APR 2006 - #4

Sentinels of Magic El Hijo Oscuro Que Es Diablo (The Black Sun That Is Diablo) by JM de Joya

El castillo del De Ablo, año 1452, en la víspera de la luna azul.

Countless monks gathered before the steel castle gates, demanding the appearance of the cruel monster that besieged the villages. Among them, Friar Antonio de Loyola gathered his people, to sing a song of God to drive away the demon.

"Él no es ningún hombre ordinario!" The scream of an old woman, held up by her children and grandchildren.
(He is no ordinary man!)

"Él es el hijo del diablo!"
(He is the son of the devil!)

"Sí. Él es." (Yes. He is.) Fr. Antonio began to pray the Salve Regina, as the swooning terror of the masses began to brew, like the dark clouds that covered the sky. The villagers began to cower, as bats flew from their perches in the trees, and flew to the castle. As Fr.Antonio noticed, all the candles that lit Castle De Ablo were blown away years ago, and only the light of the blue moon that night befell the castle walls made it brighter. Hesitant, they throd on forward, step by step on the watery mud. "Diablo!" The old woman screamed, as she pressed her hands close to her chest. In an instant, she toppled over, her weight suddenly like a million bricks, and her head fell onto the mud. Her relatives began screaming, as the woman slowly was absorbed by the mud, like quicksand. Then, it began to take shape of the creature the villagers knew shouldn't exist if God protected them each night, and their prayers would guide them to the light.

La tierra elemental. The creature of the earth, mud and stone. "Hola, pequeños amigos," (Hello, little playmates) it said, grabbing onto one of the villagers, and hurling them towards the tree. His neck and back were snapped, and he was dead. The monks turned to the creature, as it made its way towards them.

"Criatura ausente, asquerosa! Deje la luz poderosa del dios eliminar su olor! Por el padre, y el hijo . . . "
(Away, foul creature! Let God's mighty light eliminate your smell! By the father, and the son . . . )

"Buena tarde, padre Antonio." (Good evening, Father Antonio.) The devil's voice echoed across the castle walls, as the clouds began to seperate, revealing a lone figure standing atop the highest pinnacle of Castle De Ablo.

"Es hora para usted de entender el infierno verdadero. Soy el Diablo! Sus almas están para las mías al trueque." (It is time for all of you to understand the true hell. I am the Devil! Your souls are for mine to barter) With that, the wind picked up pace. The moonbecame blood red. And the howling of the wolves began to sorround the villagers, the terror in their eyes. Fr. Antonio called to the monks, the Deacons, and prepared their only weapons; pitchforks, sticks, and knives. How could they stop the devil himself? The devil of Spain? The figure flew down to them, a black nightmare that terrorized the villagers. El agua elemental, the creature of the brook and oceans, attacked them from an abandoned well, from the water she burst forth. El fuego elemental, the creature of lava and inferno, the devil's close companion, seeped through the earth, as the villagers scrambled to escape the massacre. El vienta elemental, the creature of the air, was the last, which brought the monks and the remaining villagers on their knees.

Suddenly, a shining light burst through the darkness, and a cloaked warrior appeared. His helmet, gold and shining like the heaven, brought the monks and the villagers back to stand, and fight against the Diablo.

He was their godsent warrior angel.

The devil himself cowered, and his face brought to light. Esteban De Ablo was overwhelmed by the powers that he faced, the might of the magick of the cloaked warrior. "Esteban. De Ablo." It said, while wavering his staff of pure crystal. "Diablo." He flung the staff at the man, and shot it straight through him. Though there was no wound, the pain was intense for the devil alchemist, and he fell to his knees. The creatures he spawned from the elements of magick disappeared, and he was alone. "El hechicero de oro," (The golden sorcerer) Esteban's fleeting words, before he disappeared into a golden orb. Fr. Antonio knew from the legends that that was the Orb of Thessaly, to entrap demons or devils in its grasp unless the one who trapped it wished it freed under his command.

He also wanted to thank the warrior angel, but at that moment, he and the villagers were the only ones there.

