21
Donato vs the Dark One
A/N: Some bad language in here.
Donato Fabrizio was a dark warlock of the darkest stripe, schooled in evil magics since he first came into his power at age thirteen, and before that he was taught that the strong dominated the weak, and power belonged to those who could take it, and if you weren't one of those, you ought to stay the hell out of the way. He had ruled his family with an iron fist for over a hundred years, since first coming to these shores, having blackmailed a captain of a cruiser to take him and his family to the land where those shrewd and calculating could make their fortune. He was the second to bear that name, the first being his great-great grandfather, who had captured Josephine Tessaro and sacrificed her to his dark gods one moonless night, thus beginning the vendetta between the two families.
He had ruled in this suburb of Little Italy for time out of mind, challenged only by the Tessaros, whom he longed to wipe off the face of the earth, but couldn't quite manage to do so. They had more lives than a cat and were luckier than leprechauns, and he hated them with a fine ancient passion . . . and any who associated with them.
These newcomers here reeked of untapped magical potential, and he sneered at the blond woman standing a few feet away. If he had his way, he would make her his special apprentice, and teach her the true ways of power . . . as well as obedience to her lord and master. But first he had to deal with this old man upstart. Funny, but the old man's aura seemed pretty strong . . . enough to give him a good fight, and provide some entertainment for his men, who were itching for a good duel. They always enjoyed watching Donato kick the crap out of someone, whether it be an ordinary person or a magical one. That this one happened to be a friend of the Tessaros was an added bonus.
"You're just going to fight a duel here in the middle of the street?" Emma growled. "What if someone sees?"
Donato laughed. "Sister, nobody around here sees anything unless I want them to." He snapped his fingers and two of his lackeys gestured and raised the Invisible Mist, which would prevent any mundane from seeing what was really going on. He leered at Emma. "Maybe, after I finish kicking this old man here all the way home, I'll have me some fun with you, girlie."
"Over my dead body," Bae snarled, his eyes glinting.
"You mean, over his," Emma corrected, glaring at Donato fit to kill. She turned to Gold. "We've got your back," she nodded at Donato's goons.
Upon hearing that, Henry conjured up weapons for Emma, Bae, Charming, and Snow. They appeared at each one's feet—enchanted swords for Emma and David, a fighting staff for Bae, capped with a foot long glittering blade, and a bow and arrows for Snow.
Snow handed Regina to Belle and picked up the bow and nocked an arrow to the string.
The rest of her family picked up the weapons and ranged themselves opposite the Fabrizios, giving their opponents deadly glares.
Alina, Henry, Belle, and Regina were behind them, beneath a purple conjured shield of Alina's.
"What's happenin', Auntie Belle?" asked Regina.
"Um . . . your Uncle Rumple's going to fight a duel with that nasty warlock," Belle told the child, trying to sound optimistic, but she was scared to death something might happen to her husband.
Regina looked at Henry. "Henry, what's a duel?"
"You know, like when two people fight each other." He searched for an example to give her, finally coming up with, "Like when your daddy plays Mortal Kombat on his X-Box."
Regina gasped. "Wow! It's like that?" She peered around Snow's shoulder as Fabrizio began drawing a glowing yellow circle on the ground. She watched avidly as the strange nasty man stepped into the circle and then beckoned to her uncle, who joined him, closing it as he did so.
Regina sucked in a breath, for young as she was, she could feel the tension in the air. Then she screamed as loudly as she could, "Mortal Kombat! Fight!"
Belle nearly went deaf.
Henry, Bae, and Charming started smirking. Emma and Snow rolled their eyes at the influence their menfolk had upon the impressionable toddler.
As if that were a signal, Fabrizio summoned up a fireball and sent it soaring at Rumple. "Catch, old man! Oops . . . it might be a bit hot for you!"
Rumple simply held out a hand, and caught the fireball easily. "Not at all, dearie."
Donato's eyes widened as he realized his mistake. Crap! That's an Elemental Master! Such magicians were rare, the Fabrizios had been trying to breed for one for centuries, without much success. He conjured a shield just in time, as Rumple sent the fireball back at him, grown into twice its size and split into several glittering balls, like meteors in flight they streaked towards him.
The dark warlock managed to catch them all on his shield, where they fizzled and sparked, then he banished his conjuring and lashed back with a poison spit, filling his lungs with air and then transmuting it to a noxious green venom, like a viper, which he then spat at Gold.
The corrosive venom splattered on Rumple's own shield, then the former Dark One transported himself across the circle, his fingers grown into monstrous claws, and he slashed them down at the other sorcerer. "Surprise, dearie!"
Donato was not expecting his opponent to attack him physically, for the other wizard didn't seem the type, and so was caught off guard.
One of Rumple's claws tore into his chest, drawing a stream of bright red blood, and Donato yelped.
