Sentinels of Magic#1: "Rekindle the Flame"
by JM de Joya
"Can you see it?" The elder one said, the wings on his back majestic and
ancient as the sun's eye. The young
faery sat before his lap, trying to grab hold of the brilliant lights before
him.
"Yes, Black Majestrix," she mumbled, before the she fell upon the silent
explosion of the lights . Then it faded
into the black velvet night. "Child, you have no comprehension on what is
and isn't," the elder Black Majestrix
said, as he spreaded his wings. The air became rough, the mist thicker than
the heavy feelings captured within
the golden cage of the Calligrapher, the scribe of dreams. The young one
stared unto the heavens, as the
Black Majestrix disappeared into the dark sky.
Suddenly, the thunder rolled across the sky. The young one could see it.
The eye of entropy.
She already knew it, this was the masterpiece. The Black Majestrix took his
own way of stopping it, if not futile
in gesture. She could sense every waking moment drawing closer to the
darkness, for the magick was indeed
spilling across the realms. Soon, the eye will gobble the essence, and use
it for the darkness which it serves.
It was his realm.
It was his time.
And soon, there will be no one with the power to stop him.
"The stars are aligning," the mystic said, as her crystal ball transcended
time and space, realm of light and
darkness. Suddenly the it exploded, and the shards fell onto the floor.
Slowly, Madame Xanadu began to pick
up the shard, when she noticed something among their reflections. "What is
this?" she whispered, as the
wind began to pick up pace. The shards began to flicker against the distant
lights of the room, as reflection
upon reflection cast its way through the shards.
"The mirror...as a gateway to the other realms, it can see all," faces upon
faces of the past and present began
to cluster across the reception of her mind. "...a power source of infinite
scope, it seems. That without the
Gods to empower, magick is running rumpant. The order of balance must be
cast again."
"I see..." the man's fading words faltered, as the diamond pyramid began to
twirl across its axis, spinning into
motion the gate of mysticism. "...words fail me, but this may be the deed of
unknown power, one so ancient that
I may not even be able to stop it." The young boy below him grabbed his
enchanted sceptre, and handed it to
the sorcerer. "Thank you, Timothy,"
Strange began to levitate from his throne of granite, holding onto his
sceptre, focusing its tip upon the diamond
pyramid. Suddenly the pyramid stopped in its movement, as if by instinct.
Strange nodded, in silence. "This is
the work of the Dusk King," his words began to shake at every second, as his
young protege assembled
his books. "Timothy, please bring to me the book of the Dark Chapter."
"Yes, sir!" his excited voice chimed, as he focused his thoughts upon the
books lying so still upon the shelf.
Suddenly, it darted forward, flying into Strange's arms. "Not bad, Timothy.
A long time ago, another young one
used to do that to me..."
"Yes sir."
"The time has come once again, I fear. The Gods have long been but powerless
now in our realms, and
the magick is seeping through across in its wake. I'm sure you know what I
mean," he said to the shadows,
as the trenchcoated figure made his way to the light. "Yeah boy, the bloody
bloke's probably right. Who knows
when the creepy crawlies you see in your dreams come for yer as..."
"Constantine." Strange's voice was trailing off, yet firm in its direction.
John Constantine took a puff of his
cigarrette and eyed the sorcerer. "So, this is your realm now, ain't it?
Fashioned it just like the Feng Shui
table told you? Not doing a really good job, being wrecked by the magick
outburst, it is, isn't it?"
"Constantine."
"Well, that's what I thought," he said, extinguishing his cigarrette on the
side of the bookshelf. Tim Hunter swept
the ashes of the shelf and into his pouch of nothingness, a void of infinite
space.
"Constantine, you have already alerted the others, haven't you?"
Strange's words began to stand firmer
than usual, as the mystic leaned upon the stained glass windows. "O'course."
"Constantine."
"Okay, okay, let's not get too over it, shan't we? The Blue Devil's already
alerted about the matter, he'll be there.
Mortigan's pretty 'kay about it, but I can't find that Alan Scott guy's
number...being a presidential candidate and all.
Bloke's prob'bly messing around someplace..."
