by J.C. Fiske
Chapter 7: The New Companion
Gisbo was still hunched over in the bushes trying to calm his self-abused stomach. While he emptied it of his many lunches, the ceremony continued and the others became official Renegas. People were now clearing out and slapped Gisbo on the back as they made their exit in recognition of his triumph . . . if you could call it that. The smacking didn’t feel all that great, but indeed helped along the process. Rolce caught up to him just as he finished with what he believed to be his final upchuck. He was afraid his lungs might be ejected too if he continued.
“I’ll be honest. I don’t really know what to say to you right now, so I’ll just stick with the obvious. How you feeling?” asked Rolce with an amused grin.
“Pretty hungry, actually. I think my stomach's empty . . .” Gisbo said as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
“Doesn’t surprise me. It’s a good thing one of us was in there paying attention. Check these babies out, one for each of us!” Rolce said as he tossed Gisbo a golden key. Gisbo stared at it curiously.
“The hell’s this for?” Gisbo asked.
“These are our room keys. Me and you are bunking it, buddy. Can you believe this? Our own room!” Rolce exclaimed. For Rolce, having his own room was an amazing concept. All he had had prior to this was a barn floor. Gisbo at least had his own space, even if it was a shack. Even so, looking at Rolce’s face made Gisbo excited too. Just by examining the design of the key, Gisbo assumed it was going to be one nice place.
“Well, let's get goin'!” Gisbo shouted excitedly. Rolce opened a small map of Heaven’s Shelter that had been given to him by Moordin. In the midst of the trees north of them, a place was marked with a red X.
“This way!” Rolce said as he walked toward the forest. Gisbo followed.
The boys marched beside each other with uneasiness as bears, tigers and other dangerous predators eyed them suspiciously. It was only after taking a wrong turn through thorny underbrush and falling into a disguised swamp that they made it to their new living quarters. Gisbo and Rolce couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear as they set eyes on their new home.
“It’s perfect!” Rolce exclaimed.
Before them stood a large tree house which seemed to be composed of oak, palm leaves, stones and bamboo. A large set of stairs spiraled around the trunk of the giant oak up to their new front doorway, beckoning them to run up as fast as they could. Rolce reached the top first and stood on the suspended porch where three rocking chairs were placed to the right and left of the doorway. A big stone barbecue grill was built into the edge of the porch along with a small table. A slanted roof with small slits that could be opened or closed to allow sunlight through protected all this.
If the porch was this nice, Gisbo couldn’t help but wonder how the inside would appear. He thrust his key into the lock, unlocked it and plunged inside with Rolce following close behind. The first thing they saw when they entered were three comfortable beds set up in a strange configuration like a three-way bunk bed in a V shape. One bed was at the bottom, in the crest of the V, while the two others sat atop each slant to the left and right with two ladders beneath them. From there, the boy’s eyes wandered to a large wooden table in the center of the room giving off the clean, comforting scent of cedar. A disengaged fireplace was directly across from the table, ready to burn if it ever got cold.
Gisbo had never known the privilege of using either for such amenities were considered set apart for royalty. Rolce didn’t even know what they were and they spent the next several minutes marveling at the convenience of it all. The cleansing room was especially fascinating. Fresh, clean water seemed to magically flow from the ceiling, wash whatever was needed and then instantly suck the water back, drying all it had touched. The waste shoots worked the same way. It beat doing their business in the woods by a long shot.
So many features of their new home amazed Gisbo, who would never take them for granted. It seemed small holes in the roofs would open and close from time to time to filter in fresh smells from outdoors, always keeping their dwelling smelling of fragrant flowers and honeysuckle.
The boys didn’t waste any time as they quickly changed out of their ratty clothes into their Berserker and Nazarite attire. After they were fully garbed, Gisbo marveled at how his new suit felt on him. At this stage, he and Rolce looked very similar, sporting the same ponchos with scarves attached, headbands and even the same color schemes. The difference lay underneath their ponchos. Where Gisbo’s outfit had baggy pants, heavy boots and various protective additions like knee pads and a thick leather belt, Rolce’s looked like a low-hanging robe with various pockets.
