Renegade Rupture (21 page)

“Gisbo,” Falcon said. Gisbo stopped in his tracks and turned to face his dad.

“Yeah?” Gisbo asked.

“I’m proud of you, son,” Falcon said. Gisbo beamed and skated away as Falcon returned to the stands and sat next to Ernie.

“Well, I best get this game underway. What’d you say to make him skate back out there?” Ernie asked. Falcon took one sip of his coffee and stared at his son, skating with a renewed energy and, for the first time, looking like he really enjoyed it.

“What I’ve always wanted my father to tell me,” Falcon said.

And then, as quick as the memory grabbed him, it let go and Gisbo found himself back within Heaven’s Shelter, overlooking the pond. He smiled and felt a tear come down his face, wondering what was so dangerous in recovering a memory like that. Before he could ponder any further, he heard a heavy branch crack to his right and came eye to eye with Ranto. The two of them passed one another, looking with curious eyes, but without words. Ranto didn't smile, only averted his gaze ahead and continued walking. Gisbo stopped and watched him until he disappeared into the darkness.

What the hell is he doing way out here?
Gisbo thought. He thought about following him, but knew that was stupid. As much as Gisbo hated him, Ranto was a Renegade, and a powerful one at that. They all needed to come together for this tournament. Gisbo was surprised by this thought and smiled as he continued his trek home under the stars, destined for a good night's sleep, with a clear head . . .

. . . before hell came with the rising sun.

Chapter Fourteen:
Murder in the Night

“Gisbo, Gisbo, wake up, please wake up!” Kennis said as she shook him. Gisbo woke up with a smile, seeing his beautiful blonde leaning over him, but it quickly diminished. Kennis’s face was white with terror.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” Gisbo asked, leaning up. Kennis sat on the foot of his bed, shaking her head.

“It’s not me, it’s Niffin,” Kennis said. “Just, just come with me.”

Gisbo dressed in minutes, and he and Kennis ran to her tree house and up the spiral staircase. Kennis paused before opening the door.

“Nobody knows yet, except Roarie,. Just . . . We need help and she requested you for some reason,” Kennis said.

“Help with what? I don’t understand,” Gisbo said. Kennis sighed.

“It’s awful in there. Just prepare yourself,” Kennis said. She rubbed at her eyes and thrust open the door to reveal a grisly scene.

On the ground was Kimjow, his head twisted and broken to one side, dead, in a pool of dried, crusted blood, with Niffin wrapped in her mother’s arms, crying fiercely as Roarie rocked her.

Gisbo bent down and put a hand on the dog’s head and stroked its fur, feeling an overwhelming pity come over him, knowing just how much the dog meant to Niffin. Just as quick as the pity came on, Gisbo thought of his walk home last night and Ranto’s face flashed within his mind. He looked at the dog’s giant head, twisted to one side. Not many people in Heaven’s Shelter had the strength to do such a thing. Anger rose up within Gisbo, an anger that he spent his whole life fighting. This time, rather than fight it, he embraced it willingly, letting it fill him up. Without a word, Gisbo rose to his feet, turned around, and stormed outside.

“Gisbo! Gisbo! We need your help, we . . .” Kennis yelled.

“I’ll be right back. I know who did this.” Gisbo said.

“Then I’m coming with you. I . . .” Kennis started. Gisbo spun around and thrust a finger at Kennis.

“YOU STAY RIGHT HERE!” Gisbo snapped with such ferocity Kennis froze in her tracks. Gisbo didn’t even bother to apologize as he ran as fast as he could through the trees, past the commons, and out to a couple of cabins around a pond that his father, Shax, and Narroway called home.

Gisbo bounded up Narroway’s steps, the biggest cabin with the best view, especially out the back, and pounded on the door until it creaked open to reveal Narroway’s haggard face.

“Come in, Gisbo. I know why you’re here,” Narroway said.

“Where is he?” Gisbo asked, trembling all over.

