Max Arena (57 page)

Max knew the
creature’s left tentacle was already shooting out across the space
to ambush him as he crouched below the incoming acid balls.
Snapping up, Max pirouetted to the right, dropped the shield and
wrapped both hands around the hilt of the inverted broadsword next
to him.

The alien’s
tentacle flicked past Max, but he would not let it go untouched.
Smoothly and with lightning speed, Max pulled the broadsword clear
of the grass and swung it murderously down in as tight an arc as he
could. The massive blade scythed the air and struck the tentacle as
it reached full extension next to Max.

The serrated
edge of the blade cut deeply. A spray of green liquid misted into a
cloud as the broadsword carved through the pale grey appendage. A
moment later the tentacle retracted back, but the leading metre of
it fell to the turf, diced off.

The crowd
roared. The creature roared. Max dropped the broadsword and without
looking, reached behind him to pluck the javelin out of the ground.
Shuffling his feet, he looked up at the giant alien to find it
writhing and contorting on its huge legs, its other, intact
tentacle whipping around like an out of control fire hose. The
monster was distracted by its pain. The brief respite allowed Max
to fix his focus on the creature’s front eye. He took two steps
forward.

In a smooth,
but potent action, Max hurled the javelin at the giant creature’s
head, seeking to skewer it through its eye. The javelin soared
true, but the creature’s agitated state made the target too hard
and the missile drove into its forehead instead, bouncing off to no
avail.

Despite his
shot having missed, Max knew he still held the advantage. The alien
was still heavily distressed at having its tentacle hacked off and
so, Max was unguarded and free to attack unharried, but how to kill
it? His plan had been a good one, but he had been too far away, so
there was only one thing to do. He needed to be closer.

Reaching down
to his right thigh, Max unsheathed his knife and launched forwards,
his orange shoes a coloured blur against the green grass. Like a
bolt of lightning, he darted straight at the massive alien. The
creature’s flailing tentacles, both good and injured, whipped
around in a frenzy, but Max dodged and dived to get past them and
right up to the creature’s huge bulk.

As soon as he
got in close, Max jumped high and using the folds in the creature’s
skin as toeholds, he scaled up the monster’s hide in two bounds and
latched himself onto the head. Once there, Max came eye to eye with
the creature. Up close, the alien’s eye was no longer just an
oblong, black smear. It was in fact like a rainbow coloured
honeycomb, a micropattern of hexagons arrayed in a kaleidoscope of
hues and saturations, but Max was not there to admire.

The creature
was instantly aware of Max’s intention and shook its great bulk,
snapping its head from side to side and shaking its body, but Max
held on with his left arm wrapped around the top of the alien’s
scalp. Raising his right hand, the knife gleamed and flashed.

Elsa held her
breath, her mouth open and her body frozen. Abdullah’s fingers
paused playing with his prayer beads and Joe leaned in closer to
the glass, his nose almost touching the pane. Peter remained
transfixed. Kris’ fists balled so tightly her nails dug into her
palms. Time seemed to slow as the crowd watched Max hold his blade
out ready to strike. The beast thrashed and bucked, trying to
dislodge him and then the blade flashed one last time.

Max drove the
blade inwards, driving it squarely into the centre of the alien’s
eye, right up to the hilt. A gurgling roar filled the stadium only
to be drowned out by the ecstasy of the crowd. The creature’s full
body convulsions became too great for Max to hold on and he was
thrown out to the side.

This time he
controlled his impact with the ground and rolled straight to his
feet. Quickly Max turned, his instincts still forcing him onto his
toes, wary and ready, but the duel was over.

The hideous,
grey brute was still flailing around, but was now completely
aimless, clearly in its death throes. Max stepped backwards away
from it just in case some final, biological death mechanism erupted
from it. Then it died. Suddenly the convulsions just stopped. It
froze for a moment and then toppled over, its disgusting, flabby
skin flopping about.

Max watched it
fall, emotionally agnostic to its death. He had won, but all he
could do was merely acknowledge it. There was no celebration. No
internal joy or satisfaction. It was simply a job done because as
the crowd rejoiced his second victory, Max knew the ordeal was far
from over.

