The Chronicles of AzzaNation: Dawn of a New Age

by Matt Mihilewicz

  “Now, now Mr. Exe. I expected you to know better than to use those measly pistols against me…Surely you know that we are too fast for their pathetic electric pulses.”

  Cross’ rapier cut open Leo’s left shoulder before the younger speedster knew what happened. Leo cried out in pain and grasped the wound.

  “Hmm…well I guess some of us are faster than others.” Cross chuckled, smugly and took a step back. “Come now boy, I left you with one arm, and I see that it holds a sword. It should be more than enough.” Cross smiled sadistically and moved into a dueling stance, bending his knees slightly, while pointing his sword towards Leo.

  Leo knew that the royal officer was mocking him…but that didn’t make his statements false. Cross was much faster and far more skilled. Compared to an experienced captain like him, Leo was a child who didn’t stand a chance…but he had to keep fighting. Not this way though, he admitted. If he kept fighting Cross head on, he would be dead within the minute.

  He spun his sword in his hand, and Cross smiled, waiting to counter. Except, Leo didn’t run at Cross. Instead, he sped through the doors next to him and began running through the halls of the castle. He ran as fast as he could. His heel was burning, his body ached, but he did his best to ignore those hindrances. He knew that Cross was behind him, and if he slowed down for even a second, the captain would strike.

  Leo had no idea where he was or where he should go. After all, he didn’t know this castle. The Brotherhood didn’t have time before their attack to let Leo learn the schematics, so he had no choice but to run aimlessly, hoping that his path would work out. He didn’t know if his next turn would be a wrong one, or if the next set of doors would lead to a dead end, but he kept going.

  His heel sent a sharp pain through his body with each step, and he clenched his jaw, to hide the pain. The cloth he used to keep the wound tight fell off, and he was now bleeding more rapidly. As he ran, he started to feel dizzy, and the colors on the walls spun in circles, blending together. Try as he might, he couldn’t keep going.

  The young speedster burst through another set of doors and stumbled. He looked up and saw that he had found his way outside. He was still up high, but on one of the castle’s exterior observation decks. If the entire palace guard hadn’t gone down to the main foyer, Leo figured that some of the soldiers would be stationed up here for a guard shift. Luckily for him, it was currently empty.

  As he looked out over the rest of KL’en and the battle raging on at the south wall, he felt exhausted. He fell to the ground, and tried to steady his breathing. A moment later, he turned and saw what he knew was coming. Cross was standing beside him with a smug grin nailed on his face.

  “Now, now Mr. Exe… Is that it? Well I guess if we’re done playing, I should just put you out of your misery.”

  Leo tried to stand up, but Cross’ rapier sliced up the young speedster’s legs. He cried out in pain, as Cross made his way to the rest of Leo’s body. Leo had no choice but to lay perfectly still, as the cuts made by Cross’ rapier rendered him paralyzed. His muscles were severely hurt and he was too weak to move. His sword dropped out of his hand, and he was forced to remain motionless on the floor of the balcony. He glanced up at Cross with pain filled eyes, completely at the officer’s mercy. Cross smiled wickedly at Leo, as he raised his rapier for the finishing blow.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Z ane stood in front of the doors to the Great Hall, knowing that once he opened them, his life would never be the same again. He had been perfectly content living hidden away with his love. They never lived beyond their means, and when Zane got bored, they always found some way to have fun.

  He had lived most of his life being told that he should be afraid. His guardian Sersan Galez had taken him from KL’en when he was a child, and saved him from the execution block. The two of them had lived in the wilderness, moving from place to place for years, until one day, when Zane was a teenager, they found Ravez. The undoubtedly attractive boy was alone and mostly feral, until Zane and Sersan took him in. It wasn’t easy at first, but soon a bond between the two of them had grown, and Ravez was able to learn. He learned how to read and write, how to speak, and as time went on, they fell in love. Life was great for them until they started getting cocky and venturing more into royal territory. Zane had always thought Sersan exaggerated the king’s obsession with him, but he found out the hard way the rumors were true. One day, while visiting the city of Olympus, Zane got careless and let a royal patrol scan him. They seized him immediately, and he was destined for death, until Ravez and Sersan came to his rescue. Zane had almost lost his life that day, but with Sersan’s sacrifice, him and Ravez were able to escape the royals’ clutches. Then it had been only the two of them for just over a decade. Their life was simple, but that didn’t make it any less special. Zane considered himself to be the luckiest man in the world. He got to live everyday with the love of his life, and see the world in the process.

