Knights of Enmity: The Barons Have Fallen (Descending Fires Book 1)

by Sedrie Danielle

  “Shit Beebs. Baby I'm sorry,” he said as he tried to hold her. She fought him and he fell against the door of their closet. He slid down to the floor with a look of defeat as he looked upon his hurting wife.

  “Did you mean that? What you said?” he asked, looking as though he had lost his best friend. She couldn’t look him in the eye but simply replied “Yes.”

  “No baby, no. You don’t mean that. You can’t mean that. I love you. You’re my best friend and all I have,” he said, quickly sobering up.

  Bibi laid her face upon her knees sobbing. Every time he went to touch her she would hit him and snatch away. He was devastated.

  “Bibi, please...”

  “Get out! I never want to see you again. Just disappear,” she said, softly. Adonis put on his clothes and headed out the room, looking back at the broken woman on the floor. Tears began to fall from his eyes as he didn’t have any answers on how to remedy the situation. He hopped in his Challenger and rode off.

  The sound of his engine leaving the driveway caused Bibi to fall completely apart. She ran to the window and watched until the lights of his car could no longer be seen. Bibi hated being alone and truly wanted him to walk back through the door.

  “Donnie…” she said, regretting her last words to him.

  Adonis sped down the road not paying much attention to anything around him. Running through red lights, he slammed into the side of a man riding a bike. Adonis spun the car off the road, throwing the man several yards. He got out of the car, holding his head as he looked at the wheel of the bike spinning out of control.

  On the ground, he followed a trail of cards that were all face down apart from one. He picked up the last card, The Fool card, and saw within it a reflection of himself.

  “Oh thanks, I’m fine by the way!” the man shouted as he attempted to stand. Adonis dropped the card and helped him to his feet. He was thin, with a bowl shaped haircut and square glasses.

  He noticed the man was wearing a business jacket with a poorly sewn patch of The Pages of Fortuity on the front pocket.

  “Are you alright?” Adonis asked, dusting the skinny man off.

  “Alright?! Hell no I’m not alright! You fucking hit me with your – Holy shit. It’s a Magia Challenger!” he said excitedly. The man laid on the hood of his car, hugging it. “Oh this is the best day of my life. The cards were so right!” he said to himself.

  “Your one of the Pages?” Adonis asked, looking at the hand painted card. The man snatched the card and stuffed it in his inner pocket jacket with a slight attitude. Adonis looked at the man puzzled, clearing his throat.

  “Hey! Don’t ruin this for me! It’s not every day you get hit by a Black Knight and live to tell about it. Besides, now you owe me! Ha!” he shouted.

  Adonis laughed at the funny guy, but noticed he had no scratches or bruises.

  “Ok. Well we can start our new relationship by you telling me your name.”

  “My name? Don’t you recognize me?”

  “No.”

  “Pfft! I’m Findley Masterson. Greatest magician of all time. Duh!” he shouted.

  “I’m Adonis. Sorry for hitting you,” he said.

  “The winged Adonis?”

  Adonis looked at him strange, but nodded.

  “Holy shit!” he said, taking out his phone. He snapped a picture and sent it someone named Pygott.

  “My bro is going to be stoked! I see it he draws it. That’s how we roll.”

  “Umm. Is there somewhere you need to go? I feel kind of obligated since I hit you.”

  “Take me to the Ludus. I must begin my training as a Magia!” Adonis burst out laughing. Findley began snapping his fingers.

  “Don’t do that! I mean, if you can get in, what’s stopping me?” he said, causing Adonis’s laughter to cease.

  “Alright boy. That’s enough.”

  “Don’t be mad bro. Everyone isn’t born with my astuteness!” he said, when Adonis punched him in the stomach.

  Findley fell to the ground gasping for air. He shot Adonis a bird as he rolled around in pain.

  “Someone’s stealing your bike,” he said, leaning against his car. Findley stopped playing around and sat up. Sure enough, two crack heads had taken the bike.

  “That’s mine motherfuckers!” he shouted, running down the street.

  Adonis thought it was hilarious and hopped in the car after them. Findley found himself in an alley where the crackheads pinned him to the wall.

