by J. C. Fiske
That was when, suddenly, a thought rose in his head above all else. More like a voice than a thought. It came on so fast, so hard, that it almost felt like a yell. He saw a bright, burning, beautiful, blue-tinted fire and eyes of red come before his mind. The voice said one thing.
“Even in the storm, I am with you . . .” Then it was gone, and the dark, racing thoughts returned. Gisbo cried as the moment of comfort disappeared.
“That’s all I get from you, Phoenix? That’s all? I can’t take this on my own!” Gisbo cried.
He raised his now bloodied head for one last strike when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a light, but heard no thunder. He turned to see it in full view, looking like a small sun set against a night sky, as if it appeared there, but did not light the surrounding area all at once. Gisbo couldn’t believe it. He turned and rubbed his eyes just to be sure, and there, within the storm, he saw it again. It was bright, felt powerful, and the silhouette of a man could be clearly seen within the beacon. Just seeing that light calmed and slowed his racing mind. He focused on it, embraced it, and his heart skipped, realizing it was coming closer.
Gisbo lifted himself up as the figure, swathed in yellow light, stepped into the cave and smiled. Gisbo had not seen that face in a long time.
“Gisbo Falcon, your sentry has come for you. As long as I’m alive, you won’t ever have to be alone,” Jackobi Foxblade said. Gisbo’s knees wobbled and he started to collapse. Jackobi caught him and brought him back over to lean against the wall.
“Jack?” Gisbo asked out of reflex. He looked up into Jackobi’s dark face, dangling dreadlocks, and ice blue eyes and knew it to be true. “How did you . . .”
“Quiet, just rest. I am going to put you to sleep myself. Don’t worry, no nightmares will befall you. Rest in peace, your mind needs it,” Jackobi said as his index finger began to glow. He pressed it firmly against Gisbo’s forehead, and within moments, Gisbo was off into a dreamless sleep.
When Gisbo awoke, he realized he could breathe easy again and his racing mind had slowed considerably. He stretched and groaned loudly, not believing how much energy he had. It felt as if he had drunk three cups of coffee, without the jitters. He felt great. He stretched again, realizing he was stretching with both arms. His sling was gone. He was healed. He smiled and threw out his arm into a punch. There was no pain. He smiled and laughed.
“It’s fixed! I can’t believe it!” Gisbo said with cheer. He then spied Jackobi leaning against the wall. The storm still raged outside, and suddenly reality set in again as the conversation he had with his grandfather echoed through his head. Gisbo slumped down, lowered his head, then raised it again to face Jackobi.
“Jack, how did you know I was here? How the hell did you come all the way from Heaven’s Shelter?” Gisbo asked plainly.
“That is quite a complicated story to tell that I will probably soon need to repeat to Rolce, so why don’t we wait till then? You know how much I hate repeating myself. But I will give you a simple answer. I am your Sentry, Gisbo, sworn protector of the Man-Phoenix. When you have a moment of weakness, a loss of self, I know it and will always appear to guide you back. It is my purpose, it is my duty, it is my life,” Jackobi said.
“Ugh, ok . . . so, since when can Soarians teleport though? That really explains nothing for me,” Gisbo said.
“As I said, it is a long story. I am more than your average Soarian. I feel you have had enough reveals of late for you to ponder before I add fuel to an already out of control fire. Agreed?” Jackobi asked. Gisbo sighed.
“Agreed. At least tell me how you fixed my arm,” Gisbo said. At that, Jackobi rose to his feet and walked toward Gisbo. In a blur of motion Gisbo could not have prepared for, Jackobi withdrew a dagger and sliced it across Gisbo’s forearm.
“Hey! WHOA! What the hell, man?” Gisbo said as he rolled and clutched at his now bleeding arm. Jackobi lifted a palm for him to stop and Gisbo did. Jackobi then arched his fingers and his eyes turned entirely black, like spreading ink, the whites and irises included. Black veins etched up and down his very body, and a thick, black substance shot from his open palm, as if out of nowhere, and wrapped about Gisbo’s wound. The substance seemed to pump, making a squishy, sucking noise, and his whole forearm went numb. After a few moments, the blackness subsided and disintegrated into black ash and Jackobi’s eyes returned to normal. Gisbo looked down at his arm to see a white scar where the cut was, but other than that, it was fully healed.
