Kitso turned to Leo who had remained awkwardly silent, not knowing what to do or say.
“But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me introduce myself to you both,” he looked back and forth between Leo and Diandra, trying to make them calm, and reassure them of the Brotherhood’s peaceful nature. “My name is Kitso. I am a General for the Brotherhood, and the third in command. I would formally like to welcome you both to the Brotherhood of Light.”
“Thank you sir,” said Leo.
“My…brash…colleague is Raphael, he’s a great warrior, but he lacks a few social skills.”
“A few?” laughed Jacob.
Kitso gave him a glare, and Jacob immediately shut up.
“He’s a great man otherwise—just try not to take anything he says to heart.”
“What did he mean when he called you a fallen?” asked Leo, innocently. His studies of the angelics had never mentioned the term fallen before—another gap in the royal’s education system.
“It’s a cruel term to refer to an angelic who lost or gave up their wings,” said Diandra, clearly still upset, but trying to mask it. “The ancestors of my people were fallen angelics who chose to cut off their wings.”
“You mean you’re part angelic?”
“I’m afraid it’s more complicated than that,” replied Diandra. “It would take a while to explain.”
“She’s right,” said a voice coming from the doorway, “And I’m afraid we don’t have the time.”
Everyone turned to see a male angelic enter the room. The second he walked through the door, he naturally commanded the attention of the entire space. He was incredibly tall and ruggedly handsome. He had long black hair, a well-trimmed beard and a perfectly groomed set of wings. His eyes were purple and had a slight haze radiating from them, and he had a long scar running through his left eye. He wore a full suit of silver armor, and a light grey cloak that hung off his back. He had a golden and silver glinted sword hanging off his belt that looked just like the one on the Brotherhood’s symbol. After he walked in the room, a female angelic followed behind him. She had a beautiful, yet strong face with bright blue eyes. Her blonde hair ran down to her lower back and had curls spinning throughout it. She wore grey robes that revealed her tattooed arms and hands, and a dark grey cloak that hung off her back.
Jacob and Kitso stood at attention when the two angelics entered the command room. Diandra and Leo quickly followed the men’s lead and rose to their feet.
“Leo, Diandra…let me introduce to you, the leaders of the Brotherhood of Light,” said Jacob with enthusiasm. “The beautiful lady standing before you is our great Commander and second in command…Gabrielle. And this man is the first in command and our fearless High Commander…Michael.”
Michael and Gabrielle graciously accepted Jacob’s introduction with a nod of the head, and the High Commander swiftly signaled for everyone to take a seat.
“Now I’m sure you two have already been welcomed into our family,” said Michael. His voice was hoarse but calm. “But I would personally like to thank you for joining our cause. I understand the Egons’ reluctance to fight, and I just want to say that I appreciate what you’ve done in coming here Diandra.”
“Well just so we’re clear—I wasn’t sent to help the Brotherhood, specifically. I was sent to help Leo.”
The young speedster looked to Diandra with confusion strung upon his face. “What do you mean you were sent here to help me?”
“My elders believe that you and I will help bring about a better world to AzzaNation, so wherever you go, I will follow.”
Leo opened his mouth to respond, but he didn’t know what to say. Only a little while ago, he was living on the streets, doing whatever he could to survive, and like a whirlwind, he was rescued by people he didn’t know and told his fate was linked with a gorgeous and powerful Egon. Needless to say, it was a lot for him to take in. He had just met this woman, and here she was, willing to follow him on whatever path he chose.
“Well it appears our fate and the fate of AzzaNation rests in your hands Leo Exe,” said Michael, “…What is your decision? Will you fight with us?”
Leo could feel everyone in the room looking at him, and suddenly, the pressure of the world fell on his shoulders. He didn’t know if he was ready for the responsibility the Brotherhood and Diandra were asking from him. Could he really help AzzaNation become a better place? But through his doubts, he remembered the promise he made himself when he was still in Adras…He was going to create a peaceful world on AzzaNation. He had to.
“I will join you,” said Leo with a new-found strength and passion in his voice, “And together we can bring peace to AzzaNation.”
