Renegade Rising

by J.C. Fiske

Chapter 5: The Truth Revealed

  To Gisbo, it felt like it took a lifetime to walk out of the city and, strangely enough, nobody followed. Even so, he still found himself looking over his shoulder, expecting to see a slew of guards trying to take advantage of Falcon’s injured state, but none came. He then reminded himself that the man had just defeated the general of the Elekai’ Elite with no more then a flick of a wrist.

  Gisbo walked along silently behind Falcon, watching him hum and whistle to himself casually. Gisbo doubted that Falcon even knew the ramifications of his actions. The Renegade challenged the strength of the strongest and trounced not one, but three. Did he even realize how this would affect the people? They would be telling this story for centuries to come with no need for exaggeration. The future generation may not believe it, but those that saw it would likely never forget. Where were you the day the Renegade came? Gisbo thought with a laugh.

  Falcon suddenly stopped and Gisbo realized they were finally at his small shack of a home. New graffiti had somehow, magically, come overnight. Gisbo shook his head and muttered a curse under his breath.

  “Well, pack your necessities and we’ll be off!” Falcon said with an upbeat little cheer. Gisbo was stunned. He stared at Falcon with a dumbfounded look.

  “Are you serious!? After all that walking in silence, after . . . after . . . oh man . . . I can’t even believe what you just did back there! After all that, you just expect me to willingly pack up and leave, no questions asked? Just like that?” Gisbo demanded, bewildered. Now it was Falcon’s turn to give a dumbfounded stare.

  “Um, do you plan on staying here, champ?” Falcon asked straightforward. Gisbo then realized how stupid his question must have sounded to the man who had saved his life.

  “Uh, no! Of course not!” Gisbo replied. There was a brief pause that was awkward for both of them.

  “Well, pack your necessities and we’ll be off!” Falcon repeated his cheer. Gisbo just stared at Falcon, shaking his head.

  “I just don’t believe this. Someone hit me! This must be a . . .” WHACK! Falcon did exactly as Gisbo commanded. Gisbo sat on the ground rubbing his very sore head and shouting his usual curses when he noticed that Falcon’s hands were completely healed.

  “Wait! How the hell did you even hit me just now? Your hands, they were . . .” Gisbo trailed off.

  “In simple terms, my wounds pretty much melted away. An elementary healing technique did the trick. I employed it while we were walking. Just now finished its effect, actually, perfect timing! Especially considering how you requested that I hit you and . . .” Falcon got no farther before being interrupted.

  “All right! All right! I get it, but seriously, just give me a minute to wrap my head around all this. Ok, there I was fighting Thomson, I . . . I nearly got my ass handed to me. If that guy Rolce didn’t hop in and . . . oh no . . . Rolce! That kid took a major beating for me and I had only just met the guy! I hope he’s all right,” Gisbo said, true concern to his tone.

  “Why don’t you ask him yourself? Look behind you. He’s arrived right on schedule,” said Falcon, as he pointed to the left side of the castle walls. There, walking quite normally, was Rolce. He trotted toward them with a big grin and a wave.

  “Rolce! How did you . . . you're healed too? How are you even walking? THE HELL IS GOING ON!?” Gisbo yelled as he grabbed his throbbing head in frustration. Rolce didn’t answer Gisbo. Instead, he walked straight toward Falcon, a finger pointed at him.

  “You! How did you do that? I heard a voice in my head tell me to follow you! One minute my leg is broken and the next it’s . . .” Rolce stammered, and then, like Gisbo before him, stared at Falcon in a dreamy shock. Finally, Falcon crossed his arms and sighed deeply.

  “Quit lookin’ at me like that, what do you think this is? One of your storybooks where something profound happens and you are filled with questions, but I, being the adult, tell you, 'No, boys, you are not yet old enough to hear the truth. In due time, when you are ready, all will be revealed!' Or, better yet! 'You two guys are the chosen ones! We need you to fight against some evil empire and slay the emperor!' Blah-da-di-blah! Psh, you guys read too much lousy fantasy,” Falcon walked crazily this way and that, waving his hands around as he ranted. If sarcasm could take human form, it just had.

  Gisbo and Rolce transferred their stares from Falcon to each other, then back to Falcon once more. They both muttered, “Huh?”

  “Bah! What a serious bunch you two are. Fine, fine, the truth it is, eh? All right, kiddies, I won’t hold anything back.” Falcon put his hands on his hips for emphasis and cleared his throat.

  “What I am about to tell you will not set easily, so you better start preparing yourselves. Whew, here goes.” He paused again, trying to choose his words carefully, then plowed right in.

  “Boys, I am a messenger from the almighty IAM, the immortal being and creator of this planet. A plot of utter evil is underway to rid this world of everything decent and just. You two have been chosen, by destiny, to face this evil and prevent their wicked deeds. The fate of the world now lies in the decision you will make to this question, this one question. Will you two give over your lives for the greater good? Or doom us all by refusing? Only in your deaths can Thera be saved . . . now choose,” Falcon said in utter seriousness.

  Gisbo and Rolce’s faces fell as Falcon’s words sunk in. They couldn't even look at each other upon hearing such news. Gisbo at first thought that Falcon must be kidding, but one look at the Renegade’s eyes said he was not. He recalled the change in his demeanor when he had faced the Elekai' Elite. His voice held the same seriousness now. Falcon looked at them, his eyes swinging back and forth, awaiting their reply. Another long awkward silence ensued. Neither Gisbo, nor Rolce said a word. The two of them only shuffled their feet nervously and stared at the ground.

  “BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Falcon burst into a peal of laughter, pointing at Gisbo and Rolce’s bewildered faces.

  “Oh,” he gasped. “Oh boy . . . I . . . I . . .” The Renegade then burst into another fit of laughter. “You should have seen the looks on your faces! Classic, absolutely classic! Oh how I love bringing newbies into the fold!” Falcon said. He clutched his convulsing middle and grimaced in pain, then laughed again. Rolce gave the Renegade an angry glower, but Gisbo’s face lightened up. His heart pounded in excitement as if it were trying to bust through his chest. Gisbo tried to force back his rising smile, but it was impossible.

