Renegade Rupture

by J. C. Fiske

“Then I leave you an alternative, a bargain. After the Boon battle comes the Flarian event. Bare-knuckle boxing. I have no doubt you will make it, and I also have no doubt your cousin will make it. If you are going to fight him, it will be in the ring. Should Ranto fight on behalf of the Strifes, you have my word. You will be the one to face him because in a match such as that, you may be the only one who can,” Narroway said. “But only if you promise to stick to your training, be there for your friends, and stay away from him. Promise me, Gisbo.”

  Gisbo thought for a long moment.

  “But there’s no guarantee he’ll be there or take part!” Gisbo said.

  “He will be. The Strifes would be fools not to use him,” Narroway said. “Now, promise me.”

  “I promise,” Gisbo said.

  “Good,” Narroway said.

  “Before I leave though, I need to talk to you about something,” Gisbo said.

  “I’m your uncle, I’m family, you can talk to me about anything,” Narroway said.

  Gisbo recapped in detail what had happened with him and Niffin in his inner world. Narroway did his best to hide his worry and shock, but failed. Upon finishing his story, Narroway leaned back in his chair and sighed.

  “First of all, I’m glad you’re all right. You encountered something no mortal man was even supposed to see, let alone defeat. You’ve become strong, Gisbo. Very strong. If all goes right in this tournament and you continue to prove yourself, you might one day look in the mirror and see this bandana upon your forehead,” Narroway said, pointing to the King’s band he wore with bandana tails about as long as a cape. “Vadid, my father, your Grandfather once wore this. It is sacred and sought after all across Thera and,”

  “I’ll stop you right there. I’m no leader, Uncle,” Gisbo said. “A leader is someone who leads people from trouble, from danger. I can barely lead myself out of such things. I have issues, big ones; a leader needs to be pure. Like you.”

  Narroway smiled, sat up, and leaned forward.

  “Different times call for different leaders, Gisbo. Do yourself a favor. Listen when your friends speak of you. Now, I would prefer it if you did not tell anyone what you just told me. That is a problem for another day. I also would not trust the words of a Vile Lord, but I wouldn’t disregard them either. The Vile Lords are as old as creation itself and have never even trusted one another. Where IAM created seraphs and humanity, Appolyon created Maras and the Vile Lords. In terms of family or foes, they are more foe than family, and several of them have possessed humans and infiltrated their power, most of which are rotting at the bottom of Glaknabrade right now. This is serious business to attend to, for me, not for you. In all honesty, you’ve brought me hope with the knowledge that they can be killed. For now, go to your friend, comfort her, and if she asks who did this and why, you know nothing, because that’s the truth,” Narroway said.

  “If that’s true, then the Vile Lord said something else, said that those closest to me are hiding something from me. Uncle, do you know anything about that?” Gisbo asked. Narroway thought for a moment of the images revealed by Shax, Rolce, and Honj.

  “Ok, just by your silence I know there’s something,” Gisbo said. “What? What aren’t you telling me?”

  “As you know, with Sybils come visions. Your friend, Rolce, saw something about you,” Narroway said. Gisbo’s eyebrows perked at this.

  “Yeah, he told me all about it,” Gisbo said.

  “Yes, whether it’s true or comes to pass all comes down to you and every little decision you make along the way. It’s never the big decisions, Gisbo. The sum of the small ones is always what makes you who you are. What Rolce saw, in you, was a great hero leading us to a great victory, keyword leading. We figured, as visions go, you shouldn’t be burdened with it.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it. I don’t want to hear any more of this leader stuff. I’ll do what you say, but should Ranto reveal himself . . . I can’t promise anything. You don’t know what that dog meant to Niffin, and power or not, he destroyed her world. She is innocent and probably the nicest person I’ve come across in a long, long time. Nothing, and I mean nothing, sets me off more than seeing innocent people suffer at the hands of someone who doesn’t even deserve life. He’s no cousin of mine, and proof or not, I know it was him,” Gisbo said as he walked off the back porch, leaving Narroway alone, weighing both visions of Gisbo in his head . . .

  Hero or villain?

