THE WIZARD'S CROWN
By
So Begins The End of Dante Infervios Magus
Reader, Take No False Hope
When All Is Ended
Dante, Who Is Edmondicus Ferverus Cristo
Shall Be No More
PROLOGUE
It was raining, that day, that the end began. The rain was falling from Heaven and pummeling the pavement and rooftops like a flood of angelic tears, lamenting the fall of a third of their brothers and sisters. The rain came hurtling from on high and scorched the earth continuously, tirelessly wearing and eroding away the many meaningless constructs the men called the "city".
The rain was thick enough that no man could see more than four feet before him in the storm, and the clouds were strong and black enough that, though it was midday, the sky was dark as night and the sun blotted out entirely. There was absolutely no chance of escaping the storm unscathed, all would be purified by the fury of the rain. All would be drowned by the wrath of a trillion falling sheets of precipitating sorrow.
On a day such as this, it was hard for many Londoners to feel cheery, used as they were to the rains. There was simply something about the fact that one needed gills and fins to cross the street that they found cause for melancholy. There was, however, one among the many in the city who found a speck of good in all the abounding despair.
Rain such as this was perfect cover.
Running speedily from rooftop to rooftop was a man of twenty-six years of age dressed in a heavy, long coat. He was approximately six feet in height, broad in shoulder, but altogether wraith-like in weight. He was slender, almost like a tree in man-form. His head was covered in shoulder's length red-brown hair, which was dissheveled and drenched by the rain. In his hand he appeared to be clutching a stick of wood around ten inches long.
This young man, as it so happened, was an unusual sort, even for the unusual Londoners out in the storm. He was a wizard, and an unusual one, even then. For he was a criminal wizard, a practicioner of dark magic, and a proficient and highly wanted one at that.
And he was being hunted.
For every criminal element in the world, there is also a force of order, a unit of peace-keepers hell-bent on preserving a constitution or law or word of a magistrate of some manner. Knights, officers, soldiers; defenders of truth, justice, and the good ol' Western way. These are the Aurors: the wizard world's answer to the super-hero. They are an elite corps of exceptional wizards trained to capture or kill dark mages.
They are also an exceptional pain in the neck.
Three Aurors had been pursuing the dark wizard since the early hours of the morning, when the storm had been seemingly conjured out from no where. They had chased him through alleys and over buildings, in tunnels and even a bar. These Aurors were young, and surprisingly relentless given that. The young criminal had eluded wizards far more experienced than them. The chase had lead a long and winding track, and any attempt to head off the criminal had ended in disaster.
At last the wizard-crook leapt to the top of a five story building, from the roof of a four, and found himself cornered; there were no more roofs, and the street was too far below. He turned about and saw four figures rise up through the rain to the roof top. It had been pouring too hard for broomsticks, but aided jumping had availed him so far.
A flash of lightning preceeded by a blast of thunder signaled the arrival of the Aurors on the roof. Another flash illuminated their faces; two men, two women. For a moment none of them moved, then, at once, all five magi drew their wands.
"Edmond Cristo, alias Dante Magus, you are under arrest. In the name of the Ministry and the Wizengamot, you will surrender your wand." Said the lead Auror, a young man, broad and muscular, with a bright shock of blonde hair.
"Give it up Walker," answered Magus, "I know you have to charge me first. What are my crimes, eh? Not that you need to read them, I'm not coming in; quietly or otherwise."
"You are under arrest for seventeen counts of attempted murder, nineteen burglaries, the murder of Jazmyn Hollingberry-,"
"Murder!? She'd have lived if you ninnies had gotten her to Mungo's and left me alone!"
"Impersonating a centaur chieftain, and the practice and possession of illegal magics defined as dark and malign," finished the blonde Auror. His eyes rested on the criminal in a burning gaze. This wizard had killed an Auror, and, whatever his other crimes might be, that was inexcusable.
"I hear he eats muggle infants," whispered one of the female Aurors to the left of Walker.
"Can it Pederson," answered the other, "He doesn't eat them, he experiments on them, trying to invent new spells."
A cold laugh issued from the dark wizard, interrupting the two witches. "I've also heard I like to mate with Nagas and Merfolk, too, because their skins are as cold as my heart, but that doesn't make it true! You people will believe anything these days!"
