by Jack Hammond
About the book
Title Page
Dedications
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Coming Soon
Author’s Note
About the book
Hidden in a dream world, children become manifestations of their own imagination, battling each other upon the astral sands of the colosseum. The shadowy organization known only as the ‘Associates’, choose the children who clash within the arena to aid their own agenda in the real world.
Wesley Finton is chosen! Not by the Associates, but the sinister darkness that lurks at the edges of our sleep. Fighting within the colosseum, Wesley discovers a power dwelling deep inside him and a plot to exploit the children by this faceless organisation.
Wesley needs to find the truth, before the Associates find him…
Title Page
The Dark Expanse
Astral Clash Series
Jack Hammond
Digital Edition
Copyright © 2013 by Jack Hammond
All rights reserved. This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Dedications
Thanks to my Mum, Cath and Gill for all their love and support
To Suzzie for making me finally finish something
And
To Westley Simmonds, the best childhood friend I could have asked for, R.I.P
Prologue
Larva oozed from the ruptures in the granite as it flowed over the stone scales. The molten rock began to move. Clouds of ash erupted from the joints as the gigantic dragon’s wings opened out and the beast released a thunderous roar. Flames filled the sky, the rock jaw snapping apart, as plumes of thick black smoke bellowed out. The beasts huge talons contracted, digging deep into the Colosseum floor, its long tail whipped back and forth with ease. The eyes burned with rage, the intense orange and reds pumped around its body like a human’s life blood.
Moving along the edges of the dragons reach, the figure furiously whirled his sword, a green energy imbuing the blade. The katana crackled with each spin through the air. The ninja normally dressed as civilians or in black, although this manifestation had chosen the popularized white outfit. His eyes narrowed, he had no admiration for the beast before him.
The dragons head lowered, ashy smoke poured from its mouth and nasal cavity, as it prepared for the attack. The wing span almost reached either side of the arena, a formidable sight; a dangerous opponent, a mythical monster. The energy peaked, and the blade became a blinding, shimmering blur of emerald sparks and waves. He lept skywards and flung the katana in front of the colossal stone dragon. The sword sank six inches into the ground before streams of light speared outwards. Green pulsating beams wrapped themselves around the rock, constricting the granite, and tightening its wrap upon the mythological beast.
The dragon became enveloped in emerald chains of power. Its legs, wings, tail and neck all constricted by an alien power. The ninja moved in closer now, with a flick of his wrist he fired an array of multi-coloured darts, everyone as brilliant as the next. A trail of colour streaked in their wake as they impacted on the rock. Each one exploding as the creature roared in frustration. He raised the scabbard above his head and called upon a higher power, a source of energy required to slay such a beast. A power he’d never needed until this moment.
The dragon drew in its wings, the larva spilled onto the colosseum floor, vanishing in an instant. With an almighty heave, it screeched menacingly, before shattering the binds, and taking to the air with a ground trembling push. The updraft from the monster took the ninja by surprise. His concentration broke as easily as the beams of light. Falling backwards, the scabbard slipped from his grip. His eyes focused on the creature as it crashed to the arena floor. A wave of invisible might thrust against the shinobi; he felt his body being pushed across the amphitheatre.
Another roar followed, the power within the molten rock released an ancient force, primal and devastating. A burning inferno of flame and granite erupted from its gaping mouth. Swirls of orange, met with vibrant red surges, as the colosseum filled with wave upon wave of blistering heat. A ferocious field of blazing fire engulfed the shinobi as the dragon unleashed its rage.
Chapter One
Music played somewhere behind him, the repetitive thumping drilling into his head like an unrelenting jackhammer. Max climbed out of the car and looked down the road for its location. The road seemed empty, no cars and no people. Max shook his head, cursing them under his breath. He crossed the road and entered the Greasy Spoon cafe. It was as empty as the street outside; the middle aged waitress was the only staff on this early. Edward sat in the booth near the window, a piping hot mug of coffee in front of him as he perused the morning paper.
Max took his seat opposite him, like always, but something was different. On the surface the facade was normal, yet beneath, he sensed a complication. Max waved to the waitress ordering a coffee with his typical charm. “Milky coffee, two sugars please love,” he said.
She smiled back, acknowledging his order.
“The boy is stronger than we anticipated,” Edward began, his eyes not leaving the article.
“Yes.” Max agreed. “I have it in hand though.”
He questioned his colleagues reassurance, “How so Maximus?”
“I have set a plan in motion, to slow his progress. Until we are ready,” he explained.
The waitress placed the white mug in front of Max and with a smile walked away. Edward had already paid for his coffee as usual. No matter how early Max arrived, Edward was always here first, reading his broadsheet.
“What have you pitted him against to hinder progression?” He enquired, his tone seemed intrigued but his eyes remained firmly on the paper.