  If the Brotherhood had asked him to join this fight a month ago, he would have refused. He didn’t want to risk losing what he had with Ravez. But as Cross’ ambush had shown him, he was not safe, even hidden away. If the Brotherhood hadn’t come to his rescue, his body would be a lifeless husk, and his soul would be forced to travel from animal to low-witted person until his inevitable death. And his ‘life’ from that point on, would be more of the same…running and hiding and living in fear…which he was never good at.

  So, as he stared at the looming doors to Grindaull’s Great Hall, knowing that his life was going to change, one way or another, he thought…good.

  He reached out with his hands and his mind and pushed the massive wooden doors open. He stepped inside, catching sight of Grindaull, instantly. The king sat upon his throne, relaxed and intrigued. Zane kept his steady pace, refusing to be intimidated by Grindaull or the skulls hanging on the walls. The king barely moved, but then with a slight wave of his fingers the doors slammed shut behind the psychic.

  “Welcome Zane,” said Grindaull in a hushed tone, yet the king’s voice still resonated throughout the entire hall. “Please…come forward. Do not be afraid.” he smiled, and Zane felt a chill rush down his spine.

  “I will never be afraid of you Grindaull,” said Zane, staring down the king’s blood red eyes.

  Grindaull leaned forward in his throne. “Is that so?”

  The king began to laugh a loud and chilling laugh, but Zane remained unmoved. The psychic kept moving forward through the Great Hall, closer and closer to Grindaull. The king ignored Zane’s determination and continued with his laughter, filling the hall. Then as his laugh hit its crescendo, he finally stood up from his throne and grabbed a large sword that was sitting above him. Zane had heard tales of the Demon Blade, Zabumura, and its power. Sersan had always told him that the sword had given Grindaull eons worth of power. The souls trapped inside were tormented, making a cacophony of hatred and fear. Grindaull wielded the blade in his right hand, drawing that hatred and power into himself. The king closed his eyes, as dark-red energy flowed from the sword into him. As Zane moved closer, his mind began to fill with millions of screams and cries of pain. He stopped in his tracks as he realized his abilities allowed him to see and feel the pain of the tortured souls trapped within Zabumura. Then suddenly, as Grindaull opened his eyes—the crimson red shimmering against the light of the room—the screams grew louder and louder…until they invaded Zane’s mind.

  The psychic had always had perfect control over his thoughts. Ever since he was young. Sersan had taught him how to tap into other people’s minds, without letting their thoughts overtake his own. But these souls were screaming inside him, and he couldn’t tune them out. They were crying out to him for help—millions of souls all screaming in his head, resonating like a constant high-pitched note inside his skull. He finally fell to his knees, in pain, and clutched his head in-between his hands.

  “No—Make them stop! Make them stop!”

  Grindaull slowly walked down the steps fro
m his throne, laughing and smiling maniacally.

  “Ah, so you can hear them too!” Grindaull began to stroke the Demon Blade, caressing it like a beloved pet. “I’m afraid Zabumura is not the most…accommodating host, but I can guarantee that once you learn to accept him, all your pain and suffering will cease to exist.”

  Zane could barely hear the king’s words through the screams. It was torture—and he needed to find a way to stop it. With every step, the tyrant’s stride brought him closer and closer. If Zane stayed like this, there wouldn’t be a fight—Grindaull would kill him with one strike.