  “Help! Shit help!”

  Adonis peeked around the corner watching Findley get thrown around for a few minutes before he decided to help. He pulled out his gun and shot the crackheads point blank.

  Findley looked shocked, but stood up and dusted himself off.

  “Night, night bitches!” he said, going in for a high five but Adonis left him hanging.

  “Come on bro.”

  “No! Now we’re even. Bye!” Adonis said, walking away.

  “Hey wait! Where are you going?” Findley asked, catching up to him.

  “The hell away from you. Why?”

  “Well I don’t know. We’re like bros now. I thought we could go shoot people and stuff,” Findley said. Adonis burst out laughing.

  “Findley, its not that, I just need to be alone,” he said. Findley shook his finger.

  “I know that look. Girl problems?” he asked happily. Adonis grunted. Findley reached in his pocket and pulled out a tarot deck. He spun around, spreading the cards about him which levitated like a skirt.

  “Choose a card brave Knight,” he said. Adonis listened to his heart and chose The Lovers card. He thought about Bibi and how much he wanted to go home and embrace her.

  “Your cards are wrong,” he said angrily, throwing the card on the ground and walking away. Findley frowned, dropping the cards around him.

  “My cards aren’t wrong. They just never tell people what they want,” he said, picking up his things and hopping on his bike.

  30

  Cardinal Cesare Borgia

  Adonis revved up his engine, reaching into the glove compartment for a flask which he chugged. He sped down the road driving to an unknown destination as he tried to clear his head. Meanwhile, the Alchemists were preparing for Solon’s funeral. Solon’s corpse began deteriorating quickly as no life lived in it.

  Cornelius and Janna were hand in hand as they placed Solon into a sarcophagus. Cornelius began removing all of the blades from Solon’s body, but as he came to the blade in his heart, Janna stopped him.

  “Leave it,” she whispered. Cornelius smiled as the Rubedos closed the sarcophagus; committing the great Alchemist to the hall of masters.

  “Hail Master!” they shouted as Cornelius placed Solon's robe on his own shoulders. Janna was proud as she thought Cornelius to be nobler.

  “What will be your first act as Grand Alchemist?” she asked.

  “We must avenge our fallen master and persecute he who has taken his life. Messalla is an enemy to Ordo Magnum Opus. He has committed treason at the highest level and assassinated our leader. Send out an official Demand for Messalla’s apprehension. A reward will be given if captured alive. If dead, well then he'll be dead,” Cornelius said, dismissing the Rubedos.

  “Are you happy?” she asked him.

  Cornelius grabbed Janna and kissed her passionately. He lifted her up and laid her on top of Solon's sarcophagus as he proceeded to fuck her.

  “Tell me love, who fucked you better?” he asked in between kisses.

  “You. Always you.”

  “And who do you love?” he asked flipping her over, grabbing a handful of her ass as he continued to thrust inside of her. Cornelius laughed as he came, desecrating Solon's sarcophagus with his seed.

  “So long Solon. It was fun,” he said as he and Janna left the room laughing.

  “Now then darling. Your mission is still on. Is everything in place?”

  “Yes love. I will leave in the morning to begin,” she said.

  �
��Leave now. This needs to be done soon. Use this,” he said, handing her a gold necklace which he stole from Solon's pocket.

  Janna looked at him strangely but did as she was asked. As Janna made her way back to Ragnarok, Cornelius walked down the hall to a chamber at the end of the hall. Johnny Dee stood naked lighting candles as he was to begin meditations. Cornelius closed the door behind him, dropping his robes.

  Johnny Dee stared at him lustfully and laid back on his bed, motioning for Cornelius to join him. The two locked tongues, celebrating the deposition of Solon.

  “I have waited a long time for this moment,” Johnny Dee said as he kissed his way down to his cock. His tongue ran up and down the long shaft making a slobby mess of things. Johnny Dee sucked on his balls while he stroked causing Cornelius to grab hold of his head. He moaned as he began to release his load; splashing him in the face with his milky goodness.

  Cornelius lay blissfully triumphant as Johnny Dee continued to kiss his body.

