As the background noise faded, a brittle crunching of glass in the main entrance revealed a lanky teen with wavy hair covering his eyes. He was in a gray hoodie, skinny blue jeans, and a pair of retro black and white sneakers. With his long bangs, the gray hood masked his face. His shoulders sagged. His elbows wide and his hands sloppily dug into his pockets. The hoodie kicked some rubble at his feet, coolly as if he were playing football. He kicked a pebble into a rusty can, and raised his hands as if he scored the game winning goal of the World Cup. Unassuming, he looked neither like nor played the part of an immortal, but rather, just a local neighborhood teenager who was trespassing.
Maximillian easily snuck up on him from behind. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” He pointed an object squarely in the hoodie’s back.
The hoodie raised his hands. “I…I know I’m not supposed to be in here, but a lot of my friends…you know…” his voice filled with indecision. The hoodie then asked, “What are you gonna do with me?”
Maximillian relaxed his breath. An uneasy pause heightened the distant sirens outside. “The hood, off with it, and slowly turn around.”
A hand reached up and removed the hood, and he turned toward Maximillian.
Now facing each other, the hoodie appeared to be young looking, a teen in fact, and not likely the immortal that was following him. Maximillian, with a stick in hand, sensed a strong immortal presence still. Maximillian shifted a look between the teen’s eyes, one at a time, and then in both. The teen appeared unfazed, or uninterested.
“You aren’t the police,” the teen said.
“No.”
“Then I’m peacin’ out, ya weirdo.”
“Go on, it’s dangerous in here. Read the signs next time.” Maximillian flicked the back of his wrist, pointing toward the door ahead of them. “Get out of here before you get hurt, kid.”
Maximillian lowered the stick, and the teen tossed his gray hood back over his long, wavy bangs, while walking past him toward the door.
The buzzing tingle swiftly roared.
Maximillian turned and summoned his emerald striker as a mystic, red blade, similar to his own, plummeted down upon him. Swash! The weapons locked with harsh fury. Rizzz! Electrical sparks flew, and with a firestorm, the blades’ grinding sizzle crashed as one, repelling the two immortals away from each other. The teen in the hoodie drifted farther back than Maximillian.
The teenager in the gray hoodie hid beneath the partial cover of his bangs. His clamped teeth smashed together. He reloaded and drove his sonic blade toward Maximillian. Whoosh. With heightened reflexes, Maximillian, in one fluid motion, summoned a second emerald striker, driving the teen in the hoodie backward, sliding him across the floor. Still on their feet, the two stared, pacing at a distance from one another.
Maximillian and the teenager in the hoodie readjusted themselves for another go at the other. The element of surprise was no more. Now it was a battle until the pangs of death arrived upon one of them.
“Not half bad,” Maximillian said. His strikers pointing toward the ground, the two stood about twenty feet apart. “But I wasn’t born yesterday, kid.”
The hoodie’s nostrils flared. “The name’s Xander, not kid.” He waved his red blade, twirling it, generating a brief figure eight in midair. “Yeah, you like that? Huh. Do ya?” Xander winked.
“Wait, you’re one of those punk kids who left the temple to join the Shroud.” Maximillian snapped his fingers and then pointed. “That’s why I didn’t recognize you.”
“You do a lot of talkin’ for a geezer.” Xander stretched his arm out and waved his fingers inward. “Listen, just give me the scroll, and I’ll let you live,” he said with authority.
“You’re not getting the scroll, kid.” Maximillian pulled his shoulders back, broadening them. “I will teach you a lesson though. Now say it!” His voice stern.
“Say, say what?” Xander shrugged.
“Listen, kid, it was pretty dirty for you to jump me from behind like you did. You know there are rules for an official contest between two immortals, so say it.”
“Yadda, yadda, yadda.” Xander hemmed, hawed, and sighed. “Until the last enemy…”
Maximillian finished the rest. “Has been brought to nothing.”