  He had to act quickly. He focused his gaze to the interior of his own mind. He dove into his subconscious and saw the countless souls floating aimlessly and wailing out in pain. He had to contain them…somehow. Concentrating with all his might, he created a giant safe in the endless possibility of his mind—a safe with metal so thick and strong that the souls couldn’t escape or be heard through it. He felt a pain of guilt for locking them up like this, but it had to be done. If he died by Grindaull’s hands, he would only end up trapped and tormented with them.

  After the safe was constructed, the psychic used all his willpower to force the souls in. It was difficult, as they were unruly and hard to control—but within Zane’s own mind, he was the master. It didn’t take long before all the souls were flying into the safe, and once the last one entered, the psychic closed the door and the voices finally fell silent.

  Unfortunately, Zane didn’t have time to rest. He could feel Grindaull getting closer and closer to his physical body. He pushed the safe to a place deep in the back of his mind, in the very depths of his subconscious, and he opened his eyes—just in time to dodge Grindaull’s first attack. Zabumura was mere inches away from his throat, but Zane rolled out of the way and jumped to his feet. Grindaull lunged forward with a diagonal slash, but Zane reached out with his hand and sent the king flying back.

  Grindaull hit the ground, falling on his back, but quickly vanished from sight. Sensing the king’s presence behind him, Zane ducked underneath the swinging demon blade just in time. He flipped his legs up and kicked Grindaull, pushing him back once again.

  The mad king let out a scream in a flurry of rage, as he jumped high into the air. His leap brought him so high that he was going to touch the ceiling of the Great Hall. He spun his body in mid-air and touched the ceiling with his feet. Then in one solid motion, Grindaull, pushed off with tremendous force and plummeted down towards the ground. Zane quickly got out of the way from Grindaull’s strike, but the impact from the king’s fall burst open the floor and sent a wave of concrete and debris flying in every direction.

  Zane tried to dodge it all but he was struck by a large piece of concrete and was sent flying into a pillar. His back struck the pillar hard, causing the air to leave his lungs for a couple of seconds. Grindaull didn’t give Zane any time to recover, as he teleported across the room to the young psychic. Still holding Zabumura in his right hand, he reached down and grabbed Zane by the throat, with his left. Grindaull lifted Zane, with little effort and slammed him against the adjacent pillar.

  “Now…young Zane,” said the king, his mouth foaming, “Your power and your life will be mine!”

  Zane began to feel his life drain out of his body. He had to act quickly, if he was going to survive. He reached out with his mind and lifted the debris around him into the air. He focused his thoughts and sent his make-shift weapons at Grindaull. The king was too distracted to dodge and was struck hard. As a few solid pieces found his head, he was forced to break his concentration and drop Zane to the ground. The psychic dug deep inside himself and sent another telekinetic push out of his hands, sending Grindaull flying into a pillar across the hall.

  Taking a few seconds to catch his breath, Zane quickly returned to his feet, and looked for something to help him. Deciding that fighting from a distance could play to his advantage, he moved onto a large piece of debris and forced it into the air, carrying him with it. Once he was high enough, Zane reached out and grabbed the remaining debris with his mind. He lifted all the broken concrete and stone, creating a shield around him. He looked down and saw that Grindaull had recovered and was now leaping towards him. The psychic sent a piece of debris flying at the approaching king, striking Grindaull and sending him back down to the ground.

  The king created a small crater in the floor as he landed, but didn’t stay down for long. He returned to his feet and was leaping towards Zane again, in a matter of seconds. This time when Zane threw the debris, Grindaull dodged by teleporting behind the psychic. However, Zane anticipated the king’s maneuver and sent another piece flying at Grindaull’s new location—striking him hard and sending him back to the ground once again.

  This time, Grindaull took more time to recover. He used Zabumura as leverage to get back to his feet, straining the whole way up. Victory was close, thought Zane to himself. He could taste it. If he could keep Grindaull at a distance then he would continue to hold the advantage, and eventually whittle the king down to nothing. He smiled and folded his arms in triumph. There was nothing the king could do to take away his confidence now.

  And then Grindaull began to laugh.

  He started by laughing maniacally at the ground. Then, he slowly lifted his head, exposing the blood pouring from his face. “You think you are winning boy? You are a fool…I am a GOD—and I will smite you down like the insect you are!”

