Jimmy could feel an itching sensation, instantly followed by a small light flickering in his chest. He looked down at the strange object and jumped as it passed through him. The heavy weight and forceful attempts on his powers wiped him out.
“What is this?” he questioned as he felt the power overwhelm his senses. He looked in all directions, trying to distinguish the various voices he could hear, gradually submitting to the images projecting through his brain.
“It was you who gave me the necklaces?” He quickly understood, picking up scattered messages from Seth’s head, but also quickly avoiding the Lord’s gaze.
“And who do we want?” Seth murmured insidiously.
“Maximus,” realised Jimmy, shocked.
“His progress is outstanding; there has only ever been one who has entered my mind,” the Dark Lord said.
Jimmy received a row of images. They were dark, and he felt trapped inside a nightmare as he stood looking at the victims’ faces. His body tightened as they disappeared, easily shattered by great power and great evil.
“It is time to hone my skills,” Dartholemue whispered as he sucked the life from Jimmy.
The images passing through Jimmy’s head finally faded, leaving him in total darkness as he lay unconscious on the cold, stone floor.
“Take him to the cellar,” commanded the Dark Lord before retiring to the confinement of his room.
“Yes, my lord,” said Seth, bowing.
Alexander sat behind his desk as he shifted through the paperwork generated by the attack. His stress levels had been elevated and he was losing sleep through sheer worry. Not once had a Head Master lost a student. He tossed aside the paperwork as Dozer entered in a rush.
“Maximus is gone,” he said with concern.
The Head Master swore under his breath, pushing un-gently past Dozer.
“Assemble the Elites,” he ordered.
The group stood in rank and the Head Master paced back and forth in front of them. Chris was suited up and standing at the back with his Elite patches already on.
“This school had been infiltrated and one of our own taken,” said Alex, heavily. “I need a small group to assist the NPA in the search for Jimmy,” he asked.
Half of the group raised their hands, willing to spare their time for him. It was key to return the boy back to the school. He had to restore the balance.
“Maximus has gone missing. I need four Elites to bring him back.”
He pointed to Hilary, Chris and two other Elites who volunteered. Their concerned faces confirmed that he was correct in his selection.
“I want to go, too,” said Jonny, raising his hand. Jonny’s mind flicked to the sword he had received from Seth, seeking a prime opportunity to face Max.
The Head Master thought of the battle in the stadium, watching as Jonny’s gaze grew dark.
“No. I have other plans for you,” he replied, trying to turn his thoughts from Maximus.
Max’s power grew as he scanned the huge, rocky mountain before him. He raised his hand and released a bolt of lightning, striking at random as he yelled in his grief. Yellow and white strikes continued to pound the rock as pieces crumbled, threatening his life as they fell. He batted them away with a single wave, leaving the small pieces to perish as they hit his force field.
His scar burned bright as his full ring opened, smashing into the side of the mountain with full force. Tears streamed down his face as holes began opening in the mountainside.
Bolt after bolt blackened the rock as the strikes shattered them with huge power.
He dropped to his knees and grabbed his head in frustration.
“Do not let him fade as a memory,” a voice said, soothing his thoughts.
Max wiped his tears, trying to locate the source of the voice. His breath caught as he saw Paul sitting on a rock beneath the mountain. He stared in sheer confusion, unable to believe his eyes.
“We have found him,” said Chris, typing in the co-ordinates on the computer.
Hilary sighed with relief, looking over his shoulder at the location.
“Get Stuart. We must hurry, don’t want him doing anything stupid,” she replied, addressing the other Elites.
“Are you real?” breathed Max. He held back with all his might his desire to approach the ghost. He talked the same, looked the same, and acted the same as the person he missed. His mind struggled to determine the true reality.
“Think, Maximus. What can you do to get that little boy back?” Paul asked.
His mind went blank, forgetting his true mission. What was his purpose in being at this school? If he couldn’t save his friends he was less than scum. He reached out for the support of his cousin.
