by J. C. Fiske
Purah Brennan stood over him, a wry smile upon his face.
“It was the same with all of us you know,” Purah said, helping Ranto to his feet, and bringing him over to the far end of the wall where he sat him down, letting him lean against it to catch his breath as the Drakeness went to work on his wounds.
“One day . . . one day I’ll . . .” Ranto started, trying to catch his breath.
“Beat him? Take his place? Sit upon his throne? It’s good to dream, Ranto, but not to hallucinate,” Purah said, as he sat down beside him.
“Why?” Ranto asked.
“Why what?” Purah answered.
“Why did you join him?” Ranto asked. Purah thought for a moment.
“It is said, that when one stares into the void, it looks back into you. Drakearon, is that void. He has no beginning and has no end. He is a walking, living, breathing force of nature. He is what happens when the immovable object meets the unstoppable force. That being said, he and I, we both share the same dream. We both want peace for this world and so do you. You aren’t the only one affected by chaos. I have my own suffering that I want to end. I may not look it on the outside, but inside, I, I feel very old, and so very tired . . .” Purah said.
“Why not end your own life?” Ranto asked.
“Suicide? Too selfish. I’m a lot of things, but selfish is not one of them,” Purah said.
Ranto looked back down at the ground but said nothing.
“It’s been said that some people live in five years, what others live in twenty. I feel as if I’m beginning of time old. I’m tired of the fighting, tired of opposing views, tired of the arguing, and that is what keeps me going. Where you, your pride is both your downfall and what keeps you going, mine, is compassion.
What Drakearon offers, it is peace, it is security, it is order, and he is right. Through him and the Dragon’s power, the fighting, the noise, it would all stop and honestly, that’s all I want. I would do anything, even if I must commit evil for a little while, for a greater peace, and believe me, son, what we do, is evil.
The people may not see it, or know it, but we do, along with our enemies,” Purah said. “We have the Dragon’s power flowing through us now and sometimes, we slip in our tones and the way we talk and present ourselves. As people, evil comes naturally, where good, is unnatural, at least for some. Back then, in the cave when I manipulated my synergy mate, Shax. He, he enraged me so much on how he couldn’t see things my way, our way, how he wanted to cling to something as trivial and selfish as free will. So I, wanting to save him, still new, still trying to control my Dragon blood, instilled my own will on him and, in a way, lost myself.
The Dragon’s pull, it was so strong on me then. In my effort to bring this world peace, I killed his wife and changed the course of his son’s life forever. Even now, thinking about back then, how I spoke through him, I felt it was him committing the sins, not me. Even now, it all feels like a bad dream.
It’s the same thing Drakearon does you know. That’s how he is able to use some of the Phoenix power, the righteous energy. In his mind, he created an alternate self that does the evil, while his true self remains pure. His mask, it is but one side, Ying, and the other, Yang. Maybe he can get by on it, not feel the guilt, but I cannot. I know just what I did and soon, I will face someone who will try and make me suffer for my iniquities . . .” Purah said, looking upward at the ceiling.
“Fighting is all I know, all I am. Fighting against my own nature, and my, sexual desires. It’s what I’ve done my whole life. I’ve heard every argument, that what I am is evil, that what I am isn’t evil. All I know is what I feel, and to me, this lust I have for dominating other men sexually . . . there’s nothing normal about that, and normal, is all I’ve ever wanted to be. I want, I just to be like everyone else. I don’t want to be different. I just want it to all go away. I want peace too, but Drakearon’s peace, I’ll admit. It rubs me the wrong way.
For me, peace, unless it comes by my own terms, it won’t feel real, but one thing I know for certain is that I don’t want what happened to me, to happen to anyone else ever again. The chaos that’s affected me, changed me into what I am, it has to stop, and the source of it all, at least, at the moment, in my head, wears a blue bandanna, has spikey hair, and has the laugh and brain of a jackass. Until he is put down, for good . . . I’ll never have peace . . .” Ranto said.
“You will have your chance, I’ve seen it all up here.” Purah said, pointing to his own head.
“What do you see?” Ranto asked.