He had
defeated two foes. He had won two duels, but now came the third.
Now came the hardest. Now came Macktidas.

11:40pm, 31
^st
December.
Warlord

The crowd was
delirious. It was a celebration. It was jubilation. It was sheer
ecstasy. With the second alien foe dispatched and its corpse
vanished from the arena, hope had been replaced by the absolute
height of confidence, its deep emotion running rampant amongst the
throng of humanity.

Two different
species of extraterrestrial had come and gone, both of them beaten
and killed by the crowd’s human champion. What had seemed
impossible was now feeling like a certainty. Mankind would not only
win tonight, but it would prove its worth to be greater than the
alien oppressors threatening it with genocide. Humanity was the
stronger race and all it had to do now was beat down the final foe
and claim a righteous victory.

In contrast to
the mayhem around him, Max stood silent and motionless within the
confines of the arena. Unlike the masses surrounding him, he knew
that the space between himself and any possible victory was wide
and dark, like a chasm pitching far into the depths of the Earth.
His final foe still stood between himself and the light of safety
and that foe was more fearsome, more dangerous and more skilled
than anything he had yet seen tonight. Macktidas.

Max had never
seen the creature in real life, but he had seen and felt its
potency through the mind link he shared with his mother. Macktidas
was a warrior and a monster. Borne of the elite in the Nar’gellan
race, he physically dominated all others and by the might of his
own hands, he had wrested the rulership of his race from Max’s
parents, inflicting death and carnage in the act.

Max’s mother
had known Macktidas would eventually find her son and so she had
guided him into a life of preparation, not of hiding. The truth had
been the most effective means of helping Max come to terms with
what was just about to unfold. Silently, Max thanked his mother
again. She had been right to prepare him and now he was ready.
Ready to fight and ready to die if needs be.

Standing at
one end of the arena, Max had eyes only for three people. With no
weapon in hand, he stood motionless, looking up at the glass box
where his family stood. He had no words for his wife and children,
but he knew in his heart what their thoughts were because those
thoughts were his also. They always had been. He may right now be
champion for the human race, but his family were his heroes and if
his life ended in this next bout, Max knew his life had been full
and rich and so had his family’s. The time had come. Max placed his
open palm on his heart and sent his love up through the space
between them. He watched Elsa do the same.

Then, Max
sensed a change in the atmosphere. He stood at one end of the
arena, nearest his family and so had the majority of the field
behind him. The mood in the stadium abruptly changed, the
celebration suddenly halting, like it had been rudely interrupted.
Max felt a slight electric charge in the air. Arms and fingers
raised all around the stadium, pointing to the centre of the arena,
jubilant faces suddenly becoming tense and frightful. Something was
happening behind him.

Max held his
gaze on his family for just a moment longer and then slowly turned
on the spot. His gaze moved round one hundred and eighty degrees
and Max found the source of the interruption.

A broad,
cerulean beam of light shone directly down from the heavens and
onto the very centre of the grassed area. It penetrated from the
dark skies overhead like a shaft of energy. Inside the blue column,
Max could see tiny sparks of energy, rippling and crackling like
miniature electrical storms.

‘What is
that?’ Kris asked.

‘Macktidas,’
Max replied.

‘So, you
really think he’s coming after all?’

‘I have no
doubt and when he does come, he won’t stop. This is where it
ends.’

‘Then go and
grab a weapon would you?

‘Make sure the
gloves are charged.’

‘On it,’ Kris
said, ‘and remember, our only pair is up the other end from
me?’

Max
acknowledged the warning. Abdullah’s engineering team had really
struggled to invent this particular weapon and so only one, sole
pair of electric gloves had been made in time and even now it was
dangerously hap hazard to use. The charging mechanism was flaky and
prone to failing, but it was all they had and to be fair,
Abdullah’s engineers had come through with everything else Max had
needed, including some of the weapons he had already used in the
first two bouts. This was not a time to complain. This was a time
to fight.