  Gisbo returned to the girls, and together they held a little funeral service for Kimjow. Only Kennis, Niffin, Roarie, and Gisbo were present. They wrapped the giant dog in Niffin’s bedsheet that was already covered with the dog’s hair, and Gisbo carried the beast down, with much effort, and dug the hole as the rest of them watched in silence. When it was over, they said their goodbyes, and Niffin, to Gisbo’s surprise, pulled him aside.

  “I know you know who did this,” Niffin said.

  “I . . .” Gisbo started.

  “Don’t deny it. That’s where you went, and since not even your knuckles are battered or bruised, you didn’t hurt the one who did this. I want, I want the violence to stop. Please. It’s just a constant, never ending circle. I never wanted to be a fighter. But what I do want, more than anything, is one thing . . .” Niffin said.

  Gisbo looked at her curiously as she paused.

  “Justice. Justice is all I want, and knowing who you are, I know that you will carry it out. Please, I know Kimjow, to many, is just a dog, but, but, give Kimjow justice, he, he,” Niffin started, fighting back tears. Gisbo took Niffin’s hands in his and squeezed, then smiled at her.

  “I promise you, justice will come for Kimjow. You saved Fao’s life. You helped me topple a monster. If you want justice, justice is what you’re going to get,” Gisbo said. He turned and walked back to her tree house, hand in hand with Kennis.

  “Please, take my place, with Fao. Kimjow would have wanted it. I know what you are, Gisbo, and what you can overcome. Will you take my place?” Niffin asked.

  “Yeah, yeah, of course,” Gisbo said. Niffin hugged him and left without another word as Kennis left with Gisbo.

  “That poor girl. Her dog was her world. Gisbo, what did Niffin say to you?” Kennis asked.

  “I gave her a promise,” Gisbo said.

  “What? What promise?” Kennis asked.

  “A promise between friends, that’s all,” Gisbo said. “She wants me to take her place in the tournament.”

  “Oh?” Kennis said.

  “I’m going to go train for a while, ok?” Gisbo asked.

  “Ok, I’ll see you later then?” Kennis asked.

  “Absolutely,” Gisbo said, leaning in and kissing her. He left. Kennis watched him go, then returned to her friend.

  “FAO!” Gisbo yelled, and in a burst of red fire, Fao appeared by his side. He looked down at her. “Ready to train?”

  Fao barked with as much passion as any dog could.

  Chapter Fifteen: The Naforian Event

  The crowd cheered, shaking the ceiling, as Gisbo stood beside Perry and Whip, looking out at the granite arena floor. Narroway was just minutes away from introducing them.

  “You nervous?” Gisbo asked.

  “Like I have a right to be? Stewie here’s doing all the fighting,” Whip said. He turned and faced Gisbo, smiling. “And he’s gonna be great!”

  Gisbo smiled at that.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Gisbo. Every one of us had the chance to work with Niffin and Kimjow before . . . If she chose you to replace her, she knew what she was doing. You’ve come so far. I couldn’t be more proud of you,” Moordin said.

  “I appreciate it. I just want to win this one for her,” Gisbo said.

  “Embrace justice, and your Boon will feed off of it. We will win,” Perry said. Then Narroway gave the introduction to the Renegade team.

  “Let’s go.”

  Together, the Renegade team walked out onto the field in their cloaks. Gisbo couldn’t have anticipated the weight of the cheers
upon him. It was both uplifting and terrifying. He looked down on Fao, wearing a cloak of her own, and smiled as she walked beside him. He could feel the excitement practically pouring out of her and he felt at ease.

  “You’re something special, girl,” Gisbo said, running a hand down her back as they lined up on their half of the circle, and he felt Dave’s big hand slap him in the back.

  “Hey, what are you smiling about, boy?” Dave asked in his deep, thundering voice.

  “Just excited is all,” Gisbo said.

  “That’s good. We need ya excited,” Dave said. Gisbo heard a fierce snore that put even Rolce’s to shame. It was so loud Gisbo could hear it over the roaring crowd. He looked over to Dave’s right to see Slumby, under a tarp, well, slumbering away.

  “Shouldn’t you, like, wake him up?” Gisbo asked.

  “Wake Slumby? Oh no, no, no! It’s dark under his cloak. He thinks it’s nappy time is all. He’ll wake up when he’s good and ready,” Dave said.

  “He doesn’t look ready for much of, well, anything,” Gisbo said.

