The HaRT Knight Decaverse

Heir of Magic

Chapter 44

Versus The Dark Generals

“Alexander!” Merrick yelled in horror as the scene before his eyes unfolded. For a second it had appeared as though the battle was over, as though they had won thanks to Dante’s spell, but as great as things were going for them the one second, it all fell apart, literally. One of the raining stones had hit the first wall with a mighty explosion that collapsed the seemingly impenetrable barrier.
Merrick had watched impotently as his best friend vanished into the dust storm below. But the flash of light I saw as Alex tumbled out of sight must have been a protective spell. It had to have been, he thought as he was on his hands and knees on the edge of the wall, scanning the debris below. By the blood of the ancient gods, I hope it worked.
“Shade,” he cursed aloud. There was no sight of Alexander, but what he did see was the abomination army charging through the new gap in the city’s defenses like their lives depended on it, which they did.
“Close the gates of the second wall!” Merrick yelled to a nearby guard. The stunned soldier shook himself and nodded. He pulled a horn from beneath his chiton and sounded it. A few seconds later, stone creaked as the soldiers dragged the second gate shut.
Merrick stared down at the mound of rubble below. So far, he had hidden what he was from the people of Pensilisurbis—except for Kohr—but the time for secrecy was over. Alexander needed him. He stepped over the edge of the wall and let gravity pull him down to where his friend was hopefully still alive.
Merrick hit the ground with a thud; the impact sending mud everywhere but leaving him unharmed. “Alexander!” he called through the sound of retreating men trying to get through the gates before they closed.
“Alexander!” he yelled again.
“Mister Merrick?” Jared appeared through the retreating crowd.
“Mouse-cub?” Merrick said. “What are you doing out here? Get back through those gates.”
“Mister Dante and I came out here to see if the spell was working as planned,” Jared explained.
“The old man is here as well?” Merrick said indignantly. Jared nodded. “Brilliant! And here I thought he was smart.”
“Mister Dante was—”
“Mouse-cub, look out,” Merrick cut Jared off as one of the abominations that entered through the hole in the first wall appeared behind the blacksmith.
Merrick pulled Jared out of the way, and using his werewolf claws, sliced the throat of the abomination. It fell to the ground, made a wet gurgling sound, and died. But it was far from over. Four of the dead creature’s brethren appeared and made their way straight for Merrick and Jared.
“Wait!” a voice like an avalanche of rocks shouted.
The abominations halted, and Merrick’s heart began to beat in his throat. A badly deformed man rose over the mound of rubble. The Red General rode through the gap in the wall upon the back of a red scorpenox.
“Jared, run,” Merrick said with a snarl.
The young blacksmith obeyed the order, but to Merrick’s dismay, he ran in the opposite direction of the gates. Two abominations made to chase after Jared, but before they could even move, Merrick was on them. He dropped his sword, his werewolf claws and strength more than sufficient to tear the two creatures apart.
“Ah, you must be the tame werewolf that travels with the battle mage; the one that killed Fabien’s draco-equus,” the Red General grumbled in his gravelly voice.
Battle mage? Does he mean Alexander? “I am the only werewolf here, but I wouldn’t call myself tame, exactly,” Merrick replied with a snarl.
“Immaterial,” the Red General grumbled. “Where is your friend? I doubt a little tumble like that would have killed him.”
“I hope you don’t want to fight him?” Merrick snorted, trying to anger the giant man. “I wouldn’t advise that. He’ll kill you without breaking a sweat.”
“I have no desire to kill him. Lord Cain has requested his presence.” The Red General leaped from his mount and landed with a thud.
Merrick grinned. “I really don’t think Alexander cares what your boss wants.”
“I agree, and I told my colleagues the same thing. That is why I told them we should take the battle mage’s comrades hostage, to force him to do as we ask,” the fossilized face replied.
Merrick snarled, his claws growing with every second.
“You’re coming with me, dog,” the Red General said, raising the enormous cleaver-like sword from his back.
Merrick did not give him the chance to make another move. He shifted into his werewolf form and leaped at the deformed man. The two of them collided and tumbled to the ground, the enormous sword spinning away from its master’s grasp. Merrick attacked with everything he had, his claws and fangs slashed and ripped at the other man but the Red General moved with amazing speed for his size, blocking every attack. Merrick’s fangs closed on the one large stone-like arm trying to get a good purchase, but the stony arm refused to allow the fangs even to scratch him.
“Get off me!” the Red General snarled as he gripped Merrick by the ear and rolled backward reversing their positions.
The Red General lifted his stone fist into the air and rained a barrage of blows down on the werewolf. Blow after blow fell, causing Merrick to see diamonds flash before his eyes, and soon, the feeling in his body vanished along with the strength to fight back.
Merrick’s wits only returned long enough for him to realize he was back in his human form. He felt his body being lifted off the ground before being slammed back down.
“Tie him up and place him on Sting. I’m taking him as a prisoner,” the muffled voice said.
A faint burning sensation alerted Merrick of the sudden presence of silver against his skin. They planned on taking me from the very start, he thought just as darkness took him.