“What do you want from me?” he asked, unable to determine whether the ghost was friend or foe.
“The necklace,” the ghost whispered as he vanished in a mist.
“No! Come back!” yelled Max, getting to his feet and rushing to the rock. He punched his fist against the rock over and over until the pain made him stop. The pain was real. It reminded him he was alive and human. His vision became clear as Paul’s words echoed through his head. He knew what he had to do.
Suddenly, he was embraced by Hilary and Chris, who grabbed both his arms to stop his attack on the rock. Blood trickled down his fist as he felt their support guide him back to Earth.
“You’re safe,” Hilary whispered.
Stuart and Chris studied the rock Max had attacked, going from mark to mark with shock.
“What on Earth…?” muttered Chris, looking at the blue lightning still spreading over the rock.
“Don’t touch that! Something strange is happening!” said Stuart, grabbing Chris’s hand and retreating. The blue tears of lightning were like nothing either of them had ever seen.
Max’s mission began as soon as he returned to the pillar, receiving a debrief from the Head Master as he attempted to shrug off his anger. The sky had darkened with evening approaching.
He reached the open training arena, meeting Hilary, who stood patiently in the centre. Her hood and scarf kept her warm and she rubbed her sleeves together trying to generate all the heat she could. Her smile lit up the whole room, hugging him as he approached.
The night was calm, the wind was still and the full moon shone bright, with a full set of stars scattered across the sky.
He enfolded Hilary in his arms, holding on as if this were his last moment with her. No words were spoken, and he slowly raised his hand to her cheek. There was nothing in the world that was going to prevent this moment from happening, not even the toughest regiment of the Roman army was enough to hold back Max’s desire. He slowly leaned towards her and Hilary followed suit. Her lips were enchanting. He had never felt such strong magnetism. She stroked the stubble on his face, feeling his warmth through her fingertips.
“Finally,” she whispered, slowly pulling back and opening her eyes.
Max felt her heart pounding against his chest as he held her close. The moment was as good as it had been in his dreams, when he lived the moment over and over again. A ray of satisfaction seemed to hang over the pair. It seemed smiling had become contagious and they couldn’t stop, staring as if seeing one another for the first time.
Hilary’s senses heightened as she touched Max’s firm body. His natural scent had become addictive and she pulled him even closer. This was something she could get used to.
“I will be expecting a good first date,” teased Hilary.
Max replied by grabbing her and flinging her to the side, narrowly avoiding the jet of fire that barrelled towards them.
The heat was mind-boggling as Max turned his head towards the place where the bolt had landed. The wood surrounding the arena cracked in protest at the fire, leaving charcoal black marks, which flared then guttered out.
The second jet came in a wall and he raised his hand to block it. The necklace was the last thing on Max’s mind but he felt it crack under the pressure of the attack.
&nbs
p; He felt a strange sensation: His body felt light, as if no gravity held him to the Earth, unbound from the laws of the Gods. There was a blinding light as the fire dissipated and a new background spun into view. This was strangely different to the other teleportation methods: It was instantaneous, coming with a loss of gravity and injecting him with a huge boost of adrenaline.
Hilary could see the flames burst past Max; how long was this torment meant to last? How long until peace granted them her presence, for the Earth to stand still just so she could spend a single evening with Maximus without any interruptions? Tears crept down her face, moistening her lips as they passed. She got to her feet only to see that Max was gone, the broken necklace lying in the middle of the arena. It glowed red hot as she attempted to pick it up.
“What have you done?” she yelled as Jonny appeared from the darkness with his sword held in his hands. He couldn’t bear the thought of hurting Hilary and found he could not meet her gaze. He returned to the darkness to disappear out of sight.
* * *
Dampness oozed from the stone wall and brushed Max’s cheek. He recognised the room as a castle cellar as his vision gradually adjusted to his dark cell.
