Renegade Reborn (24 page)

“We can do this, we can beat him,” Rolce said, a sudden strength to his voice.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you all along,” Jack said with a wry smile.

“No. More than that, Gisbo can beat him. He can win!” Rolce said.

“And what makes you so sure of that?” Jack asked.

“I just do. Come on, let’s keep going,” Rolce said.

“If this chain is connected to that day, then that means, somewhere, during this scene, we will find Purah. The Renegades and the Flarians, they won this day, sent Drakearon back into the Reath. It should be . . .” Jack started, swimming off to the right, then down, wafting through chains.

“It’s one of these two, I’m sure of it,” Jack said.

“Right or left?” Rolce asked.

“You pick,” Jack said.

“Go right,” Rolce said. Jack grabbed the chain.

The army of Drakeknights and Drakelings halted their fighting and stood back, forming one half of the circle, as the army of Thera, consisting of Flarians, Naforians, Soarians, Aquarians, and Renegades, formed the other half. They did this not out of orders, but of their own accord due to the history-making spectacle before their eyes. Just moments before, battlecries and curses toward their opponents leapt from their throats, but now, there came only cheers for their chosen man in the middle of their man and monster made circle, locked in a duel that would decide not just a winner or loser, but the very fate of Thera itself.

On one half, representing the people of Thera, stood Vadid the Valiant, Man-Phoenix. On the other, representing a new world order, stood Deity Drakearon, Man-Dragon.

The two men stood on their last legs, hunched over, just about out of essence, with exactly the same wounds. A swelling, black right eye, from a wicked back hand from Vadid, a stab wound in the back of the right shoulder blade, from Drakearon, various cuts, and stabs in the meat of the body, from Vadid, and a slightly torn hamstring on the right leg, giving them both a limp, from Drakearon.

Suddenly, Vadid stabbed his glowing blue and white Phoenix blade into the ground. It exploded into a blue fire storm, then, silenced itself as Vadid lost control of his essence. This proclamation was clear.

Vadid wanted a fist fight.

Cheers on Vadid’s side came for this proclamation as they all watched to see if Drakearon would accept. The Man-Dragon stood there for a moment, not saying a word, still holding onto his sword. Boos and name-calling erupted from Vadid’s side at the Man-Dragon’s indecisiveness.

“Come on. I know how much of an exhibitionist you are. You denied me in the alleyway, but now you’ve got your audience. Now’s your chance to erase our history, make me eat my words and prove, once in for all, in front of the entire world, that you’re the bigger man.” Vadid said, smiling and goading him, holding up his big fists. More cheers erupted at this statement.

Drakearon stood, ever so still, thinking it over, his facial features a mystery hidden behind his mask. The two armies suddenly grew quiet. All eyes were on Drakearon, and this, was just the way he liked it.

“Come on . . .” Vadid challenged.

Drakearon turned his head to look at Vadid’s blade, then, back at the man, and that’s when he turned around and walked back toward the safety of his massive army. A series of loud boos and disappointment erupted from Vadid’s side, when suddenly, Drakearon spun, stabbing his Dragon Blade deep into the street, sending out a shockwave of green energy, as well as thick black cracks throughout the cobblestoned floor. With this action, both sides erupted into cheers, and the two men walked toward one another, and began circling, Vadid with his hands up, a boyish grin on his face, and fire in his eyes just waiting to explode, as Drakearon paced, his hands down, his body language calculating and cold.

And then, they struck, Vadid, with fists of passion, heat and fury, Drakearon with fists of precision, icy and calm. They both reeled back from the first blow, and on they went again, striking, and immediately feeling the results. On and on they went, Vadid striking wildly at Drakearon’s mask, in a flurry of quick hits, followed by single, heavy blows, while Drakearon went at Vadid’s body, trying to take his wind from him, and sneaking in strikes to lungs and kidneys, which instantly backfired upon him as well.

A few more blows, and awkward movements later, both Vadid and Drakearon’s injured hamstring finally severed and the two were forced to one knee, but still, the two combatants did not quit. They were made for one another, two sides of the same coin, and deep down, past all they stood for, all that they believed, they were warriors, two men, embracing their deep, animalistic love, and desire, of a good fight, to test their very limits and push the very depths of their souls!

