Maximus Thatcher Read online

  You will Achieve by Julia Vaatuitui-Hartshorne.

  Copyright © 2018.

  ISBN: 978-0-473-43445-8

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or

  otherwise without the prior permission of the author.

  Printed in New Zealand by PublishMe Self-Publishing.

  www.publishme.co.nz

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: Two-day Mission

  Chapter 2: Sherwood

  Chapter 3: The Dojo

  Chapter 4: The Revealing

  Chapter 5: The Hospital

  Chapter 6: New Friends

  Chapter 7: Expectations

  Chapter 8: A New Beginning

  Chapter 9: Elementrix Main

  Chapter 10: Unexpected Power

  Chapter 11: Complications

  Chapter 12: The Gods

  Chapter 13: The First Assessment

  Chapter 14: Strike

  Chapter 15: Challengers Break

  Chapter 16: The Second Assessment

  Chapter 17: Preparations

  Chapter 18: The Final Assessment

  Chapter 19: Ceremonial Disaster

  Chapter 20: Expectations

  Chapter 21: Dartholemue’s Grip

  Chapter 22: Recovery

  Chapter 23: The Island

  Chapter 24: Family Reunion

  Chapter 25: The Long Awaited Return

  Chapter 26: New Technology

  Chapter 27: Jonny’s Strategy

  Chapter 28: Immune

  Chapter 29: The Final Battle

  Chapter 30: Unknown Guardian

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Two hundred archers strung their bows in unison, releasing their grips on command, and a wave of arrows sang out into the battleground. A young man in the front row fumbled for his second arrow as he scanned the cliffside. The cold winter breeze made it hard on the hands and he repositioned the bow and let loose another arrow. There was no need for shields; only a sword hung at the waist, together with the colours of Lord Philo. The white vapour around each man disappeared as they held their breath in an attempt to get a glimpse of their target below.

  A cloaked figure stood on the open plain below the cliffside, confronted by two men, Lords Philo and Cleon, both decorated soldiers. No human would be capable of fighting them up close. This was a battle of Gods, something Philo was willing to fight for. He could hear screaming and yelling from the right flank. Something had just collided with the cliffside, instantly taking out a third of their force. Another command issued another volley of arrows, released without hesitation.

  “Pathetic,” said the dark figure, waving his hand and sending the arrows veering off course.

  “Dartholemue!” shouted Philo as he sent a blast of lightning towards him. It was perfectly timed, the ground rising slightly under Dartholemue, catching him off guard. Dartholemue teleported out of range, tailed by Cleon, who followed his teleportation rift and connected a blow to his face. Philo appeared at Cleon’s side unnaturally fast, covering the distance in seconds. Both men were heavily panting, covered with beads of sweat.

  This was a fight that had been continuing for years, a struggle to control the growing power of Dartholemue. He had been a threat to their existence, thirsty to gain as many new powers as he could, to win this war and reign as rightful ruler. Both Philo and Cleon had tried unsuccessfully to loosen his hold without resorting to war, but now fought to survive by any means.

  “We were chosen to be gifted with these powers for good, not evil,” pleaded Philo.

  His remark fell on deaf ears as a sinister laugh echoed across the battle ground. “Says the element user who crushed half my army.”

  “You threatened my wife and child!”

  “A child should not be born of two immortals. He could be more powerful than we three put together,” spat Dartholemue.

  “That still doesn’t give you the right,” injected Cleon, drawing his sword. Small rocks began to tremble under Dartholemue’s anger.

  “Do not address your king in that way,” said Dartholemue, harshly. Cleon positioned his shield on his left hand as he took up position next to Philo.

  “You are no longer my king. We long ago transcended that.”

  “I will never forgive you for your betrayal; you were my closest commander.”

  At that point, heavy rain began to pour down on the destroyed battleground. Both men tightened their stance as Dartholemue continued.

  “All I need is for you to attack me once with a power and then that power becomes mine. I pretty much already have most of your element powers, Philo, but I will allow you to use any attack you like,” he baited.

  Cleon leaned into Philo and muttered, “Don’t use any different powers to those you have been using. We can’t afford for him to collect any more.” Cleon gripped the hilt of his sword, feeling the rain loosen his grip.

  “I know, I know,” said Philo. “We need him to remain distracted for a while longer if your plan is going to succeed. We remain attacking in unison and try to keep him away from your archers; there shall be no unnecessary deaths today.”

  They rallied their strength and charged together. Philo’s signature lightning ability tore through the ground as they advanced. Cleon decided to risk using a new technique, thinking on the spot as he developed it, redirecting his power as it came to fruition. A beam of light erupted in a wave across the battleground. Philo used this opportunity to cage Dartholemue in a circular layer of rock, watching with narrowed eyes as the rock wrapped around his body. Metal spikes rose from the ground, piercing the rock sphere and held it in mid-air. Philo wrapped the sphere in a layer of thick metal, something Dartholemue had not seen before. He continued by hollowing the landscape around him to create a deep pit, allowing Cleon to fill the pit with lava.

  “Did we get him?” breathed Cleon.

