Renegade Reborn (11 page)

“You would, you would sacrifice your very self to this, Drakeness, in order to slay the Man-Phoenix, and the Man-Dragon to bring order to this universe?” Lamik asked.

“I would.” Ranto said.

“Just, on a whim? There must be a reason, there must be,” Lamik started, but Ranto interrupted him, as if he had been waiting for such a question.

“I will not allow others to be touched by the same chaos as I have. I will embody absolute order, and hunt down the agents of chaos at every turn, and fulfill my true father’s dream . . . a world free from evil.” Ranto said.

“Then you, can do what I never could . . . what Drakearon has done, is taken a vast measure. It will take an equally vast measure, to stop him, once and for all. It will take a monster, to destroy a monster. Son, I support you, this, my brothers, this, this is what I’ve been talking about, new ideas, radical ideas for a radical world. Son, I will not fight you. Rather, I will give unto you, the leadership you demand. Here I, Lamik Strife, in front of many witnesses, bestow, Ranto Strife, my only son, the title of Strife Chieftain.” Lamik said. “Kneel before me son,”

“Kneel? KNEEL!? Ranto scoffed. He then grabbed his father by the hair and he dragged him across the room.

“What, AGH! What, what are you doing?” Lamik screamed.

“In your last moments, you dropped your convictions just to save your life. There’s no room for someone like you in my world. You said it yourself father, it takes a monster, to kill a monster, and by my real father, I met Chieftain Narroway, the greatest man I’ve ever known.” Ranto said, and with two massive hands, he lifted his father up into the air, and with a huge eruption of fire, he blew apart his father’s body, splashing his hot blood, meat, and sinew atop the unfortunate onlookers.

“No . . . NO! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU!” Bosto screamed as he lifted up the table, flung it directly at Ranto, and charged at him like an enraged bull. Ranto caught the flipped table by one leg, spun about once, and careened the edge of the table straight into the oncoming, Bosto, felling him, and opening up his forehead.

As Bosto fought for consciousness, Ranto moved toward him, picking up Manon under one arm on the way as if he were a toddler.

“I don’t think you understand. This army I need, we are no longer Strife’s. We strip away from ourselves all morals, all belief, all honor, in order to achieve one’s end. We endure. We are now a country without borders, an army representing a mission, not an ideal, and anyone who gets in the way . . . dies.

You ancient husks have no place in my new world, so, I give you the mercy, to die in this one. Farewell.” Ranto said, as he lifted Manon by both of his legs, threw his body back over his shoulders, and swung him down like a warhammer, smashing the old Strife’s head straight down onto Bosto’s head, then, reared back, and did it again. Over and over this went until the screams stopped, and both the outsides and insides of the old Strife’s noggins lay shattered across the floor like smashed watermelon.

Upon finishing, Ranto tossed Manon’s body aside as if he were discarding a broken lawn tool, then, turned to face the four remaining Strife. Without thinking, all four Strife dropped to one knee in reverence.

“Inform the others that their leader and council are dead. From this day, we are no longer Strife. We are, The Order, and I want every voice within the camp screaming these next words far into the night, to show their loyalty. If I don’t hear their loyalty, consider them an enemy, and deal with them as such,” Ranto said.

“Wha . . . what do you want said, Chief?” Quil asked.

“All hail, Ranto,” Ranto said.

Without wasting a second, the four young Strife ran out into the village, screaming the news and ordering the phrase, and within minutes, the forest was alive with one chant, one melody, one phrase . . .

“All HAIL, RANTO! ALL HAIL, RANTO!”

Chapter Five: The Goat Man Cometh

“I still, for the life of me, Rolce, cannot understand why you all didn’t come here straight away! After news of Heaven’s Shelter’s demise, we, we feared the worst, we thought you were all gone!” Douglas McCarley said. “Have you all settled in?”

“Yes, there’s more than enough room, for everyone. It’s amazing what you have done with the place since the battle,” Rolce said.

“The battle that you helped us win. As far as we’re concerned, Rolce, this is as much your home, as it is ours. Here, right this way.” Douglas said, escorting Rolce into his office. Once inside, he closed the door and sat down at his desk, while Rolce slipped into a chair across from him.