“Lookin' good, Rolce Moordin, Renega, Nazarite Class, um . . . no notch,” Gisbo said with a sarcastic smile. His imitation of Moordin was nearly perfect. Rolce laughed. Both of them stared into the mirrors at themselves, in awe that just a few hours ago they were going about their pointless lives only to be plucked out of them and thrust into something far bigger than themselves. The feeling was amazing.
Gisbo then noticed something at the far wall that made his heart skip. A rather large bookshelf leaned against the wall, beckoning him. How could he not have noticed it before! He almost knocked Rolce over as he ran for it, running his finger along the spine of each book, reading the titles. Renegades: A History; Renega to Renegara, The Narrow Path; Nazarite Pocket Guide . . .
“Look at all these babies, I’m gonna read 'em all! Well, except for some of these. They look like lousy textbooks. Battles by the Math? Really? Who needs that garbage in a place like this?” Gisbo said, as he tossed the book over his shoulder and let it bounce across the floor. Rolce’s eyes lit up at the word “textbooks” however and he rushed to retrieve the tossed book.
“How can you believe for a second the Renegades don’t use mathematical theories for battle plans? Not everyone just rushes into things without planning you know. Numbers and calculations are everything!” Rolce refuted as he picked up one of the battle strategy books, flipping through the pages.
“Look at this one! Wow! I used to read this series back at Oak County! I can’t believe they have the Man-Angel books here! You ever read these, Rolce?” Gisbo asked as he plucked the book from the shelf.
“Can’t say I’ve enjoyed them. I do love fiction, but not crazy stuff like that. Please, a guy with golden wings in a tight suit who flies around a mystical place called Boston, Massachusetts? Come on. Plus, they have a lot of bad words in them,” Rolce stated. Gisbo’s face contorted.
“What? Everyone loves Man-Angel! He’s the greatest. And the bad guys have powers too, not just him. He’s a super hero! And Boston sounds like such a cool place. They got towers there as high as the clouds and all the regular people don’t have any powers. I can’t even imagine living somewhere like that,” Gisbo argued.
“Exactly! It’s bogus! The term ‘Super hero’ sounds so cliché too. What’s next? Super villains? Bleh, but you go ahead and have fun,” Rolce said, grabbing a few more books.
“Psh, your loss. I better not hear you talk crap about Man-Angel again, Rolce. Don’t be jealous that I have a soul and you don’t,” Gisbo said as he made his way towards the V-bed.
Rolce sighed loudly and followed Gisbo.
“I call top bunk!” Gisbo announced as he hoisted himself up on the top right bed. Rolce shook his head and walked over with a sigh, still flipping through the pages of his book.
“There’s two top bunks, dummy. Books like Man-Angel will melt your brain. You should be reading this one,” Rolce said, flashing the math book as he climbed into his own bed. Once comfortable however, they couldn’t help looking downward at the empty bed. Their happiness suddenly lingered in the air, suspended. They almost felt a little guilty.
“What do you think happened? I mean, there’s supposed to be one more with us. I noticed out of all the new Renega synergies we are the only team with one missing,” Rolce pointed out, a little disgruntled.
“I don’t know. Falcon didn’t want us to hear about
it, that’s for sure. I’m just as lost as you. I did hear him say he was ‘intercepted’ and that they arrived a week early because of suspicions,” Gisbo said, thinking.
“Yeah, he did. He was Foxblade’s chosen subordinate too from what I gathered. Chosen . . . so that means that Falcon chose you and Moordin chose me? I mean, I should be kind of upset with a bunch of people messing with my life, but it really didn’t even cross my mind until now. Thinking about it, I’m actually pretty thankful. It still hasn’t hit me that this wonderful place is our new home,” Rolce said.