  “Wait, you mean, you mean to tell me that you are here to make us . . . Renegades?” Gisbo asked, hoping upon everything holy that it was true. Falcon put a hand on each of the boy’s shoulders.

  “All right, all jokes aside now, promise. Gisbo, Rolce, I have come here to retrieve the both of you. It’s time to continue your Renegade training,” Falcon said, beaming with pride. The boys adopted their confused looks yet again.

  “'Continue?' What on Thera do you mean by ‘continue?'” Rolce asked.

  “Just as I said. Both of you, as of right now, have completed the first stage in your Renegade training. I know you guys feel lost, a bit out of your minds, but all that is normal. I felt the same way when I was your age. You boys are Renegade born and have passed the first part of your training with flying colors. For you to truly become a Renegade, you must know what it means to walk alone and learn the lessons of pain, sacrifice and sorrow and overcome them under grueling circumstances. Only then can one be deemed worthy of training. Deep down, although you may not have known it, you have always been Renegades,” Falcon explained.

  “We have? I still don’t get it. Why me of all people?” Gisbo asked.

  “Easy, kiddo. Let me ask you this. Do you have a problem with authority? Do you have a problem with people just like you and me telling you what to do? Who are they to have the right? Do you hate feeling restrained or being ordered to speak as is politically correct and sometimes don't you just want to explode from the frustration of it all?” Falcon asked.

  “Hmph, you
got no idea . . .” Gisbo muttered, remembering his days in school.

  “Yeah,” Rolce said.

  “Not fun being a square peg in a round hole, is it? Ok! We have at least determined the fact that the two of you are rebels, but we have no shortage of those. A rebel and a Renegade are two different things. A rebel simply rebels to be difficult, to stand out and to seek attention. You’ve seen ‘em. I know you have. I’m talking about the fakers. The people who wear silly things, talk in ways that aren’t their own, make outlandish statements just for a laugh. Oh, they’ll tell you they are a big deal, brag about themselves, SAY they will rip you a new one if you cross em and are usually VERY good at talking. But you must understand, it’s all just smoke and mirrors, a defense mechanism to hide their weakness. They are all surface, no substance. A rebel, simply put, takes a side route off the main road, but not out of sight from the rest of the crowd. They need to be noticed and always look to their left, seeing if the main path is staring back at them, always craving attention. Like it or not, they are still a sheep like the rest of them. They are going the same direction. Yeah, we are in no need of those,” Falcon said. Gisbo pictured Thomson’s cronies as perfect examples, as well as the many girls with piles of make up and who treated the latest fashion trends with the same importance as life and death.

  “Now, a Renegade, that’s something much more substantial. A Renegade has all the qualities that a rebel has, with one big difference. Renegades set their own ideals, their own opinions, and forge their OWN path. They never look over at the main road for guidance. They are disciplined visionaries and they could give a flying turd about what the sheep are shouting over to them from the main road, usually sounding something like, ‘Hey! Where you going? Look, everyone else is doing this! It must be right!' Even through the criticism, the Renegades persevere and set out undeterred with their heads held high. They never live their lives for any other approval besides their own. And don’t think it's such a lonely way. The Renegade’s life is but flames lit by dreams and passions. With such flames, we bring light to the world around us and know full well that when our time comes, although our bodies may die, our flame will live on. Our fires will ignite anew and join with the fires of future torch carriers worthy of the name Renegade,” Falcon said.

  “Quite poetic. I like it,” Rolce said.

  “I don’t get it,” Gisbo muttered.

  “It’s something you must discover on your own. I’m not worried about you, Rolce. It’s the butt for brains here that I’m worried about,” Falcon said.

  “Who’s got butt for brains?” Gisbo asked. Falcon and Rolce both glanced at each other and fought back a laugh.

  “So, think back on your current lives, boys. Close your eyes and think. Are you a Renegade? Or are you a rebel? If you would, let me help you out with a third party perspective,” Falcon continued, glancing at Gisbo first.

  “Gisbo, this should be easy for you. Did you ever wonder why you were the outcast of a town, without a friend in the world, and being constantly picked on for your strange name? What? Did you think IAM dealt you a bad hand because he simply didn’t like you? No. Everything happens for a reason, champ, and your name was given to you specifically for a purpose. For a child to survive on his own in this cruel world, he’s got to be rugged, like iron. This name has forced you to break free from your comfort zone. Your name has made you fearless, brave and, above all else, confident, with an undying willpower. Everyone told you that you could never be an Elekai’ Warrior. Everyone told you that you would amount to nothing. Everyone hated you, but did that stop you? No, not you, Gisbo. You are set apart from the timid souls and have already started down your own path, but you must realize something . . .” Falcon said.

  “Realize what?” Gisbo asked.

  “You must realize that they were also right about you. You will never be a plain old Elekai’ Warrior. You weren’t meant too. Instead, you will be a Renegade warrior!” Falcon pronounced, with an encouraging smile. Gisbo stood transfixed, thinking back through his life as everything started to make a little sense. Falcon then turned in Rolce’s direction.

  “Rolce, this should be easy for you as well. A boy who lived in a foster family that only took him in to receive tax breaks and only picked him because he was the biggest and strongest of all, perfect for unbearable chores. Your adoptive parents were all forms of lazy, yet wanted all the comforts that hard work brings. The reward without the sacrifice and through you, they undeservingly got it. You slaved away at their farm, day after day doing the work of ten farmers and boy, did you do it well! You became one with the earth as you grew more crops than any other farm in Oak County, providing your lazy foster parents with great wealth. You couldn’t be more different from them. They provided you with dirty rags for clothes, miniscule meals, and no place to sleep but with the livestock while they embraced their superficial nonsense and spent their days in pointless luxury and rose within the social ranks.” Rolce began to pat the dirt off his overalls just at the mention of his childhood.

