The Chronicles of AzzaNation: Dawn of a New Age

by Matt Mihilewicz

  With some straining, the psychic managed to open his eyes on his physical body once again. He saw Grindaull standing above him, screaming in pain. Zabumura was glowing a bright red, burning the king’s flesh. Then, suddenly, a burst of bright light exploded from the sword, and that was the last thing Zane saw before everything went dark.

  _________________________

  Diandra looked up, bewildered and amazed. The giant pulse of electricity that was shot at her only seconds before, remained completely still—mere inches from her face. Azrael floated above it—his eyes shining completely white. As the angelic used his powers of time to hold the electric pulse in place, Raphael flew past him towards the ELC cannon that fired the attack. Raphael barreled through the cannon, his energy swords tearing through it like a piece of paper. After he cleaned up the few surviving royal soldiers of his attack, he turned and flew back to Diandra.

  “Egon! Get moving!”

  It took a moment for Diandra to snap out of her paralysis. Once she did, she remembered how drained and sore her body was. Moving quickly, she gathered some energy from the air around her and used it to fill her body with strength. Raphael flew down to her and grabbed her arm, helping her up.

  “Can you run? Azrael won’t be able to hold the blast for much longer.”

  “I’ll be fine, but these soldiers are passed out,” said Diandra, referencing Ryan Black and the other human soldier, who were laying at their feet, barely holding onto life.

  “Don’t worry, I got them. Now run!”

  Diandra put her faith in Raphael’s abilities, and did what he asked. She ran along the wall until she reached the south-west tower. The remainder of their small squad had taken control of it for the time being and were holding up inside. Raphael arrived behind her, carrying the two human soldiers—one over each of his shoulders. A moment later, they watched Azrael drop his hold on the ELC-pulse and it exploded into the spot Diandra had been only moments before.

  With soldiers now firing their ELC rifles at him, Azrael quickly dodged their attacks and rejoined the group. Once their whole team was reunited, Raphael surveyed them, looking stern yet proud.

  “Well no one can say we didn’t take the fight to these bastards—Good work team. We’ve neutralized the main two towers in the south-west section. Now all we have to do is keep pushing east until we rejoin the main army.”

  “Raphael, we’re in no condition to keep going.” said Azrael, peeking over the railing to the east. “Droka, Sutz, Feev, and Kleff are the only soldiers we have left. Counting them and us, that only makes six—Six soldiers against hundreds. I know we’re tough, but we have to be smart as well. We have one of their towers. They’re already sending reinforcements from the north end of this wall, if we hold out here, maybe we can funnel them.”

  Raphael, glanced over the parapet and saw the oncoming waves of soldiers that surrounded them. “Damn. Ya, maybe you’re right Az…” He slammed his fist against a piece of stone, in anger. “I want to take these assholes down! But you got a point…six versus hundreds isn’t great odds.”

  “Seven.”

  Everyone looked to Diandra who was gathering more energy around her. The tattoos along her body illuminated and the cuts on her arms and legs were healing rapidly.

  “You have seven soldiers able to fight…I can still do some damage. I say we push forward, and show these Royals what true strength is.”

  “Damn straight!” shouted Droka, grasping Diandra by her shoulder.

  Raphael stared the Egon down, and chuckled in agreement.

  “See that Az, the fallen has more balls than you—Maybe you should give her your wings.”

  Azrael sighed and shrugged. “Very well. What’s the plan?”

  “That’s more like it!” said Raphael, slapping Azrael on the back. “Alright, Az, you freeze the troops in front of us. I’ll fly ahead and draw their fire, while everyone else runs along the wall and takes care of any Royal that gets in the way. Once we reach the center tower, we’ll find the controls for the gate and let in our people on the ground.”

  Everyone gave an understanding nod in agreement. Raphael smiled and jumped into the air, leading the charge. Diandra knew he was crazy. She figured they were all a bit mad for attempting this plan—but that didn’t stop her from jumping over the parapet with the others.