He extended his left hand and the touch of cold bars horrified him. He could see them now, running the length of one cell wall, with three stone walls behind him and a small window – also barred - with a hint of moonlight trickling through. His disorientation was complete.
Once again, he skimmed his hand across the stone wall, and it tripped unexpectedly against a form cowering in the dark corner.
“Who’s there?” whispered a scared voice.
“Jimmy,” said Max, anxiously.
The sound of his friend’s voice lifted Jimmy’s spirits and he rose and clung to Max. Relief overwhelmed him as he squeezed Max tightly, before wiping away his tears of joy with a huge smile.
“I knew you would come!”
“Your return to the Pillar is expected,” Max half-grinned. “What have they been doing to you?”
Jimmy released his gorilla grip on Max’s torso, allowing him to breathe easier as he listened.
“Nothing yet, but they speak of horrible truths,” explained Jimmy. “Why did you bring your swords?” said Jimmy, having noticed them as he hugged him.
“That is unimportant. What’s important is getting you back,” said Max.
Jimmy nodded in agreement. It was pointless trying to argue with someone who doesn’t give up.
“Victor doesn’t have a strong mind like the others. I found out who they wanted; it was you and this was just a trap. They want some sort of scroll.”
Light emitted from the dark cellar as a door opened slowly, making the stairwell visible to the light.
“Farewell,” whispered Max as he placed the necklace around Jimmy’s neck, then cracking it with a single volt of electricity. The sight was magical as the young boy floated briefly in the air and was then sucked away with a flash.
Jimmy felt the same sensations as Maximus had, before landing on the wooden floor in front of Hilary.
His vision was blurry and he tried to focus on her face. Hilary was just as surprised to see him as he was to see her and she smiled broadly as she embraced him, pulling him to his feet.
“Where’s Max? He was just with me,” asked Jimmy.
He looked around in a desperate state, feeling as empty as he had back in the cell.
Max was curled up in the corner exactly as Jimmy had been when they’d met. He was more aware of his breathing than normal, trying to hear every possible sound he could. The door had shut with a bang. The only light now visible emanated from the lantern that descended the stairs.
“Jimmy,” a faint, woman’s voice called out. Max immediately knew she was harmless, creeping as she was from the shadows.
Catching sight of Max, she gasped and took a step backwards. “What is the meaning of this? Where’s Jimmy?” she demanded.
Max approached the bars carefully, showing her he was no threat, only a friend.
“I rescued him and I can help you, too.”
“Who are you to defy the Dark Lord? He sees everything. He will hunt all of us. You haven’t witnessed the dark things I have,” she whispered.
She walked the length of the cell, talking to herself as if she had a split personality, one side telling her to leave, the other to stay. She hesitated, trying to judge his intentions.
“Take this card. Once you’re far enough away say the number and you will be safe,” said Max, thrusting it into her hands.
“I can’t! He will find me,” she said, desperately.
“You will be safe. Now, drop that water pot while I break these chains; if anyone comes, say it was an accident, okay?”
She nodded and slowly stepped towards the pot across the cell. She picked it up and looked at him with frightened eyes. Max drew his sword, preparing to break the chains.
“Now,” he whispered.
Simultaneously, the chains broke apart and the pot smashed against the floor. They both froze, awaiting approaching footsteps.. Sure enough, they soon heard clattering steps descending towards them.
Within the ray of light that suddenly spread across the room, the slave cowered on the ground, pretending to reassemble the pot.
“What are you doing, you silly woman?” growled Victor as he stood at the top of the stairs, ready to launch down them at any minute.
“It was an accident, Master,” said the slave with her head bent low.
“Clean it up and get back up here” said Victor, slamming the door in his wake. Max exited the cell.
“Go,” he ordered and she disappeared through a side door.
This was the moment he had waited for, trained for, lived for. He hadn’t thought his plan through enough to figure out what to do next and he forced himself to ignore the fear at the pit of his stomach as he listened to voices booming in conversation.