"What about Zatanna and Black Orchid?"
"I figure male bonding."
"This is not good," Strange said, as his sceptre floated away to Tim's
hands, and he sat on his throne once
more. "The male energy is powerful enough to tip the scales of magick.
Remember, for every yang,
there must be a yin. An active energy and a passive energy. Without
these..."
"The situation's going to be worse?"
"...precisely," Strange uttered, as Constantine smirked a wry smile. "Well,
bloody good then."
"Are you really up to this?"
"Actually, no. Out of my kind heart am I doing this, really," Constantine
declared, as he began to ignite a flare from
his middle finger. "Don't do that here, Constantine," Strange sighed, and
the young mystic ceased his actions
and sat back. "Well, the heck's this bloke gonna help you anyhow?
Besides..."
Constantine disappeared once again into the shadows of the dark realm, like
candle burning out instantly.
"I have work to do."
Strange sighed, as Tim grabbed the book of the Dark Chapter. "Sir, will you
be leaving now?"
"Yes...I'll have to entail to this matter myself."
Otherworldly Investigations Incorporate, Greenwich Village
"Zatanna," the man said, as the woman turned to him. She was in her
showsuit, with skimpy fishnets to cover
her legs. "What is it, Occult?"
"I have been informed...the Gathering is taking place once more."
"You mean the faeries? I don't know, it seems pretty much like
gatecrashing..."
"No. The mystics are gathering for the rekindling," Dr. Occult wavered his
glasses to cover his eyes, as Zatanna
placed some of her mystical tomes on the shelf. "I don't know, Occult. I've
already refused to join a team...I don't
know how much concentration I can handle, let alone the rekindle,*"
(*What team was Zatanna did refuse to join? Avengers League, in Avengers
League#1)
"For good or worse, I have more. I have recieved information that someone
among the mystics know the
whereabouts of the bones of the dearly departed Zatara..."
"Father?!?!" Zatanna paused, as Dr.Occult sighed. "All the more for you to
come, dearest Zatanna," the magician
grabbed the black jacket she used on her stage performances and turned to
Dr. Occult. "This has to be a joke,
I'm dreaming this. I've got more supernatural murders to solve...like this
aswang case..."
Her voice faded away as Dr.Occult whisked them away into the velvet of
night.
"Did you know what I like in big, devilish, demons-from-hell-type hunky
men...?" Black Orchid said, crawling on
the pool table. The demon smiled, as he began drooling at the sexy and
sultry magician dancing exotically
across the table. Finally losing his resistance, he jumped after her. In a
moment, he felt her high heels on his
throat.
"Uh-uh."
Suddenly, someone kicked him aside, and he flew to the wall. Grabbing a
billiard stick, Black Orchid began
outlining mystical patterns on the pool table.
"Where's a candle when you need one?" She muttered, as the other demons
turned to her and the assailant.
Suddenly, one of them recognized him.
"It...it is you! Traitor!"
The Blue Devil smiled. "Well, that's nice. Isn't everyday I get a compliment
from you guys," He dropped his trident
from his back, then forced it down the ground. "I suppose I could drill the
fact to you guys, but why bother? My fists
can do the talking..."
"Sacre Mere!" Orchid yelled, as the purple aura began to seep through
the bar. "Run, brethen! She has
released the spirit essence!"
"Ah, running away to fight another day. Demons after my own heart,
no?"
"Foul witch...we shall accumulate our vengeance for such treachery," the
leader of the demons declared, as his
clan disappeared outside. "The Demons of Blackmist shall see to that!"
Orchid just laughed.
"Is that the truth? You demons, aren't you made out of lies?"
the demon sneered, and disappeared through the door. Black Orchid sighed,
and released another piece of the
spirit essence into the air, this time as protection to the bar. The Blue
Devil took his trident and sighed. "Good
thing they didn't call my bluff, monsieur. Otherwise, we would be
déjà complètement."
"We have to get out of here..." Black Orchid said, placing her items back
into the bag. "Bad as it is, those demons
will come back...and it could be more than I can handle."
"So, where you going?" the Blue Devil asked, as Orchid headed out to the
door. "...I don't know. Somewhere, I
guess. Someplace where I won't need to run, monsieur..."