  “Hey, hey, you keep an eye on that wolf of yours and I’ll keep an eye on my bear,” Dave said.

  Both Renegades were interrupted by Narroway’s words to begin and just like that, Perry and Lamik slung their respective die. Two bolts of fire shot to the sky, giving a four for Perry and a four for Lamik. The two of them rolled again to give Perry another four and a one for Lamik.

  “Renegades, will you pass or present your fighter?” Narroway asked as the crowd grew quiet.

  “We’ll pass,” Perry said. Narroway smiled as he turned to the Strife’s half of the circle.

  “Strifes! Present your fighter!” Narroway said.

  Lamik turned, at ease, and walked back to his team. With little hesitation, a fighter presented himself and made his way up to the granite slab, throwing off his cloak, as well as the one on his Boon. The man was short, but built like a brick house with dirty blond hair slicked back and tied into a long braid, and his eyes were as blue as the sky. The true fighter of this match stood by his side and towered over him: a giant grey elephant. Unfortunately for the giant beast, it did not enter the ring as fast as its partner wished and was punished with a vicious strike across its side, adding to the scars from old beatings. A thin cut appeared and a few drops of blood fell onto the granite, but the elephant made no sound.

  “What the hell is that guy doing?” Gisbo asked, his voice trembling.

  “Strifes do not treat Boons as partners, but slaves. To them, animals are but gifts and tools to humans, nothing more,” Perry said. Gisbo looked down at Fao, who looked up at him with worry in her big, blue eyes.

  “You damned lumbering oaf! On the line, ON THE LINE!” the braided Strife yelled, cracking the whip. The elephant did its best to follow orders, but moved rather slowly, with a slight limp, and Gisbo saw why. Across its front knee were a collection of white scars that snapped around the soft underskin.

  “Why is it that these guys find all new ways to piss me off? They used to be a part of us? Perry, let me take this guy!” Gisbo said. Perry took one look at Gisbo, then his wolf, and smiled, then shook his head.

  “No, Gisbo. You’ll have your chance, just not yet,” Perry said. “Moordin, get in there.”

  “What? Moordin? You’re gonna send a hawk against an elephant? That’s . . . that’s . . .” Gisbo started.

  “That’s called strategy, Gisbo. Watch, and you just may learn something,” Moordin said as he walked past Gisbo and onto the granite ring with his Boon, Norse, perched upon his right shoulder. Perry watched him go as the Renegades cheered and began chanting Moordin’s name. The Strifes booed just as loudly.

  “Jeesh, listen to those guys boo. I’ve never heard such noise from them before,” Whip said, forced to cover his ears due to his sensitive hearing.

  “Moordin’s hawk, in many ways, took him very high in the last tournament. While in his Boon form, Moordin is uncanny, and unlike most fighters, he gives his relationship with his Boon high priority. When Moordin is angry, he gets quiet, focused. He doesn’t allow his brain to revert to a primitive state. Instead, he goes beyond his instincts,” Perry said. “I have no doubt that point one is ours, and if the Strifes are looking to take down our best fighters to strategically weaken us before a war breaks out, they no doubt want Moordin and his Boon, dead,” Perry said as all eyes turned to Moordin. The blond Strife opened his mouth to speak, but Moordin beat him to it.

  “Save the banter. I have no patience for your mouth, Karasan,” Moordin said. “Don’t think Heaven’s Shelter has forgotten what you’ve done.”

  “You speak as though I’ve killed deep seated friends of yours,” Karasan said. “They’re beasts, that’s all they are. Mindless tools for a higher order: us. You are a sentimental fool.”

  Moordin turned his back on Karasan, ignoring him, and Gisbo saw the look on his face, the same look he had adopted when a possessed Shax showed himself within Heaven’s Shelter a few years ago. In that split second, Gisbo swore that he wore the focused, unwavering eyes of a hawk.

  “I think I see what you mean now,” Gisbo said. “Moordin, he’s taking this personally, isn’t he? What happened between these two?”

