The HaRT Knight Decaverse

Heir of Magic

Chapter 08

The Council of Generals

The Zubhra Mountains sped past Fabien’s vision as he raced towards the black gates of the Fallen City on his half-horse-half-dragon steed, a creature known as a draco-equus. The creature was enormous, twice the size of a horse, and covered in thick, armored scales. Its head resembled that of a dragon, fangs and all. Atop it, Fabien leaned low as the creature sped forward, faster than anything else in this world could run. He wore a boiled leather vest while his arms were bare except for the snowy-white hair that covered them. The only exposed dark gray skin was his face, hands, and feet, though his feet were closer to the second pair of hands than anything else. Behind him, there protruded a long slender prehensile tail that bobbed up and down as the draco-equus crossed the border into the city of slick black stone Cain had built on top of the ashes of Tír na Angelus. The Fallen City seemed to siphon all the light from the world around it. Not that there was ever much light in the Zubhra Mountains to begin with. A constant blanket of black storm clouds darkened the skies above the mountains, making life for some of Cain’s less than savory companions more bearable.
The draco-equus ran with ferocious speed through the dark streets of the city and several abomination warriors had to leap out of its way before the creature ran over them.
You should have flattened them. Let’s turn around and kill them. Let’s slit their throats and bathe in their blood, said a voice in Fabien’s head.
The voice had haunted him for most of his life now, and no matter what he did, it would never leave him alone. He had tried fighting it at first, but soon he realized the futility of it. Instead, Fabien ignored the voice and its incessant prattling. It worked well enough most of the time, but sometimes the voice was too excited to care about being ignored. This happened whenever it sensed blood in the air. Which meant it was particularly enthusiastic whenever Fabien visited Cain’s city, where the foulest scum could squat and kill one another.
“The Red General is already waiting inside, sir,” the guard at the door to the council hall said as Fabien reigned in his draco-equus in front of the large domed building.
“What of the other two?” Fabien asked as he dismounted and dug a book out from a saddle bag.
“The Cloaked General is away. I don’t think he will attend today. I don’t know where the White General is, however,” the guard said.
The white one will be there. He travels different from the rest of us. We should force him to tell us how. Torture him until he reveals his secrets, and just when he thinks we’re about to let him go, we kill him, the voice said and its manic laugher rang through the dhaesí’s head.
Fabien ignored it and marched passed the guard into the council building. The inside was one large room with high vaulted ceilings. In the middle of the hall stood a table with four seats. Black pillars surrounded the table, and between two of these pillars, steps led up to a throne hidden by a veil of shadows.
The Red General was at the table in the middle of the room. He was a disfigured man with one skinny arm and one that was three times as thick as both Fabien’s arms put together and covered in stone-like tumors.
“Guerra.” Fabien nodded in greeting to the Red General as he took his seat.
“Assassin,” Guerra said in a low grumble. “You’re finally back from your little field-trip. How was Svartalgard?”
Condescending cunt, the voice snarled. Kill him. Kill him now. We can poison him before he even knows what happened.
“It’s a criminals paradise. You’d enjoy it,” Fabien said. “How has the conquest here been going?”
Guerra gave a low growl before he said, “I have retaken almost all the lands we lost during that dhaesí witch’s temper tantrum. In a year or two we should have all of Primoris under our control.”
“Really? You think so?” Fabien said snidely. “Have you finally been able to take, and hold, some of the dhaesí lands.”
Guerra closed his fist and ground his teeth. Since the very start of Cain’s war for conquest, the Red General had been unable to make any lasting progress with the dhaesí and their guerrilla warfare. “We’ve focused most of our attention on retaking our lost lands. Once we focus all our attention on the North, we’ll crush them. Maeve’s misguided war for revenge cost her people most of their strength, and the new Queen, this Gwyndabair, doesn’t possess her mother’s fire. She is too passive,” Guerra said slowly as he struggled to keep his temper under control. “After the dhaesí, we’ll take Dinas Alchimiour in a matter of weeks. Their King is weak. If we give him a popper incentive, he will throw open his gates and surrender without a fight. The Sand Region has little that can get in our way, then the only place that will be left is the Hanging City. Once I take care of him, the rest will fall.”
Fabien gave a wicked grin as he said, “Yes, and from what I hear, Maeve’s Silver General has taken over the Hanging City’s defenses. Remind me again, how many times have you beaten him—oh, yes, that’s right, he beat you every time the two of you met.”
Guerra leaped to his feet and slammed his giant stony fist on the table. “I may have lost a few battles, but at least I was never captured and kept in a cage like you.”
He dares mock us! Stand up, kill him. Cut open his stomach and jump rope with his guts, the voice screamed, and for once, Fabien wanted to listen. He had just gotten to his feed and drawn his dagger when a blinding white light exploded into being behind one of the four chairs. The magic pentacle took form, and the gate snapped open. The White General, an androgynous, young man with hair like spun silver that fell to his thighs, stepped out of the light. He was believed to be the only septim alive who still knew the secret of how to travel via dimensional gates, because, despite his appearances, he was one of the oldest being in all of Anarchos.
“Oh my. It seems I’ve walked into a tense situation,” he said, and his cornflower-blue eyes glittered as he gave his two comrades a dazzling smile. “What’s the matter boys? Reliving your glory days during Maeve’s Wrath?”