Everyone smiled. Kitso gave a “Here Here!” Jacob gave Leo a firm pat on the back, and Diandra locked eyes with him and gave him a smile of approval. After the excitement died down, Michael stood and moved to the largest screen on the wall.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself Leo,” said Michael, “Now that you are officially members of the Brotherhood of Light we expect you to do your fair share in our fight.” Michael paused before continuing. “I’m sure that you are aware that we are planning to dethrone King Grindaull…To rebuild AzzaNation, we must remove him from power. We are going to do this by staging an attack on his castle and the capitol city of KL’en.” Michael pressed a few buttons on the screen and a picture of the walled capitol city appeared. Leo remembered spending his formative years in the royal capitol, where everyone lived in fear from the government, and consequently their neighbors. In a totalitarian society, where public executions were a regular occurrence, everyone who stayed in the royal’s good graces, did whatever they could to stay there.
“We are almost ready to launch this attack,” Michael continued, “But we are still missing one piece of the puzzle…a human psychic named Zane.”
“Why do you need him?” asked Diandra, skeptical.
“Zane is a unique and powerful human Evolved,” replied Michael, pressing a few more buttons, revealing a picture of a human man. Zane looked to be roughly twenty-five to thirty years old. He had medium length and wavy brown hair. His face was covered in stubble, and he wore a cocky grin on his face. “It was said that he began to manifest his powers at the age of two—and Grindaull tried to have him executed out of fear. However, Zane managed to manipulate the executioner to spare him—even as a toddler…We believe that this man is the key to defeating Grindaull.”
“So, where is he?” asked Leo.
“That’s the problem,” said Kitso, “We don’t know anymore. Last we heard, he was taken prisoner by the Royal Army. We went to free him while he was being transported, but we were defeated and they took him to an unknown location.”
“Actually Kitso—that is not true anymore,” said Michael. Everyone looked to the High Commander, waiting for him to continue. “Although we failed the mission, we did manage to capture a Royal soldier…and Lazareth has already broken him.”
Leo looked at Jacob in disbelief. Lazareth had left the command room less than ten minutes ago, and he had already acquired the information they needed from the prisoner. The speedster abandoned his previous doubts about the angelic, now understanding why interrogation had become Lazareth’s specialty. Whatever techniques he used were obviously effective. Leo just hoped he would never have to be on the receiving end of one of Lazareth’s interrogations.
“According to the information that Lazareth obtained from the prisoner—Zane is being temporarily held in Fort Koivisto.”
“Fort Koivisto? How the hell are we going to get him out of there?” asked Kitso, “I’m sorry but it would take a full assault with too many casualties just to get into the Fort—let alone to get someone out.”
“I could do it,” said Jacob, taking control of the conversation. “…If I had a small crew, I could teleport us inside and then teleport us out. Bing Bang Boom! Done.” He made a couple snaps with his fingers and sat back in his chair.
“My thoug
hts exactly Jacob,” said Michael, “And I was thinking that for your crew, you could take Leo and Diandra.”
The two new recruits looked at each other, shocked. Yes, they had agreed to join the Brotherhood of Light and help take down Grindaull, but they had little to no experience with missions of this nature. Not only that, Kitso had just said how impossible the odds were of successfully infiltrating Fort Koivisto, one of the most secure fortresses on AzzaNation. Surely there were other people who were more qualified to help Jacob with his mission.
They looked from Michael, who was smiling confidently at them, to Jacob, who was contemplating the odds of success in his head. He finally sat up tall looked to each of them, and smiled.
“Alright then chums,” said Jacob with his humorous grin. “Let’s go rescue us a savior!”
CHAPTER NINE
T he halls of the Royal Palace in KL’en were always eerily quiet. Plenty of people walked through, but no one seemed to be there for pleasure. Guards were positioned at every major doorway, and patrols did perimeter sweeps on a regular basis. If you were called to the castle without knowledge of the reason, your time there would most assuredly be filled with constant stress and fear. Fear of the unknown, and fear for your life. All it took was one moment—one whim of the king, and your whole life could be uprooted.