A second later, he transformed his own hands into the huge stone appendages of a golem and tried to pound Rumple into the ground with one sledgehammer blow.
Rumple threw himself backwards, avoiding the huge fists by inches. The stone fists smashed into the sidewalk, creating a spiderweb of cracks.
That gave Gold an idea, and his hands shrank back to normal as he began to cast again, creating a huge sticky web that he threw at Fabrizio. As he spun the web in his hands, he called, "Pretty boy, see here, see here. Step into my parlor, says the spider to the fly." He twirled the web about his head, releasing it with a sharp snap.
It soared through the air and wrapped itself around the necromancer, entangling him in its sticky strands.
Donato found his arms pinned to his sides, and swearing, he called upon his dark fire and managed to burn the web to ash. As purple dust floated down around him, Fabrizio called upon his dark powers again, sending a swarm of hungry vampire bats at Rumple. "Try this on for size, old man!"
Bats converged upon the pawnbroker, covering his form in over a hundred shapes.
"Rumple!" Belle cried out in horror.
"Grandpa! Kick his butt!" Henry yelled.
"Unca Rumple! Finish him!"
Suddenly the bats flew away in a huge cloud, making small sounds of distress.
"What?" Fabrizio gaped, for he'd been sure this would end the duel.
Rumple lowered a small tin whistle, his face and hands scratched and bleeding, and said coldly, "Come now, boy. You've got bats in your belfry if you think that trick's going to stop me."
"I'm going to tap dance on your face, old man. And then I'm going to take that blond wench and teach her how to beg for my attention," he leered.
"Somehow I doubt that," Rumple snorted, then he cast a conjuring of his own, calling up a murder of crows. He sent them at Donato with a careless flip of a hand.
The crows surged at him, screeching their raucous battle cry, and Fabrizio shrank backwards, trying to avoid their vicious beaks while conjuring a tight shield. The black birds struck without regard for their own lives, maddened by the tang of blood and enraged by Rumple's conjuring.
Donato brought his hands together, and crows were blown to bits and pieces all over the circle. The dark warlock emerged triumphant from the fray, blood dripping from his face, his shirt shredded and shallow scratches and wounds from the corbies beaks and talons upon his chest and abdomen.
Belle hid Regina's face in her shoulder, not wishing the child to see the dreadful carnage, yet unable to look away herself. "Give it to him, Rumple!" she found herself yelling. "Show that bullying ass who's boss!"
As if that were a signal, Fabrizio's goons started to shout insults as well.
"Teach that old codger who's master, sir! Make him get on his knees and kiss your feet, Master Donato!" they bellowed.
For several long moments, the two sorcerers traded spells, with neither gaining an advantage or disadvantage. It seemed they were evenly matched, and Donato was beginning to get frustrated. Always before, he had taken about ten minutes to duel an opponent and totally destroy them. But this stranger was proving to be tougher than he looked . . . and somehow he was countering most of Fabrizio's dark workings . . . a thing which the necromancer wasn't used to. It was almost as if he had intimate knowledge of dark magic . . . but that was impossible . . . for no dark conjurer would ally himself with those Tessaro tramps, who were as light as they came.
"Time to end this, old timer," Fabrizio sneered, then he stamped a foot on the ground, causing it to buckle and shake.
The tremors knocked Rumple to his knees, and the earth rippled and split.
He would have fallen into the gaping crack but he used his mastery of air to create a carpet of wind beneath him and soared into the air. As he flew above the necromancer, he used his knowledge of wind to create a sort of swirling vacuum about Donato, causing the other sorcerer to start gasping and choking as his air was stolen from him, making him stagger and clutch his throat, his skin turning a slight blue color.
Fabrizio's goons watching gasped, for they had never seen their leader in peril like this before. And one of them broke the rules of the duel and chucked a small rock at Gold's head, striking the master magician on the cheek and causing him to lose focus for a single instant.
That instant was all it took for Fabrizio to get in a good enough gulp of air to keep from passing out, and he quickly banished the sucking wind, color now returning to his features. He regarded Rumple warily now, finally starting to take the other sorcerer seriously.
"Hey! You cheating bastards!" Bae yelled, furious at the Fabrizio men.
They snickered at the Golds, giving them the finger.
Suddenly Regina sang out, "Bad boys! Bad boys! Whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?"
Henry and Alina started singing the song as well, clearly mocking the Fabrizios.
"Shut up, brats!" they howled, furious at being taunted by children.
Snow took careful aim at the one who had thrown the rock at Rumple, then released her arrow.
It flew through the air right beneath Rumple and slammed into the shoulder of her target. The slender Fabrizio screamed in shock. "You . . . you shot me, you bitch!"
"That's for cheating," Snow called. "Cheaters never prosper!" She nocked another arrow. "Next time I'll aim for something a lot more vulnerable, so quit interfering."
