Maxwell's Closet

by Steven Belskie

  “Father, you embellish for our friends here.” Blaise motioned to King Victor and several generals who stood behind his father.

  “He is right, brave prince. If I had ever been blessed with a son, I would have been proud were he half as brave as you,” King Victor spoke.

  Blaise bowed in acknowledgment to such a generous compliment.

  “Sir, look.” One of the generals pointed toward the battle raging behind them.

  The enemy front had been severed in two. Soldiers poured through the gap surrounding the enemy and cutting them down even as they began to break. The enemy attempted to mount a fighting retreat, but they were quickly encircled from behind. Assailed from every angle they wouldn’t last long.

  “It seems that this battle may be easier then we could have guessed,” King Victor said confidently.

  “You have acknowledged the bravery of Blaise. I warn you not to disregard the guile and passion of his brother. Hunter has not played his final card. He won’t unless it is necessary. He still holds back much and I fear we shall soon see it.” The King spoke gravely.

  The soldiers quickly cut down the brainwashed enemy, and when they had been killed almost to a man the gates to the city opened once again. Inside stood a silent legion of massive creatures. Each one stood nearly ten feet high and was as wide across as three men. They had dark red eyes and massive teeth that they bared as they charged. Thick sheets of spiked metal covered their entire bodies except for two wing-like growths on their backs. With a bloodcurdling howl, they charged

  As they reached full speed they leapt into the air and curled into balls. They landed and the ground shook and cracked. They rolled forward with unbelievable speed toward the stunned soldiers. With each revolution the massive muscular limbs on their back shot out and pushed off the ground, speeding up the rolling ball of spiked metal.

  “Archers! Volley!” the general next to King Victor called out, his voice booming like thunder.

  The sound of hundreds of bowstrings creaking back followed. A gust of wind came shortly after as a wall of arrows arced high overhead and crashed down on the speeding enemy.

  Most of the arrows clanked harmlessly off the thick metal plates. Some found their way in between the plates and struck the beasts deep into their flesh. Several of the monsters slowed rapidly before coming to a halt sprawled out on the battlefield. Only a handful of the creatures had been killed, and the flood still moved quickly toward the front lines.

  “Shields! Spears!” The call went up along the line. Shields were raised in defiance, and those who had spears held them straight out in a makeshift phalanx.

  As the rushing onslaught was about to crash into the waiting lines Blaise saw the massive limbs of the creatures backs shoot down hard, sending them flying into the air. Each row rose higher than the one before it, and a massive tidal wave formed of steel and flesh. A shadow was cast upon rows of cowering soldiers who stared skyward, fear gripping their hearts.

  The creatures seemed to hang in the air for a horrifying second before the plunged down into the ranks. The force crashed into the men below. Shield buckled and spears broke as the men were crushed to pulp. The wave swept down crushing through the ranks as they broke into chaos and disorder.

  Max’s hands bled as he pulled himself up another level. He collapsed onto the narrow ledge, gasping for air. His body screamed for rest but he couldn’t grant it. He was lucky to be alive, but if he didn’t hurry he wouldn’t be for long.

  During the fall he had prepared for death. He had expected it. He had accepted it. But as he tumbled end over end with the knight beside him the wind picked up greatly. His body shifted just enough and he shot his hand out, grabbing at the wall that led back up to the landing. His grip had held but his body snapped violently at the sudden change of speed. His shoulder had nearly popped from its socket, and he had felt a sharp tear in his chest. He was able to pull himself onto a ledge forty feet below the landing.

  Unfortunately for him the same wind that had saved him kicked up once again and saved his enemy from death. The knight had found his grasp nearly sixty feet below the landing, but his pace was faster than Max’s. His massive muscles flexed hard as he pulled himself easily up the wall. He moved without rest.

