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Chapter 1:
Prologue to The Last Seal
(by Richard Denning, added on December 22, 2009)
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On the fifth day of July in the year of our Lord 1380 the warlock Stephen Blake released the demon Dantalion from the Abyss.
Hours before dawn, the short figure had stolen down Ludgate Hill to a small church that lay beneath the shadow of St Paul’s Cathedral. With his cloak wrapped tightly around him to keep out the early morning chill, he had slipped unnoticed between the gravestones and stopped at the side door of the church. Blake paused now to glance behind, dark eyes probing the shadows that lay along the road and around the indistinct bulk of nearby houses beyond.
Somewhere in the city was the one man who might prevent him doing what he planned. This night had been long in the preparation and he did not want it spoilt by those interfering Praesidium, or their leader Cornelius Silver. He took one last look and then, satisfied he was alone, the door was opened with a judder and a creak as rusty hinges complained about unexpected use. He entered the gloomy interior, shutting the door behind him.
Once inside, he glanced around at the altar, the font and then towards the main doors and contemplated the scene. This was a place of worship: a hallowed sanctuary to the parishioners who came here to find peace, comfort and protection from evil.
“Nam et si ambulavero in medio umbrae mortis, non timebo mala, quoniam tu mecum es,” Blake recited and then stood in silence pondering the words for a moment. ‘For though I should walk in the midst of the shadow of death, I will fear no evils, for thou art with me.’
He laughed and a sneer snaked across his face, as he thought about what he now planned to do. The faithful who trusted in this holy place would soon run from the shadow of death and Blake himself would be the one to bring them fear. No - much more than fear, in a few hours he would bring them terror.
Six hours later Blake had prepared everything.Nearby lay the crumpled body of the old priest, who each day rose before dawn and entered the church alone to recite the morning liturgy. When he opened the doors today he had been cut down by Blake. His blood, the blood of a holy man slain on consecrated ground, joined dried herbs in a bronze bowl laid upon the altar. A candle heated the mixture releasing noxious fumes, filling the church with smoke. Blake stood in one of two chalk circles he had drawn on the flagstones. Holding a parchment in his right hand, he recited incantations that would summon the demon into the other.
With each word he uttered, the air seemed to burn and crackle about him. The intense heat singed his hair, turning its usual silver grey colour to a charred black, his skin first becoming scorched and then blistered - but he read on. The words he spoke were contrary to the laws of the universe and he felt as if the world was shuddering and shaking in protest as reality twisted, distorted and buckled around him - but he read on. His eardrums threatened to burst as they were assaulted by a cacophony of screeching - but even now he did not stop. Just when he felt he could stand it no longer, he shouted the last few words and, with a suddenness that shocked him, there was utter silence as the spell tore a hole from our world into the Abyss: into the world of the demons.
Blake had been raised since birth for this moment. He and his fathers had worshiped and studied the demons for one reason, one purpose: to rule alongside them, just as his distant ancestors had done when demons walked this earth beside man millennia before. Blake had longed for this day. He had imagined the pride he would feel at mastering the Words of Power. He had dreamt of the wealth he would earn as well as the domination he would gain over other men and had revelled in the thought. However, none of his dreams or longings had prepared him for the intensity of the fear he now felt.
For it was only now that Stephen Blake realised the terrible gamble he was taking. In a few moments he might be dead.
As he emerged into our reality, the giant form of Dantalion roared and glared at Blake. Towering fifteen feet above him Dantalion wore the form of a human - although Blake knew he could take many others. The demon’s skin was a ruddy brown colour completely devoid of hair. The beast’s eyes, which now stared at him without compassion, were a bright red as if fire blazed within them. He wore britches and a leather breast plate both covering a powerful and muscular body. His limbs ended in appendages which were more like claws than feet or hands and which bore vicious talons as sharp and long as daggers. He carried no weapons, although Blake saw in his right hand a huge book rather like a large leather bound bible. The vast creature exuded an odour that made Blake’s eyes water: a mixture of decay and sulphur that was nauseating.
Dantalion took a step forward and - as his foot landed on the ancient flagstones - the whole church shook. One claw reached out towards the warlock’s neck. With a cry, Blake stumbled backwards, tripped and fell on to his back and the beast took another stride and now stood like a colossus over the cowering figure. As he swung his claw back in readiness to slay Blake, the warlock raised one trembling arm to stay the blow and made a desperate plea for his life.
“Spare me, Master Dantalion!”
The Beast grunted and tilted his head, eyes narrowing in puzzlement.