Cursing, the wounded man staggered back behind his fellows, trying to remove the arrow and whimpering when he realized he couldn't.
Donato, somewhat recovered from his almost suffocation, cast again, summoning some large spectral hands to snatch Rumple off his flying "carpet". The ghostly hands grabbed the former Dark One and squeezed.
Rumple groaned, the spectral hands were not only squeezing him, but sending sudden blasts of extreme cold through him. Only his partial immunity to magical cold prevented him from succumbing to it. Using every scrap of will he possessed, he concentrated . . . drawing upon the reserves in his cufflinks . . . and suddenly the spectral hands were shredded apart as he brought his power to bear in a concentrated pulse of purple energy.
He drifted to the ground upon the wings of magic, his eyes narrowed. "I'm done playing, dearie."
Donato gaped at him. The Spectral Hands of Doom was one of the most powerful spells in his arsenal, and had been the downfall of hundreds of wizards. He could not believe this old man could defeat that spell . . . and not only defeat it . . . it was plain the other sorcerer still had magic to spare.
Rumple was tiring, for he had not fought in magical combat in twenty-eight years, but he knew better than to advertize that fact. Then too, he was concerned that his cufflinks were being drained too rapidly, and might not be able to last if the duel went on much longer. He had to end this quickly.
Fabrizio was panicking, and so he used a rather desperate spell, and conjured a spectral wraith to send against Rumple, not bothering to set certain parameters like he usually did. He sent the ghastly thing at the sorcerer, screaming, "Kill him!"
Rumple saw the wraith bearing down upon him . . . and knew it would be on him in an eyeblink . . . and if it touched him, it could suck his soul from his body. He knew the spell to banish a wraith . . . but it took more time than he had to cast it.
The wraith drifted closer, keening a death cry.
Rumple felt terror course through him, as the wraith conjured up all the feelings of fear and inadequacy in its quarry that it could, for such was meat and drink to it, as it fed off the despair of the living.
For a few moments, the pawnbroker was frozen, unable to react.
The wraith howled and floated to the attack, shrieking.
And then Rumple did something he had never done before.
Instead of seeking to banish or defeat the wraith with his knowledge of dark magic, he sought a spell he had learned from his sister Rhea, one that called upon a mystic being of light, the counter to the dark minion that menaced him. He shut his eyes and whispered, "Light of ages, aid me now in my hour of need! I ask for your protection against the might of the dark that would destroy me."
Unlike a dark summoning, which bound a creature to the will of its summoner, and controlled it, this was but a request for help . . . which might not be answered, as it depended upon the being who heard it . . . and if it deemed the wizard worthy of its aid.
The wraith darted at Rumple, its dark claws reaching . . .
. . . and a circle of pure light erupted in front of it, as a glowing shape emerged from a portal to confront the dark abomination.
Rumple opened his eyes, and gasped.
A creature that glowed with celestial fire stood before him. It was shaped like a great tiger, with pure white fur and stripes that glowed with blue fire. It had wings of pure light, frosted with purple magic, and its front claws were golden talons, like that of an eagle.
"A seraph!" Rumple whispered in awe. When he had cast that spell and requested aid, he had never expected this being to respond. A seraph was high in the rankings of celestial beings, and they were independent and solitary beings who rarely involved themselves in mortal affairs.
The seraph roared, a sound like the clarion call of a thousand trumpets.
The wraith's keening halted as it came face to face with its ancient enemy.
It struck at the seraph, attempting to suck its energy from its body.
But it was too slow, and then the seraph was on the wraith in one swift lunge.
Its huge paws and talons raked the wraith's tattered form, inflicting harm upon the insubstantial being with its magical might, and the wraith cringed and shrank away from the seraph's fangs and claws.
"Shit!" Donato swore, and poured some of his eldritch power into the wraith, trying to give it enough power to withstand the seraph.
The wraith rallied for a few minutes, and it tried again to suck the seraph's soul from its body.
But even as it managed to get some of the essence of the seraph into itself, it could not withstand the purity of the seraph's spirit, and it screamed, a high wail of agony, as the seraph's soul burned the cursed entity from the inside out.
The seraph roared again, and the wraith shivered and seemed to shrivel at the sound, backing away across the circle.
The seraph hovered upon its glowing wings before Rumple, clearly guarding him, its eyes shimmering with indigo glory.
Frustrated and hurting, the wraith spun, and its cold eyes alighted upon Fabrizio, its summoner . . . who had neglected to specify a price for the wraith's services.
For those entities called from the darkness required payment for services rendered, and if no payment was specified, would take it out of the hide of the one who summoned it.
The wraith lunged at Donato, determined to collect its price.
Too late, the necromancer realized his oversight.
"No! Hellfire, no!" Fabrizio screamed as the wraith turned upon him. He conjured the strongest shield he could . . . but knew no shield could keep out the wraith, whose immaterial form was unaffected by such things.