  “Are you pleased with how everything turned out?” he asked the smiling Cornelius.

  “I am. I loved Solon, but he never loved me. Although I was not privy to any plans to get rid of him, I didn't think it would be that easy,” he said. Johnny Dee began to chuckle.

  “See the thing is, it’s not,” Johnny Dee said, as he stabbed Cornelius in the neck.

  Johnny Dee’s skin began to melt as Solon's face emerged. Cornelius began to crawl away frantically but Solon kicked him in the abdomen.

  “How dare you think you could outwit me boy?! When it was I who taught you the art of alchemy!” he shouted kicking Cornelius around.

  He grabbed Cornelius by the throat, pressing into the wound, making it difficult for him to breathe. Cornelius spit blood in his face, furthering his anger. Standing on the brink of death, he hauled Cornelius down to the torture chamber.

  “It would be a simple thing to kill you Cornelius. But I'm not going to. That would be too easy. You will spend the rest of your existence here. In pain. Or perhaps, I'll imprison you with the old gods and angels and let everyday be your last. This will be your fate, but Messalla, he will die for raising his hand to me,” he said caressing his face.

  Cornelius knew it was over for him and didn’t fight. As Solon began to torture him, Solon fell over in agonizing pain. The shape-shift took a lot of energy from him and his aura was beginning to dull. Cornelius began to laugh at him as he struggled to even stand.

  “Let me guess, your chocolate sauce wearing off? Hmm? You’re not even powerful enough to do a simple shape-shift without falling to pieces. You’re a joke. Pity,” he said condescendingly.

  Cornelius freed himself from the binds and activated his philosopher’s stone to heal himself as Solon lay in pain. He kicked Solon in the abdomen, causing him to shout.

  “I have always wondered why it is you were afraid of death. Why you forbade all to even breathe near the Oubliette of Smyrna. Then one day I found myself in the Dactyl Tower where Dante had fallen asleep, writing in his journal. Curious I was, I read it, and do you know what it said?” Cornelius asked lifting Solon by the hair.

  “Dante knows why you have no soul, why you fear death. Now so do I,” he said throwing him down. “I loved you Solon, with all of my heart, but I will never be at the mercy of your fist again. Au revoir,” he said.

  Cornelius straightened his hair and cleaned himself up before walking out of the room. He bid Ordo Magnum Opus farewell and left Castle Panchrest while Solon lie on the floor reaching for Mila.

  ***

  Mila woke from her comatose sleep in agonizing pain, but could not scream. She sat up in the bed with her arms stretched and was breathing heavily. Lance lifted an eyebrow and rolled over to see her levitating on the bed.

  “Shit! Cesare!” he shouted waking the sleeping Knight who was too tired to feel the commotion.

  He grabbed Mila and pulled her back to the bed. Her eyes were completely black and she was uttering something in a language that was unfamiliar to him, but her lips were not moving. Cesare put his hand on her forehead and she began to convulse and shake.

  She grabbed him by the throat and began to take his fire. Cesare tried to pull it back in his being and the bed caught fire. Lance stood back not knowing what to do.

  “Knock her out!” he shouted, but Cesare didn’t want to hit his wife. Lost for answers, he began reciting the Roman Ritual of exorcism.

  She began to scream at the top of her lungs. Things began to fly around the room and crash into the walls. He continued on as Lance attempted to dodge things being thrown around. Eventually she stopped and the sound of bones cracking alarmed him as she turned her head.

  She smiled at him and fell back to sleep. Cesare threw her on the chaise and hopped up. Everything was burned and Mila seemed to be in a state of possession.

  “What the fuck was that?” Lance yelled.

  “I don’t know. But there is something in her that's not supposed to be there. And I wonder how it came to be,” he said staring at the sleeping woman.

  “That’s too much right there.”

  Cesare began putting on his robes.

  “Where you going? Don’t leave me with her!” Lance said reaching for his stuff too.

  “Come on then. I'm not going to wait for Messalla. I'm going to save my wife,” Cesare said pointing his finger.

