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For a few minutes Marshall Wellarzlee contemplated with great satisfaction how well his plans were proceeding. Even the feeble resistance offered by Xzalnyr and his forces was easily quashed by the might of the Chosen Ones. That is how it must be, under our leadership, Mars will be invincible once more. He thought with total certainty, his vision of Mars’ future would not be denied. But he also felt a little disheartened. Wellarzlee was glad when he had heard that Commander Xzalnyr had rejoined the Martian Empire... he had looked forward to fighting alongside such a noble warrior. Unfortunately since the war for Mars, all that had changed. Emperor Izlyr was not willing to lead the Empire back to its rightful position, and Commander Xzalnyr supported him. Which made both of them enemies of Marshall Wellarzlee. Hearing a sound, Wellarzlee noticed one of the Chosen Ones rapidly approaching. ‘You have something to report?’ The Chosen One saluted. ‘Yes, Marshall, there is one particular member of Xzalnyr’s rebels that could pose a problem.’ ‘Who?’ Wellarzlee hissed quickly. ‘A priest in the Order of Oras, Marshall.’ He paused. ‘We do not know his name yet, but he was seen fleeing with the rebels when we captured Xzalnyr.’ ‘I see, and you are just informing me of this now?’ Wellarzlee answered with marked displeasure. He had always distrusted those priests, with their cryptic chants and mystic rituals. Once the Chosen were in complete control the Order of Oras would be expunged permanently. He started to give a new order to the Chosen One, when his personal communication device beeped twice. ‘What is it?’ he asked shortly. ‘It’s Emperor Izlyr, Marshall. We’ve just received word that he is to ordain a new Abbot of Oras in less than an hour.’ ‘What?’ Wellarzlee paced around the room as he absorbed this latest bit of information. First, there was a priest spotted working with Xzalnyr, and now, the Emperor about to anoint an Abbot. This cannot be a coincidence! He stopped pacing; coming to the sudden realisation that it was time. If the Chosen Ones were to reach their destiny, they had to be ready immediately. There could be no subtle manoeuvres anymore. He would pay an unexpected visit to Emperor Izlyr, and assemble all the Chosen Ones and give them their orders. The time for action was now! With a quietness that defied his size, Xzalnyr tensed his muscles and lifted his arms. He gritted his sharp teeth together and forced his muscles into overdrive. Slowly the bonds that bound his arms to the chair came free. He leaned forward and groped for the bonds on his legs, never once taking his eyes off the guard standing by the door. Marshall Wellarzlee’s over confidence was his weakness. He was so obsessed with what he saw as right that the Marshalll did not believe he could be opposed. Even though Xzalnyr’s team had opposed him! Xzalnyr rose to his feet, ignoring the pain in his chest, and deftly made his way up to the guard. The Martian’s strength and speed was such that the guard did not know what hit him. He dropped to the ground heavily. Xzalnyr looked down and his upper lip curled. ‘Wellarzlee will wish he were never hatched,’ he said with a hiss, and slammed his foot down on to the helmet of the guard. The helmet cracked; the glass from the red visor splintering in to the guard’s eyes. Without even a single look back, Commander Xzalnyr stormed out of the room, knowing full well that Vlaash was due at the Throne Room shortly.
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