“Hell, I don’t care. I’m just pissed they left us in that hell hole called Oak County. I guess they did that so we would appreciate this place all the more. A guy could get spoiled living in a place like this,” Gisbo said, still looking at the empty bed. “To think there’s some other poor guy out there, just like us, who could be enjoying all this with us. I wonder what happened.”
“From Falcon’s reaction earlier, he was deeply upset by it all. Somebody or something took him. I can imagine Foxblade’s disappointment; so much planning over fifteen years, only to be snatched away. I wonder if his life was just as lousy as ours? It must have been. It is part of the process after all. Everyone had to go through it, right? Rolce Moordin . . . Renegade born, who woulda thought?” Rolce said with a haphazard smile.
“I don’t know about you, but I can’t stand the fact there is somebody else out there, not here where he belongs. Makes me sick inside just thinking about it. Whatever took him definitely isn’t good news,” Gisbo said with a clenched fist.
“I’m with ya, we’ll figure this out together and . . . hey, what do you think that is?” Rolce asked, as he pointed to an odd contraption on the large table. They both jumped out of their beds and rushed to it. It certainly was peculiar. It looked like a kind of long steel spike accompanied by a pile of golden disk shapes. Gisbo picked up one and on the surface it read, “Phoenix Force.” He looked at Rolce and shrugged. Rolce picked up a few, eyeballing them as well.
“Hmmm . . . look at these names: 'Metallican Sonata,' 'Slay Knot,' 'J-Cashin?' Wonder what they do?” Rolce said, holding the disk up to the light. Gisbo slipped the disk titled “Phoenix Force” onto the needle and watched it slide to the bottom. Suddenly, the disc rose up, spinning fast, and the entire thing glowed a golden yellow, filling the room around them with booming music. To Gisbo it sounded absolutely wonderful; the vocal line was fast and aggressive as the shredding sounds of metal filled the air.
“Wow! I can’t believe this! Music concentrated onto a gleaming disk. The yellow is obviously a Sorian’s trademark color. I bet they somehow figured out how to record music this way allowing for instant playback. It’s like a personal band is in our room. Amazing!” Rolce was highly impressed by the new technology. “However, this stuff sounds crazy. I’ve never heard anything so fast. I wonder what . . .”
“That, my friend, is called, ‘METAL,’ Moordin said as the boys turned to find their new Class Masters gazing at them from behind, where the door stood wide open.
“A personal favorite of Moordin’s and mine. Looks like the both of you enjoy it as well. That band, Phoenix Force, is a wonder. A Soarian band founded right here in Heaven’s Shelter. They come and play live for us every once in a while, glorious stuff! Foxblade, on the other hand, doesn’t agree. A serious bloke, into the more depressing varieties,” Falcon explained.
Gisbo noticed Moordin was looking a bit embarrassed by his sudden outburst. Never in his life would he have imagined a guy as reserved as Moordin listening to something so crazy.
“Hey, whose Man-Angel books are those on the shelf?” Gisbo asked. Moordin and Falcon looked at each other and smiled.
“Why, both of ours,” Falcon said. Gisbo smiled as he spun on Rolce.
“See Rolce! Told you everybody loves Man-Angel!” Gisbo said, thrusting a finger at his face.
“Foxblade doesn’t. He loathes anything to do with fiction.” Moordin chimed in.
“No, no! I like fiction and stuff like that! I just don’t like Man-Angel!” Rolce tried to argue. Moordin shook his head.
“Maybe you aren’t my subordinate after all. Are you sure you got the right boy, Falcon?” Moordin asked. Falcon forced back a chuckle at Rolce’s white face.
“Please! No! I am a Renegade! Don’t take me back!” Rolce pleaded.
“Calm down, son. Please say you at least enjoy metal? We left you some copies of some of our personal favorites,” Moordin asked.
“Yes, I really do like metal! It’s great, it’s perfect! Especially this music player thing! The shape of it, it’s . . .” Rolce stammered on until Moordin put up a hand.
