A loud crack echoed across the canyon as a lightning bolt struck the side of the cliff. The rock face crumbled and slabs of the cliff fell. He leapt onto a large platform and cleared the projectiles with one wave.
Sparks erupted from the platform as the energy grew beneath it. The crowd erupted like never before, stunned by the unfolding events. The remaining four Elites withdrew their fire as Max rose to the edge of the pillar.
Medics rushed to the two stunned students on Alexander’s orders. Max jumped off the platform and Hilary surged her way to the front, enclosing him in a tight hug.
“Very well played,” she whispered over the roars.
“Thanks,” he said, delighted by his efforts.
“Unbelievable,” Master Lee managed to say, looking down upon Max as though he were a God walking amongst men.
“Two of my finest Elites knocked out. How is this possible?” Danny spluttered.
“Well, Master Danny, we do train the best,” replied Alexander with a small smile.
“By Philo’s sword, craftsmanship like this hasn’t been seen in centuries,” said Danny, still baffled.
“Only from the Dark Lord,” whispered Master Lee.
Both Alexander and Danny threw Master Lee a dirty look.
“Do not compare a boy to such a monster,” growled Danny.
“See the gathering for what it is; you cannot ignore the resistance.”
“That is ridiculous. I am thinking of my students and their families, so let the NPA sort it out.”
“The NPA haven’t come within ten feet of him in the last ten years. It is going to take all of us to unite.” His tone of voice was deadly serious. He looked over to Alexander for support but was stopped by his darkening expression.
“Stop. This is neither the time nor the place,” Alexander hissed, watching Max as he paced away from them through the crowd.
* * *
Max was waiting keenly for dinner, having eaten only energy bars throughout the day. He was walking though the corridor with Rachel and Jimmy on either side of him, when he was stopped by Master Lee before he reached the dining hall.
“May I have a word?” asked Lee, taking Max by the shoulder.
“Sure,” he said, indicating that Rachel and Jimmy should carry on without him.
“That was a good little show you put on today,” commented Master Lee.
“Got to give the people what they want,” joked Max.
Lee smiled, but then his expression turned serious.
“Have you ever heard of the Scroll of the Chosen One?” he asked hopefully.
Max tried to recall his history lessons, shaking his head as he came up blank.
“Has Alexander said anything about your scar?” he questioned.
Max stilled. He didn’t need Alexander to tell him what was wrong; there were only two people on Earth who knew about the full ring.
“Nothing,” replied Max, watching Lee’s reaction.
“Interesting, but this wasn’t the reason I stopped you. I promised I would give a gift to anyone who excited me and your performance did.”
“That’s not necessary,” murmured Max.
Master Lee pulled out the coin pouch that had been acquired from the bet.
“Two thousand gold coins won at your expense. Do not insult me by not accepting it, because this is one of my best pouches.” He smiled at his little joke.
Max was stunned, but replied, “I don’t need gold coins.”
“I know you’re not going to stay here forever; you are too talented. Call this a future investment.”
Master Lee patted him on the back and made his way to the dining hall with the rest of the Head Masters. Max looked down at the pouch, awed by the amount of gold he just received. He gave his head a quick shake and pocketed it as he headed towards his table.
Chapter 14
Strike
The flow of the wind served a higher purpose than just blowing the village’s flags which were set out across the high wall.
A coat of light and dark brown feathers covered the eagle’s body as she tried to stabilise her huge, outspread wings. Her talons were at the ready as she swept her keen gaze over every inch of the grassy hillside before weaving back into view of the small village.
Her astonishing vision, together with razor sharp beak and talons, made this creature ten times more deadly than other predators and it was only a matter of time before her big, dark eyes spotted something of interest. The bird locked her wings into her body, going into an accelerated dive and reaching her prey within seconds. At the last moment before impact she opened up her wings, giving three beats, and let her talons rip into the small rat. Gripping the rat tightly, she flew away to her nest upon the largest and oldest villa in the village to indulge in her feast.
This was not an ordinary village. High walls surrounded the compound, allowing entry to no enemy. A low cover of mist settled in the lower village, making the stone path seem gloomy as it wound between the houses. Apart from a few homes, this old village had existed for many years, constructed as it had been in the Stone Age, when war threatened to tear away everything in the world.
Now it was home to a large group of disparate people, from criminals to merchant dealers, old pirates to Power Users, all of whom had something in common: they hated the Ministry.
Three men entered the village through the west gate. Wearing identical black travelling cloaks, they walked along the stone pathway heading to the very back of the village. Taking the back streets, they tried to banish the chill of the breeze by rubbing their arms for extra warmth.
“We shouldn’t be returning to him empty handed,” whispered one of the men, looking around.
The man leading the small group slowed his pace in an effort to buy more time. He knew this could possibly be his last hour of life. He could neither run nor hide from the Dark Lord: it was inevitable that he had to return. Neither man looked happy about the comment, cursing under their breath.
“We have no other choice,” said Seth, edging his way around a corner.
“We still haven’t searched the red region.”
