Fall of Tír na Angelus by HRT Knight - HTML preview

CHAPTER FOUR

The Prince of Light

The bald man looked down at him with pure malice. Alexander had never seen anything more frightening. He wanted his mother. He wanted the comfort that came from being in her arms, her soft voice telling him everything would be okay. But something in him knew everything would not be okay.

Pain spread through his chest and the world went out of focus. He tried to move, but something constricted him. Darkness swallowed his world before spitting him back out, miles away from the city.

Alexander looked to Dante for help or answers but the old wizard offered none. The color had drained from his face, and a tear ran over his cheek. Alexander turned back to the city but stopped as he saw a woman nearby. Her eyes were the bluest things he had ever seen. She looked up at Alexander and smiled at him, even though her eyes glistened with sorrow. The woman turned her gaze to the city below, and Alexander did the same, only to find it reduced to dust. His mother, his home, his friends, everything he had ever known was just gone.

Alexander inhaled sharply as he sat up. Pain shot through his body and he convulsed. His chest was wrapped in bandages that were drenched in sweat.

A hand fell on his shoulder and Dante’s comforting voice said, “Calm down, Alex. It’s all right, you’re safe.”

“Dante?” Alexander said in a croak. “It hurts.”

“I know, lad. Just lie down,” Dante said. “You were hurt quite badly. You’ve been asleep for almost four days now. Your fever seems to have broken, so you should be fine now.”

It was only then that Alexander took in his surroundings. He was in the back of a cart, lying on a thick bed of straw. Dante sat on the front seat next to an old man who paid them no attention as he steered his horses down the winding mountain road.

“Where are we?” Alexander asked.

“The northwestern point of the Zubhra Mountains, near Pileum city,” Dante said. “After Cain—” the wizard paused and gave the farmer a hesitant look “—did those awful things, I carried you to Kyla where I met up with Esdras here. He offered us a ride to Pileum. I have a friend there who will help us.”

“Cain?” Alexander forgot his pain for a second and sat up again. “That’s the name of that man—that monster who killed everyone.”

The farmer shot Alexander a surreptitious look but remained silent.

Dante nodded. “Yes. His name is Cain Angelus. He is—he was your mother’s brother.”

“He’s my uncle,” Alexander said incredulously.

“Yes, he is,” Dante said.

Esdras cleared his throat and said, “That’s Pileum down there, master Dante.”

Alexander sat forward a bit to look past the wizard and farmer. The buildings of Pileum City were neither as tall nor as magnificent as those of Tír na Angelus, but they were still a sight to behold. The wooden buildings were of simple design and raised above the waves by wooden legs hammered into the ground beneath the water. Rope bridges connected the buildings to the boardwalk-like streets.

The sun was already setting by the time the cart bearing the prince and wizard reached the city. The cart came to a halt near an old hunched man who was lighting the oil lamps that lined the streets. Esdras nodded at Dante, who handed him a bulging coin purse.

“Come, Alexander. This is where we get off,” Dante said.

Alexander followed, groaning as pain shot through his body with every move he made. Dante led them to the side of the wooden street and down some stairs. Waiting at the bottom of the stairs was a man in one of the little boats. Dante stepped into the boat, careful not to miss a step and fall in the water. Alexander leaped in next to the old wizard and sat down immediately as the boat rocked from side to side.

“Is there a chance you might know where I can find the Captain of The Golden Spear?” Dante asked the boatman.

“Aye, I do. He and his men spend their time in the Purple Purl,” the boatman said. he gave alexander a look and added, “You want me to take you there?”

Dante flicked a coin at the man who caught it deftly. Without another word, the boatman pushed the boat forward with a large staff. They traveled slowly, and Alexander stared up at the buildings above as they passed beneath them. After about ten minutes of the peaceful journey, the boat stopped next to another dock. The boatman pointed up to a building that emanated purple light and raucous noises.

“He’ll be in there,” the boatman said.

