Renegade Rupture

by J. C. Fiske

  “Turn around,” Jackobi said. Gisbo clenched his fists.

  “Turn around,” Jackobi ordered again. Gisbo did so, revealing the black mark of the Drakeness upon his forehead, three swirling sixes sharing the same circle. A black, syrup-like stream dripped down between his eyes, between the scars given to him by Falcon and Malik, and fell to the snow.

  “So you know? What? Are you all here to . . .” Gisbo started, only to be interrupted as Rolce stepped forward and wrapped him up in a hug and broke out in tears.

  “Ok . . . I think I’d rather a lecture,” Gisbo said. “Jeesh, Rolce, get a hold of yourself; it’s not the end of the world.”

  “Gisbo, I’m, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. You did what you did to save your father, to save Jackobi, to save everyone, and now, now . . .”

  “Cripes, quit with the waterworks, buddy. Please, take a step back and breathe a little. I’m fine,” Gisbo said.

  “Gisbo, we only . . .” Rolce started.

  “Ok, look, I really appreciate what you are all trying to do here, but honestly, I’m fine, all right?” Gisbo said.

  “No, no, you’re not,” Jack said.

  “You too, Jack?” Gisbo asked.

  “We both know you and I are connected. Besides, I saw what happened with Nina,” Jack said.

  “And your point?” Gisbo asked.

  “Gisbo, are you serious? You . . .” Rolce started.

  “And here comes the lecture,” Gisbo said, breathing a sigh of frustration.

  But there was none. Only silence.

  “Fine, you all want to help me so bad? Then tell me what happened to my mother,” Gisbo asked, folding his arms and waiting.

  No one spoke.

  “Just what I thought. Whatever. Listen, again, I really appreciate all this, but don’t you think our time is better spent preparing for this exhibition thing? Do you all really want to see a Strife win and rule over us? I say hell no, so I’d appreciate if you’d leave me alone so I can get back to my training,” Gisbo said. He turned and walked back toward Heaven’s Shelter.

  “Gisbo! Gisbo, come on, man, we just . . .” Rolce started. Falcon placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Just let him go for now, Rolce. The harder we chase, the faster he’ll run. When the going gets rough, and it will, he’ll come to us. All we can do for now is watch over him,” Falcon said.

  “He’s just like you were, back then,” Moordin said.

  “I wouldn’t remember,” Falcon said.

  “But you were older, wiser, and a little bit more in control of yourself when it infected you. It’s hard enough growing up, but growing up with a past such as his and such untapped power? And now, now this? I worry, Falcon. I worry very much,” Moordin said.

  “He’s my son, and just like me, he can take this. Whatever I did, he can do better. Do you know why?” Falcon asked.

  “Falcon . . .” Moordin started. Falcon looked up at Moordin with heavy eyes.

  “Because he’s also his mother’s son, and she was stronger than I’ll ever be,” Falcon said.

  “The Drakeness’ number one mission is to control you and hand over your power to Drakearon, adding to his own. To do so, it enhances weaknesses, desires, and strength. It uses Gisbo’s misplaced rage, a rage he can’t describe, and for good reason. As it is, rage is blinding. Rage is his weakness, but it is also his strength when used righteously, to undo injustice and to protect others. It’s in his Flarian blood, his nature. It’s a part of who he is. Nothing can change that. He can only learn to control it, and we can only stand by and offer assistance. Whatever we do, we cannot allow him to blame himself. It only leads to self-loathing, then frustration, and back to rage. We have to be there for him, but on his time,” Jackobi said, folding his arms.

  “What worries me most is the circumstance under which Gisbo used the vial. Something much larger is going on. It is as if Gisbo was meant to do this, or foreseen to have,” Foxblade said.

  “Not by us. Then you mean . . .” Moordin said.

  “By Purah. Who else? Only someone of his intellect and Sybil abilities could string such extraordinary coincidences together,” Foxblade said.

  At that moment, ten Renegades, all armed, approached with a large man covered in a light golden armor from head to toe. A black and blue cloak draped over him, so long it draped across the wet snow, and he wielded a pike. A full white mustache that stretched all the way down on each side and hovered over his studded belt graced his face. His eyes were old, but lacked laugh lines. Humor was not his specialty. His eyes shone wisdom beyond countless years, were black as coal, and set off an odd, twinkling sensation in the sunlight.