He knew the odds were stacked against him, as every man who had gone up against the Dark Lord had perished. Pride, honour, determination and courage mixed into one as Max recalled the quote beneath the statue of Philo, the almighty God.
He ventured forward slowly, one step at a time, leaving the scared young man behind in the cell, wanting only one thing: the end of the Dark Lord.
Chapter 21
Dartholemue’s Grip
Max stood outside the door, listening to the voices deep in conversation. He took hold of the doorknob, his pulse quickening. Was he doing the right thing? He wondered if he would ever see his friends again. But then, with his sword clutched in his hand, Max’s confidence soared and adrenalin raced through him. The darkness of the cellar exploded with light as Max opened the door. Victor’s muscular body filled most of the doorframe as he stood talking to the Sword Master. Max’s eyes widened, frozen as he tried to analyse the situation in the room.
At the sound of the opening door, Victor spun around and saw Max, his face hardening. He reached for Max, but his reactions were too slow and Max kicked into his mid-section, surging powerfully towards him. Victor crumpled to the floor, apparently badly winded.
The Sword Master stood shocked, trying to decide whether or not to run, still cursing Max for hitting the young man back at the stadium. The time for revenge had come and he drew his sword, waiting for Max’s move.
Max pointed the tip of his sword at Victor’s throat, watching for movement as he glared at him.
“Take me to the Dark Lord,” he demanded.
Victor smiled as he realised what the boy was trying to do.
“You are making a huge mistake,” replied Victor, looking along the length of the blade.
“Now,” insisted Max, drawing blood as he pressed the tip to Victor’s neck.
Victor shrugged and held up his hands in a gesture of capitulation. “As you wish.”
When Max let him up, he led the boy through a series of hallways and doors, Max’s sword pressed against his back.
The main hallway was lined wit
h antiques and paintings on the walls and in cabinets. As well brought up as he was, Max avoided touching the pieces for fear of breaking any, each worth more than he would ever have. The historical artefacts fascinated him, though, and he wished he were here for another purpose so that he could examine them more closely.
Max shook his head and picked up his pace to match Victor’s. He was not expecting to be welcomed with a banquet and, indeed, he could feel the heavy presence nearby, as if someone had turned up the gravity dial, making his body feel twice its weight.
Victor walked over the marble floor, leading him into an open room with a lit fire and stairs leading up to a throne. His steps grew heavier and his eyes widened at the sight of the black-hooded figure sitting at the far end of the room. Seth stood next to him with his head bent low, feeling the Dark Lord’s gaze spread over the open hall.
Max dragged his eyes back to the black robe draped over Dartholemue, his face hidden in the darkness of the hood. Finally standing here, - bearing witness to him - was terrifying. There was not one person who could boast of escaping the Dark Lord’s grip and living to tell the tale. It had taken Max’s help but, Max realised, Jimmy had now fallen into a category of one who had escaped unharmed. Sometimes, it felt to Max as if odds didn’t exist in his life.
His feet were perfectly planted in two square marble tiles and silence gripped the room. It wasn’t until the Dark Lord nodded that Max spotted movement in front of him.
The Sword Master flung two long blades with such velocity that Max could hear the sound chopping through the air towards him. The gap between the blades was minimal; leaping with a dive in mid-air as he twisted his body, Max let the blades pass within a hair’s breadth of him. He hit the ground with a thud but immediately stood upright, drawing his second sword from his back, circling both Victor and the Sword Master.
They came at him with relentless attacks, making Max dodge and weave, using both blades as a defence and an offense. The Dark Lord grinned under his hood at the effort Max put into holding off both men, admiring his ability.
Victor was a brute and bashed his blade with such force that Max had to be aware of his own blade. He continued to weave, kicking the Sword Master clear and avoiding his counter attack.
Maximus Thatcher Page 27