"Then come with me."
"What?!? Hey, look here, bouffon stupide, I'm not only a user of the
Tantric Arts, I'm also a liberal.
No commitments for me. Nope."
"What are you talking about? I'm saying you should come with me. I know a
place...besides, we need you."
"Really now...I cater to massages so don't--"
"Black Orchid," Blue Devil raised his voice. "The Sentinels of Magic are
needed again."
Orchid then paused for a minute, in quiet shock. "Well...that's...quite a
responsibility they're giving me...just like
that God incident isn't it!??! How do you know I won't fail you? I was
worried, Devil! When we were gathered,
I was...and I couldn't tell them. Sacre Mere,I may have helped during
that crisis, but...what makes you so
sure I won't fail this time?"
the Blue Devil placed his hands on her shoulders, and whispered to her ears.
"Because I know you won't."
Black Orchid turned to him, and smiled. "...Merci."
The Black Majestrix soared up to the heavens...to the highest point of their
realm as he can reach. From below,
he saw the stormclouds brewing, its power beginning to transcend. Suddenly,
a downpour of rain fell upon him,
to the ground below. "Hear me, Lord of the Eye! It is he, thou enemy, the
Majestrix!"
No answer. The wind grew stronger, ignoring the plea of the Black
Majestrix.
Suddenly the rain stopped. The Majestrix found himself falling to the earth,
even though his wings tried to carry
him upwards. He crashed on the marble floor, as he was no longer on the
realm of which he thought he was.
"Welcome," the figure cloaked gold and blue said, high above his magnificent
marble throne. The torches began
to lit in flames to the sound of his voice. "I have heard your call...I, who
has protected your world for long, have
grown weary of detest to that which was once my own. My enemy, welcome to
your God's court."
"Filth!" The Black Majestrix declared at him, and the figure smiled. "You
are not a god! You are but man, and man
alone! Lord of the Eye, your reign must end now! For long, your
monstrosities have plagued us of the Fae!
I, of the Majestrix blood, shall..."
"You talk too much, " the figure said, as marble hands suddenly uprooted the
Faery elder, and teared his wings
off. He fell on the floor, limp, as the figure stood from his throne. "I
will do away with you, for every clock has a time
to stop ticking. You are old, it is time you learn the price."
From within his soul, the Black Majestrix felt an evil sensation burning up
his entrails. Suddenly, he reverted to
faery dust, exploding into a cloud on grey nothingness. The Lord of Entropy
sighed, and pondered on his throne.
"Aye, Madam Xanadu. Aye, Agatha Harkness. It is I."
Strange's astral form paled to the darkness, as Madam Xanadu sat on the
wooden chair, inside the rustic house.
Beside her, the aged witch known as Agatha Harkness pat black cat, and
scratched her fur.
' What is your matter, Sorcerer Supreme?" Agatha's voice asked raspily.
"Agatha...I am no longer the Sorcerer
Supreme...however, I still have a duty to protect our realm. Thus, we must
reunite, the Sentinels of Magic must."
The cat jumped off her lap, as Agatha began to cackle. "Ho...Sir Strange, I
cannot grant you my assurance.
I am old and weak, pratically of no use in battle."
Strange paused quietly, and then, Xanadu stood from her seat, and took the
cat, stroking its head. "Strange, I
will accept your offer. Already, I have sent some of our esteemed mystics to
gather the rest." Strange smirked,
and opened a gateway for Madam Xanadu, and turned to Agatha.
"Agatha, we must bid you farewell. Time is not of the essence, and..."
"Wait!" Agatha's black cat returned to her, and the witch took the small
pouch tucked in her collar. "Good girl,
Salem." She took a piece of paper out of it, and gave it to Xanadu.
"Long ago, this was given to me by tthe Fates. But do not call them that,
instead they are the Kindly Ones.
This piece from a fortune cookie was theirs...passed on to me. I fear it may
be connected with the
disruptions of magick."
Kingdoms never thought to exist shall rise from
the darkest depths. Masters of lost arts clash into fray,
The Aged Dragon and the Golden Pheonix battle at last,
The oldest battle begins once more.