  Grindaull gripped the Demon Blade with both of his hands, and his eyes began to glow with a familiar crimson red. Black and red energy began to gather around Zabumura’s blade, engulfing it. The mad king screamed and the energy grew even larger. His scream turned into laughter, and he swung Zabumura, sending all the energy he had gathered directly at Zane, in a tidal wave of destruction.

  The energy obliterated the debris around the psychic instantly, and he became surrounded by it. His flesh burned and his organs felt like they were being drenched in molten lava. He fought hard to remain conscious, but he couldn’t maintain his concentration to stay elevated, and fell to the ground. His limp body struck the ground, and he could feel a few of his bones break upon impact. He looked up and the room was spinning all around him. The energy Grindaull had used was no longer on him, but its burning sensation lingered within his blood and bones. His vision was starting to normalize, but he began to hear footsteps approaching. The king was coming in for the kill, and Zane couldn’t do anything to stop him.

  “Now do you see the power I possess?” said Grindaull, his voice echoing throughout the Great Hall. “Zabumura is all that I need to destroy you and your pathetic friends. Each person I kill becomes a part of the blade—making him stronger and more powerful with every death…Soon I will add your little soul and the souls of every quivering member of the Brotherhood of Light to its collection—and when I do…no one will be able to stop me! I will rule AzzaNation for eternity! You failed Zane. You’re no savior. You are nothing but a pathetic child who will die under my might.”

  Zane was losing consciousness fast. He could barely hear the king’s words before his mind fell into a drowsy sleep. Grindaull was right. The king was too powerful for him, and soon, he would be dead. As he fell into his subconscious, moving deeper and deeper into his own mind, he saw the safe he had made for the souls trapped by Zabumura. The mind-forged metal kept him from hearing their screams, but he knew they were still wailing inside. Soon, his soul would be among them, adding to the Demon Blade’s power.

  Wait, he thought. That was it! The souls themselves were the answer. They were the source of Zabumura’s power. Their torment and suffering filled the demon and its wielder with strength. If Zane could control the souls himself, then maybe he could turn them against their master.

  He moved towards the safe and stood before it, in his mind. As he faced it, he poured all his power into his subconscious self, making his ethereal presence as strong as possible. His body would be unprotected, but if he failed, he would be dead either way. This way, he
at least had a chance. He turned his attention to the safe, and opened its massive door. The second he did, the souls began to scream in agony once again. They tried to escape the safe, but Zane held them in place. Their screams tore through the air and pierced his ears, but he continued to hold his ground. He was doing his best to stay strong, but as he focused every ounce of power he had left on the souls, the rest of his mind began to fall apart.

  The constructs he had formed started to crumble into dust. The safe dissolved, and all that remained were the souls, trapped by Zane’s sheer force of will. Darkness surrounded him and the souls in every direction, but at the edge of his peripheral vision, he spotted a large figure slithering in the darkness. It moved urgently towards him, and as it got closer the psychic could see the creature’s massive features. The beast was an enormous serpent, with a series of individual horns surrounding its entire body. Its eyes were a bright red that pierced into Zane’s soul with its familiarity. The beast opened its mouth, and a cyclone of teeth emerged from inside. They spun wildly, and Zane could feel them trying to suck him into the monster’s mouth.

  The psychic held firmly to his position, keeping his hold on the souls. He opened his mind and let his thoughts connect to all of them, becoming one with their spirits. They were still screaming, but he could feel that they were now under his control. He reached out with every bit of strength he had and forced the souls to attack the beast.

  The serpent closed his mouth and screeched a high-pitched wail as the souls surrounded him. Zane watched as the demon contorted and screeched, opening its mouth to let out a scream from the pain. The souls began pouring into the serpent’s mouth—rushing past the cyclone of teeth. With every soul that entered, a red light of energy began to emanate from the beast’s belly. The souls continued to pour into the beast until its whole body was glowing red. Zane watched in awe as a piercing red light tore the serpent apart from the inside.