And then it happened; the two hit one another in perfect symmetry, right across each other’s chins. Vadid with a right hook, Drakearon with a straight punch. Their heads snapped back like corn husks from a sudden rush of wind, but only one head, came back upright, while the other, fell back . . .

The crowd erupted into cheers as Drakearon fell, and his side grew silent. Vadid, upon one knee, breathing hard, stared down at his fallen foe.

“Order a retreat, and I’ll let you live,” Vadid said. Drakearon, looking up to the sky, breathing equally hard, emitted a rough chuckle.

“How about you kill me, and we both die,” Drakearon said.

“A sacrifice I’m willing to make, I . . .” Vadid said, coughing fiercely. Blood dribbled out of the corner of his mouth, and down his chin. He quickly wiped it away with a sleeve.

“You think this battle to be won? You haven’t defeated me. You’ve only defeated a portion of my power, and my power, it’s everywhere, all around you, in the deepest, darkest parts of the human heart.” Drakearon said, as he thrust a hand to the sky, his fingers grasping at an invisible fruit. As he did so, a few dozen Drakelings squealed out in absolute, horrible suffering from behind him, and melted into smoking, bubbling piles of blackness, while at the same time, Drakearon’s body began glowing a turquoise green, and within moments, his cuts healed, his swelling ceased, and his hamstring was healed, and with the strength of a new man, it was now Drakearon’s turn to stand, and look down upon his battered opponent.

“You stubborn fool. You’ve wasted your power, to prove what? To prove your will is greater than my own?” Drakearon asked, as he pulled his dual-bladed Dragon sword from the ground, ignited it, and pointed it at Vadid’s throat, but despite their difference in power now, Vadid smiled.

“Looks like it’s your turn. Go ahead, send us both to hell! Kill me!” Vadid challenged.

“I WILL!” Drakearon said.

“DO IT!” Vadid screamed.

But Drakearon remained still, and finally, lowered his weapon.

“Seems we are destined to do this forever. As long as we have free will, we will always . . .” Drakearon started, when suddenly, his neck burst open with a spray of blood and he felt a sharp, indescribable pain erupt from inside his anus. The Man-Dragon’s hand snapped upward out of reflex and he immediately sacrificed two Drakelings, and the wounds cured themselves in a steaming hiss.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, um, but your ass is bleeding . . .” Vice Dastard said, holding his energy charged hand upward, covered in blood and excrement, smiling wickedly. Drakearon spun around.

“YOU . . .” Drakearon started, then paused, gaining back his composure. “Ah, my walking, talking, mistake . . .”

“Dear ol’ Daddy! Good to see you too! Miss me?” Vice snapped back.

“About as much as I miss an . . .” Drakearon started, but before he could finish, Vice ignited his entire body in fire, and flew at his father, striking him so hard in the throat, it went straight on through, and upon withdrawing his hand, he brought something back, his father’s voicebox, dripping with fluid.

Drakearon gagged, dropped to both knees, and hacked up a waterfall of blood.

“What was that? Can’t hear ya. Daddy? You there, Daddy? It’s me, Vicey! Daddy?” Vice asked, taking Drakearon’s voice box and holding it up to his ear. He then lowered it and put on a frown. “Hm, time’s like these I bet you wish she swallowed, eh? Oh, I’m so embarrassing . . . here, let me put it back, I’m sure you have something to . . .” Vice started, when suddenly there came the shrill sounds of over a hundred creatures dying all at once. He swallowed hard, feeling the enormous amount of energy his father had absorbed from his sacrificed followers.

“Shit . . .” Vice said in mock surprise, as he both heard, and felt his father’s final shred of patience and control snap, as Drakearon retrieved his sword and came down on his son in a crashing wave of turquoise green energy that broke through Vice’s psychic shielding as if it were nothing but glass, and tore through his right shoulder, and all the way down to his kidney.

