The Dark Expanse - Astral Clash Series - Book 1

by Jack Hammond

  The sounds of the battle thundered behind Wesley and Alwin, neither one taking any notice. Had the shine already come off? Wesley asked himself. Or was he more concerned with the deep conversation Sadie and Darren were immersed in?

  “Don’t pay any attention to them, Wes.” Alwin coached. “Just win. Everything will come right when you win.”

  “How can you be so sure?” his gaze finally left the pair.

  “It’s normal. Everyone always backs the winner.” He said. “Why do you think millions of people around the world support a team like Manchester United? Because they win, there is no Japanese kid running round his town in a Torque United shirt.”

  “So if I win…”

  “You get it all,” Alwin interrupted. “I have no idea why you care about him, why you need his approval.”

  “I don’t need his approval.” Wes replied, yet deep down he knew he did.

  “If I were in your shoes, I’d take a few more fights and then batter him.”

  Wesley whipped his head around so quick, it actually hurt, “You what?!”

  “Yeah, if I thought I had a shot at her, I’d happily beat the pair of you and I’d even whistle a tune while I did it.”

  That was some declaration, Wes thought. “Why?”

  “Because it’s how life is!” he smiled.

  “Okay.” Wesley looked away, he was alone here. He couldn’t call any of them friends, Alwin seemed on his side, but now he wasn’t so sure. Darren definitely had no time for him and Sadie? He hadn’t a clue.

  “Don’t take everything to heart, Wes.” Alwin said, his words clearly effecting Wesley.

  “Yeah, okay.” He didn’t make eye contact with him.

  “Oh for God sake,” he snapped, “What’s with you lot? All so serious! It’s just a bloody game.” Alwin jumped up off the bench. “I’m going to find a clash.”

  “Right,” Wesley replied forlornly. He could hear Alwin cursing him as he walked away. Wesley could do with Luke here. This place was too big. Everything was looming over him, making him feel small.

  Would Luke believe him? If he did break the rules Sadie had mentioned, would his friend take his word for it? They were friends, brothers but even so would he have enough trust in him to believe the wild and wondrous story? Wes put himself in Luke’s position and tried to imagine if he could take his own word and not think it was nonsense. Even if he trusted him, what about the man following him? Could Wesley live with himself if something happened to Luke after he had brought him into this little nightmare? That’s what it was now, it was a nightmare. No longer the mesmerizing dream, but a place he was beginning to dislike.

  The announcer called out across the arena, alerting Sadie and Chris that their clash was next. Wesley moved to the doorway to give Sadie some encouragement, but before he reached her she had stepped out on to the sand. The swirling pink vortex transformed her into her manifestation. Wesley caught a dark glance from Darren as he walked to the doors edge to get a better view. To avoid confrontation, he moved away, opting to stand by the other fighters at the pits opening. Wesley toyed about how he could fix the situation? If he lost would they accept him, he’d no longer be a threat. Would that mean when they said ‘friend’ they would actually mean it?

  Sadie’s feet pivoted on the colosseum sand as she slashed her blades at the air, limbering up for her biggest clash yet. Chris Grim was a few years younger, attending a school the other side of Nottingham. She didn’t understand why, but there was a rivalry between the two comprehensives that had filtered into the arena, and into her fight. Her eyes moved to the doorway opposite, the young man stood still on the threshold, his long greasy hair falling over the front of his face and Metallica T-shirt. He stepped out. His bare foot pressed against the soft warm grains of sand, before a tornado of black whirled furiously around him, as his manifestation took form.

  Wesley bumped into the people behind him as he recoiled. But his body was being shoved forward as they refused to move from their places. Wesley swallowed hard, he had drawn him perfectly. The picture of death was exactly how he appeared in the colosseum. The skeletal figure was cloaked in black. A hood covered his face, the long bony fingers gripping the scythe that was so commonly associated with the Angel of Death. Wesley could feel a knot tighten in his stomach, was this why he'd drawn the Grim Reaper? Had he foreseen this clash and knew the outcome? Was Sadie going to be hurt? His eyes widened as the shadowy Overseer took to his feet. Wesley’s heart sank as the word ‘clash’ filled his head.