  Cesare put Mila in Bibi's room as her bed was burnt. He left a note for her to call him as soon as she came in. He needed answers and was going to get them one way or another. He and Lance walked down to the reception area and he rolled back the tape to the night before.

  Lance went in the kitchen and made them some coffee as he wasn’t about to do anything without it. The brothers enjoyed the first cup of the day until someone strange was seen on the tape.

  “Who the fuck is this?”

  “Looks like an Alchemist. But I’ve never seen him before,” Lance said.

  “I can’t see his face. Messalla would know, seeing as though they both have red coats in that order,” Lance added.

  Cesare always had a bit of a disdain for Messalla, and simply didn’t trust him. He sighed because he didn’t want him involved. Cesare took a photo of the man on the screen.

  “Come on, there's somewhere else we need to go before Rex calls us in for the Round Table,” he said grabbing his coffee and heading for his car. Lance sighed as it was still dark and the morning sun had not yet risen. Cesare revved up his engine and sped down the highway to a church.

  “Oh come on Cesare. We don't have time for this shit!”

  “Look! I'm just going to check something out and I'll be right back. Stay in the fucking car!” he shouted getting out.

  Lance was pissed, more so because he had run out of cigarettes. He turned on some music and leaned his head back while Cesare made his way inside. He started to doze off when he felt high energy levels outside the car. Lance sat up only to see Messalla running as fast as he could from two Alchemists and a warlock.

  “What the fuck?” Lance asked himself, getting out of the car. He cocked his gun and ran in the direction of the chase.

  Cesare walked slowly down the middle of the aisle, looking up at a large statue of Jesus. The choir seats were empty, as were the congregational pews. Cesare sat on the first row and looked up as his mind traveled back to seven years ago.

  “I thought I heard the door. Can I help you young man?” an old abbot asked as he walked towards him.

  Cesare stood up and smiled. He felt goodness and sincerity from the man; unlike the many church officials he tortured and burned.

  “Actually abbot, I am here for a book. A ritual of exorcism that I traced down to this church. I need it to save my wife,” he said.

  The abbot gazed at him; removing his hood. He was a short man, stout; what little hair he had left was white as his eyebrows. His voice was old, sounding as if he strained to say simple sentences.

  “And you are?”

  “Cesare Borgia.”

  “The c
ardinal?”

  Cesare stood in silence.

  “Well good gracious. Please, follow me,” he said showing him to the back. Cesare took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of frankincense as they walked through the dimly lit hall. An old portrait of the Pope hung near the door at the end of the hall and Cesare stopped and stared.

  “I have known his Holiness for most of our lives. We took similar paths to enlightenment. And while he doesn’t say it, I know that your absence from Conclave has left him somewhat void. He thought of you as a son. You left quite a mess in Rome and one day you will have to wipe it clean with the cloth of your cassock,” he said, turning the key to the door.

  “You have no idea what happened there.”

  “Oh, contrare. I have an idea, but that tale is for another time. I should hope to hear it one day. I am just glad you’ve returned.”

  Cesare remained silent, and the Abbot could see the fear in his eyes as his mind ventured to a past he wish didn’t exist. The Abbot pointed towards a wall of old books and scrolls which he took the greatest care of. He reached towards the top shelf for an old, leather bound book.

  “I take it you still remember your Latin sir.”

  Cesare nodded as he flipped through the book. He found the page he was looking for and bookmarked it as he caught a glimpse of a parchment on the abbot's desk.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “That there was left in the offering tray after a service last Sunday. I have been trying to translate it, but I do not understand Malachim.”

  “And how is it you can see Malachim?” Cesare asked, raising a brow. The Abbot didn’t respond, simply smiled raising Cesare’s suspicion of him.

  Cesare stared at the symbols and glyphs on the parchment and words began to form in his mind: The fall of this Age shall come as man blinks his eye to the light of the Sun. A plague of darkness has covered the Earth for the Laws of Moses have been forgotten. As the trumpet sounds, the towers of man shall crumble to dust and the Mother shall weep tears of blood.

  “Did you see who left this?”

  “No sir. But there are several more just there,” the Abbot said pointing to a pile of parchment. Cesare grabbed them all and headed towards the door.