  “Your greatest fear was abandonment and that if you did not do as you were told, you would be tossed into the streets with nothing and nowhere to go. This encouraged you to focus on your studies unlike any other student, faithfully believing that if you succeeded, a better life would come your way. Others became jealous of the overgrown farm boy’s high marks and sought you out every day after school for beatings, subconsciously attempting to stop you from overachieving and showing them up. They were always in a group, mind you, for they were afraid of you. Always in groups they came. You knew full well that with your great physical strength you could have trounced the lot of them, but you chose not to resort to their violent ways, making yourself a free punching bag because you wouldn’t retaliate. What seemed like cowardice or goody-goody pacifism was, in reality, your true nature developing. You embrace self-control, intelligence, wisdom and an undying integrity. You stand apart from those purposeless fools,” Falcon continued. Rolce beamed. He too began to think back at the steps that led him here. Before, only pain had come from these memories, but now an odd surge of happiness replaced them. Falcon folded his arms once more as he looked down on the boys and continued.

  “As you can see, when one ventures through a path of desperation, one gains extraordinary skills that people whose lives are governed by normalcy could never hope to achieve. Once one knows how to overcome, improvise, adapt and find purpose in this life, one can achieve anything. Your only limit is the reach of your dreams. Whether you know it or not, both of you have branched off and started down your own paths. The funny thing is, both of you have gone your entire lives thinking that you were alone when unbeknownst to you, just around the corner, there was someone going through the exact same ordeal. You both now understand what it means to overcome grueling circumstances and you have become much stronger for it. It is said that IAM only pressures those he loves to make them stronger. From where I sit, it appears that he loves the two of you very much.” Falcon smiled, giving them both a hard, encouraging clap on the shoulder.

  “Now, though you were also unaware of it, I have been back and forth watching the both of you mature and I couldn’t be more proud of who you have become. Before you lies the opportunity of a lifetime, but there is still a choice to be made and I am duty-bound to present it. You may believe that this whole thing was a setup and we merely tampered with your lives. Not true! Deep down, you feel that burning desire in your hearts and know this is what you were meant for. A simple choice remains. Choose to go back to your present lives and I will burn away the memory of this conversation. It’s quite painful actually, or you can choose to follow me, prove yourselves to be a true Renegades, not rebels, and I will reveal to you a series of paths only for those strong of heart. So? Yes or no, boys?” Falcon commanded an answer. There was no awkward silence this time as Gisbo and Rolce responded with a resounding, “Yes!”

  “Yes to what?” Falcon grinned.

  “Yes to continuing our Renegade
training, SIR!” Gisbo answered at once. Falcon then looked to Rolce.

  “And what about you?” Falcon asked.

  “Yes to continue our Renegade training, SIR!” Rolce echoed with a sharp salute.

  “Are you sure? Seems to me you aren’t one for fighting,” Gisbo joked.

  “Nah, I just know when to choose my battles. For me, attacking the entire Clash team by my lonesome was not a logical choice,” Rolce defended himself with a grin. Gisbo laughed and stretched out his hand.

  “Well, either way, you took a beating for me and I owe you one. It is a pleasure to meet you, Rolce, put ‘er there,” Gisbo said and Rolce pumped his hand hard. Falcon watched the two boys exchange handshakes and couldn’t help but feel his heart skip. How smoothly this had gone! He could scarcely believe it. These boys have no idea the kind of team they will make, Falcon thought.

  “Well, I’m fresh out of speeches it seems,” Falcon said as he patted his pockets. “All right, kiddies, we ready to leave?” said Falcon.

  “Not like I own anything else. My ratty clothes are all I got, and my schoolbooks, but I’ve pretty much memorized those, so I’m all set,” Rolce rambled. Gisbo laughed.

  “You actually memorized textbooks? Wow! You nerd,” he gibed. Rolce looked at him with an aura of utmost calm.

  “Just because you have a dog's name doesn’t mean you should score like one,” Rolce said. Gisbo cocked his brow in surprise.

  “And what are you getting at, pal?” Gisbo asked, defensive.

  “Oh nothing, I just remember seeing the last math exam postings and a boy with your very name was at the bottom of the list. What was your grade again?” Rolce said.

  “I got a 7!” Gisbo said, quite proudly, folding his arms with a smile.

  “Out of 100? You got 5 free points just for putting your name down! No one, and I repeat, no one can be that stupid,” Rolce stated, dumbfounded.

  “Textbooks are stupid and studying is stupid. Doesn’t mean you're dumb if you get low marks, it just means . . .” Gisbo paused, deep in thought, trying to come up with something to say.

  “Yeah, way to prove my point,” Rolce said, laughing. Gisbo frowned.

  “Hang on, it’s coming . . . it just means, I’m a Renegade!” Gisbo said, smacking a fist across his chest. Falcon sighed.

  “The path to stupidity is never a Renegade's path. There are far too many thorns and briars,” Falcon said.

  “Yes, but plenty of blackberries!” Gisbo chimed in. Rolce just shook his head and stared slack jawed.

  “Heh, well put, my friend. Renegade Perry will enjoy having you in his philosophy classes. Well! Let us be off! It's not as though you have much to bring either, Gisbo, so let's cut to the chase,” Falcon said.

  “We don’t have any food; I mean, we gotta pack something. How long is it going to take us to walk?” Rolce asked. Falcon looked as if he were estimating.

  “To walk? Ohhh . . . I’d say about a week, possibly shorter if we run the whole way and don’t sleep or eat, of course,” Falcon said, in an assuring tone.

  “How is that possible? Hell, it doesn’t even look like you brought a pack with you! Did you really run all the way here without sleeping or eating?” Gisbo asked. Rolce wondered the same thing, but didn’t want to sound dumb. Gisbo the impulsive would ask first.

  “Boys, for two so smart, I’m astonished that you haven’t caught on to my humor yet. Of course I came here without eating or sleeping,” Falcon replied evasively.

  “But that’s impossible!” Gisbo refuted.

  “Ah, but who said anything about walking?” Falcon added.

  “You did!” Gisbo argued.

  Falcon ignored him as he unsheathed his sword and tossed it to the ground. Rolce and Gisbo stared on, puzzled. Falcon nimbly hopped atop the blade, stretching out his right foot to meet the tip of the sword and placed his left foot just above the hilt. He then pointed his ring downward toward the hilt-stone and instantaneously a rope of beaming energy stretched out and connected with the blade, igniting it immediately. With a more controlled roar, the blade began to pulse with power from its underside and before long, Falcon began to rise into the air and do what could only be described as flying.