Or ended.
Monty paced back and forth in the hallway, just outside the king’s Great Hall. Luckily, the warden knew the reason for his visit. Unfortunately, he had to deliver some very unpleasant news to Grindaull. Most people would be concerned about having to give bad news to the king, but Monty was prepared.
He looked at the winner of his tournament, Kaj, a member of a subclass of drakes, humans referred to as Crocs. Usually adorned with blue or dark green scales, their people were incredibly large and strong, even more so than an average drake. And if a croc got angry enough, they became overtaken with an intense bloodlust—which led to Kaj winning the Adras tournament. Monty still had the image of Kaj’s last victory stained in his memory. The large beast got into the arena, and like always, needed an incentive to start the match. So, Monty activated the creature’s inhibitor chip, sending volts of electricity into the croc’s nervous system. This drove him blind with rage—and just when he was at the point of being bloodthirsty—Monty turned off the chip and let him take his anger out on the other prisoner. That battle had been particularly gruesome, the warden noted, because it had taken a few days to get out all the blood from his clothes. Overall, the guards had loved every minute of the tournament, and Monty had successfully shown his subordinates once again, why he was in power.
However, despite the tournament’s success, Monty was filled with regret over Leo Exe’s escape. When he heard of the young speedster’s unique evolved ability, and his brutality in killing his fellow gang members, Monty knew that Exe had the best chance of winning the whole tournament and becoming his initiate into Grindaull’s army. His initiates in the past had never impressed the king, but Monty thought that the young speedster had the best chance of passing the king’s test.
As the warden looked at the croc, he knew that Kaj would fail as well. He sighed politely, resigning himself to failure in the king’s eyes once again.
“Everything alright sir?”
Monty turned to one of the guards that he brought with him. Peter Clark. A younger man with freckles and a pale face. The guard was obviously nervous. Monty smiled.
“Of course, Mr. Clark…Is there a reason it shouldn’t be?”
“Oh…I—uh…I meant nothing by it sir, I just thought that—well…”
“If you can’t talk coherently—then it might be best if you don’t talk at all, Mr. Clark.” Monty smiled his sinister smile and moved in close to the guard, “Or else I might have to feed you to the Croc.”
The guard’s eyes widened in fear and he immediately closed his mouth and stood back at the position of attention. Monty relished in the effect he had.
“Trouble with the subordinates Monty?”
The warden’s face dropped as he realized who was quickly approaching him. He could recognize the man just by the sound of his voice…That arrogant and infuriating voice.
Captain Nicolas Cross came walking down the hallway towards Monty. His fine pressed black and red uniform showed off his lean physique, with no armor on top or underneath to cover his muscles. Cross was a taller man with short slicked-back blonde hair, and a trimmed blonde goatee. The only weapon he carried was a finely sharpened rapier, that lay at home in a scabbard, attached to his hip.
It was widely known among the royals on AzzaNation that Cross was a confident man and a brilliant military leader. He was one of King Grindaull’s favorite men—which meant that he was constantly in Monty’s way. The warden loathed Cross with a deep passion and wanted nothing more than to see the man dead. He had even tried on several occasions to have the man assassinated, but every time, without fail, Captain Cross survived the attempt, with ease. Whenever the two men interacted, Monty always wondered, and secretly suspected, that the captain knew of Monty’s betrayal. Luckily, for the elusive warden, there was never any proof that the attempts had been orchestrated by him…so the two continued their dance of hatred and competition, with no end in sight.
As Cross came closer, Monty put on his best fake smile, and forced his muscles to turn him towards his nemesis.
“Ah! Hello Captain Cross, it’s good to see you.”
“Now Now Monty, we both know that’s a lie,” Cross laughed, and Monty slightly twitched with anger, “And please call me Nicolas, my friend.”
On the outside, Monty was calm and he laughed with Cross, but on the inside, he was rabid. He wanted to rip out Cross’ tongue and stomp it into the palace’s luxurious red carpet. He knew the game the captain was playing because Monty played it with his own subordinates all the time—which meant that Cross saw Monty, not as a fellow rival, but as a lesser subordinate, which infuriated the warden the most.
