beating Alexander by a whole three months. But Marcus’s magic aura was nothing compared to what Alexander produce tonight. My Queen, your son will without a doubt be the most powerful Angelian since Angelus Primus himself.”
The Queen tensed and Dante thought he could see the horrible train of thought forming in her mind as he looked into her eyes. Her son being able to do what he did today would mean that he would be a powerful man, and that frightened her. She had seen all three her brothers fall to the beckoning of power. Even people who remain humble while possessing extraordinary power fall because of it. It is the way fate worked, the more powerful you are, the more enemies you will have.
To assuage her concerns, Dante said, “I don’t believe you have too much to worry about. He may have magic power greater than Marcus, but he has your heart, Milara.”
“I hope your right,” Milara said and leaned over Alexander. The Queen whispered something to her son Dante could not hear.
Dante smiled and thought, No, this boy will never be like his uncles. Unlike them, he has a parent who loves him.
The moment of peaceful happiness broke like shattered glass as Tír na Angelus shook from the violent reaction Dante had witnessed once or twice before in his life. Somewhere in the north, one Angelian had just killed another to steal their power.
“Was that what I think it was? The power of one Angelian being passed to another?” Milara asked.
No, my dear, not passed, taken. Power that is given or willed is a barely noticeable occurrence. Though, even power taken by conquest is not usually this powerful. Oh flying frogs, Dante thought as he realized what the immensity of the power meant. “I believe so. But not just any merger of power. Magic power of that scale is not common, not even here. Milara, I fear that was your father.”
“I need to go to him right away?” Milara said, no sign of the loving mother that had just been there. The cold blue eyes of this woman did not belong to Milara the mother; they belonged to the Warrior Queen of Tír na Angelus.
The light in the room dimmed and Dante looked out the window to the silhouette of an Angelian eclipsing the moon. Even at this distance and with most of the man’s features hidden, the figure looked familiar. It flapped its wings and flew in their direction. “By the Shepherd King, look.”
“Protect my son, Dante!” Milara said before she left to face this new threat.
Why was the figure so familiar? Dante’s mind raced. Only an Angelian can claim another Angelian’s powers by killing them, and while the power of the royal line was enticing, no one would be fool enough to kill the king for that power. If Marcus and William were still alive, they might have tried—Cain!
The realization hit Dante so hard he was dizzy. He had to warn Milara before it was too late. He felt her magic flare, she was already on the ground floor. Dante ran out of the room and down the stairs. Although he was one-hundred-and-fifty-eight years old and his legs screamed in protest about halfway down, he kept going at a full sprint.
Dante reached the doorway just as Milara flew back through it and into him. He caught her in his arms, and his tired legs gave out under him. They both fell to the ground.
“Dante? What are you doing here? I told you to take care of my son,” Milara said.
“I’m sorry—”
Before he could finish Milara cut him off, “Leave now. Go to Alexander. I’ll handle this.”
There was no way Dante could refuse the authority in her voice. Without another word, he jumped up and ran back up the stairs. He thought he might die before he reached the top, but he didn’t. His legs were in excruciating pain, he was breathing hard, and his heart was seconds away from tearing itself to pieces, but he was alive. The strain he had put himself through seemed to have been for nothing, however. Alexander was no longer in his room.
“Alexander! Where are you, boy?” he yelled.
This isn’t possible. How can he be awake again? Dante thought. He was close to panicking. He closed his eyes and tried to see if he could not feel a trace of Alexanders magic aura. It would only have been possible to track an Angelian by their aura once their powers develop fully, but considering the massive amount of power the boy had produced earlier, it was with a try at least. The only powers Dante could sense, however, came from Milara and Cain. Milara is losing, Dante thought in horror as he sensed her power dwindle, which meant she was passing out or dying.
“Mom!” came the scream from below. Dante ran to the window and was just in time to see Alexander hit Cain in the knee with his little fist. For a split second, Dante sensed the near-endless power Alexander had produced earlier and an arc of fire exploded out of Cain’s knee. Cain screamed in pain as his knee buckled under the weight of his bulk.
