Maximus Thatcher

by Robert Miller

  He leapt over the log that he had used earlier to plan the attack on Paul and followed a trail to get to his spot. He could barely see; only a hint of light remained from the setting sun.

  He found many twigs and perfectly-sized logs and placed them in his bag. All of a sudden, he became aware that he was standing in an open space enclosed by trees; not the safest position to be in. Quickly, he picked up as many twigs as he could and once he had filled his bag he was ready to head back and enjoy the heat of the fire.

  All at once, he felt the hairs rise up on the back of his neck, his sixth sense alerting him to the fact that danger was near. The source of his fear became clear to him when he heard growling coming from behind him; he stood as still as a tree on a calm night.

  A cold breeze gave him goose bumps and shivers ran down his spine. He turned slowly around, inch by inch, and faced the direction from which the growling emanated.

  From only ten metres away, a large wolf with wickedly sharp teeth looked directly at Max with ebony eyes. Max stood frozen until he recalled the fact that wolves don’t hunt alone. Taking his eyes off the wolf for a fleeting second, Max twisted his head an inch to see several shadows between the trees; he was right. More and more wolves were silently creeping around him.

  “Where’s Paul when you need him?” he muttered, desperately.

  Very slowly, Max pulled out a thick branch from his bag, cursing the fact that he had left his sword back at the camp. His breathing quickened as his eyes tracked the large beast. With great trepidation, he watched as the large pack of wolves emerged from shadow of the trees.

  It was now becoming almost impossible to see, as the only clear source of light was the moon. Max was shocked; he had heard that such creatures lived in the woods but surely not this close to the city.

  The lead wolf bared its large teeth and growled threateningly. Instinctively, Max waved the big stick around him in a circle, trying to create space. Unwillingly, he had to take his eyes off the leader of the pack from time to time in order to maintain a three-hundred-and-sixty degree lookout.

  “I’m not afraid!” yelled Max, trying to make himself believe his own words. He was actually very scared, unsure of how to get out of this life-threatening situation.

  He gripped the stick until his knuckles turned white and swung as the lead wolf suddenly attacked; a clean hit to the jaw. The pack snarled and closed in, lunging at Max from all angles.

  The trees were very hard to see with so little light and the low light also made it impossible to tell how many wolves were in the pack. Drawing a second stick, he managed to keep the wolves far enough away and to formulate a plan. It had a fifty percent chance of working, but was still better than staying out in the open and fighting a battle that he could not win.

  He picked the big tree that was closest to him, climbing up the roots as the pack gave chase. He lashed out a kick at the beast that stood in his way, climbing the tree as fast as possible.

  Once at a safe height, he looked down on the wolves as they huddled in a pack, howling because their dinner had just escaped.

  “I will not forget you,” muttered Max, breathing hard, relieved that he was safe.

  Max waited for a whole hour after the pack had disappeared from the open space, hesitant to climb down and return to Paul. It was almost pitch black and the pack of wolves could still be waiting to ambush him.

  He finally made a move, aware that Paul would be worried by his lengthy absence. He had completely lost his bearings and had to climb a tree from time to time in order to see the light from the city.

  He returned to the meadow to find a smouldering fire. He sat beside it and warmed his hands.

  “Are you all right?” asked Paul, taking up a position by his side.

  “Wolves in the forest,” replied Max, still panting slightly. He was struck by how close he had come to leaving this world and his cousin.

  Paul pushed Max aside, snatching his wooden sword from his belt. He faced towards the forest, ready to attack or defend the boundary line. His heart rate was already elevated.

  Tense minutes passed with neither cousin making a move. At last, Max broke the stillness.

  “They must have passed,” he said in a calming voice.

  “I was worried, Maximus,” Paul replied. He relaxed his posture and returned his sword to his belt, bending to attend to the fire.

  “I can take care of myself. You’re starting to sound a lot like Uncle Jade.”

  “I have to be. We are not a big family,” Paul replied.

  Everyone knew that Max was a foster child, living with Paul and his father. For most of his life this was all he had. For eight years to the day, he had lived with no parents. His father ran out on him at birth, leaving his mother to raise him, until an unknown disease took her. Little was known about his father, only that Max had inherited his looks. His personality had come from his mother; strong, outgoing and caring. Max pulled out a picture of her from his pocket. Her features were soft and gentle, with a smile that could melt anyone’s heart. Beauty captured before it was swept away by her disease.

  “I will put on some food,” said Paul, watching Max staring at the picture.

  Paul gripped his pocket. The photo of own his mother in there meant the same to him, except that it was at his birth that she had passed. Every day he looked at his father and tried to imagine what it would be like with her there. This was the reason why he was so close to Maximus.

  The smell of the hotdogs coaxed Max closer to the fire. He grabbed both of the sleeping bags that lay next to the tree stump and rolled them out on the soft grass beside the fire.

  With the adrenaline from the wolf attack now dissipated, Max felt himself drifting off to sleep in the calmness and quiet of the meadow. The only sounds came from the fire and the cooking hotdogs.

  “So, what are our plans for tomorrow?” asked Paul, jerking Max back.