Zatanna wrapped her newfound relic in velvet cloth, and whisked it away. She didn't know what to do with it, since it came recently in her mail. "The Mirror of the Saints, huh?" Her flashlight that was beside her, which usually was used for her cases, she took, and examined the inscriptions on the sides. "Really . . . the Demoniolus . . . ?"

"Vraiment stupide."

The stage magician turned to the voice, and found Black Orchid sitting down on the chair, reading a book on Tantric Magick that laid there, untouched. "This is all so wrong. I should know. I mean who ever . . . "

"What are you doing here?" Zatanna asked gently, as Orchid propped the book back on the table. "So far, there has been no real need for us . . . we have already rekindled the flames of magick, restoring order in the realms."

"That, Zatanna mon ami, is the problem." Black Orchid stood up, and pointed towards the people in the street. "See them? Now that magick has been restored, the demons who have been prying to take the advantage of magick have been pretty angry . . . they may come after us, the Sentinels. Not a good thing, I tell you. Most of all people will get hurt and . . . "

" . . . Orchid?"

The girl mystic leaned back, as if suffering from a migraine. "Reappa ,puc dna aet gnesnig fo top a," Zatanna proclaimed, as a tea pot and a cup appeared before her hands. She let Orchid sit down on the chair once more, and poured her a cup. She sipped it and sighed.

"Sorry, Zee. It's just that I'm not sure whether I should really be with the Sentinels of Magic . . . I'm still trying though."

Zatanna smiled, and gave her a scarlet talisman. "Well then . . . if you really think you can't handle the pressure . . . here."

"What's this?"

"It's the Talisman of Gilgamesh. It's a good luck charm my father gave me."

Orchid took the talisman, and placed it on her neck. " . . . Grande Mère . . . are you sure you'd want to give it . . . ?"

"My father told me, if you don't believe in your magick, there is no magick at all. I want you to have it . . . and believe."

Black Orchid smiled, and stood from the chair, more confident than ever. " . . . Merci, Zee." The talisman began to radiate in the light, and then Black Orchid realized the reason she was here. "Oh wait! Strange told me to tell you and everyone else that we have to meet at Fortress Hill at once! . . . Oh God, gotta go tell the others!"

"You do that . . . " Zatanna said, as Black Orchid rushed out of her shop, radiating with unseen magick. " . . . Strange . . . you're my only lead to my father's bones . . . " she said under her voice. She cast the spell of words on herself, and disappeared the next moment.

He then paused for a moment, then dropped the Orb onto the floor. It smashed into a million shards, as the fiery soul of Diablo burst forth. Amused, the Lord of Entropy beckoned his newly made servant to his court.

"Welcome back, Esteban."

Esteban De Ablo could not breath well. He found himself in clothing he wore back . . . when he was entrapped the Golden Sorcerer of the villagers. "Where . . . is Diablo?" he said angrily, repressed by the fact he was freed by this man. Suddenly, he realized who it was.

" . . . yes, I am the Golden Sorcerer, Diablo. But not yours."

" . . . you. I understand what you are saying now. How could that . . . "

The Lord of Entropy sighed, and took a glass of redblood wine. "The power of magick can make one language universal. You know now that I have freed you. Should I also test my powers upon you?"

Diablo knew he couldn't best the Lord of Entropy, for his powers are minimal at the point of his release. "Good. Your command of the alchemy shall serve me well. Tell me, do you wish to terrorize the world as you wish?"

"It is my only."

"Then it shall be so. But first, you must understand, that the magicians of the realm of Earth are not to be trifled with. Their power is omnipotent, especially the man known as Strange. Eradicate their threat, and their world is yours."

Diablo smiled, for at last, he knew he cannot be stopped. The magicians of Earth will cower before him now . . . and the Deacons cannot interfere anymore. Or at least, once he is finished with them.