Max snorted, “An Elite,” he wanted to laugh, but it was not the place. “I have woven a bit of magic and the two of them will clash soon.”
“And if he wins?” Edward remarked.
“He won’t, he’ll lose,” Max said slightly angered. “He will lose and then, that will set him back long enough for us to ready ourselves.”
“And if he wins Maximus?” He repeated.
“It’s Max, don’t call me Maximus,” he pointed at Edward. “Or anything else that amuses you.”
His eyes left the page for the first time, they weren’t angry eyes, or even dangerous. More mysterious, something sinister dwelled behind them. “I asked you a question,” his voice became lower than before, his tone more intimidating. “What if the boy wins?”
Max stopped pointing, wrapped his hands around his coffee and shuffled uneasily in his seat. “I can’t see how he can. But if he does, then I have no idea,” Max relented.
“I see,” Edward looked back down at the article. “We will have to hope, you are indeed, correct.”
“Nobody has ever defeated any Elite at their first attempt.”
“You forget who he is?”
“No,” Max assured him. “I'm aware who he is, but how would he achieve that so fast?”
Even Max had noticed a sudden lack of conviction in his words. The doub
t grew like a fungus, every time he thought about the situation he was less convinced of its success.
“You seem unsure, Maximus,” Edward smiled.
“Look, we need to slow him down. Do you have a better suggestion?”
“It is not my place to suggest, I am merely here to convey the Associations concern.”
“Okay then, tell the Associates,” Max paused to compose himself. “I have it in hand, the boy will lose his next battle, and everything will be back on track.”
“Very well, Maximus.” Edward replied, turning the page.
“Is that all?” Max asked.
“Yes unless you wish to go into detail.”
“No, I wouldn’t. I have knocked over a few dominos to get a reaction.” He explained.
“Then, our business is concluded, Maximus,” he said folding up his newspaper. “Enjoy your coffee.”
Edward left the café. He buttoned up his black coat to the neck and put his fedora on. Tucking the paper under his arm he made his way towards the city centre on foot. The morning was cold, but there was no rain for a change, the sky looked clear and the sounds of the town coming to life crept from the streets. Max and Edward met frequently, nothing as serious as this had come up since the formation of the Association. It weighed on Maximus he thought. Even in that brief conversation, Edward had seen his colleague go from confident, to flustered, to unsure.
He looked up and down the high street before crossing. Edward lowered his head not to avoid the cold wind, but for the man he had just sat with. Maximus would not last. It was matter of time before the weight of the situation would crush him. It was a shame. He had shown much promise, but like many things in life. It wasn’t to be.
The waitress picked up the full cup of coffee, which had turned luck-warm. She gazed at Max, his charm was gone. He just sat looking out of the window, oblivious to her, “Penny for your thoughts?” she asked.
Max turned and smiled. “Sweetheart, you can have them for nothing.” He smiled and his charm simply returned, like switching on a light.
“Your friend, he never drinks his coffee,” she said. “Why does he order it?”
“He’s a strange man. Most likely doesn’t like the idea of sitting in here for free. But…” Max took a sip of his drink, “It’s a bloody good coffee,” he grinned, adding a playful wink.
“Thanks,” she replied her face beaming as she made her way back to the counter.
Max turned his attention to the window once more, he looked at nothing in particular. Just thinking, wondering if he had made the right decision. How could he be wrong? Nobody could be that powerful, so fast. It takes time and effort. Unless he had been preparing for something he was unaware of, all his life, he couldn't defeat the manifestation Max had chosen. With another shake of his head, he dismissed the notion completely and finished his beverage.
The street appeared busier, the music still blared out from somewhere. But now it was little less sharp, the everyday noise had dampened it slightly, it no longer pierced his head. He fastened his seatbelt, started the car and pulled out. His orange Ford Focus zipped through a couple of amber lights, narrowly missing the reds before turning onto Mansfield Road. Traffic cameras prevented him from continuing his normal style of driving, keeping it at forty, Max still made very good time. He arrived at the hospital less than ten minutes later, it took ages to find a parking spot outside of the blue zone, where he needed to be.
The vast campus housed the hospital, several car parking structures and two more medical buildings specialising in different treatments. Max headed into the largest building, not through the main entrance, but through a lower level. The hospital seemed strangely empty, considering the lack of parking spaces outside. He weaved through plain cream corridor, after plain cream corridor, until he reached the lifts. Max waited, tapping his hand nervously on his leg. He was eventually joined by more people, two nurses heading to work.
