The Assassin and the Knight

by Rick Bonogofsky

  With his sword put away, Adrian turned to the old man and asked, “Am I able to cast magic again?”

  The old man nodded and waved his hands, wiping the stone table away with a thought. With another wave of his hands and a chanted phrase, several targets of varying sizes appeared on the stone walls. “Fire away. But be warned, some of them will fire back.” With that, he stepped back through the doorway and kept well away from any of the targets.

  Adrian grinned as he looked at his new playground. He felt the renewed power welling up in his body and let it flow through him, beginning as a pool in his chest, then flowing outward, filling him with the familiar energy. It felt as if he was being born again, waking up to a whole new existence. Red energy crackled between his fingers and he loosed a small fireball at one of the targets on the wall. The fire exploded, taking part of the stone with it. Adrian felt a wave of satisfaction at seeing his spell go off without trying to kill him. He launched another bolt at the next target in line and reacted quickly as it was thrown back at him. With quick reflexes, he brought up his left hand and summoned a translucent blue sphere that formed a protective shell around him. The fireball fizzled against the shield and disappeared. He dropped the shield and threw another fireball at another target. Again, the target reflected the spell back at him, but Adrian threw up his skeletal right hand and caught bolt. He marveled at it for a moment before throwing it at yet another target. On and on he went, launching his spells with fervor. There was not much variety, as his command of magic was not as great as others of his kind, but he found the practice to be fun and enjoyable all the same. When he was finished, Adrian turned to the old man and smiled.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “You look pleased,” the old man stated as he walked Adrian into Scholomance’s common room.

  “I have you to thank for that,” Adrian replied warmly. “I feel a new connection to my magical abilities. How did you do that?”

  “I noticed you had lost your connection to your natural born gifts, so I removed the demonic magic that was beginning to poison you, along with something else that I did not recognize. I gave you the ability to call upon the natural magical forces that are inherent in all beings. It will work exactly as you are used to, but without the destructive consequences of demonic magic. How your demonic magic evolved into what it is now is beyond my understanding, but needless to say, magic should not be able to kill its user all by itself. I did not give you any new knowledge, but you should be able to use whatever spells you knew before.”

  Adrian smiled and nodded his thanks, but had to ask, “So… out of curiosity, what exactly is the difference between the magic demons use, and the magic you humans use? If magic is inherent in all beings, why are we so different in how we cast our magic?”

  “That is a very good question, young demon,” the old man nodded. The slight twinkle in his eye hinted at an appreciation for such a difficult question to answer. “My extensive studies have shown that beings such as angels, demons, and vampires are naturally more supernaturally magical in nature, whereas humans, werewolves, and dragons are more bestial and primordially tied to the Earth. So, being more magically inclined, demons, for example, are more easily able to call forth their latent magical abilities without much effort or thought, as if one were to simply breathe or move a limb. We humans are limited to forcing the magical energies to bend to our will. It is akin to a shaman begging the spirits to heed his or her call. Werewolves are actually much more accurate for that analogy, but I imagine you understand the idea.”

  Adrian nodded. “You’ve mentioned dragons twice now,” he said. “I’ve heard of them through legends and myths passed down in stories in Hell and on Earth, but do they actually exist?”

  The old man nodded grimly. “That they do. They are the most ancient beings on this planet. In fact, it is widely believed, even among the dragons, that the dinosaurs that used to roam this planet were their mutated, less intelligent offspring. Yes, quite the interesting bit of information. You see, the dragons have been around for so long, that they have ties to everything that goes on here on Earth. There was once a secret organization we humans formed that tried to emulate theirs, but we were simply too… mortal. They rule everything. Centuries ago, they formed the businesses and companies that eventually bought everything else, and from the shadows they pulled the strings in political matters. When something got out of their control, or someone learned too much, the dragons would swoop in and fix it. Usually by burning or sinking an entire city.”

  “That seems a bit extreme,” Adrian commented.

  “You didn’t see Atlantis,” the old man countered. “No, the dragons are the true rulers of society on Earth. They seem to be content hoarding their wealth, though. As long as they stay rich and we humans stay out of their affairs, everything keeps running smoothly.”

  “So, how did you learn all of this, then?” Adrian asked.

  “I am old. Older than most humans alive today. Well, that isn’t saying much. I’m older than most of the people on this planet. I used to have a dragon friend who helped me run this school. He imparted ancient knowledge unto me, and I kept him safe beneath the lake.”

  Adrian looked at the old man in amazement. He was at a loss for words having just learned of the existence of such ancient beings. “Well, I thank you for your help, old man. I should leave now. There is very important work I need to get back to. Come and find me if you ever need me again.” With that, he walked through the main door and left Scholomance behind him.