"...What would this mean," Agatha uttered, as the gateway closed inches away
from her. "If it begins now?"
The heavy deserts of the Coyote Moon, where man makes no footprint found in
the sands. Jonah Hex sighed,
and lifted his dustied boot. The mystic, struggling in the lone desert, has
to take measures, for he was searching
for something powerful...for her. His thoughts engraved by a derelict, and
his grim smile was only outshined
by the silver bullets he was carrying. "What better way to lure it,
than being a cowboy..." He was suited up
like one, after all, to summon this ancient ghost. But he was not one, so he
has better caution himself...
From nowhere, the sounds of hoofprints rapidly moved in, as the howling of
wild coyotes began to ring in
the distance.
"...gruff." Hex took the old Winchester rifle lying on the ground, and aimed
it at the pale white spectre.
El Diablo. The ghost of the western lands. He...it, rode a black
stallion, beady red eyes flickering alive.
"Oh sh..." Jonah took a shot, and doubled back, as the western ghost made
another round against him.
"...oot. Damn it, where's the bullet pack..."
The ghostly apparition took out a revolver in its one hand, and grabbed the
reins of the horse in the other. Jonah
Hex dodged the piercing bullets, as they flew past mid-air. "...damn bullet
pack! Heck with you 'ready!"
El Diablo's shadowed face turned to him, as he fired several more shots.
"...ah crap! Hell with bullets!"
Jonah's eyes twinkled in brightness, and in an instant, the ghostly horse
drew back, as Hex grabbed one of the
bullets, suspended in mid-air, and threw it back to El Diablo. The
apparition fired one more shot from his
revolver, and disappeared as the bullet touched his pale forehead. Jonah Hex
smiled, before falling onto his
knees, as the bullet wound in his arm burnt deep. Suddenly, a young figure
stood before him, a bookish boy,
with a tome of magick in his hands.
"Welcome to the realm of Strange, Mister Hex."
"...what...El Diablo escaped again...dammit...." The mystic tried to get up,
but the wound was slowly getting
thicker. Tim Hunter sighed, and opened the book of magicks before him. "I'll
try to heal your wound...although
I've never done this before..."
"...is that going to encourage me?"
The sigil of the book began to glow, as brilliant lights began to transcend
the whole room...or realm, whatever
one may percieve. Timothy unleashed a smoke of golden-white, as it
disappeared into the air. Jonah opened
his eyes, and found his wound gone. Not only that, he found himself clean
again, and with a new Winchester
rifle tucked on his back.
"...I may be a magic-user, but that's the first time I've seen something
that powerful." The vagrant turned around,
as he found himself in the throne room of Strange. Before him, the young boy
placed a bottle of vintage
wine, and some cigars from the industrial revolution, kept by his mentor.
"...relax, Mister Hex. Take a drink or two.
He wants you ready for the rekindling of the flame..."
Jonah Hex paused, and turned to the boy. "...rekindling? The
rekindling? Sorry, boy, but there's a
powerful ghost out there with no good intentions and..."
"...you are searching for the Darkhold medallion. He told me."
Jonah turned to the boy. "Just how much did Strange teach you
anyway?"
"Enough to tell you that you're important enough to be part of rekindling.
Please, Mister Hex...consider
his offer...at least until the rekindling is over."
Hex drowned himself in thought for a few minutes, to think about it. "El
Diablo is still on the loose, after all.
Can't ignore that. But..."
He turned to the young boy and smiled.
"...what is his offer?"
Tim Hunter smiled, and poured him a cup of wine.
Fortress Hill. In the shadows of everything in between.
The wide, empty room was like a corridor, with no beginning and no end. A
round wooden table, made out of
enchanted sylphwood, sat in the center, as chairs aligned silently around
it. Strange, in his surreal form, lit a
torch aflame, and sat in the chair, waving the thing like balls of fire. In
an instant, the more of them appeared.
Dr.Occult.
Madam Xanadu.
Zatanna.
Black Orchid.
Jonah Hex.
Blue Devil.