  Rolce and Gisbo watched on amazed as Falcon shot into the sky, leaving a fiery streak behind him and using his ring to steer the agile blade. When he swung his fist, the sword obeyed immediately, following its every motion with great precision. Demonstration now completed, Falcon landed with a loud WOOSH in front of the boys, spraying up a cloud of dust.

  “Nothing like a bit of skeeting! Only way to travel in my opinion. Now come on boys, Heaven’s Shelter awaits our arrival! And believe me, many more surprises are in store for the likes of you two!” Falcon shouted over the roar of his blade. Before Gisbo could ask how they were supposed to fly, Falcon took the initiative.

  The Renegade lifted his cape upward, revealing two red gleaming pieces of metal attached to his back. He removed them from their straps and threw them on the ground, one on each side of him. Swords they weren’t, but rather they were two rectangular sheets of thick metal with two half-ring cups on either side.

  “Well, you two can’t release your essence yet, but don't worry, these will do. Go on, try 'em on; beginner skeets, perfect for training or towing multiple flyers. Slip your feet into the footholds. One size fits all, as you’ll see,” Falcon encouraged.

  Rolce and Gisbo both stepped on the reddish metal planks. Their feet were way too small to fit into the holds, but no sooner had the thought crossed their minds than Falcon’s essence snaked out in a rope once again. With a flash of red, both metal slabs ignited in a fiery blaze. At first, Rolce and Gisbo were alarmed as fire flickered all about them, but amazingly enough, it didn’t burn them at all. On the contrary, it felt warm and almost soothing. The two metal footholds suddenly appeared to melt over their shoes like mercury and then solidified, holding their feet firmly in place. Gisbo looked over at Rolce with excitement, but the big guy didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm. Rolce looked as if he had swallowed a ghost.

  “Now then, just bend your knees and keep both arms out to steady yourselves and lean with the turns if you can. If not, I’ll prevent you from wobbling with my essence and we’ll arrive at Heaven’s Shelter in no time at all. Any questions?” Falcon said, prepared to take off.

  “I . . . uh . . . what if an enemy attacks us midair? I mean, you don’t have your sword, you're defenseless!” Rolce exposed his nervousness.

  “Well now, glad to see somebody thinking. The answer is quite simple. If I were on a skeet, this weapon of mine would be too big and too clumsy to swing. Hence, I have this angry little sucker,” Falcon said. He reached downward and pulled something off the back of his boot heel and attached it to his fist.

  “Knuck Knife, favorite of the Shininjas. Brass knuckles with a surprise . . .” Falcon threw his fist downward in a quick snapping motion and a long, curved dagger with reddish glints flipped around and clicked into place. “Ooooo, pretty huh? Trust me, we will be fine. Any more questions?” Falcon asked.

  “I . . . just don’t do well with heights, er flights, oh jeesh,” Rolce said, wiping sweat from his brow. Falcon then grinned a wicked little smile that caused Rolce’s knees to wobble.

  “That ain’t no question, that’s a statement, my man. Typical Naforians, always ground ridden. Boy, when I’m done with you, you’re gonna love the heights! And don’t worry about that fire. It only burns someone when I want it to. Now . . . ” Falcon paused and rubbed his hands together in excitement.

  “Sky blue! Air breezy! Fly true and don’t get queasy! HAHAHA!” With an uppercut punch, Falcon launched his burning blade upward, shooting straight into the sky, dragging the boys skeets with it at exceptional speed.

  Wind rushed through Gisbo’s hair and the sun warmed his cheeks as they rose higher and higher. He couldn’t help but scream with enthusiasm, a big WAHOOOO, to be exact. He stretched out his arms and bent his knees the way Falcon had demonst
rated. Never had he felt so free! Never had he been so high! He couldn’t believe the sense of euphoria. Gisbo took a glance down and saw Oak County literally shrink away and saw frantic soldiers scurry about like ants in the castle courtyard. Gisbo shook his head in disbelief, wondering how many times had he wished he could just up and fly away from Oak County like a bird.

  What a day for dreams, Gisbo thought, smiling. He looked over at Rolce to see if he was enjoying it as much as he was.

  Rolce was bent down clutching the bottom of his board. His face was sweating and white and looked like melting snow. His eyes were squeezed shut and he shook his head back and forth as if to say, This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening. Gisbo couldn’t help but laugh at his newfound friend.

  Falcon leveled out and shot forward again at an even faster rate of speed. Gisbo looked down again and was graced with a vista of beautiful lakes, streams and many different birds that flew above the treetops beside them. Falcon turned to look back at him.

  “Looks like you got the hang of things, eh kid? How’d you like a little more leeway?” Falcon yelled back. Gisbo quickly nodded his head in agreement.

  Falcon gave him thumbs up and the thick rope-like essence attached to Gisbo’s metal board seemed to thin out a bit. Gisbo felt himself begin to drop slightly and it became shakier. Out of instinct, he thrust his arms out further and within no time he had balanced himself. Gisbo found that by leaning his board backward and tilting the front tip upward he could float higher and the opposite was true to float lower.

  After some quick practice and test maneuvers, Gisbo was really getting the hang of skeeting. He weaved in and out of the passing clouds and gave a quick peek over at Rolce. Gisbo was so glad he had for, at that moment, poor Rolce was wrestling with a giant eagle he must have collided with while his eyes were closed. The eagle screeched, pecked and fluttered as Rolce held its sharp talons at bay. It was quite the sight and going as fast and as high as they were made it all the more hilarious to Gisbo. He found himself laughing so hard he almost completely lost his balance.

  “Aye, that’ll teach ya to keep your eyes shut, eh Rolcey boy? Come on, ya big gallute, enjoy yourself! Take in the views! Ain’t no better air to breathe than the air you’re breathing now!” Falcon yelled back to Rolce. He then took a deep breath and let it out with a satisfied smile.

  Rolce gripped the bottom of his board tightly and tried to take a brave look down. One look at the rushing land below was all it took. The big boy’s eyes went wide, then rolled to the back of his head and he passed out, right then and there. Upon doing so, his body collapsed to one side and he dangled upside down on his feet like a sleeping bat. Falcon seemed to slow at the dead weight he was now trailing. He took one look back and laughed heartily.