Alexander coughed and a new wave of pain shot through his body. Every convulsion made him aware of yet another bone in his body that was broken. When the flaming boulder hit the wall, he had immediately cast the full barrier spell around himself, it probably saved his life, but he had not been able to sustain it long enough to prevent the large stones from crushing his body.
“Alexander!” a familiar voice called.
“Jared? Jared, I’m over here!” Alexander yelled, a fresh wave of pain shooting through his body.
“Mister Dante! He’s over here!” Jared called.
Seconds later, Dante appeared next to Alexander. “You’re alive! Thank Citatori.”
“I’ll move the rocks,” Jared said, and Alexander felt some pressure lift as the first stone disintegrated into sand.
“I can’t move,” Alexander said in a raspy voice.
“The stones crushed most of the bones in your body. Nothing phoenix tears can’t fix,” Dante said with a forced calm.
“Wouldn’t the stone have crushed the vials?” Alexander asked.
Dante looked taken aback for a second, then said, “You don’t know what sort of satchel it is the witch gave you?”
“What do you mean?” Alexander asked.
“It’s a crekatorskin bag. Nothing inside that bag can be damaged,” Dante explained.
Alexander took a deep breath as Jared flung the last stone to the side. He tried to move, but to no avail, the only part of his body that would make the tiniest movement was his neck.
“Hang in there, well get you fixed up right away,” Dante said as he and Jared propped Alexander up against a large piece of wall.
“Thanks,” Alexander said through gritted teeth, his body screaming in pain.
“Jared hold this while I get out the phoenix tears from Alexander’s satchel,” Dante said, holding out the book from which he had gotten the spell that had devastated the abomination forces and toppled the outer wall.
The young cevarion reached out for the book, but before he could take it, a gigantic white pentacle producing blinding light appeared in the sky above the walls of Pensilisurbis. The second the light fell upon Jared, he froze; he stood still, like a small very lifelike statue, leaning forward with one hand extended.
Everyone, from the humans to the abominations, had stopped moving, the only exceptions it seemed were Alexander and Dante who were looking around uncomprehendingly at their surroundings.
“What’s going on?” Alexander asked.
“A spell every bit as impressive as it is forbidden. Though it does not seem to affect anyone connected to the voynich source,” Dante said, half mesmerized by what he was seeing. His eyes studied the pentacle above for a second before he shook his head and realized the danger they were in. He leaped to his feet and swore. He dropped the book he had intended to hand to Jared and conjured a dimensional gate, out of which fell a melon-sized ball of obsidian.
“Is that an obscuroveil?” Alexander asked.
“My attempt at one, yes,” Dante said, placing the heavy obsidian ball in Alexander’s lap. “I’ve been trying to build one since we saw the one on moondrake. I’ve gotten it to work for about ten minutes before exploding.”
“Exploding?” Alexander said in a panic as Dante pried one of Enlil’s rings off his fingers.
The wizard slipped the ring onto a rod producing out of the ball, and the obscuroveil began to hum it produced a barrier just large enough to cover both Alexander and Jared.
“Don’t worry. I won’t let him stay long enough for that to happen,” Dante said and rose to his.
“What? You’re leaving the veil? Why don’t you just stay in here?”
“And wait until the obscuroveil explodes?” Dante shook his head. “No. I have to get rid of this spell and the man who cast it, as fast as possible.”
“Dante, wait. Give me the phoenix tears. I can take care of—” Alexander cut off. There was no more point in talking. Dante had stepped outside the veil where he could no longer see or hear anything from inside it.
It took only a few seconds before the androgynes young septim wizard appears.
“Well, hello there, another person with voynich blood. So nice to meet you,” the White General said. He bowed low and dramatically. As he came back up, he flipped his silvery white hair. “My name is Peramier, known by many as the White General.”
“Yes, I know who you are,” Dante said.
“Oh. A fan of my work, are you? How wonderful. Would you like an autograph?” Peramier asked, conjuring a pentacle key in the palm of his hand in an instant. He didn’t draw it or use already drawn pentacles like Dante, it just appeared. One second it didn’t exist, the next it was there.
This guy is dangerous, Alexander thought.
An arc of white energy shot out of the pentacle in Peramier’s hand and scorched letters into the side of a large piece of rubble from the destroyed wall. With love and affection, to my dearest friend —
He stopped and said, “To whom do I make it out to?” When Dante didn’t reply, Peramier added, “This is my clever way of asking you what your name is.”
