Renegade Reborn (6 page)

“You mean that sappy crap about what you want your ending to be? If asses could talk . . .” Glinda said. Rolce ignored the comment, lost in the memory.

“But, it was amazing to me. Here was Gisbo. He has fear, just like the rest of us, but his, its wired differently. It’s amazing to me that he’s afraid of all the things a person shouldn’t be, like, socializing, making friends, doing speeches . . .” Rolce started.

“Everyone’s afraid of doing speeches, unless they like hearing their own voice, and if they do, they’re officious little craps,” Glinda said.

“Sure, but, like, socializing, making friends, basic human behaviors? Glinda, he’s terrified of such things, such things you and I do on a daily basis without a worry, but, throw him into a fight, tell him to lead us into battle, to put his life on the line for others, and he’s not just fearless, he’s excited! He has what I don’t, and IAM knows we need him, Glinda. He’s our spark, capable of igniting the best within ourselves. I know he’s still out there, and I will never, ever give up hope. I have faith in what I see, and no matter how much it haunts me, I know there’s a reason for it. When we all rushed Sandlake, it wasn’t necessarily what he said that moved me, it was how he ran at that gate, with that big dumb grin on his face. I dunno, maybe I’m just rambling, but . . .”

“You are, like you have some kind of man crush.” Glinda said.

“I know, but, I just refuse to give up on him, or Kinny for that matter. Not after all we’ve been through. I’ll still hang onto it until that vision of him I see comes true. I’m going to keep fighting, and the first thing we need to do, is to get out of here. We’ve hidden ourselves long enough, sulked long enough. I know what my job is. I bring people together, and keep them together. That’s my duty, my mission, and I’ll keep doing it, so that when he’s ready, to come back, to lead us, he’ll have something to lead. Come on, we’re going to wake everybody up. It’s time to go where we should have gone in the first place.” Rolce said, getting up.

“Where’s that?” Glinda asked.

“A place filled with people who never back down, a place filled with people who punch in the faces of anyone who tell them how to live, a place filled with people who know Drakearon’s sadistic ways more than anyone. We’re going to Cledwyn City, Glinda. We’re joining up with the Flarians,” Rolce said.

“ROLCE!” yelled a voice not inclined to yelling.

“Jack?” Rolce asked, watching as he bounded down the stairs and thrust out a hand.

“Rolce, take my hand. NOW!” Jackobi ordered.

“What, what is it?” Rolce asked.

“It’s him, Rolce, it’s Gisbo . . . I felt him, for the briefest moment. He’s alive, but I don’t know for how much longer,” Jackobi said. Rolce looked at Glinda, then back at Jackobi, said nothing, and grabbed his hand.

A moment later, the two were gone in a burst of Drakeness, leaving a bewildered Glinda behind.

Chapter Two: Extreme Love

Gisbo kneeled upon broken glass, staring into the searing orange blade, when suddenly, his gaze shifted to his Phoenix medallion, hanging from his neck, but it wasn’t the medallion that caught his gaze, but rather, it was a silver ring with red tint tied to the same chain. Along the inner band, glistening at him from the biting flames around him, were carved the words,
“I will love you forever.”
in childish, scrawled writing.

He hadn’t looked at that ring for a very long time, let alone worn it. He wasn’t even sure if he could even use Elekai’ anymore. It had been so, so long ago. He knew Roarie would be displeased, but the memories the ring conjured, it hurt him terribly. However, at the same time, he also couldn’t bear to be rid of it.

“It’s said that at the end of one’s rope, at the bottom of one’s preverbal barrel, one either turns to IAM, or the edge of the knife . . . but that’s only, when you don’t have friends, Gisbo.” Jackobi said, suddenly appearing before him along with a big, lingering shadow.

Gisbo ignored him, took him for a hallucination and gripped the dagger tighter, entranced by the glow it gave off. All it would take was one thrust, just one, and the voices, the madness, the guilt, the anger, the pain, the deaths; it would all come to end . . . and then, there it was again, the ring . . . he couldn’t take his eyes off it . . .

“Everyone has pondered suicide at least once in their life. If one doesn’t, then they aren’t taking life very seriously. But listen to me, Gisbo, you don’t need to do this, not when you have us, not when you have friends, not when you have people who still believe in you,” Jack said. Then, the big shadow moved, and bent before him, placing his big hand on the dagger and Gisbo looked up into the eyes of Rolce Moordin.