The two paced back and forth, neither taking their eyes off the other. Xander dashed, cocking his red translucent blade to the side. Maximillian waited unmoving for his charge, and then smacked his emerald strikers against Xander’s blade, slicing a downward motion. Xander slid, avoiding Maximillian’s emerald swords. Xander flipped onto his side. He launched both feet in midair, with the tips of his toes toward the ceiling. Maximillian merely watched and waited for Xander to finish his versatile, acrobatic feat.
Xander landed and readied for a swipe at his enemy. Maximillian kicked him in the chest, sending Xander soaring through a wall.
With a noisy bang, a portion of the wall collapsed in on itself and Xander disappeared. All was quiet for several seconds, but then a tiny red glow, not unlike a laser pointer, burned intense heat from deep inside the wall’s large, dark hole. Shmm! Xander burst forth with a primal roar, while cutting his way out from the chalky rubble. Swash! His blade eviscerated the cement blocks and steel girders in front of him.
The dust covered in a thick coating of fine powder. Xander’s hood flipped back, he snarled. Maximillian grinned, while his black trench coat flapped behind like a cape.
Pointing at Xander’s dusty exodus from the wall, Maximillian commented, “I think this look suits you better, kid.”
Xander charged, dropping a dash upon his knees toward Maximillian. His vibrant, red striker cut the air in half with a mighty crack. Flap! Maximillian deflected his blow with only a single blade, jumping off the nearest wall, and then landing out of reach from Xander’s sword once again.
Bunches of quick, lively action ensued as the two immortals sparred. They destroyed the inside of the asylum’s main room.
Maximillian toyed with Xander.
Every time Xander charged with his blade, Maximillian moved about easily, swiping and deflecting his sword, jumping away from attacks, and mocking his attempts. Furious, Xander became unhinged.
Xander panted, holding his knees at times. “Stay still and fight me!”
“When a knight goes into battle, he can either be a scalpel or a hammer.” Maximillian nodded. “It’s a pity you abandoned the knights and the temple, you would have learned how to achieve both.”
Unexpectedly, small rocks and pieces of the stucco began flying at Maximillian from behind. Viip. At first a single piece, then two, then many pelted him hard from all over the room.
“The knighthood never taught me this!” Xander stretched out a hand to objects in the room, flinging them at Maximillian.
“Ow!” Maximillian yelled. “What’s going on?”
Maximillian was losing his focus. The barrage of rubble attacked him. One piece cut his cheek, causing blood to stream forth. The madness of the asylum appeared to come alive. A bad spirit wrapped over the place, sheltering hate, misery, and rage, the likes of which Maximillian had never felt in such a concentrated form before.
“I don’t need your pathetic stories about scalpels and hammers, because I have the Shroud with all of its power at my disposal.” Xander steadily approached with his striker.
Maximillian turned toward the flying rubble and cut the mounting debris into pieces as it flew at him. Yet still, so much soared around the air, it was impossible to block every airborne projectile from each angle.
Xander took his advantage. He rushed again, his sword raging for blood this time. Xander was close now, closer than he had ever been to taking an immortal’s head.
Maximillian shielded his eyes, blinking from dusty particles in the air. His vision grew dim, watery, and blurred. He withdrew one of his strikers. Maximillian held his hand up, out,
and spread his fingers apart. Coughing, he struck the air in front of Xander. Voomp! Swoosh! A wave of invisible energy pulsed, and like a brick wall, it smacked Xander in the chest, flinging him back into the air, gliding him across the floor sideways for several feet after his abrupt landing.
Woozy and shaken, Xander got up. His motor function displaced, he stumbled about the room. Xander soon lost his balance and fell backward, and all floating rubble plummeted to the ground. He had lost control of the barrage he was firing at Maximillian.
Xander quickly stood up again and staggered from right to left. His red striker broke into shards and vanished like an apparition. Xander clenched his fists and gnashed his teeth. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes. He was unable to summon another blade because his strength had left him.
“Give up, kid. It’s over.”