  _________________________

  Michael woke up with a sudden jolt in the medical tent. His wings were singed and his body was sore. Despite the pain he was in, the angelic High Commander forced himself to sit up. He looked around and saw that the tent was nearly full. The Brotherhood’s soldiers—his soldiers were taking a beating, and he wasn’t there to help. He got to his feet quickly, groaning a little too noticeably. Kip saw him from across the room, and came running over.

  “You need to rest Michael,” said Kip, clearly annoyed at their leader’s stubbornness. “You were hit by a cannon pulse. Frankly, you should be dead.”

  “Thank you for your concern Kip, but I’m not dead and now that I’m awake, I’m going to rejoin my troops.”

  “But sir—”

  But Michael didn’t want to hear another word. He respected Kip to no end. They had known each other for a very long time, working as diplomats together before the days of Grindaull and humanity. But this wasn’t peacetime. They were in a war—fighting a battle that could bring harmony back to AzzaNation after living in fear for so long. If they won here, today, everything would change. And if they lost…well, Michael would not be alive to see what would happen. He would fight until they tore the last feather from his cold, dead body.

  “Ignoring the doctor’s orders again sir?”

  Michael turned and saw Coté, his ever-loyal lieutenant, standing in humanoid form. His yellow eyes were almost beaming in the sunlight.

  “I have the deepest respects for our doctor,” said Michael, flatly. There was no mocking or irony in his statement, but he was in a rush.

  “Except when it comes to your own health?” Coté chuckled, glancing at Michael’s bloody bandages wrapped around his naked torso. Michael was in such a rush, he didn’t even realize he wasn’t wearing his armor. As Coté stared at him with a coy smile, Michael had no choice but to laugh lightly, with his lieutenant.

  “Something like that…Now tell me Coté, how are we doing in the battle?”

  “We’re doing well M,” said Lazareth, who was walking towards the two men. “…Considering.”

  Michael turned to face his fellow angelic, “Considering what? What’s our status, Laz?”

  “Raphael and his squad suffered a few casualties, but they took the south-west tower and are pushing their way to the center gates. Gabrielle and Lieutenant Harnah took over forward command after you fell and well…” Lazareth trailed off. Michael could see the apprehension in his friend’s face, and he hated it.

  “What is it Laz?” said Michael, sharply.

  “Well it’s the east cannons sir. They’re giving us more casualties than we can handle. Harnah took a large chunk of our forces to try and neutralize them, but they got pinned down.”

  Michael hesitated for a moment, looking sternly at the ground. He couldn’t believe that he failed his people like this. He was too eager for victory, and was careless. He shouldn’t have ordered Gabrielle to wait before sending the Brotherhood forces after him—they should have attacked as one unit. But Michael had wanted the glory. He wanted to personally avenge Sora and his fallen brothers and sisters. Instead, he almost ended up dead and put his people in jeopardy. Well, he refused to let his mistake result in Harnah and the other Brotherhood soldiers’ deaths.

  “Understood.” Michael flexed his wings and was in the air. Lazareth was quick on his tail, shouting behind him.

  “Michael! Wait!”

  Michael kept his pace, ignoring his trusted friend. It hurt him to fly, with his bruised and battered wings, but he pushed through the pain.

  “Michael, I understand your need to protect your troops, but if you go back in
to battle you will die!”

  “That’s a chance I’ll just have to take,” he replied, as he closed in on the battle. He surveyed the battlefield, and saw Harnah and fifty or so Brotherhood soldiers pinned down. The ELC cannons in the eastern tower were firing in intervals, not giving the shifter lieutenant any room to breathe. Michael stopped and flipped his eyes to his third set. They turned bright blue, and a moment later, he had summoned an energy bow in his hands. He could feel Lazareth coming up behind him, but he still managed to fire off a volley of arrows. His ribs stung as he pulled back the arrow, which affected his aim. Most of his shots went wide, but a few managed to find their way to the tower. They didn’t do any major damage, but the distraction caused the royal soldiers to pause their attack—long enough for Harnah to shift into a giant eagle and attack the cannons.