“Thank you,” said Dante, dropping another silver coin in the man’s hand. The wizard lifted Alexander out of the boat and followed spryly. He winced and rubbed at one of his knees but went on without complaint. He led Alexander back up the stairs and towards the Purple Pearl.

The building was larger than most of its neighbors, even though it was just a single-story. A man smoking a pipe sat outside on a bench, blowing plumes of sweet-smelling smoke from beneath the hood of his black cloak.

“Surely you don’t intend to take the boy in there, Dante,” the man with the pipe said.

Dante looked at the man and smiled as he stuck out a hand in greeting and said, “Bibi, my friend, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.”

“Far too long,” the man answered as he enveloped Dante’s hand in his massive right.

“You’re right,” Dante said, pointing at Alexander. “This is no place for a child. But it is important that I talk to Goldie as soon as possible. Will you look after the boy while I make the arrangements inside?”

“But of course. Anything for an old friend,” the cloaked man said, gesturing for Alexander to join him on the bench.

“Stay with Bibi. I’ll be back soon,” Dante said before vanishing through the door.

Alexander took a seat next to the bench and said, “Hi.”

“Hello, My Prince,” Bibi said.

The words felt like ice pressed against his skin. “I’m not a prince anymore.”

“Why is that?” the man asked with polite curiosity.

“A person can’t be a prince if there isn’t a kingdom anymore,” Alexander said as tears began to flow. “My mother is dead, as is all of Tír na Angelus.”

This man is the first person I’ll ever tell, but he won’t be the last, he thought.

A giant hand fell on Alexander’s shoulder and Bibi said, “I am sorry, my boy.”

Alexander cried for a long time and Bibi just sat next to him and tenderly rubbed his back. The agony of the truth only now felt like it was setting in and it made the pain that emanated from his chest seem like little more than a stubbed toe. It took him a while, but eventually he stopped the tears from flowing.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“That’s all right.” the man said. “Tell me, have you ever been outside Tír na Angelus before?”

Alexander shook his head. “No.”

“Then this might interest you,” Bibi said as he pulled the hood of his cloak back to reveal the head of a fox. His eyes were the only human things about his face.

“Wow, that is so lux,” Alexander said.

“Lux?” the fox man raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you know, great, excellent, amazing,” Alexander said.

Bibi burst out laughing. “This is why I like children more than adults. You always find the abnormal more interesting than disgusting.”

“You’re not disgusting, you’re amazing—but what are you?” Alexander asked.

“I’m a Cevarion. There are more of us, and all of us part human and part animal. Most people don’t like us. They think we’re unnatural,” Bibi said.

“Can you do something? You know, like special magic?” Alexander asked.

“No. I’m afraid not. The only thing that puts Cevarions apart from regular humans is: we’re stronger and faster and we hear and smell better. But we have no magic.”

The door to the Purple Purl opened and Dante strode out, followed by a tall man with tanned skin and long black hair that fell to his broad shoulders.

“Alexander, this is Aenor, one of my oldest friends. He’s the leader of a mercenary company called the Golden Spear,” Dante said.

“Hello, Alexander,” the man named Aenor said.

“I’ll be leaving you in his care for the time being.”

“What?” Alexander exclaimed. “You’re leaving me?”

“I have to, my boy,” Dante said, a pleading tone in his voice. “You need to get away from Primoris and your uncle. If he finds out you survived, he will not stop until he has killed you. No matter what it costs, we can’t let that happen. Your life has never been more important to the world than it is now.”

“My life? Why?” Something about the tone of Dante’s voice made Alexander feel uncomfortable and afraid.

“Because my boy, someone will have to stop Cain, eventually.”

“And you want me to be that someone?” Alexander squeaked in shock at the sudden burden the wizard hoisted on his shoulders.

“Flying frogs, no. I don’t want you to be that person. But it has to be you. There is no one else.” Dante looked him in the eyes and Alexander could see the iron determination there. “Your people are the most magically powerful race in the world. Only an Angelian can kill an Angelian. Unfortunately, every Angelian in Anarchos lived in Tír na Angelus. That means, as far as we know, you and Cain are the only remaining beings who possess the blood of Angelus. Which means only you can become powerful enough to stop whatever it is your uncle intends to do next.”

