Lexiconum

Black as the void, a depth to its darkness. A knowledge of infinity. The little black book covered in the symbols of ancient Palish, called to Dante. A promise of peace, a covenant of enlightenment in its purest form. A sense of longing drew the Paladin closer. Dante felt his legs carrying him towards the book that sat alone on the table. He couldn’t resist its touch….

Dante was back at the Citadel, the shining temple of the Paladins. He was late for his audience with The Council. It was a rare occasion that a Paladin of his rank was given the privilege of a meeting with these fabled warriors.

The High Marshal sat on the First Chair, his angel-winged helmet imposing and majestic. The enormous stained-glass windows of the Great Hall reflected a colorful aura around him. To his left and right sat the council. The leaders of the Shepordic, Druidic, and the Marshalic sects of Paladins. Each warrior was one of monumental stature, both physical and spiritual. Through their countless years of service, each had earned their reputations in the fires of war. Each wearing the splendid armor and vibrant colors of their renowned houses.

“My Lords”, Dante began as he bowed deeply. A sudden twitch in his gut and a spike in his heartbeat took him by surprise. Dante stood quickly. Something was wrong. His sharp instincts peaked as though he sensed an apex predator stalking him from the shadows. He looked up at the High Marshal. His once glorious angel-winged helmet seemed to be indescribably distorted. Subconsciously, Dante took a step back readying his stance. The High Marshal stood as the feathers fell from the wings, only to decompose before they hit the ground. Fangs grew from the breather holes in his faceplate as the metal and body beneath became one. The shadow of a colossal snake fell upon the Grand Hall as though it was slithering across the stained-glass windows.

“We know… what… you have taken… Dante….” said a voice, sickly with age, but laden with unspeakable power. The sound raised the hairs on the back of Dante’s neck as he heard the Arch Enemies voice. “We will… find… you…” as a screeching wail began to build with intensity.

The High Marshal lunged at him, his sheer size and power at odds with how fast he moved. The once proud warrior now a disgraced demonic entity. Leather wings sprouted from the sides of his helmet, venom dripping talons grew from his gauntlets as he pulled back to strike.

Dante felt the embrace of the God of Light at that moment. Instantly he was pulled back through the main doors of the Great Hall as the screeching hit its climax. The sonic attack blurred his vision as he felt trickles of blood leak from his shattered eardrums. The High Marshal vanished, and the immense golden towers of the Citadel faded quickly from sight. Darkness took him…

Time flew by in an instant, yet it took forever. As though he had lived a million life cycles, though, none he could remember. Tenth dimensional shapes rolled past his eyes as though he could comprehend all and nothing.

A tunnel of unnatural light. A ship amongst the roiling waves. Paramecium devouring each other in the dance of predator and prey. Stars born and fizzling out, others creating catastrophic explosions. Time was no longer relevant. A great oak grew in an instant, amid a field of bones as far as the eye could see. Its massive arms reaching out to him, begging him to come. A sharp “here” pleaded with him to come. He had seen this tree among the murals of the great halls in the Citadel. The killing Fields of Sypia…

Dante was suddenly struck from his chair as though he was hit in the chest with an eighty-pound great-hammer. Stars blurred his vision, as a hot pain pulsated from the center of his skull. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, he had bit off a chunk of his tongue. His chest heaved as he fought to regain his breath.

When his vision returned to him, he saw a large leather satchel on the table. He stood only to stumble into the overturned chair. What had happened to him? What did he read from the little black book? Like a person trying to catch a dream before its inevitable flight, Dante found himself forgetting what he had just experienced. But the feeling of it, he could not escape. The Oak, Sypia, he knew he must go.

He moved slowly to the table, regaining his bearings. He lifted the satchel. It was quite heavy. As he flipped it open, gold coins spilled from the top. A fortune in gold dollars lay shimmering in the candlelight. Eyes wide, his prayers had been answered! He guessed it was at least twenty thousand golden dollars. That would be enough to get a horse, fix his armour, his weaponry, and then some.

A moment of clarity swept over him. The God of light had deemed his quest righteous. Confidence welled up in his chest. The creeping doubt he had before was now put to the torch. All notions of failure fell from him as the weight lifted from his shoulders. His quest was renewed. Now it was time to fight.