“Ok, I suppose you got the right one, Falcon. I’m glad to see you boys are enjoying our Renegade technologies. The outside world can’t even dream of some of the things we have come up with, every race working together. Like this music player right here. It’s a Sorian invention known as a Breeze Harmonic. Records as well as plays anything you wish, long as you record them on these diskettes,” Moordin said, picking one up.
“The sound is trapped within the air by some form of Soarian technique? Amazing . . . But we aren’t Soarians. How come we can power up this device?” Rolce asked. Moordin looked pleased this time at his subordinate’s curious mind.
“Same way the cleansing room and waste shoots work, an Aquarian creation. You see, mostly everything in here requires some sort of elemental essence to power it. All of this is powered by a central orb located right beneath the floor boards. Ah, here it is,” Moordin said, as he bent down where a trap door was camouflaged in the floor. With a quick tug, he revealed a swirling mass inside, constantly spinning like the dwarf suns they had seen earlier, except this kind had all the colors swirling within it. It was captivating to see red, yellow, blue and green swirl about in harmony.
“These handy little creations lie within every building around Heaven’s Shelter, giving us easy access to just about everything. We call it an Omni-Orb and thanks to it, we won’t need to call a Flarian just to turn on the fireplace. These power sources do have their limitations. They work only in buildings considered places of rest. We make the little necessities of life easy so we can instead spend our time focusing on our training. Don’t think for a second we built these devices for a life of luxury, although rest is an important part of training, as you will understand after your first day,” Moordin said as he and Falcon both smirked at each other. Gisbo had the funny feeling he was in for a world of pain.
“But for now, you two need to follow us as we . . .” Moordin bellowed before being interrupted by the presence of a woman in the doorway, dressed in Nazarite garb. She looked rather cross as she stormed up to Moordin and Falcon.
“So you thought it rather funny to ditch your share of the cleaning this morning, Moordin?” said the woman. Moordin’s stern features cracked as a worried look replaced it.
“But, honey, I . . .” Moordin stammered. The woman then turned her gaze on Falcon, who adapted the same fearful glance.
“This is all YOUR fault! He was doing quite fine this week in your absence and now he’s back to his old irresponsible self. You're nothing but a bad influence on him, you know that? Making him believe he’s back in his bachelor days, ducking out in the mornings to cause trouble with the likes of you,” the woman lectured.
“I . . . um, I don’t think I’m the only reason he . . .” Falcon stammered.
“Don’t interrupt me! Because of this fool next to you, the house wasn’t cleaned in time and I missed the opening ceremonies! I . . .” It was then the woman noticed Gisbo and Rolce standing there. Her angry features vanished immediately as her face flushed and a vivid smile blossomed across it.
“Oh my, are these . . .” she stammered.
“Yup, that’s them all right. Meet Gisbo and . . .” Falcon started to say.
“AH! There you go! Interrupting again! You need a woman in your life, Falcon. It would do you well to have some manners,” the woman said
as Falcon and Moordin stood wearing guilty faces.
“Children, that’s all they are!” She turned back to the boys and her smile returned instantly. “We’ve been waiting for the two of you for quite some time. My name is Martha, the wife of your . . .” Martha turned around to face Moordin, who gave her a weak smile, before turning back to Rolce, “ . . . useless Class Master. Should you ever need to know anything about the way of a proper Nazarite, look no further, boys. Now! Before anything else, this room needs to be spic and span. It has been quite some time since anyone’s lived here and the dust is horrid! Cleaning supplies are in that cupboard and . . . WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?” Martha shouted to Falcon who was almost out of the doorway. Falcon stopped and turned around with a sheepish grin.
“Get back in here! You can help too! This place needs to be cleaned before any boons are allowed in this home,” Martha said as Falcon and Moordin begrudgingly began gathering the cleaning supplies from the cupboard. Gisbo and Rolce did all they could to hide their laughter as they began scrubbing down the place.
“What are boons?” Gisbo asked.
“That’s what I was trying to explain. We will . . .” Moordin started.