“I see three armies meeting with Oak County, as the battleground. I see you, leading one, Malik Strife leading another, and I see Gisbo, standing with Oak County. I don’t know when this will happen, but I know there will be only one winner. Of who, I’m not sure. I’m not even sure if winner is appropriate wording. Perhaps survivor would be a better description. I see someone else as well, a man with the face of a Goat. He seems to be the puppet master behind it all . . .” Purah said.
At this Ranto’s face lit up, but he did not say anything.
“I appreciate this, Purah. Thank you. I know now what I must do. Plan A has failed. It’s time for Plan B . . .” Ranto said, rising to his feet.
“Plans are always intertwined with ambition . . . what is that you speak of?” Purah asked.
“I’ve learned all I can here and it still wasn’t enough. In my life I’ve seen times of peace and times of chaos, but what I haven’t seen is a third option.” Ranto said, looking at Purah, who returned his look with curious eyes.
“Which is?” Purah asked.
“Order . . . peace and chaos, it cannot be controlled. Order on the other hand can be, and me, if I’m to ever feel at peace again, this world needs absolute order, more importantly, MY order. It’s part of my genetic make up to crave control. It’s who I am, it’s linked to my festering pride, and staying here with Drakearon, I’m nothing but just another follower and following is something I just cannot do. This world doesn’t need chaos and it doesn’t need peace. What it needs is me . . .” Ranto said, smiling. He then looked at Purah, and vanished in a flash of black Drakeness.
Purah sat there for a minute, thinking over Ranto’s sudden change of heart, only to realize, it wasn’t sudden at all. It was there all along, hidden. Not even Drakearon saw it, or perhaps he did, perhaps one side of him denied it, while the other side knew it, but chose to do nothing about it. However, it didn’t matter anymore. Purah saw everything with perfect clarity . . .
Ranto never wanted peace, never shared in their vision. What he wanted all along was to take Drakearon’s place . . .
Chapter Thirteen: A Dragon, A Phoenix, and a Goat walk into a Bar . . .
“Sybil Purah. Not nosing around, are we?” Drakearon asked, twirling a finger, pointing it at the side of his head, his back turned to him. Instantly, Purah snapped out of his memory with Ranto and joined Drakearon by his side.
“So it is true then? Ranto has abandoned us.” Purah asked, playing a gamble. He did not know just how much control, or influence Drakearon had over him with the pure Dragon blood flowing through him. Being this close to him as well, he would be able to sense if the man was lying or hiding something. Purah held his breath, and waited for an answer that came after a long pause, and with it came a feeling Purah wasn’t expecting. Regret, but also heartbreak, as if he truly cared for Ranto and his well being.
“Yes, Ranto Narroway has indeed come to . . . complications with our vision. I’ve seen his heart and something troubles him deeply, something my power has freed up inside him. Truths that even I couldn’t have predicted he would learn. Perhaps, I’ve pushed him too hard. Perhaps, I have discredited his talent. He is far beyond anything I could have imagined and it was only then, in his moment of weakness and defeat, that I finally sensed his true feelings, his true ambition. To hide such feelings from me would take . . .” Drakearon started, and then paused, at a rare loss for words.
“Then he used you, only to ga
in power . . .” Purah stated.
“Yes. It seems that is the case. It seems, like us, he has a vision for this world as well, far different from our own. I would like to say that he won’t get far, but to hide such feelings from me, that takes immense strength and will. He could be troublesome, especially considering what he has now learned from me.” Drakearon said. A single word floated to Drakearon’s mind.
“Dragonharth?” Purah asked.
“Yes,” Drakearon said plainly.
“I thought Dragonharth was an ability exclusive only to you?” Purah asked. “If he indeed has learned to absorb the essence of his slain Flarian brother and sisters,”
“Then he could become . . . me?” Drakearon asked.
“No . . . he could become, even more . . .” Purah said.
“Quite right. As you know, the Man-Phoenix and the Man-Dragon cannot do battle with one another. We are two equal powers. If we would fight, there would be no stalemate. We would both die.” Drakearon said, folding his arms.