“Come, see for yourself,” Narroway said, opening the door. Gisbo walked in and followed Narroway across the kitchen and out back, where the bedrooms were, and down the hall to Ranto’s room. Before Gisbo looked inside, he saw the door hanging on by one hinge, and it was charred black with a single fist-hole straight through the center.

When Gisbo rounded the frame to look inside, he saw the remains of his cousin’s room. It looked like a bomb was set off. There were piles of ash, broken furniture still burning, and countless pieces of paper scattered all about the room. A breeze came through the open porch door and blew a piece of paper towards him, a drawing. Gisbo picked it up, looked at it, and felt his stomach flip.

He saw a detailed depiction of a man with an axe through the top of his head. Gisbo walked through the room to find another with a man arched over, a sword through his stomach and all of his entrails pouring out of him like a melted pizza, and magazines depicting the most hardcore, sexually explicit images he had ever seen or known.

“He’s gone, Gisbo,” Narroway said. “I’ve failed him.”

“Niffin’s dog, he murdered him, snapped his neck. Where is he!?” Gisbo said.

“There’s no proof of that, but now he’s in the only safe place for him. With the Strifes. Ranto has defected and joined them,” Narroway said, walking out onto the back porch and slumping into a reclining chair. Gisbo followed him out and looked down at his uncle, who was in utter dismay, a position he had never seen the Renegade Chieftain take on before.

“Ranto . . . he’s with the Strifes now?” Gisbo asked.

“I’ve been a fool. I let my love blind me,” Narroway said. “It’s all my fault; I didn’t act quickly enough.”

“If . . . It doesn’t make sense. All right, I’m just going to come out and say the obvious since a lot of Ranto’s past behavior suddenly makes sense. If Ranto’s . . . gay, why would he join the Strifes? They hate gay people as much as they hate Drakearon!” Gisbo said.

“It’s more than that, Gisbo. Ranto values control above all else, which is another word for dominance and another for power. However, something finally came into his life that he couldn’t control: his sexual urges. He’s fought it ever since puberty. All I’ve been is what I thought was loving and accepting, but he saw it differently. He didn’t want to embrace who he was. He wanted to be rid of it, and the Strifes offer programs to be rid of such feelings. They think it’s a choice, and for Ranto, it is. It’s a choice he fights every day and he says no. I’ve been to and seen Strife rallies about homosexuality. It’s one of the major reasons we disagreed. Your father was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. Their prison, Glaknabrade, do you know what part of it was originally designed for?” Narroway asked.

“No,” Gisbo said.

“They meant to put homosexuals in there, put them away from the rest of society, lock them up and . . . cure them. I don’t care what anyone says. Anyone who focuses so strongly on what sex someone prefers to the point they build such a horrible place isn’t about curing them at all. They want to cure themselves, and rather than accept who they are, they take out their rage on those brave enough to come out and say, ‘I am who I am,’” Narroway said. “Ranto is now a part of that world, and he goes willingly. Don’t think I don’t know that this tournament is a precursor for a war. I know this, I know it’s coming, but that day is not here yet. We have peace for now and we must use that to prepare and strategize. When war comes, as I know it will, we will have already broken their foundations.”

“Peace for some, not for Niffin,” Gisbo said. “Narroway, I don’t care if he’s my cousin. He’s no family of mine! If I see him, if he shows his ugly mug, I’m going all out on him. He’s a monster, and monster’s need putting down,”

“That’s not an opinion I can accept. When you have a son one day, you will understand. Do not let your personal feelings get in the way. Ranto may have joined the Strifes, but it doesn’t mean he killed Kimjow,” Narroway said.

“I don’t understand. I know the whole nature versus nurture deal, but how on Thera could a guy as great and kind as you raise,” Gisbo started, then looked all about the destroyed room, “This?”

“One’s past weighs a great deal on their future, but that’s a story for another day. Right now, you and Kennis need to be there for your friend and leave Ranto to me. Understood? He is with the Strifes now, and we cannot risk an all out war, not yet. You will be calm, understood?” Narroway said.

“I won’t promise anything,” Gisbo said.

“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.