Max Baker: Guardian of the Ninth Sector (25 page)

Max reached the bottom of the stairs and exited out into the courtyard.  He ran alongside the wall toward the rubble and debris ahead of him.  On the other side of the wall, he could hear the demons’ voices getting closer. 

As he reached the hole, he paused.  He knew that this could be the end.  He knew what he must do.  His heart was racing, and he could feel the energy rushing through his body.  Slowly, he stepped around the corner and onto the battlefield.

He was greeted by hundreds of soldiers heading his way.  Max’s heart began beating in overtime.  A hoard of demons swarmed around him, drawing their swords and axes.  Up above in the watch tower, he thought he heard Kennedy screaming. 

He blocked it out. 

His focus wasn’t on the hundreds of soldiers advancing on him.  It wasn’t on his friends in the watch tower.  It was on the beast on the opposite side of the field.  Through the charging onslaught, he could see Gorthon, his sword still raised high in the air. 

The soldiers were no more than 50 feet away when Max made his move.  He directed all of the energy he possessed into his right hand and lifted it up into the freezing air above him.  It pulsated with the same bright blue color that he had grown accustomed to, and he swung his fist down toward the earth.  As he made contact with the frozen ground, he felt the energy expel outwards into a mushroom cloud.  The ground exploded underneath him, and a shockwave erupted from the point of impact and moved its way through the crowd. 

The demons fell over in waves, all of them except the one still standing at the tree line.  A thousand yards away, Gorthon stood facing Max.

The large barrel of the tank spun toward Max.  Max ran toward it, harnessing his energy again, preparing to attack.  He saw a flash of light from the muzzle, and a second later the ground beside him exploded.  He ran faster.  He heard the cannon fire again, and this time the ground in front of him erupted with snow and dirt.  Max closed his eyes and teleported.  When he opened them, he was standing on top of the tank.  He flung the tank’s hatch door open and sent a surge of energy into the opening.  From inside the tank he heard screaming.  And then he heard nothing.

Max jumped down into the snow and turned to face Gorthon.  Even from this distance, Max could see him sneering back at him.  The smug look of the beast infuriated Max, and he let out a battle cry.

Max ran straight for his opponent.  Gorthon, the General of Emperor Ausiris’s Army, did the same.  The two of them were on a direct collision course, the distance between them growing smaller and smaller. 

500 yards: Gorthon raised his blade again.

250 yards: Max began funneling his lifeforce into his hands.

100 yards: Gorthon erupted with a battle cry of his own.

When they were within 50 feet of each other, Max closed his eyes.  He pictured himself behind Gorthon, running after him.  He opened his eyes to see the backside of Gorthon.  The beast stopped dead in his tracks.  Max was only a few feet behind him.  Gorthon spun around, his sword extended toward Max.

“Not this time, boy,” Gorthon roared.  He reared the sword back and swung it at Max, who had to duck to avoid getting hit in the face with the sharp blade.  Max fired an energy ball at Gorthon as he ran by him.  The beast nimbly evaded it by rolling out of the way.

The two spun around, facing each other.  They looked like gladiators squaring off against each other on the coliseum floor.

“I will spill your blood on this ground in the name of Ausiris,” Gorthon said.  “We will string your body up over the streets of Arressnia, and my people will dance below it.”

“Well don’t start waltzing yet,” Max said.

Gorthon swung the heavy sword again.  Max tried to spin out of its way, but the blade caught his arm hard.  Max screamed as he saw the blood fly from his arm and splatter onto the ivory covering of snow.  He fell to his knees.

“This is it, Max Baker,” Gorthon said, moving closer to him.  Gorthon lifted the heavy blade over his head once again, and Max thought about the dream.  He knew that when Gorthon swung his sword this time, he wouldn’t wake up.  Max knew that he was about to die.

He looked to the sky and raised his hands.  He screamed toward the heavens and suddenly felt the energy pouring into him.  From the gray sky above, a huge lightning bolt descended.  It crashed into Max, and his body overflowed with the current.  Max rose to his feet. 