“Lord of demons, Great Duke of Hell, it was I who brought you here to rule this world,” Blake said, “all I ask is that I may serve you.”
Dantalion studied the small man for a long moment, lips rolled back revealing dozens of sharp teeth, claws extended and muscles taut in eager readiness to pounce. Shaking in fear and feeling his heart thumping inside him, Blake waited to see if he would live or die. The moment dragged on as if the demon was enjoying the tension.
The beast reached out, placing one hand on Blake’s head and for a moment he caressed Blake almost tenderly. Then the fire within the demon’s eyes flared and Blake screamed when searing pains shot down through his skull, as if white hot needles had penetrated it. He squirmed as the agony continued for an eternity until, suddenly, Dantalion released him and fixed the man with a glare.
“I have searched your soul and it is black,” the demon said at last, his voice rumbling like the drums of an approaching army.
“You are loyal to no one and serve only your own interests,” the demon continued. Blake feared his death was now close at hand.
“No master, I swear I will be loyal, I ... ..”
His protests were cut off as Dantalion hit Blake with the back of his hand, splitting his lip and flinging his head hard against the flagstones.
“NEVER lie to me again!” Dantalion boomed and despite his agony, Blake realised that the demon was not going to kill him yet. The beast gave a slight nod of the head.
“Yes, you may live ... for now. My race know the value of black hearts and black souls. Men who care only for themselves make good allies against their own kind,” he said taking two steps away from Blake before turning back to him.
“Come, follow me now!” Dantalion ordered and strode off down the church nave and - without stopping - burst out through the front wall, smashing through stone and wood as if they were mere parchment.
Shaking still, Blake got up and wiped the sweat off his brow, swallowed hard and then ran to keep up with his master. Meanwhile, on Ludgate Street, the terror Blake had predicted had already begun.
The road outside the church, as it bisected the city walls, was crowded. Carts piled high with goods waited in line to enter the city, while a prior passed by on foot leading his monks on pilgrimage to the Cathedral. Hawkers of food and drink clustered around the gate, offering refreshments out of carts to anyone with the coin to buy them, whilst cursing at the vagrants that begged for a few morsels. A pair of bored guardsmen leaning against their billhooks watched the scene and waited for their duty to end.
The first to die was a man selling oysters from a barrel. Dantalion took hold of him and casually tossed him over his shoulder. Screaming, the man smashed into the church tower and fell dead to the ground next to Blake. Then, the demon lifted a foot the length of a man’s leg and stamped down on to the barrel, pulverising the oyster shells. He took two strides towards a group of merchants gathered round a cart loaded high with cloth. They turned at the sound of the screaming oyster vendor and froze, terrified at the horror bearing down upon them. Dantalion pointed one talon at them, spoke a few arcane words and instantly a searing ray of heat burst forth and incinerated them all.
The guardsmen, hearing the screams, moved away from the gate, saw the demon advancing on them and just stood in the middle of the road staring at him in uncomprehending shock. To Blake it was as if Dantalion grew a little with each kill. Now taller than the houses that lined the street, the beast smashed both fists down on the roof of one, sending timber and lead tiles tumbling on to a family that huddled against its wall. One of the guards recovered and charged the beast, his billhook aimed at the demon’s belly. The blade snapped on Dantalion’s hide and whilst the guard stared stupidly at the ruined weapon the demon scooped him up with one hand and simply bit off his head, dropping the bleeding corpse into the ruins of the house.
Dantalion roared and the crowds on Ludgate quailed at the sound and then - screaming in panic - they started to scatter, running anyway they could to escape. However, Dantalion possessed more than immense size and strength, and more than mastery of the arcane elements. His words held power: power that could seize men’s minds and influence, command and compel them.
“Stop!” he boomed. As one the people stopped running and turned to face him. Now, to Blake, it seemed that the demon’s appearance had changed subtly. The fire left his eyes and his features softened, he seemed a fraction shorter and even his talons appeared to dwindle. The odour of death and decay was gone, and a sweet smell of spring blossoms drifted along the road. When he spoke again his tone had also altered and was full of charisma and seduction.
“I am Dantalion, and I am your Lord. You will love me and obey me; now bow before me!”
Then, prior and monks, merchants, vendors and guards bowed as one and Blake bowed as well. Dantalion turned to him.
“Witness my Lieutenant: the first of my kingdom. From here we will conquer this nation and then the whole world. All will see me and love me, worship me and obey me!”
Blake nodded and smiled to himself. This was the secret his forefathers had guarded and passed on ... the knowledge to free the demon and through him to rule the world. It had taken generations to gather the ingredients needed for the spell, and still more to master the magicks required, but now he did his ancestors honour in fulfilling their destiny.