“Whoa . . . you used the Drakeness to heal me? You could have at least said something before slicing me up. Not like I’m running out of scars here,” Gisbo chided.
“Actions speak louder than words,” Jackobi said.
“I knew you’d say something like that,” Gisbo said.
“Your shoulder will still not be able to harness such a heavy weapon as the Talon sword though. I’m sorry for that. But you can still throw punches and swing lighter weapons as normal. Besides, in my own opinion, the Talon sword is much too clunky and brainless,” Jackobi said.
“Hey, that was what came natural to me!” Gisbo said. Jackobi grinned.
“Truth be told,” Jackobi said.
“Jerk . . .” Gisbo said aloud. “But, thank you, Jack. If you didn’t arrive when you did, I thought I might lose myself forever. My brain felt like it was splitting in two. I’ve never felt anything like it. What Frank told me . . .” Gisbo started. Jackobi raised a hand to stop.
“I already know everything,” Jackobi said.
“But, but how?” Gisbo asked.
“I told you, I’m not your average Soarian. Trust me, I know all about Frank McCarley’s accusations,” Jackobi said.
“Well, do you know if it’s true, what he said? I know my dad had a past, but did he really kill my mother? His wife?” Gisbo asked.
“What does your heart say?” Jackobi asked. Gisbo was shocked to hear such an answer, but he thought for a moment.
“I just don’t feel it. Either way, I’m not going back to those Ronigades again. I’m done with them. I’m going back to Heaven’s Shelter to talk to my dad as soon as this storm lets up. I have a lot of things to ask him,” Gisbo said. At this, Jackobi adopted a rare look of confusion.
“Wait, Falcon is not with you?” Jackobi asked.
“No, he is banned from the Ronigades home. He can’t ever enter there. Big grudge between my grandfather and him and . . . why? Did you not know?” Gisbo asked.
“Frankly, nobody knew that. You mean to tell me that Falcon has not been with you this past month overseeing your training?” Jackobi asked.
“He was, but he took me to the Ronigades a month before schedule, said I was ready and something happened to, uhm, compromise my security. So we left early,” Gisbo said. Jackobi’s eyes went wide at this.
“Gisbo, you mean to tell me that he’s been gone for three months?” Jackobi said, standing to his feet.
“No, he told me he was going back to Heaven’s Shelter!” Gisbo said.
“Gisbo, Falcon has not stepped foot in Heaven’s Shelter since he took you out to Flaria for training,” Jackobi said. At this, realization set in. A sudden panic began to rise in Gisbo as his heart hammered within his chest.
“You mean, you mean he’s missing?” Gisbo asked.
“Falcon never told any of us he was banned from his father’s home! Not even Moordin or Foxblade knew! Gisbo, this is troubling news, especially if he has gone missing here in Flaria. When did you last see him?” Jackobi asked.
“The last time I saw him was the day he dropped me off! He got in a fight with my grandfather and stormed out without saying goodbye! Didn’t even look back at me!” Gisbo said. Jackobi began to pace back and forth.
“This is bad, this is so bad,” Jackobi said.
“Jack, what aren’t you telling me? There is no way he would get taken in by Karm’s men. Maybe he just went off somewhere . . . I don’t know . . .” Gisbo said.
“No, he couldn’t have. He was taken . . .”
Jackobi said.
“Taken? Why would somebody take him? And, on top of that, how could they possibly be strong enough to do that?” Gisbo asked.
“If she is still alive, then it is indeed possible,” Jackobi said.
“Jack! Damn it! Stop being so vague! Tell me what is going on with my dad! Where is he!?” Gisbo yelled.
“If what I fear has happened, then every second is now precious. We must move, Gisbo, now, storm or no storm, if we have any chance of saving your father. I think it is about time we find out just what these Holy Chosen are up to. I will show you how the Renegades complete a reconnaissance mission. We are going to Sand Lake City; wait here while I get supplies,” Jackobi said.
“What the . . . Jack, wait!” Gisbo said. It was too late. In a flash of black, Jackobi was gone, leaving blackened veins across the ground where he once stood. Gisbo’s head was now swimming even more. He paced around in a circle.