“Would you want us caught by the NPA?” argued Seth.
“Better that than succumb to the wrath of the Dark Lord,” replied Victor.
“Dartholemue will see reason. We have searched high and low and not even a hint presents itself.”
The third man stayed quiet, his eyes scanning every passageway they passed.
“We must not keep him waiting,” said the third man, finally picking up his pace and pulling away from the others.
The three men were quiet as they made their way to the big villa perched above the town. Such beauty lay in the design of the two front pillars, carvings that would have taken just as long to create as it had taken to build the house itself. The left pillar had a dragon wrapped around it, looking out to the long pathway, its pebble eyes shining a bright red, its body armoured with scales. The right pillar held a serpent with long fangs, its body wrapping around in the opposite direction. Its eyes were the colour of snow, a clear, pure white, also looking towards the path.
The villa was constructed around the two pillars, a balcony on the second level and was built atop the highest point of the village, a cliff backdrop at the rear. Vines had grown up from the front two corners of the house and coiled around the second level balcony. The house, like the village itself, had been neglected over the years with no one who cared to maintain it, their main interest being in violence and fighting.
The men walked between the pillars without giving them a glimpse and climbed the marble steps to the first floor. Glancing at one of his companions, Seth noticed that he was indulging once again in a very irritating habit that he’d had picked up in recent weeks: he rubbed the bottom of his ear every time his stress level passed a certain point.
“Would you stop that,” grunted Seth, opening the door.
A young girl wearing ragged clothing greeted them at the door.
&nbs
p; “The Lord will be back very shortly, Sir,” she said, keeping her soft voice low and avoiding eye contact.
“What did I say about getting in my way, slave?” spat Seth, knocking her to the cold floor.
“Very sorry, Sir,” she apologised, climbing back to her feet.
“Make sure the master has some of his favourite sweet wine waiting for him when he gets back,” ordered Seth, dropping his cloak on the floor.
“Right away, Sir,” she replied, wiping a tear from her cheek. She hurried to the cloak on the floor, picked it up and hung on a hook before making her way to the kitchen.
The men sat to wait for their master. Victor had taken a seat closest to the desk and was looking at the large painting that hung behind it. It depicted the man who used to own this place, a rich and powerful man. Victor spat at the painting, belittling the man’s worth.
The cabinet at his side held expensive pots and vases, specially designed by the finest of craftsmen and worth well over ten thousand gold coins. Ignorant of their worth, he grabbed one, juggling it from side to side.
“Here’s the master’s wine, Sir,” said the girl, placing it on the desk and endeavouring to make a quick exit.
“Come here, girl,” growled the third man, running his eyes over her.
“Be gone, girl. What did I tell you about the slaves?” said Seth to the man.
“Can’t a man have a bit of fun?”
The girl slipped away at Seth’s words, hurrying to the kitchen where she knew she would be safe. The two men stood within inches of each other, eyes locked, so quiet that only the rhythm of their breathing filled the air.
Suddenly, there was a cracking sound and all three men dropped to their knees, not daring to look up.
“How long has it been?” came a chilling voice.
“A few weeks, Master,” Seth replied instantly.
“Then why haven’t I seen any results?”
For a brief, cold moment there was silence, the men cringing at the sound of his deep, resonant voice.
“We have searched far and wide, my lord.”
A blink of the eye was all it took for Dartholemue to fully paralyse him.
He couldn’t move a limb, trapped within the vines of his master’s power.
“Just a little more time,” The man gagged, choking out the words.
“Be gone.” Dartholemue lifted a hand from his cloak and the man’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. Now, a dead man lay in the middle of the floor.
Victor quickly rushed to the man’s body, grabbing him by the belt and throwing him over his shoulder.
Seth watched as Victor disappeared from the room, but quickly returned his gaze to the floor in front of him.
“The locations we checked have already been raided, my lord; we had no other choice but to return.”
“Look at me when you talk.”
Seth nodded, raising his head slowly. Beyond the desk was a deep black cloak with red and white patterns intertwined down both sides, the front and back blank. His eyes reached the hood of the cloak, but his master’s face was in total darkness. A shiver ran down his body, making him tremble.
“I trust your judgment on the matter of the scroll, but I have yet another task. In this parchment are the details of a boy. Bring him to me.”
“Do you want Victor to accompany me?” suggested Seth.
“No, he will be assigned a different job. Train some of those so-called thugs down there; they should be up to your standard.”
“Yes, Master,” said Seth bowing his head in acceptance.
“Now, be gone.”
Seth quickly nodded his head, making a quick exit from the warm, fire-lit room.
* * *
The next day was as gloomy as the day before, with clouds flying low over the village. Seth blew mist out of his mouth as he tried to warm his bare hands. He walked down the stone pathway leading to the market. His black travelling coat was all he needed in the morning’s coldness. He passed stalls on both sides of him, catching wafts of hot bread and cooked meat. His stomach clenched with hunger, but he pushed on further through the market.