“Just let go, Gisbo, please . . . is this how you want to die? You said it yourself, what do you want your ending to be? Is this how you want to be remembered?” Rolce asked. Gisbo found himself looking from the dagger to the ring, from the ring, to the dagger. They were inanimate objects. They couldn’t speak, but yet, there they were, whispering, offering him choices.

Life or death? Pain or peace?

“I . . .” Gisbo started, when suddenly, the dagger fell to the ground with a clatter. Gisbo would have followed it if Rolce hadn’t caught him.

“He’s lost too much blood,” Jackobi said, kneeling over him, and allowing himself to take in a deep breath. “We made it just in time. That was, too close for comfort. The Drakeness, it will replenish his red blood cells soon, and he’ll wake up. We need to get him out of here.”

“Jack . . . I thought, I thought we were going to lose him. We still could. We’ll have to watch him, closely, even if we have to chain him up and . . . Jack, being his guardian, feeling what you did, if you hadn’t, if we hadn’t come . . .” Rolce started.

“No, I heard his thoughts, Rolce. Even after all these years of fighting with himself, wrestling with his memories, his pain, staring into the void of despair, he has not given in. This, this was just a hiccup, a moment of weakness, a breaking point where he could no longer hide his feelings from me. I heard his thoughts when we arrived as clear as you hear me now. This ring, it may have saved his life. There was a single, ever present voice in his mind, repeating a single phrase. It’s still in my mind, just, on a constant repeat.” Jackobi said.

“What is she saying?” Rolce asked, knowing already who the voice belonged too.

“I’ll always love you, and as long as you’re beside me, wherever we go, I’ll have my happy ending,” Jackobi said, unable to meet Rolce’s eyes.

“Even now, Kennis holds him up. Drakearon believed killing her would weaken him. No, in the end, it will only make him stronger.” Rolce said.

A silence fell over them.

“Come. The Drakes will no doubt be here again soon. Take my hand. Let us leave this place,” Jackobi said. Rolce did, and along with Gisbo, they teleported away.

“That won’t hold him. We can’t, we can’t force him to stay here. Can we?” Glinda asked as Rolce and Jackobi finished binding Gisbo’s arms and legs to the walls of his grandfather’s old room. Even after all this time it still contained his old putrid stink, and dozens of broken, and empty bottles lay everywhere. It was completely left as it was when the Flarian’s left for Cledwyn city.

“It will have to,” Rolce said.

“But it won’t! What if he breaks out? What if that . . . thing . . . comes out of him again? What if he kills us all in our sleep?” Glinda asked.

“What would you have me do? Put Gisbo out in a cage under the Diamond Mass like a Stonesythe?” Rolce asked.

“YES! That’s exactly what you should do, Rolce! What I said earlier, I meant it, but, but looking at him now, well . . . well just look at him, Rolce! It’s been three years since we’ve seen him. Three! Can you honestly say, without a doubt, the Gisbo you once knew, and the Gisbo here now, is one and the same?” Glinda asked.

“This isn’t up for debate, he’s staying,” Rolce said, eyeing her hard.

“What isn’t up for debate? Can’t a guy get some sleep around here? What the hell is . . .” Crass Bastio started, when suddenly he froze halfway down the stairs, staring into the open door where Rolce, Jackobi, and Glinda stood beside a chained Gisbo.

“Mother of . . . GET HIM OUT OF HERE! GET HIM OUT OF HERE, ROLCE! Or so help me, I’ll put a blade in his gut!” Crass yelled, suddenly charging across the arena, grabbing an empty whiskey bottle from the bar along the way, and shattering it as he made his way toward Gisbo.

“Crass, Crass wait! Stop!” Glinda screamed, but Crass pushed her aside and was about to charge when suddenly, Rolce wrapped him up in a sleeper hold, hoisting him clear off the ground.

“GRAH! DAMN IT, ROLCE! PUT ME DOWN! You’re . . . you’re too damn soft! You’re going, you’re going to . . . to . . .” Crass started, then went limp, and passed out. Rolce cradled him in his big arms and put him down gently against the entrance wall as if he were tucking a child into bed.

“I didn’t expect that sort of reaction.” Rolce said, looking down at the unconscious Crass.

“Can you blame him? Gisbo, when that . . . thing, came out of him, it killed his father.” Glinda started.