“We will talk about it AFTER this place is cleaned,” Martha said as she shuffled Moordin and Falcon along, handing Gisbo and Rolce cleaning tools as well. The cleaning went by quicker than they figured it would, even though Gisbo thought there had been nothing wrong with it before. He wasn’t about to tell Martha that though.
“Good job, all of you. I’m going to add some final touches to the room for the boys, so have fun and good luck with your search!” Martha said with a smile.
“Search?” Gisbo asked as Falcon and Moordin quickly pushed him and Rolce out the door, not wanting to get Martha talking again. When they made their way down the stairs and out of earshot, Falcon laughed.
“Oh, Moordin, that girl's got a chain around you as long as she can reach. You really chickened out back there. You gotta man up sometimes!” he said. Moordin’s eyes widened.
“What? Me? I, I CHICKENED OUT!? Well, I didn’t see YOU telling her off; you’re not even married to her! I don’t have a choice!” Moordin argued.
“Hey, I can’t insult my best friend's wife! Just be a man and lay down some ground rules,” Falcon said.
“What? Lay down ground rules? Ok, well, guess what? I give you full permission to say what you will and get me some of those ground rules. Go on, march up there. She’d love to hear what you have to say. Go ahead, man up!” Moordin challenged. The boys were laughing uncontrollably by this point, as they watched Falcon looking back up at the tree house.
“Alrighty then, the reason we came. I think now is a great time for you both to meet two more members of our Synergy,” Falcon said as he and Moordin looked at each other and smiled. They both raised a fist into the air as their rings began to glow, Falcon’s red, Moordin’s green.
“Akila!” Falcon shouted.
“Norse!” Moordin shouted too.
There was a sudden burst of green and red light and two animals appeared out of nowhere. On Moordin’s shoulder sat a great black hawk that screeched loudly and on the ground to Falcon’s right sat a powerful tiger that gave a sudden roar.
“It seems they have introduced themselves already. These are me and Falcon’s Boons . . . excuse me?” Moordin said, listening as his hawk squawked something. “I’m sorry, Falcon's and my Boons. Norse very much likes to correct bad grammar,” Moordin said, as he patted its head.
“Wait, you can talk to it?” Rolce asked. Moordin looked at his personal subordinate with shame.
“Of course! I am Naforian after all, just like yourself! Each race has their own personal quirks and talents. This is just one of a Naforian’s, the ability to understand animals. Many people like to say, ‘speak’ to animals, but they know so little. Animals can already understand what we say to them, however, they communicate through the expression of feelings, motions and sometimes mental telepathy back and forth to each other. Some like to argue that their sense of understanding and communication greatly surpasses us humans, as they do it in a way that is indistinguishable by tone of voice, leaving no room for error or misinterpretation. I have to agree.” Norse seemed to nod in agreement.
“Hm,” Rolce exclaimed.
“You have not heard an animal speak to you, Rolce? I should think after our careful planning, placing you on a farm, that you would have at least heard one by now? This farm experience should have taught you to be one with the earth, to learn how it works and grows and to communicate with its creatures. This is a Naforian’s duty. Not even one voice whatsoever?” Moordin asked, with an air of disappointment.
“I thought I heard voices a few times while I was in the barn, when I felt lonely and was working hard. I thought it was just my imagination,” Rolce stammered. Moordin at least felt it was a passing answer.
“They were probably offering you their companionship and help in your chores. I suppose since one now knows the truth, one will keep their ears open, right?” Moordin suggested pointedly. Rolce nodded.
“Now, not every Naforian can understand animals just as some Naforians can only make elemental stones glow and nothing more. It all depends how much of the essence is contained within you. This is why you must be Renegade born and tested at birth to see if you contain the amount of essence required for Renegade training. Not everyone is cut out to be a Renegade. It is the highest of honors to be accepted within our ranks and such is the same for animals who wish to become Boons.