Seth had only a slight idea of where he was going. He had only heard rumours of the thug’s location. He tilted his head up to look at the sign and nodded to himself as he stumbled down the dark alleyway.
He searched until his eyes rested on a man in a rocking chair smoking a pipe. The man avoided Seth’s gaze until the very last second.
“I do not advise you to come down this path,” said the man, blowing smoke from his nostrils. He wore a bulky jacket that would keep him warm throughout the hours he stayed on watch. He was much older than Seth, with scars on his neck and face. An old hat covered his hair, making the man shaggy and rough looking. Seth picked up further details as he neared him, observing the tiniest lift of his eyebrow or the twitch of his lip and approaching cautiously.
He looked to the second level of the building, searching for any means of an exit if he needed one. A leap from any of the two top windows would enable him to land on the next building’s roof.
A sudden cat screech made the man twist in his seat, and Seth grinned: here was an opportunity to strike him down. A quick movement of his hands could easily put the man out of action, or a metal ring to the neck would be all it would take to get the information he wanted.
However, he stood there patiently as the man turned his attention back to him.
“Did you not heed my warning? It is not safe around here,” the man bellowed.
Seth was in no mood for ineffective warnings; if anything, the alleyway was not safe simply because he was there.
“Hush, old man, I have come with a question.”
The old man looked at him as if he were mad. This was no place to casually walk up and ask a question.
“Go. There is no answer for you here,” the man said, puffing on his pipe.
“I don’t think you understand me. If I don’t get what I want before breakfast is over, I am not going to be a forgiving man,” Seth grinned.
The old man looked taken back; he had never come across a man so willing to die. He was either plain stupid or very powerful. The man couldn’t tell which.
“Okay, okay.”
The man turned towards the door and banged on it three times. Silence spread though the alleyway as both men waited. The door creaked open and out stepped two men with a baseball bat and a sword, looking over at Seth with suspicion.
“Is that necessary?” he questioned, looking at the men’s weapons.
“Let me get him,” itched the young man with the baseball bat. His youth was obvious from his short blond hair and big blue eyes, and the fact that he was bouncing around, full of energy.
“No,” said the man with the sword, walking towards Seth.
“What do you want?”
“A word with your ringleader,” said Seth, trying to get a glimpse of the hallway behind them.
“Who are you? You think you can come here unannounced and give orders?”
Seth nodded as he released a metal U-shaped pole from his belt, propelling it through the air.
It trapped the man’s sword as it wrapped around his neck, the sword inches away from cutting him as he dropped to his knees, still clutching it. The man was helpless and his hands began to shake as he felt the ring squeeze.
“Release me!” he croaked. The sword drew blood on his neck as the ring’s grip tightened.
Seth heard a pop as the young man hit a spiky ice ball with his bat. With surprising speed Seth just managed to avoid it, teleporting in front of the blond boy and plunging a second ring around the boy’s arms. The boy was pinned to the steel door with the ring submerged halfway in. His face went bright red as he struggled.
The old man on the chair coughed on his pipe as he sat there frozen. He had obviously underestimated Seth and he quickly made his way over to the man struggling with his sword.
“He will take you. Please release him,” he pleaded. Seth released him
, watching as the man fell to his knees, pushing the sword away from his neck.
“This way,” he choked, struggling upright and leading Seth into the house. It was identical to the house next door, however the inside seemed to be a lot dimmer than the neighbouring house.
“What about me, guys?” said the boy, tugging at the ring.
“I’ll be back for you,” replied Seth, following the swordsman. They walked down a long hallway leading to a set of stairs that spiralled down to the basement. Lights illuminated every step, stopping at the large steel door at the bottom of the staircase. It had a sliding door in the middle that opened up when the man banged twice.
“It’s me,” he yelled. The guard on the other side nodded to the swordsman, opening the door. It was a well-lit room, with flaming torches bolted to the stone walls.
A large desk lay at the back of the room, a large rug in the middle. Large military containers lined the walls, with one container open, filled to the top with gold bars.
“Welcome, Seth,” said the man behind the desk, standing up with his arms spread. As he rose four guards took flank on both sides of him, giving him the authority he needed.
“How do you know my name?” Seth questioned.
“I am a man of many talents,” he chuckled.
“Let me guess, you can read minds.”
“Not quite.”
“A manipulator,” he carried on.
“That would be useful, but no.”
“The future,” Seth muttered under his breath.
“I knew you would get it. And that’s the reason this crime ring has done so well,” he smiled.
“Yes, obviously,” said Seth, indicating the gold. “So you must know why I am here.”
“Correct, hence the reason I haven’t packed away the merchandise and the gold is lying around.”
“Then you must know my master,” said Seth looking at the man for his reaction. The man had now taken a seat, leaning on his desk in the understanding that the conversation had begun to heat up. The guards retreated back to their positions, letting the men talk.
“Your distorted scar brought that to my attention. Correct me if I’m wrong, but every spike in your circular scar indicates an extra power that you have attained from Dartholemue himself.”
Maximus Thatcher Page 19