  “Sybil Honj?” Shax asked. “What, what brings you away from our Chieftain’s side?”

  “I seek your audience and thought it proper to seek you out in person,” Sybil Honj said.

  “Oh? Whose audience would you like?” Moordin asked.

  “All of you. If you would, follow me to my quarters. A most important revelation needs to be discussed,” Sybil Honj said. The group looked at each other and followed.

  “I don’t like this . . .” Falcon muttered as they walked behind the ancient Sybil and his bodyguards.

  “Dad? What’s going on?” Rolce asked.

  “For Sybil Honj to require our presence means one thing: grave danger is fast approaching. Usually he resides in the black tower in the center of Heaven’s Shelter in the deepest of meditations and study and only leaves upon the Chieftain’s request for aid. How often have you boys seen him?” Shax answered.

  “Never,” Rolce and Jackobi answered together.

  “Exactly. Whatever this is, I worry for us all,” Moordin said. Rolce and Jackobi looked at one another as they followed Sybil Honj and his bodyguards.

  Once within Heaven’s Shelter’s grounds, the guards were dismissed and they all piled into the elevator in the black tower. Dazzling lights appeared and the group felt it jolt to the left, right, and finally straight up. The double doors opened to reveal a large study lined with bookcases, a massive fireplace in the back, and three circular designs etched upon the ground. Honj led them inside, and the elevator doors closed behind them. They all watched as the old man stood at ease and faced them.

  “What I need to say cannot be said simply, so I’ll show you instead. Shax and Rolce, if you would please step forward,” Honj asked. Father and son looked at each other and obeyed.

  “I assume you know what this area is?” Honj said, motioning to the odd circular symbols etched upon the floor.

  “I’m sorry, but no,” Rolce said. Sybil Honj smiled.

  “So, there are still things you do not know, son? How fortunate for you,” Sybil Honj said.

  “Fortunate?” Rolce asked.

  “Oh yes, very fortunate. The journey to wisdom and knowledge, the anticipation, rather than the destination, brings joy and sustenance. Wisdom, while bringing enlightenment, usually is accompanied by something else,” Honj said.

  Rolce looked confused.

  “Sorrow. This rune circle has been used for generations, but hasn’t yet been used within ours. It is an ancient glyph known as a Farseer. Long ago, when Sybils were more common, three would be trained to serve a Warlord, and together, they would use the Farseer ritual to combine their powers to look for certainty of grim and terrible futures. Before you ask, Warlord’s must have three or one. Never two. Two cannot bring clarity where three can. Now, for the reason I’ve brought you here. A vision came to me, a vision not unlike the one before the Great Veil War.”

  “You speak of a possible Renegade and Strife war re-erupting? If that’s true, then, was Code Risinyu . . .” Moordin started. Honj shook his head.

  “No, my friend. Let us not speak of that. This omen goes far beyond such an emergency order,” Honj said. “But, visions, dreams, futures, they are only possibilities, never certain. Free will trumps it all. One small choice can re-direct it to something else entirely. But the same cannot be said when the Farseer ritual
is done. When three Sybils gather and all see the same vision, it is, and will happen,” Honj said.

  “So, you wish to perform the Farseer ritual with my son and me to be sure what you have seen is true?” Shax asked.

  “I do,” Honj said.

  “Then let us begin,” Shax said.

  “What do we need to do?” Rolce asked.

  “Come, sit, and form a circle of hands. I will handle the rest,” Honj said as he led Rolce and his father to the Farseer glyph etched across the ground. They each sat within one of the three circles with legs folded, and all of them joined hands. The glyph danced in all the colors of the elements, and all three of them rose off the floor in a deep, concentrated trance.

  “Amazing . . .” Moordin muttered.

  “Something tells me the news won’t be,” Falcon said.

  In a few moments, it was over and the three Sybils floated back down to the floor and landed gently on their rears. Sybil Honj and Shax looked very grave, but Rolce looked excited, then immediately confused by their expressions. Sybil Honj rose to his feet, along with Shax and Rolce, and they studied each other for a long moment before speaking.