“What the hell is going on!?” Gisbo asked himself. Just before Gisbo lost it with impatience, a flash of black appeared before his eyes and Jackobi now stood with a guest, somebody who was the spitting image of him, but much older and much more intimidating.
“Foxblade?” Gisbo asked. “Can somebody please tell me what’s going on?”
“We will on the way, but first, put this on. Put up the hood and tie it tight. You’ll need it to shield your eyes out there,” Jackobi said, tossing a neatly folded blue Renegara uniform to Gisbo.
“Ugh, fine, but why’d you bring Foxblade? Shouldn’t you have brought the calvary?” Gisbo asked. Foxblade shook his head.
“That will come later. We first need to confirm your father’s whereabouts, what happened to him. We need to discover much about our potential enemy, the Holy Chosen, before we strike. A group of two or three Shininja will be able to confirm all of this within a night, and you’re coming along, Gisbo,” Foxblade said.
“Me? But I’m no Shininja. I can’t turn all invisible like you Soarians, either,” Gisbo said.
“Yes, that is why I had to bring my father. He is the best Shininja that Heaven’s Shelter has to offer and my Soarian abilities are not as far along as my Drakeness abilities. I do not have the power to cloak you, but my father can. No longer being able to wield heavy weapons, I believe it is about time you start to learn the quick-footed ways of a Shininja. No better time to learn than on the fly. Perfect training, really. Now get going and change,” Jackobi said.
“But, I’m not a Shininja, I’m a Berserker, damn it! Just give me a lighter sword! And shouldn’t you go and tell Narroway? This is all happening too fast!” Gisbo shouted. Jackobi sighed.
“We have to move and, for your information, we already sent Moordin to alert Narroway of the situation. He sent me, Foxblade, and you on this mission before we do anything drastic and, like it or not, it’s about time we tell you that you are the Man-Phoenix, not a Berserker. You will have to be as strong and resilient as a Berserker, as stealthy and deadly as a Shininja, and as intelligent and powerful as a Nazarite. Now, get moving!” Jackobi said. Gisbo rolled his eyes.
“Ugh, fine! Fine! I’m going, I’m going, damn it! There’s no arguing with you two,” Gisbo grunted as he began stripping off his dirty, red Berserker uniform and changed into the Renegade blue Berserker clothes. He had to admit, he missed the blue a lot. When he finished, he made his way out of the darkness to the Soarian Shininjas.
“Let’s go,” Jackobi said. “Everyone, place a hand on my shoulder.”
Foxblade and Gisbo both grasped a shoulder as told.
“Alright, hang on,” Jackobi said. In a flash, everything before Gisbo’s eyes melted away, and he once was again spiraling through a tube-like darkness at an incredible speed, just like when he jumped through the portal to rescue Jackobi just about a year ago. And like before, there were flashes of pearly fangs and orbless eyes glinting in the darkness. One took a swipe at Gisbo as their group plummeted down, but there was a flash of yellow that intercepted it.
“You can thank me later!” Jackobi yelled as he swiped his glowing dagger again at another limb, slicing it like a stick of butter from the owner’s body. Gisbo felt helpless and didn’t like to be protected, but he had no other choice without even a ring to help light the area. Even so, they were nearing a white light at the end of the tunnel. Within moments, they were through, and Gisbo landed face-first into the white sand of Flaria. However, when he opened his eyes and spit out the sand, he found he had to immediately close them again. He couldn’t see anything in front of him. He felt a tap on his shoulder from behind. Gisbo spun around to see Jackobi and Foxblade’s heads shrouded. They pointed to their hoods and then to Gisbo. Gisbo nodded and threw up his hood and pulled it tight around his face. Now, if he pointed his head downward, he could at least see where he was going. They motioned for him to follow and he obeyed.
The swirling winds were so loud not a word could be heard between them. Gisbo had no sense of direction in such thick sand, but even so, Gisbo followed the Shininjas in silence, hoping they, at least, had some sense of where they were going. They traveled for no more than ten minutes before Gisbo saw a clearing. Not long after that, it seemed the winds stopped altogether around them and had moved on deeper out in the desert and toward the sea. In replacement, though, thunder boomed and rain pelted them from above. Foxblade shook his head.