  Now with only fifteen feet to the top of the landing, Max was being dogged by the knight, who was only a few feet below him. Max had to move quickly and randomly. On occasion the knight would reach up in an attempt to grab Max and pull him off the wall. Max was wary of these attempts and so he scrambled quickly up the wall, moving side to side to make his dangling legs a harder target.

  As he reached the top of the ledge he felt an iron claw clamp down on his ankle. The knight heaved and Max struggled to hold on. The stone floor of the landing was slick and Max could find no grip. He dug his fingers into the surface and ignored the sharp pain as he felt his broken fingernails being jammed back through the soft flesh of his fingers.

  The only advantage that Max had was that the knight was unarmed. Max was not. During the fall he had manage to hold onto the hammer. Now in his desperation he released the grip of his left hand and grabbed the hammer from his belt.

  As he undid the hammer from his belt his grip faltered. He slipped over the edge. He was thrown back over the knight’s head and to a certain death. Max swung out the hammer and it crashed into the wall, lodging itself firmly. He swung his weight down, using the hammer as his only support. He swung back and with impossible precision he scissored, grasping the ledge. Using his leverage he pushed up into the air, tearing the hammer from the wall. He landed precariously on the ledge facing his opponent.

  The knight was wide-eyed with shock. Max saw something he not seen before in his enemy’s face. Respect.

  Max felt the blood pumping through his body. His muscles expanded and contracted rapidly, ready to explode in any direction necessary. He again felt as he had when he first experienced combat.

  The pale knight didn’t stay shocked for long. A powerful hook exploded toward the left side of Max’s head. He ducked nimbly and the blow sailed high overhead. From his crouched position Max swept his legs out, taking the knight’s feet out from under him. The knight lost his balance and dropped down reluctantly to the ledge below.

  Max followed, dropping below to face his opponent. As he landed his legs slipped from under him. Max felt his upper body slide off the ledge. He quickly flexed his legs using them to hold him up as his torso dangled over the hundred-foot drop. The knight smiled as he moved over his prey. Max was helpless, defenseless, and the knight knew it all too well.

  He stood next to Max careful not to get too close. The knight could take his time to play with his prey. He had won.

  “You know, I may have underestimated you, Max. You are a fine warrior, but the finest warrior is no match for a Tenton knight. Those who have whispered that you are superior to me have been silenced. You are nothing compared to me.” The knight looked down on Max.

  “You are wrong. You are bound by the chains of your past. You view yourself as nothing more than a Tenton knight so that is all that you can be.” Max spoke calmly.

  “Your life is spared only by my mercy. And it has run out.”

  The knight moved to finish off Max, but Max moved first. He pushed his legs hard into the stone as he lifted himself into the air. He flipped backward onto the ledge below. As he gathered his balance he swung the hammer up into the ledge above. It exploded with a mighty crash as the ground beneath the knight crumbled away. Max clung close to the wall and shielded his head as dust and debris poured over him. He felt a hand pass over his shirt, grasping for anything— it fell away unable to find a grip.

  Max didn’t watch as the knight fell. He didn’t need to. This time there would be no wind.

  Chapter 18

  Blaise looked out at the gruesome sight around him. Thousands of mangled corpses littered the once green fields. The army that had stood at nearly ten thousand strong was now barely a quarter of that. The creatures h
ad broken their spirits and their lines.

  In the fighting most had been killed but a dozen or so or the larger ones still rolled across the field crushing all those in their path. Arrows and spears bounced off their heavy armor with harmless pings. Blaise shouted for massed fire from the archers. If they could concentrate on one or two at a time they could bring them down.

  . He surveyed the battle scene. Things were going slightly better as only half a dozen of the creatures now remained. Most of the soldiers had organized themselves into deep squares. Any attack on these formations would most certainly take the life of the beast, but at what cost?

  Something caught the attention of Blaise out of the corner of his eye. A hot air balloon was floating across the sky down toward the battlefield. He could make out little, but he could see a figure with flowing dark hair standing in the basket. He strained his eyes, squinting into the distance.

  Ava.