  The flaming pink blades clattered together as Sadie threw a flurry of crackling energy beams at her opponent. Watching the pulses approach, he lowered the back edge of the scythe to touch the sand. He waited, allowing them to draw closer and then spinning on the spot, the scythe created a perfect circle around him. The sand shimmered as it turned grey, then the Reaper dropped out of sight. The beams of energy cracked harmlessly against the back wall. A cheer rippled through the theatre as a portal opened behind Sadie and Death rose imposingly from the ground.

  Instinctively she rolled forward and slashed her blade at her opponent, the Reapers reactions equal to hers. He casually raised his scythe to deflect the attack; the sound of metal on wood was soon eclipsed by the flashes of light. Sadie leapt backwards and channelled her powers, feeding energy from her core into the pulsating blades. She linked the swords together in mid-air and brought forth her Phoenix, soaring into the colosseum sky, its caw echoed within the stone walls. She landed on the sand and thrust the blades forward. Sadie's Phoenix immediately surged at its target, the waves of pink blurring as it nosedived at the figure in black.

  The audience gasped as the creation of pure energy winged its way towards Chris Grim’s manifestation. The Reaper opened out his arms slowly. A cracking noise rumbled through the theatre. The earth began to shift and slide as a crevice formed in front of the personification of Death. The fiery pink Phoenix glided closer, as a sudden spurt of black matter spewed from the ground, forming ghostly apparitions, which engulfed the Phoenix. Sadie’s creation was subdued as they pulled it down into ground from where they had come.

  A cheer rang out, the crowd applauding the Reaper’s defensive tactics. Sadie looked back at Darren, she had put everything she’d got into the attack and he knew it too. He looked back nervously; his inability to help her was unmistakable. That’s when Death took its first step, moving slowly towards Sadie. She didn't have to look, the sound of the crowd told her all she needed. She lashed her blades at him; the pink surges of energy seemed to have dimmed. Chris' Reaper swatted them aside with his free hand, not even requiring his weapon to deflect her attacks.

  The back edge of the scythe dragged along the floor of the arena as the Reaper leisurely made his way toward her. The roars from the crowd becoming more frequent as he discarded her strikes, each step drawing him closer to her defeat. Chris stopped ten yards away and raised his scythe above his head, before banging the shaft into the floor. Spectral hands bored their way through the surface of the colosseum gripping Sadie’s ankles. Before she could react, ethereal chains snared her arms, tightening up, she was defenceless. With no strength to fight back, Sadie was left at the mercy of the Grim Reaper. His hand moved slowly as he clutched the rim of the black hood yanking it back.

  The Reaper's white skull was revealed for all to see. The blackness of the sunken eye sockets, the chattering of the jaw. He cast his gaze across the crowd and turned to his opponent. For the briefest moment Sadie saw a flicker of light within its eyes, but then it erupted. The skull began to burn bright; a scorching white furnace engulfed his cranium and mandible. His jaw opened as a churning flame was expelled. The blinding attack caused everyone to shield their faces, the blast shattering Sadie’s manifestation as she was thrown clear of the impact zone, her body rolling uncontrollably across the sand.

  Wesley turned away, shaking his head. She hadn’t stood a chance against him, he was very powerful. Wes looked back, the Reaper slowly made his way back to his
doorway, not celebrating his victory. Sadie thumped her fist against the sand in frustration, it was clear that fight meant more to her than she had let on. She stormed out of the arena and Darren immediately consoled her. Wes saw the Reaper exit the amphitheatre, the manifestation vanishing as the boy returned to the pit.

  “I should have got in close!” she raged, “What was I thinking?”

  “You played it well, how could you know he could defend that attack?” Darren calmly said.

  “You said I should move in before I attacked.”

  “You have a split second to decide. You can’t question yourself, you did what you thought was right.”

  Alwin made his way over to them. “Unlucky Sadie, your phoenix was strong. I didn’t think he’d handle it.”

  “I thought it was the right move.” She admitted. “I’ll have to get in close next time.”