Gorthon swung the blood covered blade down, but Max countered by throwing his hand up and catching it.  He focused all of his energy into the sword, turning it a bright shade of white.  Gorthon bellowed in agony as the electricity traveled down the steel blade and shocked him.  He quickly threw his weapon down to the ground.  His ugly face twisted up in agony.

Bolts of energy flew from Max’s hand, striking Gorthon in the chest.  Max held his hand out, extending it in front of him.  He let the energy pour out of himself and stream into Gorthon, who stood there frozen, unable to move.  Max could hear the skin of the large demon sizzling.  He could smell the demon’s flesh frying.  It looked as if he was screaming out in pain, but Max couldn’t hear him over the deafening pops of the electricity.  Finally, Max lowered his hand, and Gorthon collapsed in front of him.  His body sizzled in the snow.

Max looked up toward the tower and saw Noah, Kennedy and Donovan looking back at him.  He offered a brief wave before examining his surroundings for any survivors.  The battlefield was almost serene as the heavy snowfall resumed and began to cover the wreckage of the aftermath.  He watched as most of the demons retreated back behind the tree line into the thick forest.  The remainder of Gorthon’s troops remained lying motionless in the white blanket of snow.

Max shivered, wishing that he had Donovan’s trench coat to protect him from the blistering cold.  The adrenaline that once surged through his body had faded, leaving him feeling tired and vulnerable.  He felt drained.  The open gash on his arm pulsated to the rhythm of his heartbeat.  The blood around the wound was frozen to the sleeve of his shirt.  The deep cut didn’t hurt, and that was more alarming to Max than how gruesome it looked.  

As he turned to head back inside, he looked back up at the tower.  Through the window, he could see his three friends staring back at him.  It warmed Max’s heart to see Noah, his arm resting on Kennedy’s shoulder, and both of them looking down with huge smiles.  It felt good to know that the friendship that Max had desperately missed was on the brink of returning to normal.  Donovan was also smiling, and Max felt a sense of pride in knowing that he hadn’t let the man down.  He didn’t know why he cared…the man was a stranger to him a couple of days ago.  But he did care.  In fact, he cared a lot.

These warm feelings were instantly extinguished the moment Max saw the cloaked figure moving slowly behind them.  He felt what little blood still remained inside of him drain rapidly from his face.  He felt light headed as the outline of the old man in his dreams slinked behind his friends.  The dread that was springing to life in him was almost unbearable.

“Ausiris,” Max whispered.

Almost panicking, Max slammed his eyes shut and pictured himself inside the tower, but when he opened them he was still standing outside in the snow.  He looked up at them, and Ausiris seemed closer.  Max swore loudly and pointed at them frantically, trying to warn them.  Kennedy waved at him.  Noah pointed back at him.

“Turn around!” Max shouted, but it was no use.  He was too far away to be heard.

He closed his eyes again and pushed every thought that he could out of his mind.  He pictured himself in the tower, standing behind his group of friends.  He forced himself to concentrate on the minute details: the way the ancient wood smelled, the temperature of the stone wall that he had leaned against.  He thought about Kennedy.  He opened his eyes to find himself face to face with Emperor Ausiris, who had just picked the black duffel bag off the floor.

“Ausiris!” Max exclaimed, causing the other three to turn toward them.  They all raised their weapons toward the hooded man. 

“Hello, boy,” Ausiris hissed from under the hood.

“Drop the bag,” Max said.

“Who are you to give me such a command?” the old man hissed.

“I’m the guy who just wiped out your entire army,” Max said, lifting his hand in the direction of the old man.  Hesitantly, Ausiris dropped the bag on the floor and lifted his arms, mirroring Max; his wrinkled palms illuminated with a bright orange light. He turned his scarred face, quickly scanning the battlefield before looking back to Max.  “I’m the guy that killed Gorthon.”

“He was merely a pawn-” 

“I’m the Guardian of the Ninth Sector,” Max said defiantly. 