  Blaise searched around for King Victor. He saw the king organizing a group of soldiers as the last of the creatures bore down on them. As the creature neared the line King Victor shouted an order. The soldiers dove to the sides while thrusting the spears back toward the beast. Victor moved to the side as he hurled his spear into the exposed back of the beast. The creature unrolled quickly, skidding to a motionless halt.

  “King Victor!” Blaise shouted to him. The king turned to see Blaise running toward him.

  “No worries, boy. Your father is fine. He went back to the command tent to reorganize the plans, while I cleaned things up here.”

  “No, this is not about my father. It is about Ava.”

  At the mention of his daughter’s name the king’s face became very grave. He said nothing but seemed to wait with his breath held for Blaise to continue.

  “Your daughter, Your Majesty.” Blaise pointed toward the balloon.

  The king squinted. Blaise thought the older man would be unable to see his daughter, but he proved to have the eyes of a hawk.

  “My daughter.” He spoke softly, relief clear in his voice.

  Blaise looked backed at the balloon. It was much closer now and Blaise saw now that a second balloon trailed far behind. He could only hope it was Max’s.

  “Has Hunter spent the last of his forces?” Blaise heard his father call out from behind them.

  Blaise turned. “It seems he might have, Father. The gates to the city stand open and no one comes to defend them. And look, Ava has escaped and perhaps Max along with her.”

  The king studied the balloons drifting toward the battlefield and he smiled. “Perhaps, we might find a happy ending in this after all.”

  As he spoke a shadow moved across the sun, plunging them into darkness.

  Max sailed high above the scene of destruction below. The once proud and noble armies lay broken below him. Shields that had once been cared for like children were broken and cast aside. Swords and spears lay broken and bloodied over the corpses of the dead. Carrion birds had already begun their feast. They hobbled happily around the field filling their bellies with the flesh of the dead.

  Ahead of him Max saw Ava’s balloon beginning to descend toward the ground. He could see her long dark hair blowing lightly in the wind. The sun reflected with majesty off raven-colored locks. A deep sense of infatuation filled Max. Something that was beyond thoughts, something without words. He felt a deep aching in his heart as he realized it could not be. She was not the girl he had first met. She was a princess and he was nothing to her.

  The shining reflection stopped as dark clouds rolled out in front of the sun. Fitting, thought Max; the heavens decreed that not only was he unworthy to be with her, but that he was unworthy still of even a glimpse of her beauty. He gazed off to the source of his frustrations. The dark storms clouds seemed to be almost a churning mist. They seemed to pulse in every direction. They were unlike any clouds he had ever seen, but then again what in this world was he not seeing for the first time? He focused his eyes on the dark mass and saw that it was fragmented and shifted back and forth. As he stared, the individual figures became startling apparent. They were not clouds. They were—

  “Dragons!” Max heard the faint call from below. One of the soldiers recognized the truth just as he had.

  At the sound of the shout the dragons dispersed and streaked like comets into battle. Their massive wings beat with ferocity as they propelled their colossal bodies that were each longer than forty feet. The dark black skin was in severe contrast to the clear blue sky. Leathery and tough it was surely capable of stopping a barrage of arrows without any damage. Along the backs and tails of the beasts were many rows of spiked plates curved like thorns.

  Missiles of fire streaked without pause from the gaping jaws of the dragons. They impacted with a force that shook the ground, and they exploded into showers of embers that rained without mercy onto the soldiers. Had Max not known that his friends were dying below he would almost have enjoyed the display. They were like fireworks. Shooting across the ground, dancing and twirling before exploding with a mighty hiss and a plume of sparkling ash.