“Very well Nicolas,” Monty smiled at Cross through murderous eyes, “And what brings you to KL’en? Getting tired of the fight in your old age?”
They both laughed, their gross condescending laughs, for the benefit of appearances. While underneath their courteous and pleasant facades, they each knew that the laughs they were sharing were completely fake.
“Not at all my dear friend,” said Cross, “Quite the opposite. I just captured a valued prisoner and successfully transferred him—defeating the Brotherhood in the process…In fact, from what I hear, it’s the exact opposite of what you did, Monty.”
Again, they laughed.
“Yes…I suppose so,” said Monty, through a gritted smile. “I figure we all make mistakes now and then.”
“Some more than others.”
Again, they laughed. Monty’s blood was boiling with rage, but he still held his composure.
“Which is why I brought gifts for his majesty’s approval,” said Monty, gesturing towards Kaj.
The captain looked the croc up and down, unimpressed. “Ah yes, very good—another one of your little tournament winners. Let’s hope that this one passes the test. It would be a shame to see another one fail—but then again, traditions are traditions…and seeing your initiates fail time and time again has to be one of my favorite ones.”
They laughed again. No one could say that Monty didn’t have self-control.
Just then, the doors to the Great Hall opened, and a well-groomed but skinny servant came out. After seeing the two men, he approached them with a cautious courtesy.
“Excuse me, Warden Woodland, Captain Cross—his majesty is ready to see you now.” The servant bowed to Monty and Cross and then opened the giant doors to the Great Hall—pushing with all his pathetic excuse for might.
Every time Monty walked through the doors of the Great Hall, he was mesmerized by the grandeur of it all. He always tried to make his office an intimidating atmosphere, so that anyone who entered would automatically know his power, but try a
s he might, he was never able to come close to the presence of Grindaull’s Great Hall. It was truly a blood curdling sight to see. It ran fifty meters from front to back. The hall itself was a large open room with pillars stretching from the floor to the ceiling, with the entire floor covered by a red and black rug, made from the finest materials the galaxy had to offer. Animal pelts and heads hung from the walls, each one a rarity, and killed by Grindaull himself. There were shifter skulls, drake heads (a croc included) and even a few human skeletons. However, the rarest of all the king’s trophies sat above his throne—a skull of a demon from the Fifth Dimension, and a full angelic skeleton.
The Demon’s skull was the size of a large boulder, reminding everyone who saw it, that they were fortunate to live in a time when the creatures from the Fifth Dimension didn’t make AzzaNation their home. As if the size wasn’t intimidating enough, the skull also had two horns that ran along the side of its head and two more emerging from its forehead. Its eye sockets were wide, and menacing, and its mouth had multiple rows of teeth that were still razor sharp.
As alarming as the demon skull was—mainly because no one knew how Grindaull acquired it—it paled in comparison to the intimidating presence of the angelic skeleton. It was a well-known fact that Grindaull had rose to power in AzzaNation through the decimation of the angelics. And even though the old species was considered a myth to most of the planet’s population, many had learned the truth of the angelics’ capabilities as warriors and masters of the planes of existence. As the stories go, Kahl had gifted them with five sets of eyes, each one controlling a different plane. These eyes gave the angelics improved sight, faster reflexes, the ability to manipulate energy, and some stories even went so far to say that a select few could control time itself. Their species were entrusted by Kahl to protect AzzaNation to their dying breath. Their leader, Sora, the most powerful among them, took their role to heart, and waged war against Grindaull, trying to stop him from conquering the planet. She made his victory difficult, but eventually he killed her in an epic battle amongst the ruins of the old Holy City. A handful of angelics survived, but the damage was done, and on that day, Grindaull’s reign of AzzaNation began. His might became known throughout the planet, but to make sure that everyone remembered that day, he stripped Sora of her flesh and hung her skeleton above his throne…to always serve as a reminder of what he was capable of.
The Chronicles of AzzaNation: Dawn of a New Age Page 15