“Also, understand that Boons are not sidekicks, they are not servants, they are not pets. You and your Boon are and will become mutual companions for as long as you both survive on Thera. Every Boon is different, just as every person is different. The Boon is born out of the human’s need for inward guidance, just as they need outward direction based on your personalities, gifts and potential. They are a reflection of your inner self just as you are a reflection of their attributes. They are a part of you, destiny chosen, born immediately when you come of age and find yourselves in need of one. Which was a few months ago for the two of you. The forests and jungles of Heaven’s Shelter act like a homing beacon to potential Boon animals who travel from all across Thera to come here. Day after day, new animals make their way exactly when they are needed. Do you understand thus far?” Moordin asked. Both boys nodded in agreement.
“Very well, the time is come for you both to journey into the forest and discover for yourself your own personal Boon. They are both out there, waiting for you. What they are I cannot say, but you will recognize them the moment you see them, just as they will recognize you. Once discovered, they will constantly remain by your sides during the term as you raise them personally. Upon your Renegara training and after gaining your Boon’s friendship within the first term, we will begin teaching you how to unlock the secrets within them. Rolce should be able to help you get acquainted with yours, Gisbo, should he quit slacking in his Naforian duties and learn to understand his animal friends,” said Moordin as he eyed Rolce. The boy gulped a little, trepidation lingering from Moordin’s cold gaze. Falcon shook his head and let out a sigh at his friend’s seriousness.
“I just can’t remember if you were always like this or if it was Martha that quelled the fun in you,” Falcon gibed. Moordin shot him a dirty look and then turned back to the boys.
“I wish you both best of luck. The barrier is now active. You will not be able to return to your hut for the night until you find your Boon. Believe me, you will need your rest come the first day of the week,” Moordin said, wearing the same smirk as before.
“Barrier? Are you serio . . .” Gisbo couldn’t finish the sentence as he walked towards Moordin. He slammed his face against the barrier and the air flashed yellow, emitting a wooing noise. It was then Gisbo saw Foxblade appear out of nothingness in his usual fashion and flash a wink. It was obvious now to Gisbo who had contrived the barrier.
“Don’t even think yo
u will be able to sprint parallel to it and escape this barrier. It will constantly lay right here, following your every movement along this invisible plane. Hurry up now. Come nightfall is the animals feeding time and should you not have a Boon to tell them off, they may mistake you for food,” Foxblade said in his scary tone.
“What? Oh come on, this is crazy! We just got here and we could be lion food on the first night? Stupid, stupid . . .” Gisbo said, as he kicked the barrier over and over again. Foxblade just shook his head. Falcon gave him a wink and with that the class masters walked away without another word.
“Wait! I . . . I didn’t mean that! Come back! What if we don’t make it in time?” He turned to Rolce. “Well Nafawhatever boy, looks like you're gonna have to tell off those animals if we don’t make it,” Gisbo said, rather perturbed.
“Didn’t you just hear him? Animals can understand us, Naforian or not. It’s just I can understand them and translate, nothing more. I doubt they’d listen to us anyway if they were hungry enough and . . . what are you doing?” Rolce asked, a little annoyed as Gisbo continued to run back and forth along the barrier wall, jumping forward, left and right, trying to escape and constantly slamming himself into the barrier. Gisbo cursed over and over as he kept falling to the ground.
“Did you not just hear Foxblade? He said the barrier will FOLLOW you! Do you know what follow means?” Rolce muttered, as if talking to himself. Sure enough Gisbo continued, now walking very slowly away, then spinning around to jump, as if to catch the barrier by surprise. He only fell to the ground once more with a slew of fresh curses. Rolce walked over and grabbed Gisbo by his scarf to drag him along.
“Come on, stupid, we're wasting time!” Rolce said, sounding a little worried himself as a bear stared at him through some bushes.
“They didn’t even give us any weapons! Gah, I really don’t like that Foxblade guy.” Gisbo sounded irritated as he rubbed his painful forehead. The boys made their way through the woods silently until they came across a small field where cows, bulls and a variety of antelope grazed in peace.
