The Assassin and the Knight

by Rick Bonogofsky

  The big man nervously clutched at his hands. “Nearly two hundred on either side.”

  Jake’s eyes widened. “Two hundred? Do you know what two hundred of either of those beings could do?”

  Montgomery nodded grimly. “All too well. But, do you know what two dragons can do? Far worse, when the need arises. We won’t need to do quite that much, however. A small show of force should suffice. We are going to go to New York, and we are going to ascertain the nature of this invasion. I will make a few calls before we leave and have some friends in that area on standby in case they are needed. Let’s hope this ends quickly.”

  They spent little time gathering a few necessities for the trip, and before long the three dragons were on a private plane headed for New York. On the flight, Jake sat near Montgomery, trying to figure out what exactly the plan was.

  “I’ve never been in a fight before,” the younger dragon admitted.

  Montgomery placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “My dear boy, there will be nothing to fear. Almost no weapon can get through a dragon’s scales, and neither Heaven, nor Hell, have the means to create such weapons. As long as you stay in your draconic form, you will not be harmed by these primitive creatures and their toy weapons.”

  Jake was outwardly calm, but kept his inner misgivings to himself. “Then, what do we do? How do we stop this invasion? Won’t the humans notice dragons, demons, and angels fighting in the streets? How do we cover that up?”

  Montgomery gave Jake a patronizing smile. “We live. We will outlive human memory, as we always have. That is our gift. We are graced with the ability to fade into memory, then into myth, time and again, so long as we remain in our human form while in the view of the mortal public. Same with our enemies. Humans are nothing compared to us. They are weak, frail little creatures, and they exist purely because we allow them to. Do not fret, Jake. At the worst, we will simply have to wait out the attention a few humans may give us. We’ve done it before, and we will do it again. Besides, how many humans do you think would spot us, and how many do you feel would believe them? We are mythical beings to them. Those who spot us will believe what they saw until their dying day, while the rest of the world goes on living their lives, continuing to either ignore us or forget us.”

  Jake sat back in his seat, still feeling tense, but trying to relax. He knew Montgomery had been through this many times before, and the older dragon was right. Humans had a short lifespan, and an even shorter memory. If something did happen, it was more than likely that the humans of Earth would easily forget or ignore what they could not explain. Still, the thought of fighting against demons and angels terrified him. He remembered the fear he felt when the first wave of demons came to Earth before the war. He remembered what it felt like to hear the demon held captive in his parents’ basement, to smell its body burn in the fire. Jake could not help but remember the specific instructions his mother had given him. She had told him to light the fire near the middle of the floor in the living room, directly above where the demon sat tied to a chair in the basement. After the fire had spread somewhat, Jake was to leave the house and get as far away as possible. Instead, he had stayed. He watched the flames grow, watched them lick the walls and ceiling before he finally heard the screaming. It started as a deep inhalation, which Jake now realized was his father taking in a breath to unleash his own fire on the demon. Then came the unearthly wails, the agonized howling. Regular fire wouldn’t kill a demon outright. It would not even keep it down for long. But dragon fire? That will consume and burn anything in its path. The demon’s flesh burned, and Jake could smell the acrid, sulfurous odor. The smoke rose through the house until Jake could no longer bear it. It was not until then that he finally began to run out of the house. His clothes were charred, his body warm. He did not realize it then, but he should have died in that fire. If he were human, instead of a dragon, he would have burned up in the intense heat of the house fire. The flames haunted his memories. The dreams and nightmares that resulted from that night would be branded into his memories forever.

  Ibsen picked up his phone, his attention caught by the insistent flashing red light.

  “Yes?” he answered. He was in the middle of taking care of a pile of tedious paperwork and was honestly glad for the distraction.

  “We have a situation, sir,” came the voice of Ibsen’s head of security. “We found some demons amassing a few blocks away. They’re currently inside one of our old warehouses. There are a lot of them. Would you like me to gather your forces to deal with them?”

  Ibsen paused for a moment to contemplate his answer. It appeared the demons were finally launching a counter attack on him for invading Hell. “Send an emissary first,” he said. “Stall for time while we get the men gathered. Have our messenger sue for peace and keep the demons at bay for a while longer. I believe I may know why they are here.”

  It seemed that the head of security was about to say something in the affirmative, but he was interrupted by someone else. He stopped to listen to the new speaker, who Ibsen was unable to quite make out. After a moment, he came back. “Sir, it appears there is more than just the group of demons. I’ve just got word that there is a group of angels gathered to the north.”

  Ibsen nearly dropped the phone. “Do the same for them. Find out why they have gathered, and keep me posted. I need to find something out before we try to engage the angels.” He hung up the phone before the head of security could respond and dialed a set of numbers. After a few rings, Walter answered.

  “Yes, sir?” he asked.

  “Tell me, have you found a way to kill angels, yet?” Ibsen demanded.

  “Um… not yet? I mean, I found a way to knock them out, but we haven’t found a way to kill them yet. We still haven’t exactly identified the particulars of what they are susceptible to, or if our current subject’s time in Hell may have altered his genetic makeup in some way that would skew the results. There are still too many variables to figure out. To be honest, the best weapon we have against angels is Sara.”