“Now, I hate to bring it up, but I need to know what happened. Our scouts searched the area sometime ago. They didn’t bring back good news. Please, Rolce, give me, us, some closure. Please, tell me what happened with my brother and my nephew,” Douglas said.

“Could I, possibly get a drink?” Rolce asked.

“A drink? You?” Douglas asked.

“I’ve never been one for liquor. The taste and feeling never sat well with me, but, I feel I’ll need a little help getting this out of me,” Rolce said.

“Well, if you’re looking for booze, you’ve certainly come to the right place. Me? I don’t touch the stuff, not anymore. Being leader and all, I need to always be in the right state of mind. The addiction, the thirst for the drink, runs in the family. I will not become my father,” Douglas said. “Eh! Morry! Get Rolce something strong!”

“Wha?” Morry called from the hallway.

“I SAID GET ROLCE SOMETHING STRONG!” Douglas ordered. Suddenly the door to Douglas’s office opened a creak and Morry’s head popped in.

“Damn it all, Dougie, what in the blazes are yeh shoutin’ on ‘bout?” Morry asked.

“I said, get Rolce here a stiff drink,” Douglas said.

“Well, why didn’t ya say so!” Morry said, as he plopped down beside Rolce, and out of a pouch, pulled out three small highball glasses and planted them on Douglas’s desk, suddenly looking up at Douglas, and pulling one away.

“Right-o, none for you, Dougie, you be good now!” Morry said with a waving finger as he poured Rolce, then himself a drink. With a quick cock of his neck, Morry downed the whole thing in one gulp and began pouring himself another. Rolce took a look at his drink, then at Morry.

“You always carry glasses and liquor with you?” Rolce asked.

“Sure do,” Morry said, as if this was as normal as wearing pants. “Go on, Rolcie boy, it’ll grow ya a third testicle!”

“Just what I need . . .” Rolce said, as he mimicked Morry’s method, held in the drink for less than a second only to cough it up, hunch down, and spray it everywhere.

“Whew, there now, take ‘er easy. Not a drinker, eh? Dat’s right, you Drippies are all into your herbs an’ such, lemme see if I can’t get you some tea or sometin’,” Morry said, rising to his feet.

“Never mind, forget the whole thing. I just better come right out with it.” Rolce said. Morry sat back down as Rolce took in a deep breath and began.

“So much happened at once that day, so fast, but I’ll do my best to share with you all, what happened.” Rolce said, and with that, he got to it, and recounted the events to the best of his memory. When he finished, neither Morry, nor Douglas could look him in the face.

“Drakearon . . . so, he really is back. IAM help us.” Douglas said.

“What Drakearon said, it was a mouthful, but there is one, just one inconsistency in Drakearon’s story that leads me to think he is not to be believed…” Rolce said.

“Which is?” Morry asked.

“If Drakearon knew that Gisbo was the Man-Phoenix all along, why did he take all those Renegade and Strife recruits back then, looking for the Man-Phoenix? Why did he bother to use my father as he did? Something, something doesn’t add up, but why would he lie about all that and say he planned it all from the start?”

“To crush hope, and replace it with despair. That’s what he does! He is a master of manipulation, and he knows just how to shake your foundations. There are many who find purpose and a belief in the idea of a higher power. Some call him IAM, some something else, and some don’t believe in anything but their own power, their own will, but in that speech of his he broke hope for those who believe, and those who don’t. He attacked both sides of the proverbial fence, but especially, those upon the fence . . .

Seeing is believing, and those who saw his absolute power on display? Me, Morry, we’ve both seen it. It’s terrifying to behold. He makes you believe that yes, he honestly could take over everything you are, and everything you could be. Purpose. That is what the unbelievers, believers, and unsure all have in common. They’re all searching for their place in this universe, and Drakearon? He would rather take that all away, and own what’s left . . .” Douglas said, swallowing hard. “ . . . and the scariest thing about it? He has the power to do it!”