  Dante ducked under a wild swing made by a vampire, responding with an upward slice of his sword. The blade slid into the vampire’s right side, catching on his bottom rib. The demon king changed his weapon’s direction and pushed the point upwards into the vampire’s heart, ripping through everything in the way. He wasted no time freeing his blade to parry another enemy’s strike, ending that vampire’s life as well. Dante slice and hacked his way through the vampires in the building’s lobby, making for the stairs with his demons at his back. A bullet whizzed past his ear, causing him to reflexively duck away, which saved him. More bullets followed, some missing him by mere inches. One grazed his arm and he felt the burn of angelic metal. It had been nearly half a century since he last felt that particular burn. A grim smile spread across his face as he felt himself sinking back into that old familiar place in his mind, letting himself revel in the fight. He knew how to fight, and he knew how to kill. Everything else was just a minor detail he could forget about until later.

  The demons with Dante followed their king, also reveling in the chaos of the moment, but keeping in formation to keep him safe. To them, the vampires were the obvious threat, but their own lives were Dante’s, and they would all die for their king. But his recklessness was disturbing. They had almost forgotten the way their king had fought in the battles during Hell’s last civil war. He was truly the epitome of demonic ferocity when fighting. And the way he moved nearly seemed unnatural, even for one of their kind. With every step into the building Dante took, another vampire lay dead or dying, and the king never seemed to tire. The color had come back to his cheeks, and his movements were swift and precise. The blood and ash of his enemies made the floor slick and difficult to traverse in his wake. The soldiers were hard pressed to maintain the same level of bloodlust as their king.

  More vampires came at the demons, and more of them fell to Dante’s blade. A volley of bullets took out more of the demons, but the king was confident that more were falling into step behind him. Several rounds had pierced Dante’s flesh, but it was apparent that not all of the vampires were firing rounds made from angelic metal. It was enough to make him grin all over again as he made his way inexorably to the gunmen. They fell quickly to his sword and few came forward to stand against him. The fear in their eyes only spurred him on, driving him to kill them along with everyone else in the area. A soft dinging sound caught his attention, and he looked to see the elevator opening, spewing forth a score more vampires. H
is mind changed, Dante altered his direction, heading for the elevator instead of the stairs. Without the angels to keep the vampires off his back, Dante would have to end this as quickly as possible, therefore heading to the top floor to face the vampire lord sooner, rather than clear each floor, sounded like a much better idea. He nearly slipped in the blood on the floor, and charged the elevator. He ducked under an attack, sending his sword slashing through four vampires, cutting them in half at the waist. Some of the vampires poured in around him, but they were cut down by his soldiers.

  Dante slipped into the elevator and twenty of his soldiers filed in around him. He jabbed the button for the top floor and enjoyed a moment to catch his breath. The calming music in the elevator was a stark contrast to the chaos he had just left, but Dante was tense and ready for whatever would come at him. After the news of the angels dying and the loss of one of his assassins, Dante was more than a little unsure of things working out very well at all. But luck remained on his side. The elevator finally stopped at the top floor, with no interruptions. The doors opened, revealing a wood-paneled hallway leading into a small waiting room at the end. The waiting room was small, only about fifteen by twenty feet. There were two doors leading out, one to a bathroom, and a set of double doors directly across from the hall. Quiet whimpers could be heard from under the desk to the right of the double doors. Dante looked and found a short human woman sobbing in fear under the desk. She was obviously no threat to him or his people, so he left her alone. He walked up to the double doors and took the handles in his gloved hands. The doors swung inward easily, much to Dante’s surprise. He had expected Ibsen’s office to be locked or barricaded. His confident smile returned, and he walked into the large room. The far wall was entirely made of glass, offering an impressive view of the city. Only two figures were readily visible, but Dante figured the vampire lord was seated in his high backed chair facing the window. The demon king paid no attention to the other two figures as he approached the mahogany desk.

  “I’m here for you Ibsen,” Dante stated. The chair turned slowly, revealing the vampire sitting comfortably. His face was a mask of fury despite his relaxed posture.

  “You’re here to kill me,” Ibsen spat. He stood to address Dante eye to eye.

  “You have lost this war, Ibsen,” Dante said. “But fear not. I am not here to bring extinction to your people. I will offer them a chance to rebuild in your ashes.”

  “And I suppose I am to thank you for that?” Ibsen muttered harshly. “You come in here and kill my people, then you want to kill me. Do you know what will happen to the population of my people once I am dead?”

  “I really don’t care,” Dante quipped darkly. “You sent your people to my home, invaded my kingdom, and endangered the lives of my people, my family. Whatever happens to your people is on your head.”

  “Sir,” one of Dante’s soldiers started. A raised hand from the king silenced him.

  “Let the vampire speak, please. If he is to die, he will die on his feet after he has said his piece.”

  Ibsen scoffed. “You kill me, you kill millions of vampires around the world. With my death, you bring the deaths of all those whom I have turned and whom they have turned. In my millennia on this planet, I have created countless vampires.”

  “Then I don’t have to worry about any more vampires that share your thoughts,” Dante countered. “Which, honestly, makes my plans for your people that much easier to fulfill.”

  “Sir,” one of the soldiers said again, but more insistently. Dante turned to glare at him, silencing the demon once more. He did not seem to notice the soldier’s fearful glances toward one of the other figures in the room.

  Dante could see the other two figures approaching slowly out of the corner of his eye, but paid them no mind. He lifted his sword to Ibsen’s chest.