“Man, I sure hope I don’t get some lame animal like a cow,” Gisbo thought aloud as they kept walking.
“I think it’s the perfect choice actually. I read they have seven stomachs, just like you,” Rolce smiled, laughing at his own joke.
“My life’s complete with that stupid fact. What page was . . .”
“Page 73, paragraph four of Animals and Facts, Volume Six,” Rolce interrupted.
“Holy . . .” Gisbo stated, wide-eyed.
“Cow?” Rolce finished with an amused grin.
“I think you should be quiet for a while,” Gisbo said as they continued to walk out of the clearing. They made their way towards a swamp in which they saw various alligators sunning themselves while trying to snap at the monkeys swaying above them. Rolce suddenly stopped.
“I swear I just heard that monkey say something. He was making fun of the alligator below him! He said some . . . pretty awful swear words,” Rolce said, as he stared at more monkeys swinging back and forth.
“Really? What did he say? Talk to it! Maybe it's your Boon!” Gisbo said with excitement. Rolce cleared his throat.
“Ummm excuse me . . . are, are any of you my Boon?” Rolce asked the monkeys, pointing at them. The primates squeaked and squawked, made some obscene gestures, then swung through the branches and were gone, leaving Rolce looking quite embarrassed.
“Well? What did they say?” Gisbo asked.
“One of those monkeys told me of a certain place I could put my finger if he were my Boon…” Rolce said, a little offended.
Gisbo doubled over in laughter.
“Shut up! Still, wow, my first conversation with an animal,” Rolce was so amazed he almost forgot his embarrassment.
“Yeah and he told you off big time!” Gisbo reminded him, laughing once again. Rolce looked unamused.
“Come on, let's keep going, they have to be here somewhere!” Rolce asserted as they continued their walk. They had traveled a good ways ahead when suddenly Rolce froze once more. Gisbo stopped and looked at him with curiosity.
“What's up?” Gisbo asked. Rolce looked at him blankly, constantly turning his head left and right as if looking for something.
“I hear . . . no, I feel something. It’s like my stomach has butterflies. I’m getting goose bumps . . . I . . . WAIT! I HEAR IT! I hear her! She’s, she’s in trouble! She needs my help!” Rolce yelled frantically, running around, shouting, and looking all about.
“Rolce, give it a rest! What do you hear? What is it? I don’t hear anything,” Gisbo said, looking around as well.
“My Boon, Gisbo! I hear her! She’s calling out to me! She’s in trouble!” Rolce said. He then gasped, put his hand over his mouth and pointed upward. Before them was a huge oak tree and perched at the top of it was a large nest. A massive snake was spiraling up the trunk with ease, its clear aim the snack within the nest.
“That snake! It’s going to the nest! I know my Boon is in there! Come on, Gisbo, you got to help me! Gisbo?” Rolce said, but Gisbo was backing away from the tree with his eyes upon the snake.
“Yeah, you go do that, go help her,” Gisbo muttered, his voice trembling. Rolce looked at the snake, then looked back at Gisbo.
“You’re afraid of snakes? Oh come on! My Boon’s in trouble!” Rolce had rushed over to the tree and was leaping onto the first branch when he suddenly froze, looking pale.
“Well! Go get him, Captain Righteous! You don’t need me! He’s your stupid Boon! Climb up and get 'em!” Gisbo said, not taking his eyes off the huge snake. Rolce however looked terrified, but not because of the snake.
“Heights . . .” Rolce said shaking, looking upward and gripping the trunk of the tree in a bear hug.
“Oh, this is just fantastic! Snakes and heights! Really, if your Boon is gonna put us into situations like this all the time, I don’t want it around!” Gisbo yelled, folding his arms in defiance. Rolce shot a glance up at the nest as the snake was getting nearer, almost halfway. Tears began welling up in the big boy’s eyes as he looked at Gisbo.