“Rah!” Xander shouted. He picked up a rock and ran toward Maximillian.
The knights lived by a strict code of ethics. These principals guided the knights so vigorously, that Xander counted on Maximillian lowering his striker, for he knew a true knight would never kill an unarmed person.
Maximillian, true to his beliefs, withdrew his blade and braced for impact. Xander hit Maximillian solidly. While absorbing the blow, Maximillian blocked a flurry of punches and kicks. His hands blocking, all of Xander’s attacks were things Maximillian had seen many times before. He grabbed Xander’s arm, slamming it against a wall, leaving a figured imprint along the sheetrock. Then Maximillian held Xander’s limp body by the scruff and ran, smashing Xander through several hospital doors down the corridor before dropping him to the floor.
“I bet the Shroud didn’t teach you that either.” Maximillian overlapped his arms.
“Argh,” Xander moaned.
Face down, Xander tried to get up, but fell and ceased moving. Maximillian kneeled close and picked up his wrist to check for a pulse. Seconds later, he dropped Xander’s hand back to the floor.
Maximillian exhaled. “Remember, kid, immortals may be strong, but we’re not invincible.”
Black, blurry vision opened to a stinging slap across the face, and an upside-down view of the world. Xander’s hands were tied behind his back, and his feet tied together from a rope attached to a beam high above near the ceiling of the asylum. The sounds were muffled, and the pictures fuzzy at first, but soon they all lined up again, except upside down.
“Hey, wakey-wakey.” Maximillian leaned over in front of Xander. “Come on, kid, I don’t have time to fool around.”
“Where…where am I?” Xander wiggled violently to no avail. “Go ahead. Get it over with. Kill me.”
“Kill you?” Maximillian straightened his back, slapping his hands against his own thighs, dismissing the dust. He walked around and behind Xander. He examined the rope tied to the floor that looped over the beam, binding Xander’s feet. He plucked the rope with his index finger several times. The thick fibers, though shredded and worn, still vibrated when plucked, whirring with strength during the test. “The Shroud’s done a number on your mind, kid.” Maximillian scowled. “You’re so full of hate, that you can’t even see the light anymore.”
Dazed, Xander asked, “So…you’re not going to take my head?”
Maximillian tossed his hands into his trench coat. “No, but I am going to try and clear it.”
Xander grimaced and wiggled once more for freedom. “I won’t listen. Lies! All you have to say is lies.”
“Why?” Maximillian cracked a rare grin with a slight laugh. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say. Besides, it’s not like you can block your ears.”
“Yeah, well, let me down, and then we’ll see who’s smiling, you…”
Maximillian cut Xander off in mid-sentence. “You’re immortal and I’m immortal. You’re just a kid though. I’ve been here for five thousand years.”
“Lord Malum was right.”
“Right about what?”
“He told us the truth about the knights. He opened our eyes!” Xander shouted, huffing from his upside-down position. “You should look a lot older, but you don’t, because you’re behind the destruction of everything.” In the same breath he continued. “And I know…I know the knights greedily keep immortality for themselves…”
“Geez.” Maximillian pulled a silver roll of tape from inside his black trench coat. “Do you ever shut up?”
The blood pooled toward Xander’s brain. He began to feel queasy and unwell. Maximillian tore off a large section of tape as his heavy shoes clunked around the creaky floor in frustration.
“And another thing…”
“No. No more talking.” Maximillian slapped the piece of tape over Xander’s mouth, yet still, muted sounds of agitation bubbled forth. “I may look young, but I’ve got mileage, kid. And in the Shroud’s world, I’ve racked up a ton of miles lately.”
Xander’s upside-down eyebrows looked like smiles. The more he scrunched them down, the more they seemed to furl upward. “Waa waa.” His angry discontentment muffled inaudible words.
Ignoring the muffled noises, Maximillian screeched a half-broken chair across the floor and sat down facing Xander. He rubbed his mouth and chin from side to side in a contemplative manor. He waited until Xander calmed. Maximillian watched him closely for signs of reasonable intelligence, then inhaled and exhaled deeply once, twice, and three times.