“But Ranto, with the ability of Dragonharth now his own, he is free to fight Gisbo Falcon and take from him, his birthright, for his own,” Purah said.
“Not just that. He wishes to also kill the Man-Dragon,” Drakearon said.
“Malik Strife,” Purah said, eyes narrowing.
“Yes. Should he kill Malik and Gisbo, the powers of the Man-Phoenix and the Man-Dragon, the full powers of Space and Time, would be his to control.” Drakearon said.
“But you’re not worried . . .” Purah said. He wasn’t sure, but he could guess Drakearon was smiling beneath his mask.
“No, Sybil Purah. I am not. If anything, I am excited. You see, should Ranto succeed in his mission, even with those powers at his whim, it takes many years to master. If anything, the power would drive him mad, maybe even debilitate him, allowing me to swoop in, switch to my . . . business side, and slay him,” Drakearon said.
“Thus taking the power of Space and Time for yourself . . .” Purah said.
“Exactly. Space and Time, all under my whim and fancy. In all terms, rights and regards, I would be a God,” Drakearon said. Purah then thought for a long moment and, picking his words carefully, took another chance. He had to know if Drakearon knew just how much he could read him.
“Then Ranto Narroway, he did not come up with this plan himself, nor learn this ability . . . you . . .” Purah started.
“Gave it to him? Absolutely.” Drakearon said. Purah felt the lie, felt Drakearon’s heart skip, and then felt sorrow at the loss of his promising student. Purah already knew what Drakearon was going to say before he said it . . .
“And best of all, he thinks it is a moment of brilliance all his own. His confidence, his will, it was broken when Gisbo Falcon defeated him. Now, no more. I’ve planted the seeds, twisted him under my will, a will, he thinks is his own.
Everything I do, Purah, is a plan within a plan. I pushed Gisbo’s heart as well, pushed his hatred and his anger over the edge, made him ready to fight Ranto, and win. He believes he lost to Gisbo, because the Drakeness empowered him in their fight, but that is simply not the case. Gisbo, in all rights, defeated him,” Drakearon said. Purah, mentally shook his head at the lie. He never did anything of the sort to Ranto, but now, to save face, he had to make it seem that way, had to take the circumstance and work with what he had. Purah knew he had to keep the conversation going, had to play dumb, something, that came hard to him.
“Then what makes you think Ranto can beat Gisbo now?” Purah asked.
“Simple. He has learned from me. He has spent these past few years in constant training, constant battle, honing his skills, whereas Gisbo Falcon has done nothing but slowly drink himself to death. Since the Rupture, he is but a shell of his former self. He is broken, beyond saving, controllable, and that’s exactly where I want him.” Drakearon said. At this, Purah felt something beneath Drakearon rise up inside, and saw Drakearon’s hand twitch, trying to rise, trying to spin the mask around, but through much willpower, Drakearon fought his other side back.
“No one, not even myself, could recover from such carefully calculated pain as I have given him. There is no way to grieve from something he doesn’t remember doing when he killed his fellow Renegades. Only a constant, never ending ache remains, and then, meeting the love of his life, so soon, so early, only to be taken away by something he cannot battle, can not justify, nor bring vengeance upon . . .
Me!
He is beyond repair now. He doesn’t just wait for death. Deep down, he wants it, rushes toward it, and Ranto, will meet him there.” Drakearon said, and that’s when Purah felt that other side of him again, and a horrible realization struck him, that maybe, just maybe, that side of him really had planned and predicted Ranto’s betrayal all along, that maybe, that side of him had plans that his true side didn’t know? Was the Drakearon he was talking to now even the true side? Or was it the fake?
“That’s why I think of you like a brother, Purah. Every thought you have is about others, never about yourself. There isn’t one prideful cell in your body. What happened to you in your past, to push you here, to join with me, I will never know, but that is what keeps you interesting, nearly as interesting as our now deceased brother . . .” Drakearon said. Again, Purah felt sadness fill Drakearon. He knew exactly who he was talking about.
“Falcon Vadid made his choice,” Purah said.
