Renegade Rupture (5 page)

“We need to talk,” Jackobi said, suddenly appearing by Rolce’s side.

“Gisbo?” Rolce asked, knowing full well that Jackobi and Gisbo shared an emotional connection as Man-Phoenix and Sentry, the Man-Phoenix’s sworn protector.

“Something’s wrong, and it isn’t just woman troubles,” Jackobi said. “I’ll explain everything, but first, we better get Falcon, Moordin, your dad, and mine,” Jackobi said.

“It’s . . . it’s that serious? Jack, what is it? What’s wrong with him?” Rolce asked.

“Better I get everyone together first before I say anything,” Jack said as he turned to go. Rolce grabbed his arm.

“Jack, wait. Just tell me,” Rolce said. Jackobi turned and saw deep concern in his synergy mate’s eyes, then looked to see if anyone was paying them any attention. He took a deep breath and spit it out.

“I’ve known for some time, but I wanted to see how he would handle it and he clearly isn’t. Rolce, you know I don’t mince words, so I’m just going to say it. Gisbo is infected with the Drakeness.”

Chapter Three:
Everything Burns

Just beyond the snow-covered fields of the Life End Burial ground, Gisbo stood at the base of large oak. The afternoon sun glistened off his sweat-soaked, shirtless upper body as he went at the tree again, firing off punch after punch, grunting every time his knuckles struck bark and the reverberation from the tree shook his core upon impact. Again and again he hammered away until he felt as if sand filled up his lungs and he both heard and felt his knuckles break open like tiny coconuts.

The freshly inducted Renegade backed away from the tree, breathing hard, and observed his mangled hands. They looked like he had placed them in a meat grinder. Torn muscle and tissue lazily draped over each moon white bone, and his fingers twisted like bent rake teeth, and then, he felt utter calm drip inside him and watched his hands twist and pop back into place as brand new skin grew over his knuckles.

The healing sensation was incredible. It stretched out through his entire body, not just his hands, as he felt embraced in a tingly softness and a comfortable numb and pleasure beyond any orgasm. When it was over, Gisbo looked down to see his hands healed, leaving only tiny white scars.

“Don’t you think you’re overdoing it a little?” a voice spoke. Gisbo turned around to see his Falcon, along with Rolce, Jackobi, Moordin, Foxblade, and Shax, Rolce’s newly returned father. Gisbo eyed them all suspiciously and didn’t say anything. Falcon walked up beside his son and felt along the tree where the dry cold bark was drinking in Gisbo’s warm bursts of blood.

“Non-Elekai’ training is fine for emergencies where you lose your essence, and hitting trees can help harden and strengthen your knuckles and punches, but this? This is borderline masochistic,” Falcon said. Gisbo ignored the comment and folded his arms.

“So, did you all come out here just to give me a lecture? Or is there something more to this?” Gisbo asked. Jackobi stepped forward.

“I know what you’re doing, Gisbo,” Jackobi said.

“And just what am I doing, Jack?” Gisbo asked.

“The door, it’s open,” Jackobi said.

Gisbo was silent and he suddenly found the sky quite interesting.

“But it hasn’t revealed everything to you as you hoped. It’s not that simple. Most likely it will return to you in pieces; smelling the same air, touching the same spots will reveal your lost memories to you. You already know where it happened: here. You know your mother died. Is that not enough?” Jackobi asked. Gisbo reached up and felt down the tree’s base.

“Where is my mother’s grave?” Gisbo asked. “I’ve looked and looked, but it’s not here.”

“It’s in a secret place, to protect you,” Moordin said.

To protect themselves, not you,
a voice whispered.

“More like to protect yourselves,” Gisbo snapped as he eyed his father. “Save your speeches. I’m outta here.”

Gisbo turned to leave, but before he could, he felt a tug on his now longer, Renegade length bandana tails. Within a moment, his bandana was off and in Jackobi’s hands.

“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.