  “Skeetin’ ain’t meant for everyone! Let’s say we kick it up a notch, eh Giz? Going to have to now that we got ourselves an anchor! We’ll be there in no time now!” Falcon yelled. Gisbo gave him a thumbs up and Falcon’s red essence flared wildly with a roar, sounding like the revving of a powerful engine, then compressed itself and shot them forward at almost double their initial speed, heading toward some large mountains in the distance.

  Gisbo couldn’t help but marvel at the amount of space they had covered in this short amount of time. It was incredible and here he had thought they had some grand trek ahead of them.

  They were now approaching a snowcapped mountain range and, as they grew closer, Gisbo began to make out the appearance of lighted windows nestled within the very surface of them. Upon squinting, he swore he even saw the silhouettes of people walking back and forth and hanging out their laundry to dry.

  All at once, Gisbo suddenly felt very cold. Looking downward, he saw a blanket of pure white snow covering the treetops. The various ponds and streams were now frozen and glistened like crystal. As much as Gisbo wanted to take in the sights, the cold was becoming unbearable, especially at their speed. Gisbo was just about to speak up when unexpected warmth washed over him. Amazingly, he didn’t even need to ask. Falcon’s essence began to wrap and swirl around him, supplying instant warmth.

  “That should be a bit better, eh? Told ya I can heat this stuff when I want to. Don’t worry now, our destination is just within these mountains. I’m sure you’ve noticed our neighboring Sorians by now! They hollowed out most of the mountainside and live within it. They also got a secret city that floats in the sky somewhere. We used to have our differences in the past, but now we are the greatest of allies! They even allowed us to share bum space with the lot of them, opening their homes to us gracefully. This is one of the only places on Thera you’ll find us Flarians nowadays and them Sorians are a fantastic people to let us stay. You’ll come to love their hospitality and their great food as well! Of course, they aren’t the only race you’ll find up here. Every one of ‘em calls this place home. Almost there now. Next stop, Heaven’s Shelter!” Falcon yelled. Gisbo looked over at Rolce. The boy was still swinging upside down, unconscious. Gisbo couldn’t help but laugh once more at his huge unconscious form swinging about lazily.

  It was then Gisbo noticed other skeeters in the sky as well, towing what seemed to be other Renegades-to-be, just like him. Many of them waved at Falcon, apparently recognizing him from a distance. Falcon was happy to give a salute back, as well as a few waves. Gisbo did notice that only those with the same fiery red essence as Falcon were doing the skeeting and he supposed it was a technique only Flarians knew. That suited him just fine. He craved learning how to skeet for himself. It had always been clearly stated in his lessons that the only race capable of flight was the Soarian race. He began to wonder what else his schoolbooks were wrong about and how outdated or purposefully edited they must have been.

  Falcon began to slow up as he got nearer to the mountainside. We must be getting close, Gisbo thought. He noticed the dozen or so other Renegade skeeters begin to slow down as well. It was then that reality itself began to bend. The Skeeter in front of them outright disappeared. He didn’t just fade away either. The Renegade skeeter was there and then he simply wasn’t. Gisbo was taken aback. Falcon looked back and smiled at Gisbo’s reaction as they neared the place where the air seemed to have swallowed up the skeeter. Upon hitting the spot, there was a strange SHWOOP sound and what Gisbo saw next made his mouth hang open. There a large village appeared before them. They had arrived at Heaven’s Shelter.

  The beauty of it was breathtaking, like a lost paradise. Taking in what only a few moments ago had been an empty, snowy valley between two mountain peaks, Gisbo didn't trust his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that the entire village was covered in trees he had never even seen before. Sure, he recognized the oak and pine, but these new trees were foreign species that Gisbo remembered learning about in his books. “Palm trees” was their official name, he believed, but how could it be possible? He recalled that they were only able to grow in tropical climates and here they were in the middle of snowcapped mountains!

  Gisbo noticed that the warming essence around him had ceased swirling. The air was quite warm now. Falcon continued his slow coast overhead, allowing Gisbo to take in the astounding sights around him. In the midst of the trees, Gisbo could make out hundreds of huts, buildings, sports fields and ponds, but above all, he couldn’t miss the massive golden statue raised high in the center of it all.

  The statue was in the form of a gigantic man garbed in Renegade attire, holding a sword pointed toward the heavens. Gisbo figured he must have been somebody of paramount importance. His facial features were highly detailed, even revealing scars. It looked as if it could come to life at any moment. Behind the man stood a needle-like tower that extended past the point of his sword. Small windows could be seen at the top of the tower and oddly enough, Gisbo noticed that it gave off a strange bluish glow. Even on a day as bright as this, it had the effect of an additional sun. It hurt to look at it too long.

  Finally, Rolce was coming to. He awoke upside down and immediately began flailing and wailing
to regain an upright posture. Falcon saw this and, with a quick surge of essence, Rolce was back in a standing position, knees shaking. He instinctively fell back to his crouched stance, holding his knees and closing his eyes.

  "Where are we? Is this Heaven's Shelter?" Rolce asked, eyes darting.

  "Of course it is! Welcome, boys, to the home of the Renegades, now your home too. We'll go ahead and touch down and get you two situated. You know, protocols and such, blah blah . . . then we'll get some grub! The chefs have been hard at work preparing for the best barbeque you’ve ever had!" Falcon exclaimed.

  The ground looked increasingly welcoming as Falcon lowered them to the entrance. Overhead, a sign in huge, flaming letters in all the colors of the elements read, “Heaven’s Shelter, Welcome Home!" Falcon melted away the bindings on Gisbo and Rolce's feet, freeing them to step onto solid ground. Rolce collapsed with a wheeze, looking just as happy as Gisbo had been zooming around in the sky earlier.

  Falcon refastened the two skeets to his back and disengaged his essence. He then looked at his recruits and stretched out his arms under the sign with a grand flourish, as if to say, "viola!"