“But Dante,” Alexander said in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper. “I can’t beat someone like him. You saw what he did to me back in the city.”

“Yes, but you’re still just a boy, Alex. But once you reached thaumaturgic maturity at twenty-one, there is no doubt in my mind you will be powerful enough to stop Cain. I’ve seen the potential in you. With enough determination you have the potential for limitless power,” Dante said.

“Until then, you join the Golden Spear,” Aenor said. “You will come with us to the Steredenn islands where we will train you in everything from warfare tactics to how to fight. Bibi here is the best swordsman in all the islands, perhaps even the world.”

Bibi nodded. “And I won’t stop until you’re better than me.”

I was too weak to protect my mother. Too weak to protect anyone. Alexander thought as he looked from Bibi to Aenor to Dante. But these men are offering me a chance to change that.

“Okay,” Alexander said. “I’ll train. From this day forth, every waking moment of my life is dedicated to getting stronger. I’ll work harder than anyone before and I won’t stop until I am the most powerful Angelian ever to live—until I’m so powerful I’m able to protect the entire world from any threat that might come.”

Alexander stood on the prow of the ship called The Golden Spear, the trireme that was his home for the foreseeable future. The ship drifted away from the Pileum docs, away from the country where his home once stood. The crew members were all busy tying and untying ropes, doing a lot of stuff he did not yet understand. Captain Aenor told him to stand and observe for today. Once they were out at sea, his work would begin.

As he stared back at the shrinking city, Alexander thought back to the last few days and how his life had changed. What would the next few years hold in store for him? Whatever would come, he would face it and conquer it. He would never be as weak as he had been back in Tír na Angelus. It was because of that weakness thousands had died, including his mother.

He clenched his fist tightly as he whispered a prayer to his mother, “I swear, I will never be this weak again. I will sacrifice everything I have if it means becoming strong enough to stop monsters like Cain.”

“You should be careful what promises you make, son. Power like that you speak of usually comes at a dear price,” the man who spoke startled Alexander. He hadn’t heard the man approach him at all. He was of average high, but muscles covered every part of the man’s body. His eyes were silver opals with no pupil in the middle but with rings of dark blue around them. They were like two mirrors that allowed you to see what the man saw.

Stuttering, Alexander said, “No price is too high to pay. I have already paid the ultimate price.”

“You’d be surprised. It’s usually when we think we have nothing left to lose that fate becomes creative with its cruelty,” the man said.

“That doesn’t matter. I’ll bear any burden to avenge my mother and people. I’ll suffer whatever it takes to never feel this helpless and weak again,” Alexander said, this time sounding more determined and confident.

“Then you might need this one day.” The silver-eyed man said as he slammed a dagger into the railing of the ship. “I’ll be keeping an eye out for you, son.”

Alexander looked up to see what the man was talking about, but he was gone. Only the silver dagger stayed behind. He pulled it free and examined it. It was beautiful and made of silver. The back of the dagger was straight, but the edged side had a wicked curve to it. On the hilt, there was an insignia. A star made up of five runic triangles around a disk overlaid with a crescent moon. It was the crest of Tír na Angelus.

He looked around again to see if he could not spot the man.

“Looking for something, Alexander?” Bibi asked as he carried a crate on his shoulder which would usually have taken three men to lift.

“The man with the silver eyes,” Alexander said.

Bibi looked at him as if he was mad. “There is no such man on this ship. I would dare say there is no such man on Anarchos. Perhaps your eyes played a trick on you.”

“He’s real Bibi,” Alexander insisted. He held up the silver dagger. “He gave me this.”

“Must be someone in the crew. Don’t worry, if he’s on this ship, you’ll see him again,” Bibi said.

But Alexander did not see the man again for sixteen years.