Vice looked down at the sword that had cut a pathway big enough for a squirrel to travel through on the right side of his body. His arm and shoulder hung to the right lazily, held together by strings of muscle fibers and sinew. Already, the Drakeness was repairing the damage, stitching everything back together with weaving black webs, and healing over the sword, that was still caught on Vice’s thigh bone. Vice made a grimace at the site, then looked up at his father.

“Anddd the sword bone’s connected to the, Vice bone! The Vice bone’s connected to the . . .” Vice started singing. In reply, Drakearon spun about and flung his son’s flayed body off his sword and into a grisled pile next to a downed Vadid.

“Everyone’s a critic. Seems I’ve upset him somehow . . . I was only kidney with him, get it? GET IT?” Vice asked in a wide, shark grin, motioning to the bloody gouge in his side. The Man-Phoenix couldn’t help it. He laughed loudly, then, bent over and moaned.

“You bastard! Don’t make me laugh. It hurts!” Vadid said. Coughing and guffawing, he got up to his feet, grabbed his sword, and checked its power level with a grim face.

“Not much left, eh?” Vice asked, rising to his own feet as the Drakeness was just about finished healing him, and was now sealing the wounds shut with a steaming hiss.

“Not enough,” Vadid said. He then reached into his pocket, pulled out a flask, popped the top, raised the bottom up for a swallow, then breathed out a satisfied sigh as he handed the flask to Vice. “Still plenty of this though,”

Vice shook his head, and pushed it away.

“Didn’t your daddy ever tell you that drinking ain’t good for you? Sorry, but somebody’s got to hold the moral compass around here!” Vice said. Vadid thrust a finger in his face, stifling back a laugh.

“What’d I say about making me laugh!” Vadid said through a choked guffaw, then, they both laughed as Vice grabbed the flask and took a swig. Vadid then looked at him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You know, for what it’s worth, I would have been proud.”

“Proud of what?” Vice asked, handing the flask back to Vadid.

“If you were my son,” Vadid said with an honest smile.

For the first time in his life Vice Dastard had no jokes, and was rendered speechless. His mouth opened in genuine surprise, and his lower lip began to tremble, and like a shy child, he hid himself from Vadid’s gaze, ashamed at the sudden redness in his cheeks, and moisture in his eyes.

And then, as if a windstorm had dropped upon their heads, the Dragon, in a flurry of beating wings, landed in front of Drakearon, spraying up clouds of dust everywhere, as it leaned forward, balancing on its snake body and roared loudly. Saliva dripped from its curved fangs in thick, dangling streams. Vice took in a deep breath and found his voice again, thankful for the stinging sand in his eyes, disguising his sudden tears.

“Where’s your big blue friend?” Vice asked.

“Helping the others,” Vadid said.

“May want to give him a call,” Vice said.

“I can do better than that,” Vadid said, as he held his sword into the air, powered it up, and brought it down through the air, literally, in a quick slice. Even the haphazard Vice was impressed as reality itself was torn opened and now, a portal, looking like an unzipped tent flap, was opened, and through it, a fierce battle was underway just outside the city walls. Calling through the tear in reality, Vadid shouted one command and in an instant, Falcon, Moordin, Foxblade, Shax, Lokin, Purah, as well as the Phoenix, was sucked on through and landed before them in a neat line just as the portal closed behind them.

“Well, don’t you look like hell,” Falcon said to Vadid.

“You should see the other guy,” Vadid said, pointing. The group of men turned around to see Drakearon powering himself up even further, draining the Dragon of its power, as well as sacrificing more screaming minions.

“He looks fine to me,” Foxblade growled.

“Listen, we have one shot at this. If we fail, that’s it, and Deity Drakearon, becomes just that. Now, listen up,” Vadid said, bringing them all together in a huddle. Moments later, they disengaged and one by one, the greatest warriors of Thera formed a line, a human wall, protecting their leader, deciding right then and there, that they would stand, that they would fight, and that they would die as not just men, but as free men, and together, they powered up their essence in explosions of light that dripped with power, resolve, and righteousness, as their leader, Vadid the Valiant, Man-Phoenix of Thera, spoke directly to the would be deity with a voice born from iron, and kindled with fire.