  "Home sweet home! Now if you would just follow me," Falcon said as he spun around with a whirl of his cape and began making his way under the fire-lit sign. Rolce and Gisbo exchanged grins of anticipation as they followed Falcon, taking their first steps into Heaven’s Shelter. It amazed Gisbo that just a hundred yards back they would be in a freezing cold, snow-filled mountain range. How they maintained this atmosphere he had no idea, but he figured he would learn soon enough. They walked upon neat cobblestone roads surrounded by palm trees. Exotic flowers grew at their roots and filled the air with pleasant, sweet smells that Gisbo’s nose had never witnessed before. Past the flowers and the trees however, Gisbo noticed animals of all kinds running about freely, animals he had only seen pictures of. Monkeys cooed and bounced through the branches. Brightly colored parrots squawked in greeting and even bears and tigers walked side by side, eyeing Gisbo’s group suspiciously.

  Now getting near the main section of the city, Gisbo saw people walking to and fro, tending to the enchanting scenery. One man was spraying a watery mist over the plants through a ring on his finger. He waved at Falcon as they passed. The whole scene reminded Gisbo of Warlord Karm’s castle earlier that day, however, here, everything seemed so different. Unlike Karm’s place, Heaven’s Shelter did not feel artificial at all. If anything, it felt natural, right. In his wildest dreams, Gisbo could never have known such a place existed and the thought that this was to be his new home didn’t fully register.

  They continued walking and Rolce pointed to a towering pole. Atop the pole, a great ball of swirling fire spun. A man beneath it was using a red ring on his finger to keep it powered up. The ball began glowing brighter until it shone like a miniature sun. Falcon noticed Rolce and Gisbo staring at it with curiosity.

  "Don’t stare at that too long, boys. You’ll burn out your retinas! Oh, what’s this? It seems I’ve found some more speeches in my pockets. Lucky you! Those fireballs are known as dwarf suns and harnessing their energy is a Flarian technique. You'll find many all about the grounds. They allow us to regulate our own climate so that nearly all forms of life thrive: plants, animals, you name it," Falcon explained, then pointed up into the sky and continued.

  "That bubbly energy field we traveled through earlier acts both as a visual shield and as a way to contain this wonderful weather. Every race is required and needed to keep this place functioning. Flarians provide the warmth, Soarians provide the atmosphere, Aquarians provide periodic rain and manage the water supply, and the Naforians provide our plants, landscaping and dwellings. Amazing, is it not? This is the perfect place for us Flarians, since most of us left our old homes in the outer deserts to come here. The last place you would expect a Flarian to be, after all, would be somewhere cold and Karm’s men are still trying to round up the remnants of our society by scouring the deserts of Flaria. There are of course a few stubborn sorts who still live out there, my brother for one, but the general populace now dwell here in the cold winter mountains of Heaven’s Shelter." Falcon radiated pride for his homeland.

  Gisbo and Rolce bobbed their heads and turned in all directions, trying to take everything in. As they continued their stroll, Gisbo saw a group of Renegades seated at a table playing some sort of card game. It was Poka, a game Gisbo knew well. The only way he got any cash back at Oak County was through gambling and not too often as he had rotten luck. He noticed that some at the table were not dressed the same way as Falcon. They were all wearing the same headbands and the same color combinations, but some bandana tails were much longer than others. The uniforms were different too. A few sported short, sleeveless robes of varying lengths under the conventional Renegade poncho and others wore masks that covered the lower portion of their faces that extended from their ponchos. The tattooed markings on their arms also ranged widely. Some only had a marking on their forearm and mid-arm, while others were fully emblazoned all the way up their arms.

  "Hey, Falcon, why are there different Renegade outfits? Some of their markings are different too," Rolce asked. Falcon turned to see where Rolce was looking before he stopped and responded.

  "Ah, well, there are three classes of Renegade, determined by natural talent and skill. The first, oldest and most commonly seen is known as the ‘Berserker Class,’ my class. Our talents are all well-rounded and balanced in close quarter combat, employment of technique and some distance fighting. We are usually a wild bunch and primarily make the enemy focus their attack on us. We train our bodies to be able to withstand major damage and we learn to focus our adrenaline so that it grows more and more powerful as our fury and pain heighten. Anybody can lash out in a rage. To control it and harness it is something else entirely. A Flarian is especially suited for the Berserker class, but with the perpetual expansion of techniques and powers, every race has proven their potential for this class," Falcon answered, then pointed at one of the seated men who was garbed in robes.

  "In recent years we have added two new classes to the Renegade roster. The one in the robe-like uniform is known as the ‘Nazarite Class,’ our newest class. These guys are pure genius. They train their minds and cultivate knowledge even more than physical prowess. That is not to say that they can't take a hit or two in close quarter combat. Everyone trains in each area to the point of proficiency before choosing the path that suits their talents best, focusing there, and excelling above and beyond typical human capabilities. These guys can make your head spin with their intelligence as well as raw power. Most argue it is the Nazarite who triumphs in one on one combat, but I've yet to see it proven," Falcon said, as if thinking of a certain time he had dueled one. He then pointed to the masked people.

  "Now if you want intimidation and fear, look no further then these guys. They are part of the ‘Shininja Class,’ fast, agile and deceptive. If you give these guys an opening, they will have you chopped, diced and shredded within seconds in close quarter combat. The Shininja focus on nothing but speed, power and technique as they train their minds to balance with their body. You'll never find a more reserved individual. They are but polar opposites of the Berserker Class, for Shininja's are notoriously serious and masters of both patience and battle strategy. Experts of many disciplines including acrobatics, poisons, hand to hand combat and dagger use, their special skill set is essential as they tend to suffer more from hits because their bodies are suited to speed and stealth rather than bulk. They follow the philosophy, 'You can't hit what you can't see.' They aren’t distance fighters, but they can wait for days on end for the perfect opening and make ideal assassins." While Falcon continued, the boys ate up his every word, slowly moving past the table, staring at the citizens of Heaven's Shelter. Gisbo noticed the other Renegades explaining the same things to their recruits.

  "Now that that’s all covered, I'll explain about the Renegades themselves. We may have different classes within our league, but
we are still bound by one common name, along with all it represents and upholds. You may have noticed by looking around that some bandana tails are longer then others. You may have also realized that the markings on their arms tend to differ as well. All these differences come down to one thing: rank. The longer the uniforms, capes and bandana tails, along with the size and number of tattoos, represents the strength of the Renegade and where he stands in his training. You two are not deemed Renegades yet, nor will you be for some time," Falcon said as he continued talking without looking back.