  “What exactly are your plans for my people?” Ibsen inquired, never shrinking away from the point of the blade.

  “Your people will be free to elect a new leader, without my interference. From there, I will see what happens. I have already proven that, with a fraction of my forces, I can overthrow your seat of power. If needed, I can easily do so again.”

  Ibsen nodded. “All things considered, that’s not so terrible. I am still not pleased that more of my people have to die, but at least we will survive. You are right; I have lost this war. The better combatant won. But do not think yourself invincible. I see the weakness in your heart. You are not long for this world. I remember who you were before you became king of Hell. You were just another demon in a world that had forgotten your existence, orphaned by the war your people started. You lost a friend to old age, but you’re the one who killed him and his innocent family. I know you have lost so much more than you wish you had. But I have no sympathy for you. There is no sympathy for someone who would level an entire city just to prove a point. Now kill me. Bring my kingdom to its knees. Rape it with your plan. I will see you in the afterlife soon enough.”

  Dante nodded along with Ibsen’s words, not paying much attention. When the vampire lord had finished speaking, Dante plunged his sword through Ibsen’s chest, tearing through his heart and out his back. The vampire died instantly, turning to a fine grey dust. Screams of pain erupted from throughout the entire building, making Dante smile all the wider.

  Then, there came a momentary grunt of pain from his right, causing him to look at the source. A young, dark haired woman fell to her knees, and Dante dropped his sword upon seeing her face. Admittedly, it had been nearly two hundred years since he had seen that face, but it was unmistakable. That dark hair, those pale green eyes, the soft curve of her rounded face. It was as if she had never died. But, Dante had watched her die all those years ago during the war on Earth. He gently rested his hand under her chin and raised her face to look into her eyes. She looked at him, and instead of recognition, all Dante saw was hatred. The entire world fell away. Nothing else registered to him. Not the sounds of his men dying, slain by the other figure in the room. Not the sound of armored boots on the wooden floor, approaching him. All he saw were those hate filled eyes that broke his heart harder than any other wound. It was infinitely more painful than when he thought Staci had died. It tore at him to see those pale green eyes staring at him with such malice. There was no love, no recognition. Only hatred.

  “Mother,” was the only word that escaped his lips as an angelic sword slid through his back and into his heart. The blood that dripped from the gleaming blade mixed with his tears on the hardwood floor. He barely felt the boot on his back, or the sword being unceremoniously yanked from his body. He only felt the pain of seeing those eyes callously watch him die, as if he was nothing to her at all. As he fell, he was rolled to his back and looked up at not one, but two sets of features he recognized. The woman walked away without interest, but the man, the knight who had killed him, stood above him. Dante looked in confusion, as his adopted son raised his sword, the holy blade of the angel, Victor, and stabbed him through the heart again. The last thing Dante saw before everything went black was the angelic knight he had raised as his own son raising his sword for another strike.

  Kizrack, Cheal, and Loran broke off from the main force of demons and made for the elevator immediately after entering the Globe Tech building. Dante was busy leading his forces through the lobby, leaving the assassins with a relatively open path. They pressed the button for the basement level, Cheal weaving a spell to disengage the lock, allowing them to go down without the required key. By the time the doors opened again, the demons had already gone through the hatch in the ceiling and were perched atop the elevator. They squeezed between the shaft wall and the elevator itself and waited for it to inevitably be called upwards. They heard a group of vampires enter, and they were headed up within seconds. Cheal made himself and the other two invisible, while Loran moved to the doors and pried them open. In the hall, there were two vampire guards standing outside the door to the labs. Kizrack moved ahead of his group and slid a long, thin
silver rod up the spine of one of the guards. The vampire stiffened briefly, then relaxed. The rod allowed Kizrack to take control of the vampire’s central nervous system by sending electrical impulses at the imp’s command. The vampire was now his puppet.

  The first vampire taken care of, Cheal and Loran set upon the second, Cheal shoving a silver dagger through his heart, Loran catching the corpse before it hit the floor. They looked to the outline of Kizrack, a boon granted them by the nature of the spell, allowing chosen allies to locate the invisible figure, and gave him a nod. Using the vampire puppet, the imp opened the door, leading the group into the labs. Several vampires looked up, but quickly lost interest upon seeing the guard. They were working on different projects, focusing more on their work than on the chaos upstairs. In truth, it was impossible to hear anything happening outside the labs. One scientist, however, did approach the vampire puppet. Kizrack looked him over, looking for any details that might help him in case the vampire asked him something that might be hard to answer. There were no readily visible insignias of rank or importance, just a name badge that identified him as Walter.

  “How are things going up there?” he asked.

  Kizrack manipulated the silver rod with his thoughts. “It’s not great,” the vampire puppet said softly. Kizrack wanted it to seem sincere, but also wanted to keep the tone calm and quiet. “According to the people upstairs, it’s a bloodbath. You’d best get everything ready to go. Chances are we’re going to evacuate.”

  Walter’s face held a puzzled expression. “I wasn’t given any such orders,” he said.