“Okay, I’m going to give it to you straight, kid.” He looked away briefly with a half chuckle. “Heck, none of us are going to survive anyway.”
Maximillian hated wasting words. He talked as little as needed. His worn-out temperament matched his tired eyes. Every word he uttered was for a purpose, unlike the nonstop chatter of the world. Communication was still a precious gift, and not something thrown away with thoughtless abandon for him. After a few minutes, Maximillian decided Xander had at least the right to know how Malum preyed upon the ignorant, especially upon his followers.
The circular room in the asylum, where Xander hung upside down, was much quieter than the room where they had fought. Not so much as a police car siren could be heard, but just rubbing of the rope to wooden beam high above, which ran from Xander’s ankles, tied in a loop all the way at the back end, fastened to a metal pipe along the floor by a series of makeshift pulleys.
Maximillian knew Xander’s mind, like almost all humans on Earth, he was blinded to light, corrupted by the Shroud, but he would still try to undo the damage, vast as it may be.
“You and the other young knights were beautiful babies when you were born. Perfect in every way,” Maximillian said as Xander appeared confused. “Your birth is a byproduct of your parents refusing to partake of the few flicker fruit that remained, and now, not even another child has been born since, for their power to conceive has dried up, much like the trees that bear the fruit.”
Maximillian continued. “We have lost the source of immortality. We have lost our greatest weapon against the Shroud.” He pointed at Xander. “You and the other young knights allowed the first temptation to be your last act against true free will toward all living things.” He slid his chair closer. They were now a nose length apart. With a loud thunderous rising of his voice, his index finger high in the air, Maximillian shouted, “The Reckoning is here! Malum knows this, and that’s why he means to start the immortal war, to stop the Reckoning.”
Xander shook and flailed again, attempting to talk, yet nothing more than muffled grunts blurted out.
Maximillian took long breaths between statements, waiting for Xander to calm before he started again.
“Now I don’t know fully what this does,” Maximillian said as he pulled his share of the Sphere Atlas from his inner trench coat pocket. “But I’m sure Malum would only use it to destroy.” He tucked the scroll back into his inner pocket as Xander’s eyes grew large. “The Shroud takes great power from hate, violence, divisions, fear, and misery. The knigh
ts’ power comes from the source of all life. We believe and hope the Reckoning will crush all power of one over the other. No more will one be greater than any other person, and this is what Malum fears the most, the loss of his power to control billions of minds. That is why he hastens the immortal war, and why I serve to set all life free from the Shroud’s blinding ignorance and hatred in the Reckoning. Perhaps the immortal war and the Reckoning are one in the same…I guess we won’t know until the final part of the end comes.”
Xander began to wiggle again and his muffled, inaudible groans shouted. Maximillian got up and walked over to him, ripping the tape from his mouth.
“Ow, you jerk!” The skin around Xander’s lips turned red. “That really, really hurt!”
“What say you? Do you see the light again?”
Xander spit. “Go ahead and kill me now! Anything would be better than listening to you blabber on with your propaganda…”
Maximillian, frowning, slapped the tape firmly back across Xander’s mouth. “If I wanted to kill you, you’d have been dead.” He sighed, rolling his eyes. “Other than becoming part of the Shroud, you haven’t crossed any lines yet, but you’ll have a choice to make some day, so I hope you make the right one.”
Maximillian became suddenly concerned with time, eyeing about, and with rapid breaths, he talked at an increased pace.
Xander’s face crinkled, crunching together, so that even upside down, he looked angered and resentful.
“You seem like a smart, but misguided kid,” Maximillian said. “Malum’s a bad guy, trust me on this one. Remember, you were a knight once.” Maximillian extolled with a gentle, but serious mood. “Knights vow to be truthful, faithful, kind, good, and to endure in peace, with mild self-control, and one should never abuse their freewill, especially in the form of power, or abilities.”
Something Eternal Page 25