"Then why don't you come with us and enlighten us, eh Magot?" answered the other male Auror.
"That's enough, all of you!" barked Walker. "Your coming in Cristo, dead or alive, those are my orders."
"You know," answered the criminal, fingering his wand slightly, "Not everything you've heard is false, either. I hear I have a bad habit of inflicting nigh fatal wounds, ones that, untreated, have a history of killing the Auror quickly. You know what else I hear?" He cocked his head slightly, "That I have a spell that kills souls. It leaves the Auror alive, but destroys his soul, so that when he dies, there's nothing left. When he does die, that's it. I hear it's a horrible way to go." He let out another laugh and took a step backwards.
"Is that what you want for them, Drew? You've got three subordinates here that you're responsible for, and they're all young. Do you want me to ruin their lives at such an age? Maybe cripple them for life? You know there are no ways to heal wounds inflicted by Dark Magic, at least, not when it involves removal of appendages. Is that what you want to start you career as? The wizard who let his team die because he wouldn't back down? Or the wizard who failed to capture one of the most wanted dark wizards in the last nine years? You lost picking this case, Walker. You lost big time."
"Enough of this; Pederson, Rotherham, take him."
A moment passed where nothing moved, save the rain, and then the two women advanced with cat-like speed. They lunged forward, wands raised, and the first shouted, "Confringo!!" There was a red flash and then a blur of bending light, a moment later a part of the rooftop exploded.
Rotherham raised her wand and pointed it at the dark wizard as well, not verbalizing, but casting a constraint spell none the less. Ropes emerged into the rain and found themselves knocked to the ground as well, the force propelling them being less powerful than the onslaught of the tempest.
Rotherham and Pederson let out cries of surprise as they realized the counterattack had begun and already ended. Pederson experienced a loss of breath and a sudden warmth on her robes. Looking down, she saw that four six-inch shards of glass were protruding from her stomach. As for Rotherham, she saw that her boots had only been fused to the rooftop.
The Aurors were at a loss. How had Magus counterattacked, or rather, when? They had seen him deflect the explosion spell, but after that, there could not have been any reasonable way for a wizard to cast two spells that quickly, was there?
"The first," sneered Dante, "is a transfiguration, I have turned the rain into glass, and then sent it into Claire's stomach. She has a half an hour at most, to live. Her blood shall mingle only briefly with the storm, and then vanish. But if she is taken to Mungo's and treated in time, she will live.
"The second," he continued, "Is a nicer spell than I think I have ever devised before. It's an anti-apparrition spell. If Iris apparates, she explodes, or implodes. Not really sure yet, no one's ever tried to apparate. Any way, the point is, Iris isn't taking Claire back, which leaves you, Drew, to do it, or your hooded friend there, who I can't quite identify. Either way, you still have time. Please, Walker, don't kill your friends."
"You, you-," stammered Drew, justifiably at a loss for words.
"You're running out of time, Walker."
"Take her back, and get someone up here to get Rotherham," said Drew to the other Auror. The hooded man nodded and picked up Claire, apparating shortly afterwards.
"Fool!" shouted Dante, "Who will save you, when you lie in the street bleeding!?"
"I'm touched, Magot," said Drew, "but you better start running."
"If you aren't tired of this race-," muttered Dante. He took a few steps backward, and then fell, face upward, off the roof.
"Damn!" shouted Walker, running to the rooftop in time to see the dark wizard turn over in the air and cause the rain to form a slide for his escape. He apparated to the street below and took up the chase again, leaving Iris on the rooftop, shouting for him to come back.
The chase went on for another hour, with Magus apparating from time to time, occaisionally behind Walker, tripping him up or slipping down alleys they had already passed. Dante ran down a long alley towards his escape when a woman walked out into the alley. An exploding spell that hit just above his head told Dante that Drew was not far behind him. The woman gave a surprised look at the spell and stifled a shout as Dante turned in the street and froze the rain so that it barred Drew's passage.
Knowing that there were only moments till his enemy apparated across the barrier, Dante turned again to flee, only to find the woman blocking his way. "Oh, phyne," he muttered, quickly grabbing the woman and apparating into the night.
Several seconds afterward, Drew appeared on the other side of the ice. He looked around frantically, but could see no sign of Magus. The chase had ended, and the dark wizard had escaped again.