  Alwin looked away, his attention being drawn to Wesley and Chris Grim talking. “Daz, if you want to challenge Grim, you might have to hurry, it looks like Wes has sights on him.”

  “What?!” Darren snapped, his eyes focusing on the pair. “I don’t think so.” He growled.

  Wesley regarded him closely. He was a heavy metal lover that was for sure. His manifestation inspired from the various album covers that the Angel of Death adorned. “Sorry, what did you say?” Wes asked.

  “Do you want to take me on? You’re all Guildford, you, that girl and the other lads. I thought maybe you’d want a pop at me?”

  Wesley didn’t have time to reply as Darren bulldozed his way into the conversation.

  “Hey! I’m the next one you fight!” he demanded.

  Chris looked him up and down and then smirked, “I’m sure I can arrange that. But me and him are talking,” he replied coolly, gesturing to Wesley with a nod.

  “No, you’re not! He’s just a noob. You’re done talking, you challenge me!” Darren’s eyes were intense and resolute.

  Angered at the way Darren spoke about him, Wes just said, “I have a challenge already.” He looked at Darren, then over to Sadie. “Fight him, I’m not interested.”

  “Well it’s settled, I’ll batter you on a later date.” Chris joyfully replied. “Well, I guess I’m spanking the monkey tonight.” He laughed out loud shaking Darren’s hand.

  “I’m going to smash you up!” Darren growled through gritted teeth.

  “I’m so scared.” Chris continued to laugh, “After I burn you out there. I’m going to make a show of you, put you in your place.”

  “We’ll see.” Darren retorted.

  “You’re going to burn.”

  Wesley remained alone by the wall, his mind tossing to and fro on what he should do next. Darren’s comment had angered him, no it had enraged him. Inside he was seething. If he did go out and lose, there was a chance he could try to build a friendship with them. But there was a voice that argued against it, why should he lose to make Darren happy? A part of Wes thought Sadie must resent him a little too. Should he do what Alwin suggested? Clash and win as much as possible, rub it in their faces then challenge him? Wesley wouldn't normally do that, but the way Daz had spoken in front of him, he was seriously considering it.

  “Good luck.” The voice broke Wesley’s train of thought.

  He glanced around; it was the kid who’d challenged him. “Thanks,” he replied surprised. “You too,” he swiftly added.

  Wesley moved to the threshold adjacent to Charlie. He looked around. Sadie and Darren were somewhere else, he couldn’t see them. But through the bodies of the fighters he saw Alwin making his way towards him. “Wesley!” he waved. “Win this one. Don’t lose.” He said seriously.

  “I’ll try.”

  “You can win this easy. Don’t lose.” Alwin’s words less suggestive and more ordering in tone.

  “Okay.” Wesley was glad someone was sure what he needed to do, because deep down, he had no idea as he stepped out into the colosseum.

  The weight of the hammer in his hand again gave him a surge of satisfaction. The buckler formed on his left arm just as before. This time there was no laughter. No tittering and no belly laughs. This time they knew he was a serious player. The audience anticipated this clash more than the others, eager to see if he'd been lucky. Wesley moved his attention from the crowd to his opponent, no longer the young ginger boy. He was a towering twenty foot ogre, his skin blood red. Chain mail greaves, a solid chest plate and arm guards, the mighty beast wielded a huge iron club.

  The sensation of nervousness wasn’t here tonight. The despair and terror he had once felt were gone. Within the stone pillars, Wes had already begun to feel relaxed. The Overseer stood once again, its superiority over the proceedings undoubted. “Echelon two… prepare!” the shadow announced.

  Wesley raised his hammer as a genuine cheer for him erupted.

  “Echelon three… prepare!”

  Charlie's ogre smashed the club into the sand and roared.

  The Overseer declared, “Clash!”

  The ogre charged at Wesley, he could feel the vibrations with each advancing stomp. He whirled the club around his head, lashing it with all its might at Wes, who had yet to move. He lifted the buckler as the iron club smashed into him. A shocked gasp rippled through the stands as Wesley was sent flying across the sand and thumping fiercely against the solid Corinthian stone.