  “I think so. This lava will stop anyone from breaching the sphere,” replied Philo, observing the vast area of magma and the extreme heat radiating upwards. “Send the signal to Vita,” he commanded.

  Cleon sent a bright light shooting into the sky, indicating the next phase of the plan.

  “You did well,” Philo commented. It had been a long battle, and an even longer war for him. The time for good to conquer evil was almost upon them. They breathed evenly, trying to regain their composure.

  Their vulnerability was high at this point and the series of boulders that rained down on both men caught them flatfooted. The force of the attack was not enough to cause serious injury but, nevertheless, they were bruised and scratched as they struggled out from beneath the rubble.

  “The archers,” said Cleon. It was clear that, despite their efforts, the attack had come from Dartholemue’s direction.

  “He’s sending us a message,” replied Philo, angrily. He found a suitable piece of slate rock, upon which he comfortably balanced. An electrical current, supplemented by his wind power, propelled the platform in the direction of the archers, covering the distance quickly. Dartholemue watched as Philo rose from beneath the cliffside, and they locked eyes immediately. All two-thirds of the remaining archers knelt, clutching their throats and gasping for air. They were as still as stone, as though any movement would decrease their oxygen intake even further.

  “See what you have done,” yelled Dartholemue, squeezing his hand into a tighter fist. The archers began to shake violently, watching as Cleon tried to reverse the effect.

  “Enough!” barked Philo as lightning bolts from the sky broke
through his barrier, striking the ground around him, but Dartholemue’s attention had been grabbed by something else. A small, blue tinge of light simmered on the horizon. Dartholemue knew that this must be some new power being used by another party. There were only five people, himself included, who had powers, so his curiosity was piqued. He felt himself helplessly drawn to it; the beacon of another power was intoxicating. The grip he held on the archers faded instantly as he disappeared.

  “Cleon!” yelled Philo.

  He gripped onto Cleon’s arm, who teleported, following Dartholemue’s line. They appeared almost instantly near to him, recognising a similar environment to that which they had left. The sand blew gently against their feet as they stood, stiff with tension. Dartholemue stood nearby, inspecting the remains of what appeared to be a portal. Blue sparks scattered around the portal as it disappeared from view. He could feel great power coming from the portal, something even he couldn’t replicate.

  “You don’t know what’s on the other side,” pleaded Vita, stepping up to Dartholemue and making him flinch with surprise.

  The distraction was supposed to allow enough time for the portal to close, but Dartholemue took a step closer to the portal, watching the reaction on Vita’s face with a nasty leer. A moment was all it took for Dartholemue to be gone, the portal collapsing from his power. Philo sank to the ground, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

  “How far back did you send him?” asked Cleon. Vita could not reply, staring bleakly at the place where the portal had been. He took her by the shoulders and repeated the question, trying to shake the shock from her. He knew that time travel was a technique which used up energy that had been saved for many years and wasn’t something they couldn’t do again in the near future. The devastating fact that they had sent him back to the time when they had only just received their powers made Cleon sick. If things had gone to plan, they could have stopped him before he received the most dangerous power of all of them.

  Vita shook her head and stared at Cleon, tears forming in her beautiful eyes. “I sent Maximus a thousand years into the future,” she sobbed.

  Philo’s heart sank with the knowledge that he would never see his son again.

  “Our little boy,” he whispered.

  “I had to protect our child,” pleaded Vita, embracing him as she cried. As he observed them clinging to each other, Cleon analysed the plan and concluded that there was only one thing left to do.

  Chapter 1

  Two-day Mission

  Maximus Thatcher crouched in the forest, surrounded by huge trees that concealed his position nicely, scanning the shrubbery for any hint of a trail. His target: a young man a year older than he, who was a blood relative. He was impressed by his cousin’s stealth, and intrigued by it.

  The tree’s bark was rough and the leafy canopy concealed the sun’s rays. Little specks of light touched the forest floor and this played to Max’s advantage by allowing him to see clearly through the foliage. A slight breeze passed through the thick forest and streams flowed through the heavy, dense forest - the veins that kept the woods alive.

  Max was sixteen, a young man on his way to adulthood. Deep brown eyes which, in the sunlight could easily be taken for hazel, blinked under his dark brown hair. White robes hung from his frame as if they were working in unison with his muscular body. He could manoeuvre any way he wanted in his robes; they didn’t restrict his movements at all and allowed him to be quick on his feet. A wooden sword was strapped to his belt, and one hand lightly grasped the hilt, enabling him to quickly defend himself from attack.

  He was the only person he knew who would willingly penetrate this far into the woods. Not even his cousin, Paul, would dare come this deep. He was not one to venture too far from home, sticking to the outskirts of the forest rather than risk getting lost.

  This beautiful area was the heart of Sherwood Forest. It was a place of great mystery, bordering a vast city as if a line split the modern world from nature. It gave Max a sense of peace and safety to burrow so deep into the forest. He was a good hour away from the outskirts, where he guessed Paul would be, and at least three hours’ walk away from his home located in the heart of the city. Tales of wild animals that inhabited the forest discouraged others from exploring but despite this he did not fear the danger; rather, he embraced it.