"Wait...where is Mortigan Goth?" Strange sat in his chair, as the others
did. Out of the shadows, Immortalis
appeared silently. He sighed, and sat on the chair. "...well, what are you
waiting for, Strange?"
The Sorcerer sighed, then brought the torch down to the center of the table.
Suddenly, its flames trickled forth,
forming a pentagram of power rather than burning the enchanted table.
Zatanna moved closer to Occult, and
began whispering to his ear.
"...are you sure someone here knows about my father's bones?"
"...in due time, Zatanna."
The bright lights brought forth as Strange levitated to the air. Seemingly,
everyone else did so. "So it has come to
pass, mystics, Sentinels of Magic. For magick has brewed chaos across the
realms, and it is time we set it right."
Madam Xanadu threw moon dust into the fire, and it exploded into a mighty
crascendo. Jonah Hex brought his
hands to fold, as he observed from the Cheyenne ancients.
"...the moon shall breath a fiery roar, as it eats away the magick
chaos...
as dreams they disappear into the night,
and blow away into the sky."
Blue Devil opened his palms, and pressed them towards the burning table.
"...for all the devils in the hell below, shall find a place to return
home once more...
...for all the angels in the heaven above, shall find a place to return home
once more..."
Strange, Zatanna, Black Orchid and Immortalis held hands, as Blue Devil
released his palms, and forged the
link together, with the melted moon dust.
"For order must be restored again, so sayeth the will of magick."
"For every magick, there must be an order of things to do. So sayeth
be."
Suddenly, the flame died down, and the Sentinels of Magic found themselves
in the shadows of Fortress Hill.
"...it is done." Strange said, smiling in the darkness, as Black Orchid's
aura began to glow like a firefly.
"We have rekindled the magick, set it in order. Set it in motion."
"So...what about the Sentinels of Magic? Are we still needed?" Zatanna
asked, and Strange turned to her, lighting
the charcoal torch once more. "...Zatanna, our work is far from over. Evil
manifestions over the realms may
terrorize ours and others. It is only right...the Sentinels of Magic must
remain."
"For you people, I guess," Immortalis said roughly, as everyone turned to
his voice. "I don't think I feel this type of
stuff...the rekindling I can take, not an
every-Saturday-bridge-session-with-the-mystics routine. It's been fun."
Strange grabbed Immortalis by the shoulder, before he disappeared into the
darkness. "...Mortigan...remember
that you'll always have a place with us."
"...heh. Whatever. See you people around."
Immortalis disappeared fully, and Strange paused. "...if anyone feels that
he or she do not belong to the
Sentinels, please tell us now."
Black Orchid motioned to raise her hand, and speak what of her anxiety. But
she stopped, taking a moment
to find a way...a way to belong.
Jonah Hex thought about it, thought about all he has been going through. If
he was side-blinded from his
own quest for the Darkhold medallion, he could be too late for her. Yet,
time will never make you late,
only by your own self will it happen. He thought...and he stayed quiet.
Zatanna wanted to, but her father's bones rest in her involvement with the
Sentinels. Trust, as Zatara taught her,
will give you the best reward. And so she must gain that trust.
"Well then. It is done. We shall meet again, if be a problem. Meeting
adjourned." Strange blew the candle out,
as each of the Sentinels of Magic were left to a moment of silence to
reflect on their decision.
Because their was no turning back from it.
"Well, well. Well. It seems they pulled my strings further than I expected
it." The Lord of Entropy smiled, and
gathered the relics on the marble floor. His breath blew away the dust on
the floor, as it flew to the sky.
"The order of magick has been set in motion. For every order must have
chaos, and the balance will strengthen
the effects of entropy...everything is working perfectly."
NEXT ISSUE: Magic is flying abound, as the Orb of Thessaly unlocks a dark
entity from ancient Spain...
can anyone really take a guess?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi! This is JM de Joya, the writer of Sentinels of Magic.
I'd like to owe my thanks...a lot
of thanks really, to Toby Kernan, which most of his characters are featured
in here. For more on his characters,
or particularly Jonah Hex, read Strange Tales, where good ol' Hex is the
star of the serial! In the meantime,
hope you enjoy the future series of the Sentinels of Magic!