Dante donned his armour and gathered up the coins. He picked up the little black book, its darkness had faded leaving the ancient palish scriptures readable again. He slipped it into his robes and quickly left the tavern. His footsteps hastened with purpose.

It was a two-week ride to Sypia and now he had enough to fund the quest. After the blacksmith repaired his armor, Dante made his way to the market for supplies and then to the stables. He rode the Kings Way until he reached the Highlands. From the Highlands, there was no road to Sypia, for it had become a place of whispers and ghosts. A place said to be haunted by the fallen warriors of an ancient battle. The people of the land kept their distance, for none dared awaken the dead. Tomorrow he would arrive at that accursed place, but tonight he needed to rest.

Dante set up camp on a high hill. As he cooked mutton over the fire, he had a moment of peace. He saw small fairies dance through the tall grass under the shadows of the hillsides. They gave off a bioluminescent glow of greens, purples, and pinks. They were beautiful humanoid creatures up close until they opened their mouths to reveal pointed teeth and a sinister grin. It was said to be good luck for fairies to eat from your meal. They were magical beings, and where magic goes, it leaves traces of energy behind. Many a traveler would leave gifts of rabbit or mutton when they camped to attract the fairies. However, it is also said if one were to smile at you, it would bring ill fortune or portend dark times to come.

Bats swooped overhead hunting insects. Their clicks soft and quiet to his ears. A dark sky as far as the eye could see, lit up by the stars and a bright blue moon. It was the calm before the storm. A calm that always came to him before battle. As he laid back by the fire, a shooting star streaked across the sky and disappeared in the blink of an eye. He closed his eyes as he heard the soft breeze rustling the long grass. A perfect moment...

A sudden jolt awoke him from his slumber. Something was amiss. He heard a rock slip down the steep side of the hill. Dante shot up pulling his longsword from its sheath. Three warriors walked up the hill with their weapons drawn. The fire had gone out, but the moon was bright enough to show the unmistakable armour profiles of Paladins.

“Who goes there?” demanded Dante.

“I thought you would remember your brothers, or have you so easily forgotten us, Dante?”

He recognized his voice immediately as they came closer. “Donnicus, brother”

“You can no longer call me brother. The High Marshal has declared you Excommunicate Traitorous. It is said that you stole the Lexiconum brother. Is this true?” Magnar started to flank Dante on the right as the other Paladin flanked left. Dante raised his sword and settled into the Falcone stance, ready to battle multiple attackers.

“It is true brothers, the Dark One has infiltrated the highest ranks of the Citadel. Corruption lies unopposed throughout our order. The Lexiconum was not safe in the Citadel”.

“Lies!” Donnicus roared as he leaped with a wide arc of his sword intent on removing Dante’s head. Dante deflected and countered with the hilt of his sword. He felt teeth break beneath the strike, knocking Donnicus off his footing. Magnar swung his great hammer overhead trying to catch him off guard. Dante saw it coming. As he sidestepped the heavy attack, the third Paladin chopped recklessly with his sword. It was sloppy and Dante quickly disarmed him. Donnicus tackled him to the ground and the fight turned into a tavern brawl between brothers. They rolled until Donnicus had Dante straddled, unleashing hate-fueled blows to his face.

A massive shockwave came from Dante’s chest, throwing the three Paladins to their backs. He could feel an intense heat coming from the breast pocket of his robes. He reached in to feel the little black book emanating energy, growing too hot to touch. He dropped the book, but it remained right where he left it. It rose up above him, shining beams of light upon the three Paladins as they dropped to their knees. Their eyes rolled back into their heads as their mouths hung open in a silent scream.

The book shut with a thunderclap and fell to the ground. The Paladins were released from its hold and fell to all fours. Magnar vomited as they all gasped for air. Dante knelt before the book and reverently picked it up, placing it back within his robes. The Paladins shakily rose to their feet, looking at Dante in astonishment.

“The God of Light... has spoken to me…” said Donnicus with shocked disbelief. Magnar picked up his hammer and knelt before Dante.

“You have spoken truth brother” he admitted with tears in his eyes. “I have finally heard the Lord’s voice. I know what I must do. I will follow you until your quest is complete or my life has been taken”. The other Paladins followed suit and gave their Oaths of Moment before the God of Light and Dante himself.

On the wind… a whisper… It is time…