“Yes, and some he won’t have to force. More people flock to his city every day to accept the Drakeness, and increase his power. His plan, it’s maniacally brilliant. Take away the sun, instill darkness and fear, then, create a heaven on earth, and kick back, relax, as power comes to him all on its own.” Rolce said.

“What of Falcon?” Morry asked.

Rolce tried several attempts to speak, but could not find the words, and simply, hung his head.

“So, my brother . . . the reports are true. He’s gone,” Douglas said.

“We don’t know that, but, I feel, we would have found him by now, or he us . . .” Rolce managed to say.

They were all silent for a long time, and then, Morry raised his head, his eyes widened with sudden realization.

“Then it’s true. He used it,” Morry said.

“Used it? Used what?” Rolce asked. Douglas looked at Morry for a moment, and then, it came to him as well. He planted a hand over his face and breathed in slowly, fighting back tears.

“That explosion that destroyed Heaven’s Shelter, the explosion that still to this day, has left the ground warm . . . I don’t know why I didn’t piece it together before. That wasn’t the work of Drakearon. That was the work of my brother. He, he used it. He actually used it!” Douglas said.

“Used what?” Rolce asked.

“Damasuku, the Flarian term for, sacrifice. In other words, he used his compression technique, over and over again, layering an explosion inside his own body that would expel all of his life, soul essence, and Flarian energy. The magnitude of it, normally wouldn’t be that powerful, but, he probably added in his Drakeness into the mix . . . the power expelled, it must have been beyond imagination! But, Damasuku, it’s not something just anyone can do. The amount of will needed to keep the power in you, to hold your body together . . . there was only one other time in our history when it was used, and that man, used it in a duel against the Flarian Warlord, challenging him for his throne, and ended up killing them both in the process which started a civil war in Flaria. It was from the victors of that war, that new line of Warlord, that Vadid was born . . .” Douglas said.

“But, why would he . . .” Rolce started, when the realization hit him. Morry nodded.

“The reason why we still sit here freely was because ‘o him, Rolce. He no doubt, along with himself an’ Heaven’s Shelter, took out that black army of Drakearon’s . . . he mayhap wasn’t ready to take on the neutral armies of Thera, but, I guarantee he would have stormed down on us straight after to kill us Flarian’s again and add to his power!” Morry said.

“And Falcon, one man, stopped him. I always wondered why he didn’t follow through with Code Risinyu. Honj, he was upset with him, not giving his power to us, but, he gave us something more precious. He gave us time . . . time, we have squandered . . .” Rolce said, shame to his voice.

“And what of Gisbo?” Douglas asked. “What of my nephew?”

“Somewhere with Jack and Rake. They say they’re fixing him. How? I don’t know, but they can understand Gisbo on a level I can’t. We found him a few days ago. He finally hit a breaking point, and he dropped his defenses and Jackobi was finally able to locate him. From what I can tell, he’s been wandering from town to town, from bottle to bottle.” Rolce said.

“The McCarley recipe of coping with pain for generations.” Douglas said, sighing. “What cruelty, what spite, what evil . . . all done to a boy. He’s just a boy! You mean to tell me, he, after all he’s been through before, he now has to carry the weight of killing his own friends, and watching the only woman he ever loved, die before his eyes? How? How can, how can anyone live carrying such pain?” Douglas asked.

“No one, no one is meant to carry the pain that lad carries. No one can overcome that. Hell, I still have flashbacks of the Great Veil War, and I still drink to keep ‘em at bay, and dat was years ago! Drakearon, he was unable to kill Gizzy, so, he did the next best thing. He broke his heart, and broke his mind. Aye, it’s up to us now. Nobody can recover from that. Our Gizzy, will never be the same again,” Morry said, tossing back a shot, and that’s when the ceiling broke from above, and a figure fell atop the desk in a cloud of dust and drywall, in the nude, a bottle in one hand, and a finger in the other, pointed at Morry.

“NO! Not on me, nor yer life! Gizzy, he’s comin’ back and he’s gonna save dis world if my name ain’t, Camlin Aver McCarley . . . which, it is!” Phil said, springing up to his feet, his nether region dangling about.