  “I was thinking we could go to the hot springs in the forest. We have completed our mission, after all.”

  Paul lay on top of his sleeping bag, looking into the thin smoke of the fire.

  “Good idea. My body could do with some relaxation,” he replied. There were no clouds in the inky sky and the stars shone sharp and clear.

  Max looked up at the sky for any sign of his mother. He knew she was there, somewhere amongst the stars, looking down. He often thought about what it would be like if both his parents were here: if he would have had any brothers or sisters to share his life with; if his dad would have helped him train late into the night.

  Max ate in silence as he watched the trees sway with the wind and wondered about the connection between himself and the forest. He slipped into the sleeping bag and, for the first time since embarking upon the two-day mission, he felt that he could finally relax. With the stars shining above him he drifted off to into his dreams.

  Chapter 2

  Sherwood

  Max awoke to the heat of the bright sunlight on his face and it took him a moment or two to remember where he was. Paul was already up, swishing his sword through the air, practising different moves that he executed deftly.

  “Get up, sleepy head!” called Paul, slashing upwards with his sword and then twisting it quickly with a sharp flick of his left hand.

  Max rubbed his eyes as he sat up halfway. “That was a good sleep.” He finally came fully awake and got up, rolling up his sleeping bag as he breathed in the fresh and re-energising air, feeling it penetrate deep into his lungs. He smiled contentedly.

  “How long have you been up?” asked Max.

  “Only half an hour,” replied his cousin. He placed his sword down on his sleeping bag. “Uncle wants us back around mid-day,” said Paul. He had a habit of calling his own father Uncle for Max’s sake. Max had never got to the stage of calling Uncle Jade his father, even though he thought of Paul as his brother. He’d always had a feeling that his father would turn up one day and just fit straight into his life.

  Max said nothing in re
ply to Paul’s comment. He had been trying not to think about going home as he had so enjoyed his time away from the city.

  Paul was striding backwards and forwards, glancing towards the forest. Something was playing on his mind and his edginess was affecting both of them.

  “Do you still feel like going to the hot springs?” asked Max as he stood next to Paul, looking into the forest.

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Both boys packed their things and set their equipment up against the tree.

  “You all right?” asked Max in a concerned tone. Paul just gazed at him.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Well, a nice soak in the hot springs and you should feel as good as new,” said Max.

  They strolled leisurely to the edge of the forest, with Max taking the lead, since he knew the landscape much better than did his cousin. The forest never really took Paul’s fancy. It was always Max who sneaked away from home to venture into the forest. For hours at a time he would track the forest’s routes and hide outs, training with a tied up dummy.

  The route that he took was much different to the one he had taken the previous night. The trees were spread further apart, making it easier to find his way to the springs; even though they were venturing deep into the forest, there was still as much light as there had been in the meadow. Max climbed over some tree roots and felt a thrill when he caught sight of the steaming hot springs.

  They both stood there for a moment, gazing at the steam that rose from the water’s surface. Tall trees surrounded the spring and, with the sun looking down upon the water, this looked like a place where the Gods bathed. Both Max and Paul were awed by the sight, but after a moment of contemplation, they rapidly stripped off their clothes down to their drawers.

  Max couldn’t help comparing his body with his cousin’s. Paul’s muscles were bigger, stronger and more defined than his. He knew he was still developing, but he still felt as if he was just a kid. Max shrugged to himself: he knew that, in time, he would get stronger.

  They could now feel the hot air of the steam touch their bodies and Max walked up to the spring, cautiously dipping his foot into the water to make sure it wasn’t too hot.

  “Perfect,” said Max, as he stepped into the spring. He felt pure relief consume him as he submerged his whole body under the water. Paul had done the same and was now sitting up in the water, taking in deep breaths of the fresh steam that warmed his lungs. This felt like Heaven and it soothed their bruises and allowed their muscles to relax and rest.

  Max sat looking before him into the forest, wondering if he would get attacked by the pack of wolves again, but then shrugged it off with no further thought.

  His earliest memory of the springs was from Uncle Jade. They had just finished a hard training session in the meadow, with Paul and Max drained of everything they had. It was fitting to finish the session in such a place. He could lose himself for days in the spring.

  Forty minutes passed without the boys realising it; the only evidence being how wrinkled their hands had become. Without complaint, both boys got dressed and made ready to depart. They made their way back out to the meadow, crossing the forest yet again.

  Max stumbled over a tree at the very edge of the forest next to the meadow, and something about it made him stop and take a second look. He could tell that this was no ordinary tree; it had some type of inscription engraved into the bark: “The time has come.”

  Max ran his fingers across the surface of the mark.

  “It feels like the inscription has been burnt into the bark,” said Max. Paul stopped and turned around, making his way back to his cousin, wondering why he had paused. He looked at the inscription with interest.

  “I have never seen anything like this,” replied Paul.

  Before either could draw any conclusions, a spark erupted from the mark, making both boys jump. They stood there waiting for a second spark, but nothing happened.

  “Something doesn’t feel right about this forest, Max. I don’t know why you like it here so much. Too many weird things happen.”