  "But I thought you said . . ." Gisbo began to protest. Falcon raised his hand to command silence, still refusing to face the recruits.

  "Renega, Renegara and finally, Renegade. These are the three titles given to you upon completions in your notches. You two have completed your first trials and will be deemed official Renegas at a ceremony to take place soon. For Renegara, you must complete the three notches in Renega, and to meet the requirements for full Renegade status, you must complete the three notches in Renegara. With me so far?" Falcon finally turned around, still walking. Gisbo and Rolce both nodded.

  "Good," Falcon continued. “Within each of these prestigious levels, you will receive three tattoos. Within Renega, upon completing your first notch, you will receive a simple black band around your forearm. Upon completion of notch number two, you will receive another black band on the middle of your arm, and upon notch number three's completion, you will receive another around the top, near your shoulder. Once you have all three, you will move onto your next title, Renegara. Here is where you will begin to study within your classes. You will be designated a Class Master and it’s here that the markings will differ from each other and each notch completed will start at the bottom of your arm and move upward. By training in this fashion, your arm will serve as a constant reminder of your trials to bring you confidence, let others acknowledge your strength, and show your commitment to the Renegades," Falcon explained with a touch of pride in his voice. Gisbo and Rolce both noticed the tattoos emblazoned on Falcon's arm, covered with intricate black designs.

  "Also, with each completed stage, your outfits will change. Renegas wear traditional headbands with miniscule tails and a simple poncho, all clean-cut with solid colors and a short scarf. When you gain the title of Renegara, your headband will have short tails, your poncho will have a short cape with jagged edges attached and the color white will be added to your uniform. Upon earning the full title of Renegade, you will don the true garb of the Renegade: long bandana tails, caped poncho with tattered edges around the front and back and the iconic light blue color will be added to the designs across the uniform. When you complete the three notches of Renegade status, only then may you have the color black grace your uniforms. Like mine, for instance," Falcon stated, striking a pose.

  Their little group had reached what looked like the center of town. They could now see the huge golden statue of the lone Renegade Warrior and the black needle-like tower behind him. It was this monument that Gisbo wanted an explanation of. This man looked like the ultimate warrior. The statue was even more detailed up close and looked as if it could come to life at any moment. The scars stretched vividly now across the man's proud face and his neat chinstrap beard and thin mustache were precisely rendered. His hair was like a flowing mane, thick and long. His face was frozen in intense excitement, as if he was about to land the final blow to his enemy. The man looked wild and would have been terrifying if it weren't for his quiet eyes. Gisbo reckoned they must have been a soft shade of blue in person.

  The man's uniform looked a lot like Falcon's except that it had further intricate designs and some sort of a light armor chest plate and leggings. It was then Gisbo observed how long his bandana tails were. They nearly touched the ground. He hadn't noticed before, being up in the air, but by his side was a large fearsome lion, looking like the man's wild persona incarnate. Gisbo and Rolce didn’t move as they gazed with the rest of the boys and girls who had joined their little group. Falcon was beaming, watching the kids gaze at the statue. He cleared his throat and began to explain just who this man was.

  "My favorite part of this little tour! Watching the looks on your faces as you gaze in awe of the Renegades greatest champion. Believe me, he was even more of a sight to behold in person, outdoing this hundred foot golden statue by far. Ladies and gents, I introduce Warlord Vadid the Valiant! Renegade Chieftain, Berserker Class, above and beyond notches.” Falcon spun around to stare up at the statue as well. Gisbo’s eye’s lit up.

  “That’s Vadid the Valiant? So he was a Renegade? Oh man! I’ve read all about him! Well, what’s left about him,” Gisbo said with vigor.

  "Good to know you’re a fan! You should also know that this man was my Class Master,” Falcon said, beaming with pride. Gisbo’s face flushed with excitement.

  “Wait, Vadid . . . trained you? No way!” Gisbo said excitedly.

  “Yup! When you reach your Renegara stage, a Class Master takes you on as his trainee. While you train under your Class Master, you will also be forming a synergy with two other subordinates. A synergy contains a Berserker, Shininja and a Nazarite. Their three Class Masters will be working together to train the synergies to play toeach member's strengths and compensate for each member's weaknesses. The classes were created for this very purpose, since no one person can become a master of everything. Rather, you become fluent in all forms of combat, but focus on one area for mastery while your counterparts focus on others, making you an impenetrable force when you work in unison. Synergies are mostly how the Renegades operate nowadays. Every Renegade belongs to their own synergy and should something need our attention, a synergy is usually sent to deal with the issue," Falcon stated.

  "As for you two, I will be one of your synergy's leaders, meaning that you will also be in the same squad," Falcon said as Gisbo and Rolce looked at each other, excited.

  "All of our lives have been carefully calculated from birth. We place our offspring in situations that will allow their natural talents to thrive based on their pre-determined class. I think you two might have figured this out by now . . . but I’ll tell you anyway.” Falcon turned his attention to Rolce.

  “I am quite proud of you, my young friend. Intelligence, integrity, self control and brute strength. A Nazarite you will be," Falcon continued and Rolce beamed, reddening just a little.

  "Now as for you . . ." Falcon said, pointing at Gisbo. "WE are going to be spending some quality time together. Fearless, confident, powerful and possessing an undying will, a Berserker you will be. I will train you personally upon completion of your Renega stage. Now, as for me and my personal synergy, it will be our first time taking on a group of our own for training. Sure, I have rounded up the kids to bring them here, but never rounded up my own synergy. You two have probably wondered why you never had proper surnames and now . . ." Falcon began to look rather nervous before continuing.

  "Now . . . ah jeesh . . . well, it's Renegade custom that a Class Master passes his name down to his trainee as their surname for the ceremony . . . and, well, I'd completely understand if you didn't wish to . . ." It was then Gisbo interrupted him.

  "No problem at all," he said with a big proud smile. He turned to Rolce, who gave a quick nod, matching his grin. Gisbo swore Falcon had a small tear in his eye as he continued.