  “Can she be killed?” Ibsen asked.

  “I’m not sure I like this line of questioning, boss, but we haven’t seen anything that could keep her down for long. Of course, being what she is, we really don’t know much of anything about her. So far she has exceeded expectations, but I can’t rightly say what can or can’t kill her.”

  “Is she ready for deployment?”

  Walter paused. “She is. May I ask what is going on?”

  “We may be under attack. Get Sara ready to go. Outfit her with weaponry that can kill demons, and make sure she knows to dismember any angel she comes across. I imagine it would be difficult to fight without any limbs.”

  “Yes, boss,” Walter said, then hung up the phone.

  Ibsen reclined in his chair, rubbing his temples. He had grown complacent. He knew Hell would have to react to his invasion, but he had expected it much sooner, so when it never came, he allowed himself to relax. Now there were demons and angels at his doorstep and he did not know what to do. It was unprecedented, demons and angels working together. If they were here for him, there was surely no way out. The only possibility was to lock himself and all crucial personnel in the labs, which were warded against all non-vampires. There, he would be safe for a time, but he would have to leave eventually. His enemies would be sure to be waiting for him to come out, therefore hiding was not an option. There was another option. Unleash all of the experiments, failed and otherwise. They would prove to be a brilliant distraction, allowing Ibsen to get away in secret, leaving this building and its occupants to their fate. There were other buildings, other labs with the same research notes uploaded to the network. His company, and his plans, would survive, that is as long as he did. His mind made up, Ibsen made a few more calls to place a few more contingencies.

  Dante stood in the warehouse as his soldiers filtered through the portal. He was the first one on Earth, and would be the last one gone, ensuring his people made it back home safely.
Or as safely as possible, considering the vampires had weapons capable of killing demons. He had to admit, it was not easy getting out of Hell without his wife noticing. She would no doubt have some choice words for him when he came back. The king could not worry about that now, though. He was determined to lead the charge and face his enemy head on. An exasperated Kizrack stood to one side of the king. He had been increasingly vocal about his displeasure at Dante coming to Earth, but one glare from the king silenced him. As much as he respected Dante, the imp also feared him for what he could be capable of. He was, after all, the grandson of the king who started the last war on Earth. Kizrack had the feeling the attack on the vampires would go well enough, but he worried that Dante’s waning health would become too much of a hindrance in the ensuing chaos.

  “I imagine we’ve been spotted by now,” Dante remarked after the bulk of his forces were through the portal. He looked down at Kizrack, who nodded.

  “I would have to agree with you, my king,” the imp replied slowly.

  “Should we expect an attack right away, or do you think they are shoring up their defenses?”

  “It is tough to say, really. They did try to invade us. More than likely, we will face them on their ground. Plus, if they noticed us, chances are good that they also noticed Ra’s forces coming to Earth. They usually show up with a bit more flare and light, anyway.”

  “That’s definitely true,” Dante smirked. “I am glad they’re not trying to kill me anymore.”

  “So what’s the plan, boss?” Kizrack asked out of habit. He stifled a gasp as soon as he realized his slip, not meaning to call his king ‘boss,’ a nickname reserved only for Adrian.

  Dante caught the slip and his face split into a grim smile. He knew Hell’s assassins respected his son more than they did him, and he was fine with that. Adrian had done a fine job training them and fighting alongside them. He knew they all called him ‘boss’ out of respect and admiration. It was well-known throughout the kingdom. He ignored the slip, thinking it was just a habit for the imp, since he was generally on a mission with Adrian rather than the king himself. “The plan,” Dante started, feigning ignorance of the imp’s slip of the tongue, “is to await the signal from the angels telling us they have entered into battle with the vampires. Likely, the humans will have film crews out getting the battle recorded for the news once the fighting starts, so we’re going to get noticed. Luckily, they won’t believe their eyes, and even fewer outside the area are going to believe the press. We’ll have a few conspiracy theorists hunting us, but they won’t know how to find us.”

  “And then?” Kizrack asked. He turned slightly as he heard the portal close with a hiss. All of the troops were in place.

  “And then we join them,” came the king’s flat response. “We will secure the building floor by floor, killing any vampire who stands against us, then we will find Ibsen and kill him as well. We will then propose the vampires elect a new leader, one who will keep from attacking our home. Otherwise, I don’t really give two shits what they do.”

  Kizrack shifted from foot to foot, nervously trying to word his next question. “Floor by floor, my lord? Starting at the bottom?”

  Dante looked at the imp, an eyebrow raised. “Well, yes, obviously. Why?”

  “Well, our scouts have indicated that they’re in an underground complex reserved for laboratories. It would be wise to clear them as well, ensuring we do not get surprised by whatever comes from below while we look up.” Kizrack was trying to say as little as possible without giving away the real reason he wanted to clear the labs. He knew Vincent was down there, and he had been given orders by Adrian to keep that quiet.

  “That’s a good idea,” Dante stated. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

  Again, Kizrack shifted nervously. “The scouts found it very recently. My suggestion is that we send the assassins in to secure the labs. Best to not deplete the main force if at all possible. Send in the lead team, myself included, and we’ll secure the area. You just worry about the floors above.”