The wraith slashed through the sorcerer's shield like it was confetti, shrieking its hatred of the living as it soared towards the necromancer.
Donato gave ground, his boots brushing the outer edge of the circle.
Desperate, knowing the terrible fate that awaited him should the wraith devour his soul, he called out to Rumple, "Please! I beg you . . . help me!"
"Why should I, dearie? You were the one who summoned it to try and steal my soul. You were the one who forgot the first rule of all summoning—that all magic comes with a price. Why should I save you from your own folly?" Rumple demanded.
"Please! I don't want to die . . . not like this," Donato begged, his face pale and sheened with sweat now that he was facing the death he had dealt to countless others. "Save me . . . and I shall declare you the victor . . . and you and yours shall go free from here . . ."
The wraith keened and swiped at Fabrizio, who cringed and held up his hands futilely.
"If you die, I've won," Rumple pointed out.
"But if I die, you'll incur my death curse . . . and my family will declare war upon you and yours unto the tenth generation," Donato bargained. "This wasn't your fight . . . I should have let you go . . ."
"That's right, dearie. I warned you."
"Please! Spare me and I shall . . . owe you a favor . . . and a favor from me is not something to be taken lightly . . . surely one who can summon a seraph knows the value of mercy." The necromancer was on his knees now, shaking, as the wraith began to draw his essence from his body.
Rumple considered. He had no wish to involve himself in this vendetta, he had spent too many years involved in blood feuds back in Fairy Tale Land. He had his family to consider and knew that if Fabrizio died, the rest of his family would mark the Golds out for revenge. That was the last thing Rumple wanted. He also was still stunned that a seraph, one of the most powerful good beings, had answered his request, proving that Belle and Rhea had always been right . . . his heart was still good, despite all he had done when he was the Dark One.
The seraph still hovered in the air . . .and Rumple knew he was at a crossroads. One choice would end in death . . . and prove that despite his claims to the contrary, he was still the Dark One of the dagger curse, still a man who made wrong choices, a pyrrhic victory. The other . . . would end with his enemy alive . . . but his very compassion would defeat his rival and prove at last that he was the decent man Belle loved.
The seraph looked at him.
Choose, Rumplestiltskin.
Rumple took a deep breath. Then he spoke, softly but with authority. "Help him."
The seraph sprang upon the wraith, tearing into the unholy monster with all four sets of claws and teeth, burning the undead fiend with its blazing celestial fire.
The wraith shrieked as it was destroyed, its shadowy essence torn asunder and swallowed by the seraph's holy aura.
When it was no more than wisps of shadow beneath the seraph's claws, and even that faded away in the winged creature's pure aura, the seraph wrinkled its nose at the cringing necromancer, making a sound of disgust, then turned its back upon him and nodded once to Rumple in approval.
To show mercy to a fallen foe is true strength. Fare thee well, Gold sorcerer.
Then the seraph vanished, one moment it was there, and the next it was not, leaving only a trail of golden sparkles behind to prove it had been there at all.
Fabrizio looked up at Rumple, loathing upon his handsome features, but he knew he had to keep to his end of the bargain. "You spared me . . . and now I owe you a debt."
"That and more, dearie," Rumple reminded him.
Donato gritted his teeth. "Yes. You're free to go. All of you," he spoke the words as if they left a nasty taste in his mouth. Slowly he climbed to his feet, and though he was taller than Gold, he seemed reduced in stature. "Wait. First, I want to ask you a question."
"Go on. But I needn't answer it," Rumple said.
"Who the hell are you?"
"The name's Rumplestiltskin, Fabrizio. Remember it," Gold replied. "And if you break your deal with me, I'll make sure you regret it, dearie. Unto the tenth generation." He gave the dark warlock a cold look, reminiscent of the one he wore as the Dark One.
Donato swallowed sharply and canceled the circle, backing away until he was surrounded by his goons once more, like a spoiled bully seeking protection from his circle of admirers. "Go. And I hope to God I never see any of you again."
He waved, and his men stepped back, allowing the Golds to go on their way.
Henry quickly banished their weapons, and Belle handed Regina back to Snow. Then she ran forward and embraced her husband, giving him a kiss that told him without words how proud she was of him.
Rumple kissed her back, reveling in her silent approval. But he didn't want to linger here, and so he put his arm about his wife, and started walking back the way they had come.
The rest of the family followed, and as Snow passed Donato and the rest of his goons, Regina smirked at them over her mother's shoulder and cried, "Flawless victory, losers! How do ya like them apples?"
The Fabrizio men winced and one hissed, "Boss . . . we've just been burned by a three-year-old."
"Shut up, Captain Obvious," Donato snapped. "Now let's get the hell home." His pride still smarting, the dark warlock turned and headed the opposite way, muttering, "F-ing Rumplestiltskin!"