  “Wow! That hurt.” Wes muttered to himself as he scrambled to his feet, lifting the buckler just in time as club battered against it, once again. Wesley was thrown unceremoniously across the colosseum, his body crunching against the sand and stone, over and over.

  Alwin stood at the threshold shaking his head. What was he doing out there? He asked himself. Was he deliberately trying to lose? The ogre had knocked him literally from pillar to post. Any normal manifestation would have broken by now, Wesley wasn’t trying. He hadn’t even raised his hammer.

  “How’s he doing?” Sadie asked, looking a lot less stressed than earlier.

  “Badly, he’s not even fighting.”

  Darren joined the two of them, his eyes locked on the arena. “Maybe last night was a fluke?”

  “Don’t bet on it Daz,” Alwin remarked, he was confident Wes could win this easily. “Come on, Wes!” he called from the sidelines.

  “There’s no disgrace in losing,” Darren added, Alwin and Sadie were unsure if that was another attempt at consoling her.

  The sound of the iron club cracking into the buckler rattled around in Wesley’s head as his body tumbled uncontrollably across the soft sand again. A surge of energy abruptly heaved Wesley to his feet, like invisible puppet strings had pulled him to life. The hammer began to glow, the burning red aura smoking. This was it, he thought. The hammer had taken enough and decided it wanted to play. The ogre swung the club for what seemed like the hundredth time, crashing against the buckler it stopped dead. This time Wesley remained grounded like an oak tree against a mild breeze. The audience jumped to their feet, the intensity of the crowd’s cheers rising to levels not heard before. Alwin clenched his fists in delight. “Yes!” he jabbed his elbow into Darren’s chest. “Now we’ll see if it was a fluke.”

  The beast was stunned, his mind unable to comprehend what had happened. Wesley leapt up, using the opponents club as leverage; he thrust himself into the air. He pulled back the hammer and the flaming weapon reacted instinctively, pounding against the ogre’s face. The force of the blow twisted its upper body from the impact. Gravity quickly brought Wesley to the ground, the second his feet touched the golden sand, the steel buckler slashed violently at the ogre’s unprotected standing leg. The beast’s massive weight caused him to fall to his knees. The invisible force controlling Wesley had not finished, his body spun around, the burning hammer slammed into the manifestation's chest. Roles had reversed. It was Charlie Sovell’s turn to be tossed across the arena like a child’s toy.

  With the entire arena between them, Wesley raised the hammer into the air. The ogre remained on its back, unable to move, all it c
ould do now was watch. The weapon burst into a glaring flame, blistering brightly. Wesley followed its lead, swinging the hammer around his head, faster and faster, an intense circle of fire snapped and crackled above him. Then he released his grip. The steel headed weapon had become a scorching fireball, cutting through the air and colliding with the ogre. The shock-wave sent the sands of the colosseum rippling away to the edges.

  The deafening boom was drowned out by the euphoric cheers from the surrounding tiers. This victory was different. Wesley didn’t feel the overwhelming abundance of power he had felt before, it was a lesser victory, hollow even. The ogre was now gone and Charlie Sovell was left laid out on the floor. Wesley made his way over to collect his weapon, which sat only a few inches from Charlie.

  “Wow!” he shouted. “That was awesome!” Charlie sat up, a broad smile spread across his freckled face. “Now that’s power!”

  Wesley didn’t know what to make of his remarks, the last person he beat cried and declared him a cheat. “Thanks,” Was all he could say. Wesley reached out his hand and helped his defeated rival to his feet, Charlie then lifted Wes’ hand into the air, before he joined the crowd in applauding his triumph.

  Wesley smiled, he may not have felt the power as he had, but he could certainly feel the love. The crowds were going wild for him, this time it felt more real, less like a dream.

  “Fan favourite,” Charlie remarked gleefully as he left the arena.

  Wesley raised his hammer high in the air and drank in another ovation from the crowd.

  “I could get used to this.” He muttered under his breath.

  The shadow had the last word. “Echelon two wins! You rise to the third!”

  Alwin punched the air in satisfaction. “I knew he was no fluke!” he proudly stated.