Kill him as well! Cut that grin off his face!
“Begone wizard,” Guerra snarled.
“Well that’s not nice. I want to play too,” Peramier cut off and looked around the room. “Unless spooky is playing too. Then I’d rather just watch.”
“The Cloaked General will not join us today. I have sent him on a mission,” a deep and powerful voice said from out the shadows around the throne. Two glowing, ice-blue eyes snapped open and Fabian shivered. He had not even noticed Cain was in the room with them. It was as if the angelian had made it impossible for anyone to perceive him until now.
“Begin the Council,” Cain said impatiently.
Fabien and Guerra leaped to their feet and stared out before them as all three generals said, “We, the Generals of Cain, honor our Lord!”
“I, Peramier, the Lord of Magic and Arcane Knowledge, keeper of the crowned helm of Tír na Angelus, am here to give my master all the power, be it in the form of magic or knowledge,” Peramier said, placing a crowned helmet made of a crystalline material on the table.
“I, Fabien, Lord of Assassins and shadows, keeper of the Belt of Balance, am here to slay any of my Lord’s enemies, even if that be me,” Fabien said, producing a belt buckle made of the same crystalline material and bearing the image of a scale.
“I, Guerra, the Lord of War, keeper of the ancient spurs of Tír na Angelus, am here to conquer all that stands before my Lord.” He placed a pare of spurs on the table, the rowels shaped like two crossed swords; these, too, were made from silvery gemstones.
“And I, Lord Cain, accept you as my elite servants and the leaders of my followers,” Cain said from atop his throne.
The three generals took their seats and waited for their master to begin.
“Fabien, did you find what I sent you to retrieve,” Cain said after an interminable silence.
“I did, My Lord. It took some time, but I found it,” Fabien produced the ancient and worn book Cain had sent him to retrieve. “The diary of the great dhaesí warrior king, Michael Charlell.”
The book flew out of Fabien’s hand and into Cain’s. “You have done well, Black General.”
“You honor me, My Lord.” Fabien said.
Guerra cleared his throat. “Why do we care about the diary of some long dead dhaesí?”
“You don't know?” Peramier snickered and said, “Oh yes, that’s right, you were unconscious when we learned about it.”
“You never even once asked why I was sent to Svartalgard?” Fabien said in astonishment.
“I only concern myself with matters of the conquest,” Guerra said.
“Enough,” Cain said and they all fell silent. “This journal, my old friend, is important, because during the battle for this city two years ago, Maeve revealed to me that during the Dragon War, her uncle, Michael Charlell, possessed the weapon we’ve been searching for all these years,” Cain said. To Fabien, he added, “Have you read it? Was there any sign that she was telling the truth?”
“I have, My Lord. And she did,” Fabien said.
Cain’s eyes literally flashed. “Does it say what he did with it?”
“It would appear that Michael felt it was too dangerous to leave behind for anyone to take. He protected it for his entire life, and on his deathbed, Michael gave it to one of his paladins to hide from the rest of the world.” Fabien shrugged. “However, as you can see, My Lord, the journal is not in pristine condition. Several pages are illegible while others are missing. In all the pages that remain, I could find no sign of which of the seven took it or where.”
Fabien half expected Cain to lose his temper at this, but what happened instead was far more unsettling. The angelian laughed. “It doesn’t matter. This is the first tangible path we’ve had to follow in all these years. You have narrowed our search down from the entire world, to only six places.”
“Six, My Lord. Were there not seven paladins?” Peramier asked.
“Yes, and of the seven, we know of the path taken by three of the dhaesí warriors after the death of their king,” Cain said. “Michael named Orifiel as his successor. He would not have been entrusted with the weapon as well as the crown.”
If he gains this weapon, his power will know no limit. That power should be ours. We should kill the bald bastard and get the weapon for ourselves. With it, we can force all those loyal to him to follow us. If they don’t, we could always use it to destroy all of reality. It will be beautiful and —
“Everyone knows of the path taken by Barquiel,” Fabien blurted as he tried to drown out the voice. “He became a knight of Pensilisurbis and became a legend when he saved the city from the dark wizard Alhazred Hermidus.”
“Yes, and Saniel, the savior of Moondrake left to live out the rest of his days as a hero on the flying city,” Cain said.
“Moondrake and Pensilisurbis. Two places we haven’t been able to conquer yet,” Guerra said.
“But of course. We’ve been looking for the damn thing for a decade and a half. If it were in one of the places we had already conquered, we would already have it,” Peramier said condescendingly. To Cain he said, “What of the other four, My Lord?”
“Other than their names, I know nothing about them. Fabien?”
Fabien shook his head. “Most of the stories concerning the seven came from their time with King Michael.”
“We will leave it up to you, Peramier, to find out what happened to them. Guerra, you will prepare the army. You will follow the path of Barquiel and conquer Pensilisurbis.”
“With pleasure, My Lord. I’ve been waiting for this campaign for a while now.”
“What of Moondrake, My Lord? We’ve been trying to find the flying city for the last decade. Whatever magic they are using to hide from us, it has thwarted us at every turn,” Fabien said.
“Well, then you’ll just have to try harder. I’m leaving it up to you to find the flying city for me. Once you do, use this,” Cain said, producing a tiny silver bell out of thin air.
It floated over to Fabien and his skin crawled as he took it. Even the voice was quiet for once. Not even it liked the thing this bell would summon.
“It would seem the end of our mission is in sight, gentlemen,” Cain said with almost indecent eagerness in his voice.