  Dante mulled it over for a moment, then nodded. “I like it. Keep the lab rats off my back, and we’ll keep the rest off of yours.”

  Kizrack nodded, glad his counsel in this, at least, was heeded. Besides, with Dante busy upstairs, it would be much easier to get Vincent out of the building under the cover of all the fighting. The next trick would be to get him out without the angels realizing what he was. It would not do to have them thinking the demons were hauling one of their own off for reasons unknown.

  Dante coughed, causing Kizrack to look at him with worry in his eyes. The king coughed and hacked, worrying the poor imp. He thought the king would keel over, or die on the way to the battle. The coughing fit abated somewhat, but Dante continued to give a short cough now and then, as if he had something in his throat. He brought his hand down from his mouth and wiped it on his black armor. It was hard to spot against the dark leather, but Kizrack caught the unmistakable scent of blood. Dante was indeed dying. How would the kingdom fare without his guidance? He was the best king Kizrack had ever seen, and the imp had been through six other reigning monarchs. He was born after the end of Pluto’s reign, and had lived as an advisor, assassin, or strategist in that time. Saying Dante was the best king to sit on the throne was something that Kizrack would not admit to lightly. However, dissuading the king from his current path was impossible, as he had learned on the way to Earth from Laarsa. Being the best did not always mean the most willing to follow suggestions.

  Catching his breath, Dante stepped forward to look through one of the boarded windows in the warehouse. He peeked through a crack in the wood and tried to get a look at the city outside. He sucked in a breath and waved Kizrack over to him. Once the imp was beside him again, he pointed through the crack, indicating a single figure approaching the building. Other humans walked by, not seeming to notice or care about the figure. Dante surmised that whoever this was knew the demons were there, and was coming to them with a purpose. He watched as what he could now identify as a vampire came to the main door and knocked loudly. Sharing a glance with Kizrack, Dante waved to one of his lieutenants to open the door.

  In walked a tall, broad-shouldered vampire wearing an expensive looking suit. His hair was combed and his beard was neatly trimmed. He walked in with his hands out, showing the small army that he was unarmed. “I have been sent to talk,” he said in a smooth, confident voice. “I am to find out why you are here, and find peace if you will allow it. If not, I have been given authority to negotiate the terms and conditions of the coming conflict.” He walked further into the building, maintaining a slow pace, until he found a wooden crate to sit on. He looked directly at Dante and motioned for the demon to sit across from him. Dante slowly moved toward him while some of his soldiers surrounded the vampire, weapons drawn.

  “Who are you?” Dante asked.

  “Who I am is not important,” the vampire replied smoothly. “What my boss wants, however, is important. He does not wish to be caught up in any more violence and bloodshed, so he sent me to sue for peace.”

  Confused, Dante shook his head. “This is coming from the same vampire who invaded my home? I don’t believe him.” He glanced at Kizrack, who gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his own head. It seemed the imp had come to the same conclusion the king had. “This is a stalling tactic.” he stated flatly, drawing his sword. The familiar weight felt almost comforting in his hand. It had been far too long since he had held it.

  The vampire’s eyes widened and he tried to call out, but was silenced before he could make a sound. His head hit the floor of the warehouse with a dull thud, followed shortly after by the rest of the body. Dante wiped the blood from his blade with the vampire’s clothes and turned to face his soldiers.

  “We will not be stalled, and we will not give this vampire the satisfaction of wasting our time,” Dante shouted. “Let’s go show these vampires why they don’t mess with their betters!”

  Kizrack let out a
silent sigh and whispered, “I guess that concludes the negotiations.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Adrian sat in the palace in Athens, impatiently listening to the ugly man speak. He had asked about reputable wizards on Earth and had been given very little useful information. He was beginning to realize that he was being deliberately misled. The assassin figured it was in order that the palace guards, who were little more than thugs, to an adequate amount of time to get into place in case he tried to murder Chorió. The thought was certainly tempting. But he needed reliable information before he would seriously consider killing him.

  “... of course, then there’s Scholomance,” Chorió was saying. That finally caught Adrian’s attention. Finally, the little man had said something that had some substance. At least, Adrian remembered hearing a rumor of the fabled school in the past.

  “Scholomance?” he asked nonchalantly.

  Chorió grinned his yellow-brown grimace of a smile and said, “Yeah, I thought that would get your attention. Scholomance is supposedly fabled to be a legendary school of black magic run by the devil, supposedly located near an unnamed lake in the mountains south of the city of Sibiu in what used to be Transylvania. You’re not afraid of a few vampires, are you?”

  Adrian rolled his eyes. “Is it real?” he asked skeptically. “Or are you trying to blow smoke up my ass like you have been for the past few hours? Are you still stalling for time so your thugs can surround me? Did that really help you last time?”

  Chorió shifted uncomfortably. “From what I’ve heard, Scholomance is real. It’s reported to be in Romania, and I think my cartographers have finally figured out where. Then again, without actually going there, we can’t really be sure.”

  “So, what exactly is Scholomance?” Adrian asked, his patience waning. “And where is it supposed to be?”