  Michael watched his soldiers take the offensive, as he breathed in. The pain in his ribs felt like someone twisting a dagger, but he remained aloft. Lazareth finally caught up to him, just in time for them to both witness a massive explosion centered at the top of the Royal Palace. A flash of light broke through the stone and concrete of the castle and sent debris flying everywhere.

  Everyone stopped in their place, Royal and Brotherhood soldiers alike…no one knew what to do. But one thing was made obvious.

  Grindaull was dead.

  Michael had no words. He turned to Lazareth, whose uncovered eye was fighting back tears of joy. Finally, sound erupted from them both, as they screamed in uncontrollable happiness. Michael grabbed Laz in a joyous embrace, and the two angelics hugged one another, while their wings kept them in the air.

  “It’s done?” asked Lazareth, almost afraid to ask the question.

  “…I think so,” said Michael. He had been fighting this war for so long. He had seen most of his family killed, and many friends throughout the years die in one way or another. But worse than all that, he had seen AzzaNation—his home—torn apart and drenched in fear. When the all-father, Kahl, gave his people their powers, the deity only asked for one thing in return…that they protect AzzaNation with all their heart and soul. A pact that angelic kind took seriously. Even after Kahl’s death, they protected the planet. They welcomed new species, and fostered relationships with them. Then Grindaull came and tore their peace away. He plunged them back into war, dominated the planet, and hunted the angelic people almost to extinction. Michael wished he had the perfect words to say for this event—Kahl knows he’s thought about it enough. But it felt so surreal, that he could only enjoy it in silence.

  Lazareth nudged him, and pointed towards the remaining royal soldiers still gathered on the wall. Fighting had not resumed yet—Michael figured that both sides were waiting for confirmation of their assumptions. But Michael wasn’t going to wait until some ambitious royal decided that they were going to take command. He had to end this now.

  Michael and Lazareth flew together to the wall of KL’en where fighting had ceased. Everyone was looking up at the castle, where they knew Grindaull and his Great Hall had been only moments before. The angelic High Commander passed by Gabrielle, who beamed at him with pure joy in her heart. But he couldn’t linger with her, or any of his people, so he kept moving until he reached the royal soldiers who remained on the wall. They barely noticed him. Most looked confused, some were terrified, and none of them knew what to do.

  “Royal soldiers of KL’en!” he shouted.

  All them looked his way, giving him their full attention. Once they realized it was in fact Michael talking to them, they became even more anxious and terrified. They thought the infamous Brotherhood leader had been killed, and now he was floating above them as they witnessed the demise of their own king.

  “Your king is dead,” Michael continued, “We killed him…and his old ways. The Brotherhood of Light officially claims victory and will begin its reign of peace and freedom starting today. If you choose to fight us, we will kill you as easily as we killed your king. If you wish to live, we will accept your unconditional surrender.”

  He gave them a moment to process his words, half expecting them to open fire. But no one did. Some of the soldiers ran away, terrified—others remained still, not comprehending what was happening. The rest—the large majority, did what Michael asked and threw down their weapons in defeat.

  At last, thought Michael. Light has returned to AzzaNation.

  _________________________

  Leo had managed to avoid getting hit with most of the debris from the explosion. He considered himself incredibly lucky, considering the state of the rest of the castle. Large chunks of stone and concrete littered the area around him. He glanced up and saw that the peak of the Royal Palace was now a crater, being held together with only a handful of stable supports. The young speedster didn’t know what happened. One minute he was lying underneath Cross, about to become the captain’s next victim, and then suddenly a flash of bright light burst from the top of the castle, exploding and destroying a large chunk of it. Everything happened so fast that he never saw what happened to Cross. Did the royal captain survive? He hoped not. His body was still cut up and beaten from his fight with the superior speedster. He tried to move, but sharp pain raced all through his body.

  “At least I’m still alive…” he said to himself.

  Suddenly, he heard footsteps running towards him. He wanted to turn his head, but his neck wouldn’t let him. Then, appearing above him, he saw Kitso, Ravez, and Rome.