“And yet he still holds a special place in my heart. He always will. You both will. The two of you, in a way, define your generation, but, alas, enough revelations of the past. It’s time to look forward to our impending future. Let’s get to the reason why I called you here, my dearest friend. I need you now more than ever,” Drakearon said.
“What do you desire?” Purah asked.
“Materials and resources. These men and woman who are now of my blood are growing exponentially, along with my power, but we will still need more. It will only be a matter of time until our resources are diminished. More importantly however, is this light, powered by my own Flarian essence. Keeping it lit at all times, well, it is greatly beginning to weigh down upon me. We will need a separate power source to keep this city shining, and I know just the thing, but, it will require utmost obedience from you, as well as Lokin. Now, listen carefully . . .” Drakearon said.
Elsewhere, Ranto Narroway watched from the highest point in Glaknabrade city. It had taken a lot of violence, a lot of blood, and a lot of time, but now, things were finally coming together. He had separated those who would join him and his righteous cause, from those who wouldn’t, with their very lives. He watched now as his Strife Army ran all about, gathering weapons, forming formations, and burning the bodies of those who would rebel, and that’s when it hit him. All of these people skittering about below, now moved, because he had demanded it so. In this space, he was king and the only thing above him was IAM himself, a necessary thing Ranto decided, but Thera was a big place, and there were still those out there who would attempt to look down upon him.
He would change that.
Ranto then closed his eyes and listened to the stomping of boots, the clanging of hammers upon steel, the hissing and crackling of the fires and did not take them as the sounds of war, but the sounds of a spreading, new world. A world free from Drakearon, Gisbo, and Chaos, and for the first time since he could remember, Ranto felt as if he were truly in control of not just his own destiny, but Thera’s as well, and when he felt in control, Ranto, felt at peace.
Drakearon watched Ranto, saw what he saw through his eyes. Everything was going well. Not according to plan, but such was the way sometimes. Even the best-laid plans could come to ruin. Victory, he knew, came to the man who was able to adapt and claim the moment, and he had no doubt in his mind that Ranto was fully capable of carrying out his mission, and from the background, he would do all he could to help him succeed, and that’s when it happened.
Suddenly, in Drakearon’s mind, the image of a board game appeared, but it was not square like t
hat of a chess or a checker board. Instead, it was a perfect triangle, and upon that board, across from where he sat, laid two pieces, a Phoenix, and a Goat, and he realized that the Goat piece had already moved. It didn’t take Drakearon long to figure out the symbolism, or know where this sudden intrusion of his mind came from. In that Goat piece, he saw Chaos, and Chaos, was only crushed by one thing . . .
Order.
Drakearon, in his mind, picked up the Dragon piece, representing Ranto, and moved it, so it stood right before the Goat, blocking, any and all movement forward. If it wanted to get past, it would have to go right through him . . .
Vadid the Valiant’s eyes snapped open, and took in a slow, deep breath to maintain his focus. He knew it wouldn’t be long now. His grandson would wake up soon, and when he did . . .
“Old friend? I need a quick break, would you?” Vadid asked aloud. There was a screech and the Phoenix landed by his side in a flash, nuzzling his face, then, closed its eyes, and the control over the ability, was passed from man to bird.
Vadid rose to his feet and stretched, feeling his spine pop downward in a series of blasts. With a huge, pleasurable sigh of relief, he walked over to his grandson and squatted down next to him to look him in the face, a face, that was now older, and wiser than it had arrived.
“Boy, do you look just like your Daddy,” Vadid said. A warm smile graced his face then as he reached forward and rubbed the now bearded cheek of Gisbo, his own flesh and blood, his descendant, and felt a sudden rush of pride and amazement, in the way only a Grandfather could.
“Maybe one day you’ll remember this, what I’m about to say, and maybe you won’t. Either way, you can’t know it now. There’s still so much ahead, and still so much you don’t know, or understand. I had no choice, Gisbo. I had to undermine the tragedy that happened to you, had to make it seem it wasn’t a big deal. I couldn’t coddle you. I could only show you that it wasn’t your fault and, that what happened to you and what he did . . . “ Vadid started, rubbing his own chin, flustered to find the right words.
