Morris Surface

1. Auflage 2015
ISBN: 978-0-9838844-6-0
Verlag: Red Plate Books
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 365 Seiten

The New Power speaks. And Sam answers. Just months after the pivotal Battle of the Water Tower, sixteen-year-old Sam Cutter remains at the center of an escalating global power struggle. What seems like a reckless move may save the world or it may tear it apart. The Master is acting. War has officially been declared. The time of shadows has past. With little time left, Sam and his friends, including the world's immortal Royals, must gather an army to rival the New Power. The Sky Nation and the Water Nation have long resisted the corruption of the New Power. The Surface cannot afford to ignore it any longer. They must rise up and fight. Hope must return. One Surface runaway may be the light in the dark that revives a nation in dire need. The Three Kingdoms must unite or they will fall.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Morris, James

Leseproben

Prologue “So, yet again, the Cutter boy has bested you?” a shadowed figure asks Steven. “Master, forgive me,” Steven pleads, “It is not for lack of trying.” His master looks at him from his throne with disdain. “I guarantee you he perished in the Water Tower. Cutter was paralyzed.” Steven himself is still injured from his battle with the boy. Even here the injuries won’t seem to fade. The Red Elixir that he drank took a real toll on his body. If the punishment that Sam gave him wasn’t enough, that was the topping on the cake. As expected with Red Elixir, Steven kept some of the strength that was gifted to him after its effects wore off, but it’s barely a fraction of what he commanded at the time of ingestion. “Your failures are beginning to become countless,” Steven’s master says. “And your delay in getting me this report does not amuse me.” If it were possible to gracefully snarl, the master just pulled it off. It’s enough to intimidate Steven who visibly flinches at his master’s words. He falls to a knee, even that much motion hurting him. He should be further healed, but his mind can’t seem to be rid of the phantom pain. “I have good reason for the delay, master,” Steven says, not chancing a look up from the floor. The monochromatic floor’s color is only disrupted by the light provided by the torches on either side of the great hall. The floor reflects their dancing flames in a way that, while beautiful, is more off-putting to Steven than not. Still, the shifting reflections of flames are more than an ample distraction to avoid having to see the rage that Steven knows is in his master’s face. Twice now he has been told to directly intervene in taking control of a nation. Twice he has failed. “I’m sure you do,” Steven’s master mocks. “But it will not be ‘good’ enough.” A foreboding energy swarms into the room as Steven’s master pushes himself up out of his throne. The man himself is still cloaked in shadows, too dark to see. He seems to be the type that can take the darkness and wreath it around himself and wear it as a cape. That is the man he is. He is the one who can even control the darkness, for it is too afraid to do anything else. Steven’s master takes but one step down from his throne. He places a foot on the step beneath the level his throne is on, and a howling wind rushes throughout the entire hall. It’s powerful enough that it stings Steven’s skin as it rushes by. The gust seems to pick up the shadows that Steven’s master is wearing, but they are too stubborn to leave his body. The shadows extend out from where the master stands as all the torches are blown out by this wind, and the entire hall turns pitch black. Steven blinks hard, hoping that something was only wrong with his eyes and that the light is still there. There’s no way that his master can do this. Right? The wind dies down as suddenly as it started. The only sound echoing through this haunting hall is the ragged sound of Steven’s breathing as he fails to calm himself. He breaks out into a cold sweat that spreads all over his body. In no time, it’s enough that Steven’s shirt is sticking to his body uncomfortably. The silence becomes deafening. Second after second ticks by with Steven hoping beyond hope that his master still hasn’t moved, that he will say something. “Are you scared?” Steven’s master asks, his voice coming from everywhere all at the same time. Surprised by the voice, Steven jumps and ducks his head in, shrugging his shoulders high. If there was enough light to see, it would look as if Steven is trying to make himself as small as possible. That’s how he feels right now. A whimper escapes his lips, and a small chuckle comes echoing from all directions. A man that he knows can end his life in less than a second, the man he serves, is toying with him. Nearly a year ago, this would never have been the case. Nearly a year ago, the Sky Nation was almost his! Everything was going to plan. They were broken. The resistance became the entertainment in