  “Sybil Shax, tell me, what did you see?” Sybil Honj asked. Shax placed his hands on his hips and began to pace and looked up at Rolce, then to Falcon.

  “Perhaps we should speak in private, it’s quite . . .” Shax started and then Falcon stepped forward.

  “It’s fine, Shax, I already realize what this might be about. It’s about Gisbo, isn’t it?” Falcon said.

  “These visions that I’ve recently been having, they do indeed include your son, but more importantly, what your son is. Our Man-Phoenix, our greatest weapon and defense against Drakearon and his horde should he ever return. Before I speak on the matter, I would like to hear first what Sybil Shax saw,” Sybil Honj said. Shax stood staring at the ground, then he began to speak in a deep, scratchy tone.

  “I saw death; I saw fire. I saw Heaven’s Shelter destroyed . . . burning, by the hands of . . . Gisbo,” Shax said. Falcon took in a hard breath, then let it out slowly.

  “Wait a minute! Hold on! I . . .” Rolce started. Sybil Honj raised a hand for silence.

  “Hold on a moment, Rolce. We shall get to you. Sybil Shax, I am not one to doubt, but please, I need to hear you confirm once more. Are you certain of what you saw?” Sybil Honj said.

  “I do not wish to be. Truly I don’t, but alas, what I saw, I saw,” Shax said.

  “Then it is true, for I have seen the same thing. As to why or how, I do not know, but the Farseer is the most accurate way to determine what is to come. Now, Rolce, what say you?” Sybil Honj asked. Before answering, Rolce looked towards Falcon with a somber glance.

  “I saw Gisbo as well,” Rolce said.

  “Then it is settled, we must . . .” Sybil Honj started.

  “He was glowing in blue and white fire, radiating the power of the Phoenix. He was older, wiser. He had that, that stupid grin on his face. The one he gets when he’s facing down impossible odds and his life is on the line. He was laughing as if nothing was wrong, as if there was nothing to be afraid of, and he led the Renegades to a great victory against an unknown enemy. It was, it was incredible to behold. Inspiration and hope flooded out of him. It was infectious. Everyone following him, especially me, felt no fear,” Rolce said, smiling.

  The room was silent.

  “Are you certain of this? Perhaps your love for your friend is twisting your . . .” Sybil Honj said.

  “I know what I saw and I’m not twisting anything or making this up,” Rolce said. “Gisbo is my friend, my very best. We’ve grown up together, we’ve seen war together, and I believe that he can overcome anything that comes his way. Including this Drakeness.”

  “Then it is settled. Two out of three. None of our visions are certain, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be cautious. I put the block within Gisbo’s memory, the door that holds back everything. I should close it back up. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Listen to yourself. This is Gisbo, this is my son. He loves Heaven’s Shelter as much as he loves his friends and everything in it! He would rather die than see Heaven’s Shelter come to ruin,” Falcon said. “I think that the boy should learn his past.”

  “You forget the untapped power within him, Falcon, the Phoenix itself. You of all people know of the Drakeness’s addictive nature. This is a whole new predicament. We couldn’t have foreseen something like this! You were much older when the Drakeness infected you. This boy is still young, impressionable, and holds the power of . . .” Sybil Honj started.

  “And he is my son! Whatever I have accomplished, he can do better,” Falcon said.

  “I do not agree. It is not a chance worth taking. We cannot sacrifice the sake of many for that of one,” Sybil Honj said.

  “You said yourself the vision is not clear. Perhaps by withholding this memory, he risks hearing the story from someone else, or perhaps what you say is true. Either way, we won’t know unless we try,” Falcon said.

  “I sense that you want this to be shown more so than your son,” Sybil Honj said.

  “We all need to move on, we all need closure, especially me. Even I don’t know what happened to her. Gisbo, he’s the only one who knows the truth, who saw him do that to her . . .” Falcon started, then stopped.

  “Very well. I will discuss the matter with Chieftain Narroway. For now, we must be patient, place all our steps carefully. And . . .” Sybil Honj started. The elevator doors opened and in walked Narroway with a guest.

  “Nina?” Rolce asked. Nina looked up, trembling and pale.