Blake laughed and above him so did Dantalion, then they strode off together, through the gate and on towards St Paul’s, to wreak more havoc.
It was there, on Ludgate Hill, that Blake first realised that something was wrong. Dantalion suddenly gave a roar of frustration and panic. Blake guessed what was happening and a moment later he felt it too. Nearby a powerful sorcerer was weaving the arcane elements, this time not to summon, but to banish Dantalion.
“Praesidium filth!” Blake hissed as he spotted the man he had dreaded would come to interfere. The sorcerer Cornelius Silver was wearing his monk’s habit and standing in the road in front of them, his shaved head a pale contrast to his well trimmed brown hair. A stone tablet was held in one hand and the other was outstretched towards Dantalion. Silver’s face wore an expression of determination and – the warlock noticed with a shudder – dedication. This was a man who believed utterly in his purpose, who would sacrifice himself without thinking to oppose the evil Blake served.
The tablet Silver carried started to glow and Blake hastily began the counter invocation. The sorcerer’s eyes snapped across to fix Blake with an intense glare and he swung his arm across, pointing it at the Warlock. Silver shouted three words and a bolt of fire shot at Blake, who leapt to one side and then rolled away to avoid the missile, which impacted on the building behind him with a deafening boom. The wooden structure erupted into flames and the ferocity of the blast stunned the Warlock.
Silver turned back to the demon and continued to recite his incantation. The tablet glowed once more, tendrils of silvery light now flowed out of the stone, weaving in and out of each other as they reached down the street towards the creature. Blake dragged himself to his feet and staggered across to stand by his master. Once more he gathered his strength to oppose his enemy.
“No, I will not go back!” Dantalion shouted, lashing at the tendrils in fury. One talon caught Blake and slashed down his side and, with a scream of pain, he fell dazed and bleeding to the ground. The demon retreated, using the great book he carried as a shield, but the tendrils pursued him and smashed into the artefact sending it spinning across the road. Dantalion roared now and moved back towards it: but he never got there.
The tendrils emanating from the tablet wrapped themselves around the demon and pulled him towards the sorcerer. As he was dragged along he seemed to diminish in size. Dantalion struggled and cursed and his hands spat forth flame and light, but these words were too old, the power they held too potent and could not be denied. The ancient beast was lifted screaming off the ground and was now tumbling in the air, shrinking again as it approached the tablet, until with an ear piercing crack he vanished: into the stone. Less than an hour after being freed he fell into a new prison.
Later, Blake opened his eyes and groaned. His side was a mass of pain, but that did not matter now; it was the hollow defeated feeling inside that was far worse. He had been so close to triumph: but he had failed. All the work of the generations before had provided him with the means to free the demon and rule with him, but it had come to nothing. He dragged himself to his feet, one hand holding his bloody side, and glanced around. This street - one of the busiest in London - was empty and silent. The crowds, having fled in terror, had not returned - although the cause of that terror was long gone.
Blake considered repeating the summoning rite, but knew he could not. The components needed for the spell were extremely rare, and even if he had them the void was not where Dantalion was.Blake recalled now what had happened: that man standing on the hill incanting strange words and that slab of stone. Forty centuries before, when the demons had attacked the first civilisations, the sorcerers of that ancient empire had learnt how to bind the monsters in the stone slabs they wrote their incantations on. It was one of these slabs that the foul Praesidium had been carrying and had used today: that was where the demon was trapped. He must find Silver and release Dantalion again. Or, if he could not find him, he would pass on what he knew to others.
He winced in pain and clamped his hand to his side again. As he did so he saw a book in the middle of the street: the huge Tome of Dantalion. What secrets did it hold, and what powers could one gain from studying it? Eagerly he lifted it, and then dropped it again with a cry of pain. It seemed to weigh as much as an oak chest. Nearby was an upturned hand cart whose owner had abandoned it in the street. Blake righted it and with a grunt heaved the book on to the back of it.
Blake pushed the cart down Creed lane towards Blackfriars and the river. He would get a boat across and travel on to some place to recover until he could study the book. It might take a lifetime, perhaps many lifetimes, but one day the knowledge in the Tome would reveal itself. He sneered at the overhanging timber houses and wrinkled his nose at the stench and fumes of London town. One day Dantalion would be free and Blake’s descendants would rule the world. In that day the city would burn and he would have his revenge: Blake smiled at the thought, and disappeared into the shadows.
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To read more go to my website and follow links for The Last Seal. Book available on Freado and Smashwords |
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