  "I . . . I thank you. AHEM! Why don't we head to the festivities, shall we? To the courtyard of strength!" Falcon stated as he spun to begin the trek. Gisbo began to walk forward and couldn't help but focus upward at the glowing blue tip of the tower once more. What on Thera is that? Gisbo wondered to himself, wishing he had asked Falcon, but no matter, he was sure he would find out at some point.

  It was then a man clad in Nazarite attire made his way toward them, smiling broadly. A thin black beard extended down about a foot from his chin, looking somewhat like a spike. He had very long black hair with only a touch of gray flowing over his shoulders on both sides. A thick, green steel colored pole-arm was st
rapped to the man’s back. He had a friendly air to him, but also some very stern facial features and thick aging lines across his face. His voice matched his intimidating persona. It was deep and resounding.

  "Well, well, look who has finally returned to us. None other than Falcon Vadid," the stern man said, extending his fist. Falcon returned the smile and thrust his own fist outward to make contact with the Nazarite’s, then pulled it backward, raised two fingers to his forehead, threw them downward, and raised his hand upward again in a fist which he stamped over his heart, finalizing it with a short bow.

  Must be a traditional Renegade greeting. Wonder what it means . . . Gisbo thought.

  "It's been a little while, good friend, and look who I have brought you," Falcon stated as he motioned to Rolce. The stern man’s eyes sparkled for a moment before dimming, as if he were embarrassed to show excitement. He walked toward Rolce, who was easily a head taller. Even so, Rolce looked rather nervous as the stern man looked him up and down with curiosity.

  "So this is him? Hmmm . . . I sense much potential in him, much potential indeed. Also much conflict within, passive feelings, fear . . . yes, I will have my work cut out for me. That is certain," the Nazarite man said to himself.

  "Oh, how rude of me, boys! May I introduce you to . . .” Falcon started a formal introduction before he was interrupted.

  “The name is Moordin Grandir, Renegade, Nazarite Class, above and beyond notches. Falcon has told me much about your progress, young Rolce. I look forward to training you personally upon your Renegara status,” Moordin said smoothly. Falcon rolled his eyes.

  “Or as I like to call him, Moordin the moody. Professional as always . . . Look what happens to you when I leave for a week. IAM knows you belong in the Shininja class with your utter lack of humor. Try a joke a day, Moordin, just one is all I’m asking! It can do wonders for your health, old friend. Why, did you hear the one about the chef and the sheep when they . . .” Falcon started.

  “That joke should not be told in front of such young ears! Honestly, how will subordinates learn discipline and respect if their Class Masters do not show it? I can already sense YOUR subordinate will be just as reckless as yourself.” Moordin flashed the same disapproving look Gisbo's way.

  “If you only knew the trouble your Class Master has gotten me into and the countless times I have had to bail him out! I assure you, MY trainee WILL learn discipline and respect above ALL else . . . won’t he?” Moordin turned his stern look back in Rolce’s direction, whose smile disappeared and fast. Moordin’s wicked stare turned to that of curiosity, then anxiety, as if a cryptic thought had suddenly flashed through his mind.

  “Falcon, where is the third?” Moordin asked, sounding rather worried. Falcon looked down and Gisbo noticed his fist tighten in anger as he looked up and continued.

  “I am afraid they have gotten to him first. He was gone before I got there. I even went a week ahead of schedule to check on them, due to my suspicions,” Falcon said. His voice held reluctance and a touch of anger as he looked away from Moordin’s gaze, ashamed. The Nazarite looked down as well, abashed.

  “This is severely troubling news. The number has nearly doubled this time around. We have had a total of eight interceptions this term, leaving a mere fourteen subordinates to be initiated this year. Foxblade will not be pleased when he's told about his chosen subordinate. I hope he won’t try anything rash. Perhaps we should not share the news ‘til the morrow. He usually passes on the ceremony anyway and has been in quite the mood today.”

  “I already know,” said a gruff, growling voice. It seemed to come from the air itself. They all looked about to see nothing at all.

  “So, how long have you been standing there?” Moordin asked. A man appeared out of the nothingness. It looked as if he had the same type of cloaking the bubble around Heaven’s Shelter gave off around his entire body.

  “Long enough. You both are getting rather unaware in your old age,” said the now visible man. He was obviously a Shininja, clad in the tight garb Gisbo had seen earlier, with his mask over the lower half of his face. The man had black skin with long, dark hair braided into streaming dreadlocks. His eyes were an intense aquamarine color. Two curved daggers were hanging from his sides with yellow orbs at the hilt.

  “It seems our premonitions were correct in the matter. The boy was indeed taken. This dilemma has all but proven my theory. There is a traitor among us,” Foxblade said matter of factly. Falcon raised his hand, signaling for him to stop.

  “We will all discuss this further in private . . . we need not trouble the boys on their first day here.” Falcon's tone was final.

  Psh, too late for that, Gisbo thought.

  “For now, we need to get them to the ceremony. Boys, I would like you to meet the final member of my personal synergy. May I introduce you to Foxblade Dreadka, Renegade, Shininja Class, above and beyond notches,” Falcon said. He shot a quick look at Moordin as if to say, 'There, ya happy?' Foxblade put his fist across his chest and gave a short bow without a word.

  “Well gang, let's go! I’m starving!” Falcon announced as they all turned and made their way towards a large building. Gisbo bent over to whisper in Rolce’s ear as they followed Falcon and his band.

  "Can these guys be any more vague?" Gisbo whispered.

  "You got me! And here I was thinking every Renegade would be as goofy asFalcon. That Moordin and the Foxblade guy are intense," Rolce whispered back.

  "Tell me about it! Felt like they could look right through me or something," Gisbo agreed.

  "You didn't have that Moordin guy look you up and down, felt like he was literally

  reading my mind or something. His analysis of me wasn't far off either," Rolce admitted rather reluctantly.

  "You serious?" Gisbo asked with surprise.

  "Dead serious. We better continue this conversation later, they can probably hear

  us," Rolce whispered anxiously. It was at that moment Foxblade turned and looked at them both with his frightening eyes. Gisbo could have sworn there was a wicked smirk under his cowl.

  Both Rolce and Gisbo gulped simultaneously. They walked no further than ten steps before they were at the entrance of a building. Gisbo and Rolce made their way inside, wondering what awaited them.