‘Thanks,’ Max
replied. ‘Here we go.’

‘Go stick it
to him, big guy,’ Kris growled back. ’Make him wish he’d never
heard of you.’

Max opened his
mouth to reply, but before he could, the atmosphere charged even
higher. The shaft of blue light intensified to a deeper shade and
the electricity bolts inside arced even brighter.

The crowd
cowed down. A slight breeze stirred the blades of grass, ruffling
the surface of the arena like ripples on the ocean. Max started to
walk, slowly circling the crackling beam of energy, his attention
glued to it. He kept his movements steady and fluid, his balance
firm. Max knew that the moment Macktidas hit the ground, it would
be relentless, right up until someone or something died.

Then it
happened. The shaft of light suddenly blazed, its radiance
engulfing the stadium and momentarily blinding everyone. Instead of
raising his hands to cover his eyes, Max squinted into the
brilliance and in that instant, he saw his foe appear.

A split second
later, Macktidas was on the turf, accompanied by a great gust of
swirling wind that seemed to snuff out the shaft of light. A great,
gut-wrenching roar rent the night, cowering all twenty thousand
people in the stands, the unholy noise trembling the ground beneath
them.

Max beheld the
monster, all nine feet of him, the width across his shoulders equal
to Max’s height. Macktidas resembled his own soldiers in physical
shape, appearing as a giant, gorilla-like humanoid with dark,
shimmering skin and the heaving musculature of a Greek God. His
armour shone in sparkling silver, his linked, breast and back
plates covering his torso while forearm, thigh and shin plates
protected his limbs. His face was pure anger, the whites of his
eyes glaring balefully out from beneath a deep brow and above
great, rounded cheekbones. His bared teeth bore fangs as long as
short swords and molars that could grind human bones like candy.
His giant nostrils flared like volcanic vents, his breathing harsh
and louder than a steam train, and then he moved.

Macktidas
charged forward on all fours like a gigantic silverback, his
massive fists pounding into the grass, tearing up huge divots. His
roar matched the shuddering of the ground as he rumbled forwards,
not lumbering or ungainly, but powerfully like a huge machine that
greedily ate up the space in front of it, devouring any sense of
order before it.

In a matter of
split seconds, Macktidas had covered the fifty metres between
himself and Max, his enormous, bunched fists whipping up over his
head and then swinging down towards Max like twin wrecking
balls.

Max had
frozen, but he was balanced, poised to move once his enemy showed
its hand. As Macktidas’ blows hurtled towards him, Max took two
steps forward and leapt high, somersaulting over his foe’s fists
and landing nimbly on the grass to Macktidas’ left side. Max hit
the ground running and just as well. Macktidas’ speed was blinding.
In an instant the beast turned and thrashed out at his smaller
opponent, but Max was again equal to the task, forward rolling and
coming up clear.

Now Max was
sprinting. If everything his mother had told him was true, he
needed to get those electric gloves on. They would be his only true
chance of victory and they were up the other end. Pumping his legs
like pistons, Max powered across the turf, his orange shoes a blur,
but Macktidas was right after him, bellowing like the world was
coming to an end. As Max ran, Macktidas swung his massive fists
after him, just missing, but Max could feel the rush of air on his
back.

‘Gloves are
out,’ Kris said into his earpiece, ‘but they’re not charged yet.
They’re playing up again.’

‘He’s too
close anyway,’ Max breathed back.

With Macktidas
swinging at his heels, Max sprinted directly for the far end of the
arena. He could see the gloves on the ledge, but he also knew that
if he hit the wall, Macktidas would smash straight into him. He
needed to stay in the clear and give himself room to manoeuvre.

Suddenly, with
only twenty metres to go before running out of space and still at
full speed, Max jumped up, tucked his feet in and spun in the air.
Turning and rolling in mid flight, he flattened himself to hit the
grass, chest first. As he touched down, Max kicked his feet out and
dug his toes in, using his hands for added grip. Effectively facing
the other way, Max juddered to a halt, looked up and found his
enemy screaming onto him.