  “In the Strife-Renegade war, Karasan lead a mission with his elephant to assassinate not Renegades, but their Boons, in an attempt to cripple them. He did more than that. He created many, many Ronigades in the process. Many of the men and women you met last year, Gisbo, owe much misery to the man standing before you. Be thankful Moordin is standing across from him. In many ways, these two were visionaries for the way Boons were trained. Moordin uses love, friendship, and respect as a motivator, where Karasan uses only fear, cruelty, and punishment. Two styles, only one winner. All I’ll say is that Karasan was stopped when he finally met someone more than his match while in his Boon form; that man was Moordin Grandir,” Perry said. “This is personal to Moordin, but even more so to Karasan.”

  “Moordin will kick the crap out of him . . .” Gisbo said, realizing then that Boon forms weren’t allowed, only Boons against one another. A bird versus an elephant, and he quickly felt doubt infect his stomach. “ . . . I hope.”

  “Moordin Grandir! Release your Boon,” Narroway said. Moordin cocked a gaze up at his great black hawk and the bird ducked its head down and rubbed against Moordin’s chin. Moordin scratched behind the bird’s neck as she turned her head all the way around in utter relaxation. He picked up his friend and placed her on the floor.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll be one shortly, little friend, never fear. All of your pain, all of your excitement, will be mine to bear as well,” Moordin said. Norse looked up at him with a little squawk and Moordin only nodded as the bird waddled forward, swaying its back tail to and fro as she walked toward the center of the arena to stand on her line.

  “Karasan Doloft! Release your Boon,” Narroway ordered. With a strike straight down the elephant’s spine with his whip, the giant creature reared up on two legs. With a loud trumpet blast not of excitement, but pain, it slowly lumbered forward with its slight limp from Karasan’s favorite place to whip.

  The two creatures stood across from one another, one gigantic, the other tiny. It was like a tree overlooking a clump of grass, and the infectious doubt in Gisbo’s stomach spread as he shook his head.

  “Fighters! Connect!” Narroway ordered. Karasan and Moordin ignited their rings. Moordin and Norse’s eyes took on the same green hue, and Karasan and his elephant took on a light, Aquarian blue.

  “Ready?” Narroway asked, raising his hand to Moordin. Moordin raised his hand. “Ready?” Narroway asked, raising his hand to Karasan. Karasan gave the ready signal.

  “BEGIN!” Narroway shouted as the stands erupted in cheers.

  “Norse, take flight!” Moordin ordered as his black hawk did a little skip and shot straight up into the sky as Karasan’s elephant struck the floor with its mighty, essence charged trunk, shattering the spot Norse once stood on. The elephant’s mi
ss earned it a fierce crack of the whip.

  “Backa! Fire at will, all your strength! Scatter shots!” Karasan screamed, finally calling the elephant by its name. Backa raised its grey head as well as its trunk, now stiffened from Karasan channeling his power through it. Backa’s trunk flew every which way, sending blue energy blasts at the black form of Norse darting through the air.

  “You’re only wasting energy, Karasan,” Moordin taunted.

  “You let me worry about that!” Karasan bellowed back as the elephant continued to fire, one blast after another, as Norse dipped and dived and barrel rolled as if the oncoming shots moved in slow-motion.

  “Ok, girl! Enough showing off! Bring on the rain!” Moordin shouted, although he didn’t need to. Norse felt the strategy as they shared one mind. The bird knew what needed to be done.

  Norse altered her flying pattern and dove downward in a dead drop, like a falling missile, aiming directly at the giant elephant below.

  “What the . . .” Karasan mouthed.

  “Now!” Moordin yelled. With the order, Norse spread out its feathers and spun round and round as it dropped, glowing green, as an aura began to move and tether around its form. At the last possible second to steer upward, she did, causing the green aura to release itself from her and fire directly at Backa.

  “IT MISSED! IT . . .” Karasan started. Then he discovered why as the green, spinning aura shot straight over his elephant and made a bee line toward him instead. With a desperate dive, Karasan dodged it, but not completely. The green, spiraling energy struck his right foot. Upon impact, Karasan felt his body spin every which way, like a paper bag in a windstorm. His body flung all about and landed hard against the granite, chin first.

  “You . . . you BASTARD!” Karasan yelled as he rose to shaky feet, eyes dazed and bloodshot with rage as he thrust a finger at Moordin. “You want to play that way? DO YOU!? FINE! BACKA! CHARGE HIM!” Karasan screamed, striking the elephant’s rear, causing the beast to roar and charge forward, tusks extended straight toward Moordin.

  Moordin didn’t even flinch.