“You’re crying? Damn it all, Rolce. You’re not seriously crying!” Gisbo spurned as Rolce still gripped the tree in utter fear. “Freakin' Boon . . . figures, just figures, gotta be yours who decides to pull crap like this. You watch, mine won’t be any trouble at all!” Gisbo muttered as he ran to the tree, jumped and climbed to where Rolce sat.
“Come on, water works, just don’t look down and you’ll be fine. If this is your Boon, we have to get it or we aren’t getting back. Come on! Quit your damn sniffling and . . .” It was then the snake hissed above him as the great reptile realized he had company. Gisbo squirmed down the trunk a little bit, unable to finish his sentence. Both sat for a moment, immobile, Gisbo looking down due to fear of the snake, Rolce looking upward for fear of falling.
“Well, this sucks . . .” Gisbo grunted.
“We're getting nowhere fast! It’s crying! I can’t take it! Gisbo, how is it you do what you do? Tell me!” Rolce asked in panic.
“The hell do you mean?” Gisbo responded, bewildered.
“I mean, how is it you can do all those crazy things? Taking on the entire clash team, challenge Thomson and his gang head on, skeet like it was your job, go up against the Chieftain's son? How do you get the courage to do those things? I need to know now!” Rolce stammered.
“To think I did all those things within a few days, jeesh, I think I’m gonna die young. Well, I think our brains just work differently, Rolce, and mine . . . well, I’m pretty sure it just stopped working at those times, that’s all. I get mad, everything goes red and I dive without even really knowing why,” Gisbo said.
“Mad! I gotta get angry! I’m too technical, too in control of myself. I need to lose control! I need to let go or I’ll never save her. But . . . what makes me angry?” Rolce interrupted, trying to think. Then Gisbo had an idea.
“One plus one is three, right?” Gisbo st
ated plainly. Rolce looked at him with a rude glance.
“What? Come on, quit being stupid! We don’t have time for jokes,” Rolce said.
“The sum of twenty is five with a piece of pi,” Gisbo said. Rolce looked at him, disgusted.
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? You don’t even . . . GAH!” Gisbo had cut Rolce short with a quick punch to his face. The punch landed square between his eyes. Gisbo started climbing the tree.
“No, no, get back here!” Rolce yelled, as he abandoned his post and climbed toward Gisbo. They clambered up the tree so fast that Gisbo did not even comprehend how close they were to the slithering snake. Without realizing it, Gisbo planted his hand on its dry, scaly exterior and screamed as the snake came face to face with him. Hissing, its fangs bared, the snake looked ready to strike when a huge hand reached upward.
Rolce grabbed the snake by the head and squeezed with all his might. The snake thrashed wildly, trying to escape from his iron grip, but it was too late. Rolce’s freakish strength crushed the snake’s head with a loud crack. The reptile draped downward, unraveling from the tree, and fell into a bush below them, dead. Gisbo looked at Rolce in shock.
“Uh, remind me never to tick you off again,” Gisbo said. Rolce was breathing hard, staring at the snake blood flowing down his hand in grisly lines.
“I scare myself when I lose control like that. It doesn’t happen very often, but when it does . . . bad things tend to happen. Now you know why it is so important for me to keep control. Why I never react in anger,” Rolce stammered out, breathing heavily.
“Still, I figured a few wrong math statements would really tick you off . . . and it worked!” Gisbo smiled to himself.
“No, the fact that you were being stupid in a desperate situation ticked me off. Then the whole punching me in the face! You’re lucky, I’m telling you that right now,” Rolce stated, pointing at Gisbo.
“Now, now, that is such a bad habit of yours, always pointing! I’ll have to call that monkey back to give you a finger of his own! Come on, let’s go get your Boon! After all that mess, the height can’t be so bad, now can it?” Gisbo encouraged. Rolce smiled as they both climbed to the nest and looked down inside it. Tears of joy dripped down Rolce’s dirty face at the baby bald eagle nestled all alone in its nest. Upon seeing Rolce, it moved with quick little skips toward him and began nuzzling his face, squawking and cooing.
The first Boon was found.