  Max turned his head to see if Ava had made her landing yet. He was horrified at what he saw. A dragon was flying toward her quickly. Flaming orbs raced across the sky, streaking flame behind them. The first missed the balloon but the second connected, sending a wave of flame over the balloon. A loud hiss could be heard as the air escaped the balloon. It wheeled this way and that before crashing down into the swamps

  Max had no time to think as the dragon turned and barreled toward him. Its massive jaws were spread wide but no fire erupted from its throat. Its gigantic teeth were each the size of a man’s arms, and they lined its mouth in a double row. It wasn’t going to roast Max; it was going to eat him. Max was defenseless to stop the mammoth creature. Even the mighty hammer he gripped in his hand was nothing against the beast.

  A black streak stole across the sky, scraping along the back of the dragon. The dragon roared in fury as several more streaks whizzed by it. It turned in pursuit of the annoyance. Its huge wings barely missed the balloon, and the gust nearly sent Max over the railing.

  Across the sky the black streaks did battle with the dragons. They were large, though not the size of the dragons. They moved quickly but when he focused Max could see them. They were large black birds. Their sharp talons bit into the skin of the dragons. Fire soared through the air crissing and crossing without care, but the birds moved with speed beyond reason.

  “It is time to go.” Max heard a familiar voice behind him. A mix of emotions sank into his stomach. They conflicted and clashed, each one vying for control, but they were all of them defeated.

  Max turned. Hovering just beyond the basket was the bird he had met his first night in this world, the same bird that turned him into the Merchant.

  “Have you come now to save me, when before you cast me to my doom?”

  “I did only what I saw as best and it has proved nearly so. Had I not done what I had, Hunter’s action would have remained hidden from you.”

  “Even without me gathering the letters he still was able to get them.”

  The bird landed on the railing of the balloon. His eyes looked weary. His feathers were faded and his beak dull. “But he was not able to control you. He was not able to indoctrinate you to his beliefs.”

  Max looked stunned. “Control me? Was that his true aim? His evil runs deeper than I guessed.”

  “You are a fine tool, Max. In your own hand that tool does good. It does what it was meant for. But a tool in the hand of another can be a weapon. That is what he sought. But no, Hunter is not evil. How simple it would be if he were, if by striking him down this conflict was resolved and peace could spread eternal.”

  “How can you claim he is not evil? Have you seen what he has done?”

  “He is no more evil than those that have brought him to his actions. And those that brought them to theirs, and so it goes to the beginning of time. Is it not evil that your friends slaughtered their unknowing co
untrymen who were acting not of their will but of Hunter’s?” The bird looked at Max with pain in his eyes.

  “They had no choice. It had to be done.” Max replied without hesitation.

  “I do not disagree, but what you have said is what all men say. The only difference between men is how far one is willing to go to achieve that which he wants. To some, like Hunter, the end justifies the means.”

  “But we fought to preserve the Kingdom.” Max spouted angrily.

  “Tell me. Why does Hunter fight? Do you know his true struggle?

  “Hunter has no noble cause.” Max glanced warily over his shoulder at the battle behind. “He has lashed out in jealousy of his brother, in anger of his father’s decision.”

  “In anger of his father’s decision, yes, but not in jealousy. You do not know what has truly pushed Hunter to his end. You must see that he is not evil. He has only been blinded by his own ends and has forgotten his means.” The bird flapped its wings and lifted off from the basket. It hovered again in the air, looking at Max.

  “What then is his end?” Max asked.

  “It is not for me to say. But his goal is there. Beneath the cloak of this illusion it is laid bare. Perhaps you shall see it when you meet him in battle for the final time. Know that this conflict is not at its end. There is still one final card that shall be turned, and when it is it shall change the game.”

  The bird moved closer and beckoned to Max. “Climb on. There is a battle to be fought.”

  The bird moved with graceful speed, soaring into the fray. The other birds dive-bombed the dragons who tried fruitlessly to roast their attackers. Even with the battle raging overhead, those on the ground were still in great peril. Fire still exploded with regularity across the plains. Frantic soldiers ran this way and that, some with flames wrapping themselves around their terrorized souls. They were helpless, unable to offer a defense to the flaming tempest that rained upon them.