“We must be extra cautious when we reach Sand Lake City. The rain will outline our cloaks, making it easier for them to spot us,” Jackobi said. Foxblade shook his head.
“If I know a little bit on how that city operates, the rain will be yet another reason to abandon their posts and to drink like fish. We should have no trouble, even with Gisbo with us,” Foxblade exclaimed.
“Gee, thanks, I feel so wanted. Now, please, can somebody tell me what the hell is going on?” Gisbo asked. Foxblade and Jackobi both looked at one another, then back at Gisbo, then back at each other. Gisbo sighed out loud.
“Don’t start all at once or anything. Great, the two biggest social butterflys I know are the only ones around who can explain everything to me. Wonderful,” Gisbo grumbled.
“At least you know it will be brief,” Foxblade stated.
“Well, start talking,” Gisbo said.
“As you wish. What would you like to know?” Foxblade asked without turning around, keeping a steady pace.
“Did my dad kill my mom?” Gisbo asked. “Is that what this blocked memory is within my mind? There’s a locked door in my subconscious, my inner world. I saw it, and it is trying so hard to open itself! What is in there?”
“It is a memory, as I’m sure your Boon informed you, that is not to be retrieved. As for your father, that is not my place to say. I will, however, explain why he is in danger as a subsitute,” Foxblade said.
“Fine, I’ll take anything at this point,” Gisbo said.
“You know of the story of your father regarding the unholy twelve, Drakeron’s closest and most powerful of followers, correct?” Foxblade asked.
“Yeah, I know all about how he broke free from them and hunted down and killed ‘em all and somehow he nearly killed my grandfather and took off his arm in the process of trying to assassinate the Flarian Warlord,” Gisbo said. “What of it?”
“Is that what Frank told you?” Foxblade asked.
“He was drunk, but yeah,” Gisbo said.
“At that time, your father was working undercover for us. He had already come back to the our side by that time. Only Vadid and his closest friends, me and Moordin, knew of it. He couldn’t even tell his own family, especially his father, due to the fact he was the second in command. If his own family knew, they would have reacted to the situation differently, and more than just the Warlord’s life would have been taken that night,” Foxblade said.
“I didn’t know that, but his mom was stricken with grief because of it. She died from utter worry,” Gisbo said.
“No, that is a lie your Grandfather loves to tell. He was as distant as a star when it c
ame to relationships and love. One’s upbringing can forever determine fate. Some things get into you too early and you are never the same again. Frank thought starting a family would reignite his damaged heart. Instead of journeying inward to help himself, he did what so many others do. He journeyed outward, lost himself in his work, and forever lost himself. That is why he is a slave to the drink; it is the one time he feels something other than pain,” Foxblade said.
“I know he had it bad, but it’s still no excuse,” Gisbo said.
“Yes, he instead internalized all his pain over your father. It has given him someone to blame. His hate and anger have pushed him this far. That is all. Once a proud warrior, now I feel he might be lost forever. They were supposed to have dealt with Sand Lake City years ago, saying it was a Flarian’s responsibility. But now, their inaction may have caused something far worse to occur and we Renegades must get involved. But back to that night when the Flarian Warlord was assassinated. The Renegades at that time knew it was to happen because of Falcon. Either way, it was only supposed to be Drakearon’s most elite squad, the Trinity, of which your father was a part, to take on that mission. Everyone was surprised when Drakearon himself accompied them.”
“Things went bad then,” Gisbo said.
“Very bad. All the planning was messed up. Drakearon was already on to Falcon’s betrayal and ordered him to strike down his own Father to prove his loyalty and so he did, but only took his arm. The plan was shot, Falcon and the Renegades knew it, so Falcon took a chance, put his life on the line, and grabbed at a rare, blind moment in the distraction of striking his own father down to again turn his sword back on Drakearon himself. Your father fought him, Gisbo, parried him, forced him backward, and manged to grab your grandfather and escape with his and his father’s life intact before the Renegades came to deal with Drakearon. It still wasn’t enough. Drakearon succeeded and turned the whole thing into a political boon for himself. The people began to believe him, and that’s when the true Warlord, the true King, Vadid, arrived to have a say against it,” Foxblade said.