“Shade,” Dante swore. Once more, flew down the stairs.
Dante was so worried for Alexander; he didn’t even register the protesting pain from his legs. When he reached the bottom and flew through the front door, Alexander sat next to his mother, crying and begging her to wake up. Cain, meanwhile, had made himself a stone spear with geoturgy and used it to steady himself as he closed in on the young prince.
“You little brat. I’ll kill you for that,” Cain said through clenched teeth.
There was no way Dante would reach Alexander before Cain, and by the time he formed a pentacle key, it would be too late. The only thing he could do was to yell, “Alexander! Run!”
It was no use. Cain slammed the palm of his hand into Alexander’s chest and an arc of fire ripped through the back of the boy’s tunic. The force of the attack was so great it flung the young prince through the air.
“That is my son!” Milara yelled as she regained consciousness.
Dante, meanwhile, ran forward and caught Alexander before he hit the ground. the little prince groaned in pain and tears streaked his face.
“It’s all right, Alex, I’ve got you, you’ll be fine. Let your mother handle this now,” Dante said.
Milara was back on her feet and as ferocious as a mother lion. She blasted Cain through the wall of the royal apartments with a lightning-fast pentacle key. She then turned on the heels of her feet and vanished into shadows. This was only the second time Dante had seen her use ereboturgy. In all of Angelia, she alone knew how to use shadow magic.
There was a sound like flames being stirred by air accompanied but a cold gust as Milara stepped through the shadows to appear beside Dante and her son.
“I told you to take care of him, Dante. Now look at what happened to him,” she said, tears in her eyes.
“Mil—”
“There’s no time to apologize,” she cut over Dante as Cain climbed through the hole in the wall his body had made. “You need to leave and take Alex with you. Now! You will know what to do. You’ve always known what to do.” As Milara finished, she pushed Dante lightly and he tightened his grip on the prince as he fell backward through the black clouds of Milara’s ereboturgy. The light vanished and the wizard and prince fell at an alarming speed as they traveled through the shadows. Their journey only lasted about four seconds, but in that time, they had traveled several miles into the mountains surrounding the city. Tír na Angelus was far below them, small and glowing white. The battle between Milara and her brother was continuing, and in fact, had reached a new level of intensity. A pillar of fire shot into the air from within the city followed by a tentacle of water that spun like a tornado, causing visible damage to buildings.
Alexander stirred and Dante hugged him closer. “What is going on. Why are we here? Where’s mom?”
“Shh, it’s all right, my prince. She’s down there. Don’t worry everything will be—” the words died in his throat.
A loud bang echoed through the mountains as a glowing sphere of spiraling energy the size of several buildings formed in the city. The sphere grew larger and larger until it covered half of the city. Then, in the blink of an eye, the ball retracted back to the size of a pinprick.
“Get down!” Dante said as he shifted his body weight over Alexander. A silence so thick that every breath sounded like a windstorm filled the air. Nothing else made a sound. The wind had stopped blowing, the birds had stopped singing, and for a second, even Dante’s heart refused to make a sound.
Then it happened, a massive explosion of white light blew out from the point where the orb had retracted too. The explosion was so bright, Dante couldn’t see a thing, but he could feel the force of the shock wave raced over him and almost lift him off the ground. It felt like an eternity that the two of them were lying there, curled up against the overwhelming winds as the roar of the explosion like one long drawn-out thunderclap continued to rumble. With an almost unnatural abruptness, it was over.
Dante got up to stare down in shock and horror at the crater where the city of Tír na Angelus had stood. The grandest, most magical city in the world was nothing more than dust. From out the epicenter of the explosion rose the six-winged figure of the city’s destroyer, Cain Angelus. Violent rivers of magic energy flowed up to meet him, transforming him into the most powerful being to walk the world. No one can stop Cain now, Dante thought. He looked down at Alexander who had passed out in his arms. Not yet, at least. Only an Angelian can stop an Angelian, and with the power the boy had demonstrated earlier, he might just be strong enough to stop his uncle one day. But until then, he needs to disappear.