“What’s going on? What’s with the shouting?” Anaka Lauran asked, coming down the stairs in a white gown along with Whip and Grandfield. Even Niffin had left her room and was peeking over the banister.

“Um, it’s nothing, it’s . . .” Glinda said, when suddenly, Anaka’s hand went over her mouth as she spied Gisbo through the doorway.

“Rolce, how could you? How could you bring him here?” Anaka said, and with tears in her eyes, she sprinted back up the stairs and slammed the door behind her. Rolce felt himself falling back against the wall beside an unconscious Crass, and slid down, lowering his head between his knees.

“What would you have me do? I know what he did, I know what pain he’s caused everyone, but, but it wasn’t his fault!” Rolce said.

“That really him? He looks so, so,” Grandfield started, slowly, shuffling up the steps to join them, followed by Whip, and even Niffin. They all looked down upon Gisbo’s thin, pale, undernourished body that was covered in a host of bone white, callused scars. He had not one, but two black eyes, his lips were chapped and split down the middle, his hair was furled, caked with grime and grew down past his shoulders, and his face had grown a full beard with dried, crusted blood glistening off it.

“It’s him all right. I’d know that smell of his anywhere, only now it’s dim, covered up with the smell of whore perfume, stale cigarettes, blood, BO, and horribly cheap booze. Seems he’s been sampling all the wrong food groups . . .” Whip said.

“Whore perfume? How would you know?” Glinda asked.

“Fine. Broken in women. That better?” Whip asked.

“No! That’s horrid! Whip!” Glinda started, but Whip ignored her, his face, suddenly melding into one of concern.

“Ah, Gisbo . . . poor guy’s taken to the drink just like his Granddaddy, and probably hosts of Granddaddy’s before that. This kind of alcohol abuse? It runs in the family. It’s in his blood. At this point, he’d be better off chugging mouthwash for a buzz. ‘Least he’d smell better. Ugh, I gotta get out of this room,” Whip said, as he waved a hand in front of his nose and backed out of the room as surprisingly, Niffin, took his place. Carefully, she knelt down beside Gisbo, and began running her fingers through his hair, picking out the soiled clumps, and brushing his bangs out of his eyes.

“Niffin, I wouldn’t touch him. I’d . . .” Glinda warned, but Niffin only picked up Gisbo’s hand and held it in her own. Her eyes began to water as she spoke for the first time since the Rupture. It startled them all to hear her soft, kind voice again.

“You, none of you, have any idea what it’s like in that head of his. I do, and what I saw, almost killed me . . . all of you, all of you should be ashamed of yourselves for doubting him, chaining him up like this. He’s not a dog! He’s Gisbo Falcon! He’s our friend, our family, he’s our Renegade brother! It wasn’t his fault! It wasn’t! He’s . . .” Niffin started, when suddenly, she felt Gisbo’s hand in hers give a gentle squeeze.

“They’re right, Niffin.” Gisbo said. Everyone’s eyes went wide as Gisbo slowly rose himself to his feet. “I don’t belong here, I . . . can’t belong here, with any of you. Not anymore. Whoever I get close to is now a liability.”

Gisbo then gently reached out and placed his hand upon Glinda’s Flarian ringed finger. Powering up his essence, he snapped his chains with ease, rubbed his wrists, and walked out the doorway, then stopped, turned around, and looked Rolce, then Niffin.

“Sorry, but you’re both wrong. You say that I didn’t do this? That I was controlled? That it wasn’t my fault? Tell that to every one of my victims. The Drakeness . . . it doesn’t work that way. It’s not that simple. Honestly, what it is, at its core, is a flight past reason and logic for one’s pure, unbridled, desire. My desire? My Joy? I can’t help it. I’m a fighter by nature. I LIKE to fight. Violence, battles, war? It’s all the same. Where others feel fear, I feel peace. Where others feel death, I feel life. Where others feel conflicted, I feel free. The Drakeness, it knew what I wanted, and it gave it to me. It shut off my ability to reason, to see friend from foe, and I, I couldn’t resist it, and that, that’s the problem. I wasn’t strong enough. I chose not to prepare for the impossible. I got too caught up in my own damned pride and arrogance. I underestimated my opponents, my inner turmoil, and by doing that, I’ve damned myself, but, I won’t damn all of you . . .” Gisbo started, then held his words back and sighed deeply before continuing.