Ausiris waved his hand toward the group, but nothing seemed to happen.  The motion had startled Max, who tried to send a ball of energy flying at the old man…but nothing happened for him either.  His eyes met with Ausiris’s as the old man revealed a crooked, yellow smile.

“Your powers are useless against me,” Ausiris sneered.  “Your friends are useless against me.”

Max quickly looked at his friends, who still had their guns fixed on Ausiris.  But they looked strange.  They were abnormally still, not even breathing.  Through the window behind them, large snowflakes hung in the air…motionless.  Ausiris had frozen time.

“Unfreeze them,” Max demanded.

“Or what?” Ausiris asked, still smiling.  “You could not even begin to fathom the true power that these crystals possess.”

“I don’t care,” Max said.  “The only thing I know is that you’re not walking out of here with them.”

“You are nothing, Max Baker.  You’re not even the true Guardian.”

“You’re wrong,” Max seethed.  He could feel his heart beating faster in his chest, and the blue light pulsating from his open hand grew brighter.

“Am I, boy?  Your brother was the prophesized chosen one.  He was the true Guardian.  I saw the markings with my own eyes.”

“What markings?” Max asked.

“The symbol of Chronos,” Ausiris said. With an illuminated finger, he drew the outline of a circle.  A tiny line of orange hung in the air, trailing Ausiris’s movements.  When the circle was completed, Ausiris used a crooked finger to draw a line piercing the center of it.  “The boy had the markings on the small of his back.  I know because I was there the night that you were born.  I know because I’m the reason you no longer have a brother.” 

Max was fixated on the orange image still suspended in the air.  The orange light was in the exact shape of the birthmark on Max’s stomach.

“You mean these markings,” Max said, lifting up his shirt.

The old man’s yellow eye grew wide as Max unveiled his birthmark.  Ausiris screamed, and a ball of orange energy flew from his fingertips directed at the Guardian.  Max poured all of his energy into his hand and waved it quickly from left to right.  His lifeforce remained hanging in the air as the orange light deflected off of it.  Max smiled at the old man, whose face was twisted in a furious snarl.

“
You might think that you have won,
” Ausiris’s voice came streaming into Max’s brain,
“but don’t think for one moment that this is over boy.”

Ausiris lunged for the bag. Without hesitation, Max summoned for the crystals.  The bag shot up from the floor and rocketed over to Max.  In one fluid movement, he unzipped the bag and grabbed both of the crystals.  The raw energy flowing inside of them exploded through his skin and into his body.

“You idiot!” Ausiris screamed.

Max could not control his body as the energy from the crystals engulfed him.  It came shooting out of his eyes and ears.  Max felt it expel from his mouth and then felt it radiating from his body.  He dropped the crystals and, as if being controlled by a puppeteer, lifted his arms toward Ausiris.

“This isn’t over, boy!”

“Don’t call me boy,” Max heard himself say.  A brilliant bolt of purple lightning burst from Max’s hands.  Ausiris’s robes collapsed into a heap on the floor just before the burst of energy hit his body; he had disappeared into the unknown.  The wall behind where he had stood exploded.  The energy poured out uncontrollably until Max finally dropped to his knees.  The energy that was flowing through him was still there, but he felt more in control of himself.  He felt stronger.  He felt alive.

He looked to his friends, who were waving their guns around frantically, looking for Ausiris.

“Where is he?” Donovan shouted.

“Why are you on the floor?” Noah asked.

“He’s gone,” Max assured them. 

Kennedy dropped her weapon and ran over to him.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed so tightly that he was unable to breath.  He had to tap her on the shoulder twice before she loosened her grip.

“Is he dead, Max?” Donovan asked.

“No,” Max said.  “He’ll be back, but not anytime soon.”

Donovan stood their silently for a moment, examining the aftermath until his eyes grew wide.  He had noticed the red and blue crystals sitting on the floor, outside of the duffel bag.

“The crystals!” Donovan exclaimed.

Max smiled and then flicked his wrist.  His hand exploded in purple flames of energy.  They burned brighter than they ever had before.  He flicked his wrist again, and the flames disappeared into thin air.