  “It’s ok, my dear, you made the right decision coming to me. If anyone can help you, it’s someone like you. Tell them what you told me,” Narroway said as he ushered Nina forth.

  “Nina, what is it? What’s wrong?” Rolce asked.

  “Rolce, I . . . you know I see things, feel things. Well, not just things, a specific thing,” Nina said.

  “Yes, you see Gisbo’s life, what could be,” Rolce said.

  “The girl, much like the Man-Phoenix’s Sentry, sees the Man-Phoenix’s life. Obviously we are not alone in our vision. Come, child, tell us, tell us what you’ve seen,” Sybil Honj said. With tears in her eyes, Nina’s voice trembled as she spoke.

  “I, I saw . . . I saw Gisbo . . . destroy Heaven’s Shelter and everyone in it,” Nina said.

  There was silence.

  “I’m sorry, Falcon, but it is already decided. The boy cannot know, cannot open up his mind to such visions,” Sybil Honj said.

  “The block was put in place because the tragedy happened when his young mind couldn’t process it. It was supposed to be temporary, to be revealed to him at a time when he can. The time is now!” Falcon argued.

  “But not while the Drakeness floods through him. It will destroy him from the inside. He is not ready and you know it. Drakearon, or Purah, could use the Drakeness within Gisbo to turn him against us! We cannot risk that!” Sybil Honj stated.

  “It’s happening again, just like the last time. The Elekai’ Exhibition, the secrets, and once again, Lamik has the political ammo he needs. Except this time, he and his Strifes could take the King’s Band legally, rather than by force. No one beyond this room can know of this, no one. Understood?” Narroway asked. “And if word spreads of this, IAM help us all.”

  Chapter Four: The End of an Era

  Gisbo sat in the courtyard doing his best to enjoy some sushi, but failing miserably. Everywhere he looked, he saw green cloaked figures eying him, as if they sensed something about him. Worst of all, Gisbo knew they did, and the growing panic and anxiety in his chest was getting unbearable. The heightened senses the Drakeness gave him were close to maddening. Every clinking glass, every whisper, every scrape of tooth across a steel fork set Gisbo’s own teeth on edge, but the worst was the laughter. Every giggle felt as if it were directed toward him.

  Look at him sitting there, alone. Something must be wrong with him, a voice said
.

  That’s him, the son of that traitor, Falcon. You know what they say, don’t you? The sins of the father always affect the son, another voice said.

  Gisbo snapped his attention all about, feeling cold sweat drip down his forehead. He wiped it away, scared to death it was the dark, black oil of his Drakeness mark, but it wasn’t.

  “Shut up,” Gisbo muttered to himself as he dug back into his meal, feeling hot rage build as his cheeks flared with color.

  Quiet, I think he hears us. We wouldn’t want to make him mad. You know how he can’t control that temper of his. He’s called Gisbo for a reason, you know, a different voice spoke.

  “I SAID SHUT UP! DAMN IT!” Gisbo screamed as he clobbered his plate with a fist, shattering it. Suddenly, all eyes were on him and the chattering stopped. Gisbo reared upon a random Strife.

  “The hell you looking at? Huh?” Gisbo yelled, getting into the Strife’s face.

  “I’d sit back down if I were you, boy,” the Strife said as two other Strifes got to their feet.

  “You bozos want some too, huh? Well, let’s go! RIGHT NOW!” Gisbo screamed when he felt a soft hand touch his shoulder.

  “I’m so sorry for this, folks. My manager informs me everything is on the house. My friend here, he’s just a bit under the weather,” Kennis Flora said.

  “Three more beers and we’ll call this matter settled,” the lead Strife said. Kennis bowed thoughtfully.

  “Right away,” Kennis said. “Again, so sorry.”

  Kennis re-directed Gisbo out of the eating area and out back so they could be alone.

  “We need to talk,” Kennis said.

  “About what?” Gisbo asked.

  “Really? You don’t know? Wait here,” Kennis said as she poured three beers from the tap, served them, came back, and threw off her apron. She opened the back door of Renegade Joe’s Steakhouse, punched out, and said her goodbyes.

  “Come on, your tree house isn’t far from mine. Walk with me,” Kennis said. They walked out of the main courtyard of Heaven’s Shelter and entered the forest, alone.