  After observing his surroundings for a few moments, Max picked up a trail that took him closer to the edge of the forest. As he drew his sword from his belt he could feel the sunlight warming his face. After an hour of walking, the branches grew thinner, the shrubbery less dense.

  He paused for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the light. As they did so, he could make out a serene meadow nestled in the surrounding forest.

  He could have stood there all day, immersed in the beauty of the scene, watching the butterflies flit among the flowers, inhaling the sweet scents. It was almost as if he was in a dream, that Heaven itself had been captured and placed before him.

  The moment evaporated as he spotted an object upon the rock overlooking the large, modern city. It was his cousin, meditating. Max’s two-day mission had led him to this point.

  The mission had taken him through the forest, utilising survival techniques for the first day-and-a-half. Building a fire was the easiest part of his job; using a flint and lots of twigs, he had quickly been able to create a fire to prevent hypothermia. The hard part was catching food with hardly any tools or weapons. As Max only had enough snacks to maintain a low energy level, he’d wisely planned his hunt before acting.

  He hoped that his cousin, Paul, had had better luck than he, although the second part of the mission was to find his cousin and best him in a duel.

  Max sat up against a log to form a plan of attack that would end his mission quickly and successfully. He rose into a crouch and slowly crept closer to Paul, keeping his wooden sword at the ready. Taking a last, steadying breath, he looked down upon Paul, trying to gain the confidence to strike without him being aware of it.

  It felt uncomfortable watching his cousin just sitting there, seemingly unaware of the danger. At this point, he was vulnerable to an attack.

  While Max was pondering the situation, Paul suddenly spun around and swung his sword at his cousin’s feet. Quick reflexes spared Max a crippling blow to the legs as he jumped over the sword and took two steps back. He held his sword with one hand, pointing it at Paul.

  “I thought I would never find you,” said Max hoarsely.

  For a second, they unblinkingly held each other’s gaze and then Paul said quietly, “You only found me because I wanted to be found.”

  “Still, I’m glad I did.”

  Max saw that Paul was surreptitiously scanning the vicinity for anything that would give him an advantage. Before he could locate anything, Max dashed straight at him, only allowing him a split second to react. In a fluid motion, he pulled his sword downwards, slashing through the air, aiming to strike Paul on the chest.

  With uncommon strength and speed, Paul jerked his sword upwards and flicked Max’s sword from his hand. Suddenly, Max found himself on the ground with the sharp point of a blade at his throat.

  Long moments passed before Paul finally withdrew his sword and pulled Max to his feet with a strong hand. “Once again, I am defeated,” said Max, dejectedly.

  “Your time will come, dear cousin, just wait.”

  His cousin had a bigger build than Max, with black hair and darker skin. It was clear that he was the more mature of the two and was very much Max’s role model. He stood tall, with his shoulders back, refusing to show weakness in front of Max.

  “You are a lot wiser than me, cousin,” Max replied.

  Paul walked over to a tree on the left-hand side of the meadow, some thirty metres away from the forest from which they had emerged. The tree’s canopy was broad and shaded the ground beneath, providing protection from the sun. Paul placed his sword on a nearby tree stump and stripped off his top layer of clothing.

&n
bsp; “Shall we proceed with hand-to-hand combat?” enquired Paul.

  Max had picked up his sword and placed it against the stump. He was beginning to feel the long day catching up to him, his eyes stinging from the lack of sleep.

  “We should get into it before it gets dark,” he replied.

  The pair adopted a fighting stance, facing each other. Slowly, the sun was sinking and the wind blew cold on Max’s face.

  He was the first to break the stand-off by taking a big step and launching his right fist towards Paul’s face. Paul leaned back and grabbed Max’s arm, punching him in the chest. Max stumbled back, trying to regain his ground, determined to demonstrate his strength and skill. As he recovered his balance, Paul threw a quick flurry of punches. This time Max reacted faster, blocking each one, catching Paul’s arm and twisting it behind his back, forcing him to the ground and lightly resting his knee on his cousin’s neck.

  They went back and forth in this fashion for another twenty-five minutes until both boys were gasping for breath. The sun was just skimming the tops of the trees, each minute darker than the last.

  Paul was the first to bow and Max emulated the gesture. Bowing after every training exercise had been drilled into them both, since it ensured that there would be no remaining tension on completion of the exercise.

  “We’d better hurry with the fire,” said Paul as he looked beyond the trees at the darkening orange sky. He had always enjoyed watching sunsets; it warmed his heart to know that there was such beauty in the world.

  “I’ll get enough firewood to last the night,” replied Max, looking at Paul.

  “Sounds like a plan. I’ll have a fire going by the time you get back. Don’t be too long – it’ll be dark soon.” He turned his attention to the flat stone where he intended to build the fire.

  Max turned around, picked up his bag, and swiftly headed into the trees. He walked for fifteen minutes towards the right-hand side of the forest. He was very familiar with the forest’s layout and knew the best places to collect good firewood.