the arena. The greatest of them became the new recruits, a brilliant idea that Steven takes credit for. Even then, he had his agents infiltrated within the Ravens in case things didn’t go according to plan. And then it all changed. Steven attended the arena fight that day. A new shipment of gladiators had just come in. He got the call and rushed over immediately. It was bound to be a good show. After all, they had some exotic combatants that day: two of a shamefully rare breed. They had caught one years before, but he became so dull that they didn’t even bother making him fight anymore. If these two Surface dwellers were anywhere near as entertaining as the last one they caught was, then it would’ve been one of the best matches they had in a long while. The match was entertaining, yes, but not in the way Steven was expecting. Not at all. One of the Surface dwellers could fight. It was…intriguing. The other wasn’t as funny as Steven had hoped. Neither was funny. One of them was ferocious. He fought as a desperate animal would. Even though he wasn’t the best in the arena, Steven had ordered that he be made a new recruit. He wanted that ferocity among his rank. And besides, he needed a new toy. Unfortunately, word had reached Steven’s ears that the last of the remaining Ravens launched an assault against the transports that were taking the fighters to the prison. Of course, the attack was lead by that damnable Jinn Grant, the unofficial leader of the Ravens. Steven never could get close enough to get control of him. How unfortunate. There’s another talent that he would’ve loved to get his hands on. He had heard that the boy died in the attack. Oh how Steven wishes that were true today. Looking back at it all, he should’ve killed the lot of them. He thought that the Surface rats would be good playthings, but no. One of them changed everything. Sam Cutter, the demon sent from the darkest depths of Hell, Satan made incarnate, came to ruin everything. He didn’t die then. No, that would’ve been too easy. Again, months down the road, Steven attended a match at the arena. The resistance was fighting back harder than ever. Before, they were bugs just waiting to be squashed. Now they were animals with teeth. Or so it seemed. They became reinspired by some unknown force and were a thorn in his side. It was no matter, though, because the Sky would still be his. It would just take longer. He went to the arena to unwind. Multiple squads of his troops were viciously attacked in the streets, and he needed to clear his head. That’s when he saw a ghost. The same boy as before was again in the arena. So he didn’t die after all. This time, when the boy fought, he was even more fearsome. Beyond the ferocity he showed last time, he showed experience, knowledge, skill. He had been trained. He knew how to fight now. Who would’ve trained him? The Surface rat could even go against Armando, one of Steven’s previous play-things. The rat beat him! Still, he didn’t win the fight. He was taken out by a girl stabbing him in the back. He was rather dumb, but a powerful fool. This time the boy will be his! Nothing can stop him. Patrols were arranged along the transport’s route in case any Ravens thought it would be fun to attack again. Steven’s greatest asset was at hand. And then everything went wrong. The boy led an escape. He took control of the transport and hijacked the train. With that, he led a prison break and revitalized the Ravens further. Steven sent close to a fleet to get them back. The boy defeated them all. The reports said that he flew from bike to bike, using tactics no one in the Sky Nation had ever seen before. Beyond that, he flew without the aid of a jetpack or a Sky Bike! This must be it, Steven thought to himself at the time. The weapon that he had so sought after was turned against him. And its blade was more lethal than any other. Sam Cutter defeated everything Steven threw at him. He was even suicidal enough to crash the warship that Steven had brought to fight against him. He was hopeful then that Cutter died. But hope holds no place for him. “Well?” Steven’s master asks him, his voice a hiss circling around him. “Be honest now. I’ll know if you’re lying.” “Terrified,” Steven says weakly, answering his master’s previous question. “Now tell me again,” Steven’s master says. This time sounding as if he’s whispering right into Steven’s ear. Steven can even feel the hot breath of another human being on his neck. “What happened to Lynch?” Lynch was another servant of the master’s that was in charge of taking the Water Nation. As Steven was in charge of the Sky, Lynch was in charge of the Water. Emphasis on the was. In that final battle in the Water Tower, Lynch had been slain. “Cutter happened,” Steven says between clenched teeth, his fear turning to anger. Even there, in essentially another world than the Sky, the Cutter boy haunted Steven. He burned down one of their warehouses, freed his new recruits again, and slayed Lynch. Steven personally...