“My name does not concern you,” Dante said.
Peramier’s face fell and his spell vanished. In an unimpressed drawl, he said, “Rude.”
Dante ignored him. He pointed at the massive pentacle above and asked, “Is this your doing.”
“Why, yes. How kind of you to notice.” Peramier looked pleased, as if Dante had given him the most amazing compliment possible. “I designed it myself, you know. I call it: The Dragon’s Pulse. Isn’t it just wonderful?”
“It is altering the natural flow of time, which means it’s forbidden,” Dante said, a stern expression on his face.
“You’re one to talk. Judging by that very distinctive aura of yours, you’re the one who cast the Celestial Rain spell.” He held up one finger and waved it side to side as he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Very naughty of you. If I’m not mistaken, it’s number eleven on the list.”
“Perhaps, but it, at least, doesn’t risk tearing all of reality apart.”
“Neither does the Dragons Pulse, my dear boy. Unlike you, I know what I’m doing.”
Dante just scowled at the younger man who was treating him as the child.
“I can see you won’t be any fun, so we might as well get to business,” Peramier drawled, his playful manner gone. “The young demigod—I believe his name is Alexander—I assume he’s your apprentice?” He squinted as he studied Dante’s face. “No. He’s more to you than just a student. You care for him.”
“Enough of this,” Dante snapped and held up his right hand, conjuring a pentacle key above his palm. The reddish-brown energy had barely taken shape when four white keys sprang into existence.
Peramier’s spells pulled Dante off his feet to the side, lifted him into the air, and slammed him back down onto the ground with tremendous force.
“You’re still a few thousand years too young to go up against me, boy,” Peramier said. “Now then, where was I? Ah, yes. Your apprentice. Who is he? More importantly, what is he?”
Dante struggled up to his hands and knees and spat out a mouth full of blood. “He is the man who will kill your master.” Surreptitiously he reached into a pocket of his robes. “I, on the other hand, and the one who will kill you!” Dante yelled, throwing a piece of parchment into the air. The pentacle drawn in the old wizard’s blood glowed and burnt the parchment to ash as the key took form. An arc of reddish energy exploded out of the gate and flew at Peramier. The White General, however, produced his own gate which absorbed the red spell and reflected it back.
Dante screamed in agony as arcs and sparks of energy danced across his spasming body.
“I can see we won’t get anywhere on our own,” Peramier said. “Luckily, I know someone who should be able to loosen your tongue.”
“I would rather die than allow you to capture me,” Dante snarled, trying to produce another spell despite his convulsing muscles.
Peramier sighed and produced two new gates, one below Dante, one above him. The old wizard fell through the gate below, out of the one above, and back into the one below. Over and over, faster and faster, Dante continued to fall through the infinite loop.
“And, terminal velocity,” Peramier said. In the blink of an eye, he switched the positions of the two gates and wiped out the one that was now on top. Dante came flying out of the gate on the ground, rose several feet into the air, and came crashing down on the ground with a sickening sound of breaking bones.
Alexander screamed, but the veil of silence created by the scolding hot obsidian orb was absolute. No one heard him. Dante did not move except to take gurgling wet breaths.
Peramier conjured a new gate, healing the old wizard just enough to be sure he wouldn’t die. When he reached Dante, he knelt and pulled out a coil of silvery rope which he used to bind his prisoner’s wrist.
Peramier got back up to his feet, conjured another instantaneous dimensional gate, and opened it. This time, no spell came out of the gate, instead, it seemed to function as a literal gate. On the other side of the magic circle was a dark hallway of wet, dripping stones. Two soldiers in the hallway saw the sudden appearance of the gate and came running to it.
“Master,” they said in unison as they fell to their knees before Peramier.
“This man is my prisoner. He has information I want. Carry him for me, we’re taking him to meet Alastair,” Peramier said, stepping through his dimensional gate.
“He’s a wizard?” one man asked, sounding afraid.
“There’s no need to worry. That’s unicorn hair rope I used to tie him up.” When the two men looked uncomprehendingly at their master, Peramier added, “Unicorn hair is one of the seven wizard’s banes. That means that as long as his wrists are bound with it, he can’t use magic. Now come on.”
The two soldiers grabbed Dante by the shoulders and feet and carried him through the dimensional gate after their master. The gate shut and vanished, and with it, the Dragon’s Pulse spell.