"Todos . . . muertos," the constable muttered, as the medics dragged the bodies of the dead monks into the (All of them . . . dead) ambulance. He shook his head,and covered the last body. As the medics began to lift the body. A trinket fell out the dead man's cloth. "Cuál es esta cosa? Un clave?" The shining metal seemed rustless, as the detailed (What is this thing? A key?) inscription began to brighten its lackluster. "Constable de Loyola, I presume," the man said, as the constable stood up. "Ah yes, Dr. Occult, I presume?" the gentleman smiled, his trenchcoat wavered across the dusty grounds. "I've already researeched on your monastery here. It would seem that the monastery is the former Castle of the noble family De Ablo . . . there are ancient accounts that the last known descendant of the clan De Ablo was feared among the spanish countryside as a madman, fueled by some secret knowledge of an ancient god. 'The Devil', they called him . . . "

"Diablo."

Occult smiled, and took the ancient key. "Exactly. He was driven away by a golden angel . . . and thus, the Deacons were formed to protect Spain from the evils of the darkness. They set up their monastery the former home of Diablo . . . and now . . . "

De Loyola turned to the castle, where Occult was staring from where he stood, and turned back.

"What do you see?"

"Nothing . . . for your eyes to see."

Dr. Occult quietly turned back, as the glowing pale light of unknown perception made its mark on the castle, somehow terrifying, the sensation of dark temptation . . . the work of the devil.

The silence of the long meeting hall was ear-piercing, as all of the mystical knights of magick sat before the round table. As the Arthurian legend goes, each knight is a valid member of the round table, with King Arthur as the head. There is no difference here.

The Sentinels of Magic sat on, as a candle lit aflame by itself, on the hand of the man known as Strange. "Greetings, one and all. Now, we all have something . . . "

" . . . wrong. Something is very wrong." Dr.Occult stood from his seat, and turned to Strange.

"An ancient force of evil is loose on earth."

Madam Xanadu turned to him, her lips veiled in scarlet cloth. "Pray tell, Doctor, we are all here. It would seem that we have the capabilities to handle something like that."

"No . . . the aura I saw, at Castle De Ablo, was powerful . . . given the time, it could eat us all from within."

Strange placed the candle on the table and brought his hand to flicker a green flash. "Well then . . . if it will eat the world as Occult is saying, we must venture forth to Castle De Ablo. A cast of Sentinels must go investigate the site. However, I cannot join as of late, there are things I may have to attend to. Dr. Occult, this is your case. Do the honors."

Dr. Occult sighed, and picked out the Sentinels. After a few minutes, he turned to Strange, and gave him a nod of satisfaction.

"Very well then. It's all settled then."

The candlelight faded into the darkness, as Strange's eyes began to flicker.

"Meeting adjourned."

As the darkness filled Fortress Hill, the Sentinels of Magic disappeared one by one, returning to their whence they came from.

And all was silent.

" . . . De Ablo? You are the incarnate of evil!"

"Nay, old man. Just entropy." Hellfire exploded through the hole, as the fire elemental seeped through the cracks, inching to get closer to De Loyola. "No man has made me burn more than your ancestor, Antonio de Loyola, constable. Now, let me pay in full circle, due respects."

The fire elemental covered Constable de Loyola, trapping him in sheer heat and pain of a burn. Diablo laughed mockingly, and with the snap of his fingers, his underlings, tiny minions who did his bidding rushed out of the woodwork. Soon, de Loyola was covered with the bulk of them, like adhesive to soften his burns.

"I am sorry, constable. You cannot die just yet. I still need you."

His minions on the wall unravelled, as flasks of different colored potions racked their measly bodies. "Ah, thank you my pets."

He began to mix the potions, and it suddenly exploded, resulting in the bubbling uproar of a purple concoction. Diablo smiled, as he poured the potion upon de Loyola's head. "Your soul is now mine, constable."

De Loyola's screams began to be louder, as Diablo's minions brought to him a mirror. "Ah! A gateway to the realms. What a fitting place to make our exit, eh my pets?"

The minions grabbed de Loyola, and brought him face to face with Diablo.

"And we're not also forgetting our dear enemy."

And through the looking glass, the mad Diablo ventured forth.