  The spark had astonished Max and the inscription had a strange effect on him. Silently, he gazed at the tree until Paul dragged him back to the here and now.

  “Let’s get out of here. I want to look around the city before we have to go back to the dojo.”

  They found themselves back in the meadow within minutes. Paul was the first to grab his gear, walking over to the rock overlooking the city. It was a perfect vantage point, the city built in a valley, with the forest forming from the city limits all the way up to the top of the ridgeline, separated by the meadow.

  In the clear morning sunlight it was quite easy to see every one of the tall buildings. The city looked so close from the high rock; however it was a forty-five minute trek to the closest part of town.

  “The city looks beautiful in the morning doesn’t it?” said Paul. Max remained silent as he stood there, taking in the view. Paul turned his head towards him and asked, “If you had the chance to protect this city, would you?”

  Max was surprised by Paul’s words, but replied, “If I could, I would.” They were both staring at each other. “Good. I’ve always loved Sherwood. It has always been home,” said Paul, finally turning away.

  Sherwood City was named after the forest. It was agreed when building began that the forest would remain intact. Expanding the city by building away from the forest, the trees gave the city a border, the forest spreading right around it, leaving a vast area of free land behind. Even though the city was young, the skyscrapers and tall, modern buildings towered over the trees. The only old buildings left from before the inception of the city were the dojo and the herb shop, buildings that a few select people still held onto, refusing to let their heritage be destroyed by modernity.

  Max could not help but think how attached he had become to both the city and the forest. Nowhere else did such a place exist.

  With no further hold-ups, Max and Paul walked along the gravel trail that took them down to the city, towards the dojo that was located in the centre.

  Uncle Jade had always loved martial arts. His goal was to be the finest martial art teacher in Europe, helping his people to learn and benefit from his experience.

  The dojo had very little new technology, and in the boys’ spare time Uncle Jade would have them doing chores, practising with their swords, and training in the art of hand-to-hand combat.

  The buildings surrounding the dojo towered over it: huge structures comprised of glass and billboards lined every street in sight. It was like there were two worlds right next to each other: one consisted of nature - trees that covered the vast landscape, animals that used this world to survive, water which the trees and the animals both needed to exist. This world consisted of a system that required all the elements to work, a cycle that ensured everything was working.

  The second was evidence of the humanisation of nature. Humans working and living together was the cycle for the city. If there was ever a world that needed saving, it would be the one with the towering skyscrapers and humans who would steal and hurt one another without compunction in order to make a quick dollar.

  These thoughts slipped away from him as they cut through Sherwood College to get to the dojo.

  Everything seemed so familiar; he had always wanted to go to this school. Every time they cut through, he tried to take in as much detail as he could. The fresh cut grass, the basketball courts, the classrooms filled with a great number of students. It was all so real to him. The only other people they came into contact with were in the dojo classes. It wasn’t ideal for a teenage boy. There was no trouble to get into, no girls to chase. It sometimes seemed so pointless.

  As they crossed the fields it became clear that they had drawn the attention of a group of boys playing around with a rugby ball. Paul angled away, heading for the outskirts of the school. His plan failed and the boys approached them.

  “Hey, you… Aren’t you the two boys who get home s
chooled?” queried the shortest boy in the group.

  “Is there a problem?” replied Max, staring hard into the boy’s eyes.

  “I remember you two little brats. You both train at the old dojo up the road,” said the young boy, harshly. Max’s face scrunched up in anger.

  “Don’t tell me: you attended our dojo and couldn’t handle it.” “

  N… no, that’s not it,” the boy managed to stammer.

  “Well, why are you crying about it? I certainly don’t remember you. The people who fail are the first to be forgotten,” said Max, half-glancing over to Paul.

  “How dare you,” said the taller boy in the group. He pushed his way to the front, trying to intimidate Max with his size.

  “What my cousin is trying to say is that our dojo isn’t for the faint-hearted,” Paul smiled, trying to de-fuse the situation.

  Paul did recognise the group. The head of the group was called Deon; dark skin, medium build and by far the smartest of the three. The taller figure was Nate; lean shoulders, big legs. He was the biggest and many of the school kids were scared of him. Paul knew for a fact that it was a front; he looked meaner than he was, and this was certainly evidenced by his lack of fighting skills. The smaller one, John, was the concern. He was stocky and very quick on his feet, with blond hair and fair skin.

  “So, you’re saying that the gym we train at is?” replied Nate in a deep voice.

  “I can see this conversation is going nowhere, so we will be off.”

  As Paul turned his back on the group, it was John who took the first swing, trying to catch Paul off guard. Max was quick to counter, forcing John into the ground with a hard arm lock.

  “I will break his arm!” screamed Max, as his leg came down on John’s throat. He grabbed John’s wrist tighter and yanked it even harder.

  John’s sounds of agony stilled the boys immediately. John’s face grew beet red and he grabbed his shoulder, as if that could free his arm.

  “Okay, we’re backing off,” said Deon, pulling Nate away with him. Max released John, rolling out of the hold towards Paul.