The dark haired nurse was short and fat, her blonde friend was taller and much thinner. The contrast between the two, caught Max’s eye and he couldn’t resist glancing over every now and again. Their blue uniforms also contrasted, one hung loosely the other pulled tight. The lift doors opened and the three of them entered. Max pushed the floor he needed; the nurses selected the floor before his. The elevator groaned as it made its way up through the levels, coming to a halt, it jerked suddenly before the doors slid open and they left. Alone again, Max tapped his hand on his leg, he hated coming here. He had never enjoyed this, but it was part of the job.
He used the hand wash and waited at the door of the ward, he had visited every day for the past six weeks. It was opened by a familiar face, a young Asian man Max knew as Fong. In his time visiting he had seen a variety of different kinds of nursing staff, not all of them were good, but he was a caring one.
“Hey Max,” he said cheerfully.
“What’s up, Fong.” Max replied stepping through into the busy ward. It was the Doctor’s rounds, so people seemed a little busier than they would later in the day, when it calmed down. Max wiped the last of the hand sanitizer resin onto his jeans as he made his way toward the private rooms.
Room seven’s door was closed as were the shutters on the window. Max opened it as normal and made his way inside. Every day was the same, but it still shocked him on some level, every time he came in. Thomas Kern was only eight years old, light red hair and freckles. Strawberry blonde was how his mother described him. Max had told her, he was from the school, a teacher or some such thing. She was far too distraught to pay that much attention as other matters took precedence over confirming his story. The fact was Max wasn’t here to hurt the boy. He was here to monitor his progress and report back to Edward, who informed to the Associates.
He took a plastic moulded chair from the corner of the room and sat next to the young boy. All the tubes, breathing apparatus and beeping noises were far less comforting than you would imagine. They were there to help him, but to see his motionless body, surrounded by such things gave off little hope. Max took a book from his pocket, the paperback novel with worn edges, had been with him a long time. He poured a glass of water from a bottle he had brought days earlier and began to read. Nobody knew if people in comas could perceive the world, but Max did. Max knew perfectly well Thomas could hear every word he said, his tone, the way he spoke, everything.
A few hours had passed. Max was half way into the novel when Miss Kern entered the room. She was a young mother, only twenty four. Sandra had given birth to Thomas straight after leaving school. Max closed the book and stood up as he greeted her like every other day, with a warm hug.
“Good morning, Miss Kern,” Max said squeezing her tightly.
“Sandra, how many times do I have to tell you?”
“Always once more,” Max smiled. He had recalled the line from a film.
“How’s my little fighter doing today?” Sandra said kissing Thomas’ head. Her short blonde hair nestled on the young boy’s brow as she whispered words of comfort to him.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Max said attempting to make his exit.
“No, please stay.” Sandra asked.
“Are you sure?” Max said. He knew he would, just as he had the last seven or eight times she had asked. They hadn’t spoken; she had just cuddled her boy as he read.
“Please.”
“I could start from the beginning if you like,” he said showing her the paperback.
“You don’t mind?” Sandra said settling herself next to Thomas.
“Of course not, I love this story.”
“I’ve never been much of a reading person,” she admitted. “Actually the last week or so I’ve heard more books than I have read,” she laughed.
“This book was given to me by my late granddad. He had read this to me when I was very young. I loved it, just as I loved him.” Max lowered his head, closing his eyes before adding, “God rest his soul.”
“That’s so sad and sweet,” Sandra said. She want
ed to hug Max now, but she was already snuggled in close to Thomas. Sandra kissed the boys head softly as Max began to read.
Sandra listened to the words and slipped away into the world the book described. She hadn’t even paid attention to the nurses passing through checking up on Thomas. She hung on every syllable, and prayed her son could hear his words, picture the story as she did. Sandra squeezed him a little tighter and glanced at her watch. It was almost two pm. She hadn’t eaten yet, suddenly her stomach reacted as if it too, had seen the time.
“I think I need to get myself something to eat,” she declared a rumble punctuating the point.
“Would you like me get you anything?” Max asked.
“No,” she said. “But would you come with me? I wanted to ask you something.”
“Of course,” Max said placing the book on his seat.
“See you in a few minutes sweetheart,” Sandra said kissing her son once more. “Love you!”
“Be back in a moment champ,” Max added as he followed her.
They walked to the cafeteria, and not a single word was uttered, which surprised Max. He had expected an out pouring of emotion by now. He had been expecting it for a week or more. He'd inserted himself into their lives, he had gradually gone from a visitor to a friend. Some of the nurses had even thought he was Thomas’ father, he wasn’t. Thomas’ dad was absent. He was only a young kid himself, like Sandra only mid-twenties but he had run away from his responsibility.
The hospital cafeteria still appeared to be quite full from the dinner rush, Max picked up a couple of sandwiches and two cups of tea while Sandra found some seats. Tea wasn’t Max’s choice, but he chose the same as Sandra as well as the cheese and onion sandwich. He walked to the table in the far corner.