  Kitso knelt beside him, and performed a primary survey on his body. Leo tried to contain his pain, but he couldn’t hide it as the shifter tried to figure out the extent of his injuries.

  “Hold still, Leo,” said Kitso, applying sealant on the speedster’s open wounds, “Now I’m not Kip, but I’d say that besides these cuts, you probably have some whiplash. Your neck is incredibly tender.”

  “I would agree with that,” said Leo, lightly.

  “I don’t want to move you, without treating you properly, so just hold tight.” A moment later, Kitso shifted into a bird and flew towards the Brotherhood’s camp.

  Ravez walked around the surrounding rubble, and lifted one large piece, that revealed Captain Cross. The royal captain was trapped under a large piece of debris, and he looked battered. Once Ravez moved the piece, Cross opened his eyes, and squinted as he adjusted to the light.

  “…Who are you?” He said, coughing out the dust in his lungs. “—It doesn’t matter. Get me out of here this ins—”

  Ravez plunged one of his swords into Cross’ skull before the captain could finish his sentence.

  “That is for taking Zane from me,” he said, with a cold satisfaction. After he wiped Cross’ blood off his sword, Ravez returned to Rome and Leo.

  “Leo, where is Zane?”

  Leo looked at the horned man. His frustration with Ravez seemed to disappear all at once. He only felt admiration for the man, in that moment. Ravez was whole-heartedly dedicated to Zane, and only wanted to be with his love. “He was fighting Grindaull in the Great Hall, a few levels up from here. I assumed the explosion was caused by him.”

  Rome looked at Ravez and gave him a wave, “Go find him. We’ll be fine until Kitso returns.”

  Ravez gave Rome a thankful nod and was gone, running up the broken staircase, leaving Leo alone with the large white-scaled drake.

  “So…you fought Cross, huh?”

  Leo saw that Rome was staring at the captain’s corpse. As the drake observed the dead royal officer, Leo saw feelings of anger and disappointment pass through him. Then Leo’s gaze surveyed the rest of the drake’s body, and was amazed—but not surprised, to see that Rome didn’t have a single scratch on him. He had fought the waves of royal soldiers without taking any injuries.

  “Fought seems inaccurate…” replied Leo, trying to sound tough. “I would say that I let him use me as target practice.”

  That got a genuine laugh from Rome, whose mouth opened wide, revealing his rare but oddly comforting smile. “Don’t be so hard on y
ourself kid, even I couldn’t beat Cross when I had the chance.”

  “You fought Cross?” Leo couldn’t help but imagine the two legendary swordsmen going head to head. It would have been a match to behold.

  “Yes, I did. He gave me this pretty number too.” Rome stretched his neck, revealing a long scar running from his cheek to his collarbone. “Speedsters and swords are always a deadly combination. I’m actually surprised you don’t know how to fight with one.”

  “I was taught to be an intellect,” said Leo, “I never learned how to use a sword until I joined my former gang—and even then, I wouldn’t call what I learned proper instruction.”

  Rome paused for a second. “…Well Leo…if you would like—and when you get better, I can teach you how to use a blade.”

  Leo was stunned. He thought that he had ruined any chance of being friends with Rome when he embarrassed himself in front of Princess Suloss. He admired the drake so much, and would consider it an absolute honor to learn from him.

  “You would actually do that for me?”

  “Why not? You fought and bled for the Brotherhood, that means that you’re my brother now.” Rome smiled, “And if I let you go into another fight with your current skills, I would feel like shit.”

  Leo laughed at the drake’s jest. When he laughed, his side stung like hundreds of tiny needles were being jabbed into his bones.

  “That was quick,” said Rome, changing the subject, as he looked up towards the sky.

  Leo turned his head slightly and saw Kitso, as a larger bird now, flying towards them as fast as he could—and on the shifter’s back was Diandra. They landed a few moments later, Kitso returning to normal and looking out of breath. Diandra wasted no time and ran up to the broken speedster.

  “Hold tight, Leo. I got you,” she said, tying her hair back, and getting to work on fixing him up.