Renegade Reborn (27 page)

To this, Ranto said nothing in reply. Drakearon handed the blue print off to an architect and gave a nod of approval; causing the man to beam as he rushed away, ready to gather the materials and begin.

“I know your feelings my son, and in a way, that is what you have become to me in these past few years . . . my son . . . I’ve seen your heart as no other man has and together we have freed the secrets of your past and the source of your suffering, but to you, that is what I am. Just a man. You, unlike these others, are above those who come to me for purpose. You have come because you have purpose and you share in my vision of a world free from chaos, and know that only a God and a people of one mind can achieve such. I do not hide this from you . . .” Drakearon said, pausing. “This will be more than just a throne, my son, it is a symbol, much like . . . Oak County is a symbol, General Ranto,” Drakearon said, finally turning to him. Ranto couldn’t hide his surprise.

“General?” Ranto asked, his left eyebrow rising.

“The time has come to be accepted into my inner circle. Your training under me these past few years is beyond anything even I could have imagined. You have embraced my power like a starved man to bread, and we both know that man cannot live on bread alone . . . there’s something else you want, have wanted, ever since that day, that day when he defeated you, embarrassed you, in front of all who you ever came close to loving.” Drakearon said.

Ranto’s face became stone, but he said nothing.

“Perhaps, he had something to do with your focus these past few years. If anything, he did you a favor. Just look at what you’ve become now! Natural power only brought you so far, and Gisbo, he showed you that. Gisbo, who with my power running through him, trounced you, but now, you have the same power he has, and more . . .

Now, the time has come. The setback is over. My army has returned. People have flocked to my light like moth to a flame, but, there is another flame and this one, needs ridding. You know of what I speak . . . Oak County, the pathetic dream of Vadid must be snuffed out, forever, along with his memory. Once that happens, my light, my flame, will be all that remains, and you my General, you will lead that charge, but not before much preparation.

My army, while great in numbers, lacks formation and training, two qualities you will provide them. When you have prepared them, stoked them and baptized them in the fires of combat, we will rush across Thera and kill the festering chaos in this world once and for all, side by side!” Drakearon said, placing a hand upon Ranto’s shoulder. Ranto hid it well, but deep inside, Drakearon felt the unease in Ranto’s heart upon his touch for a flicker of a moment. Even after all this time, there was a part of Ranto that didn’t trust him, and he couldn’t help but think of that other great champion of his, Falcon Vadid, who had that same, small, flicker of doubt, and how that flicker had turned into a fire storm that nearly undid everything he worked so hard for.

He had to be careful now, pick his words carefully. He had to supress his other personality, the business side of him as he called it . . .

“There, there it is. I feel it, the brokenness inside you. That, that is the result of the chaos that festers and infects this world. You, my dear Ranto, are a child born from chaos, but you never let it turn you into a victim. You’ve come so far, and soon, all that is broken will be mended. No more pain, no more suffering. Trust in me, my son, just a little longer.” Drakearon said, pausing. “Walk with me a moment.”

With his arm around Ranto, Drakearon shuffled him forward until they stood within the center of the room.

“Right where we stand is where my throne is going to be, but it will be a throne I refuse to sit upon until you and this world are free from pain. Understood?” Drakearon declared.

Ranto took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly, his mind racing.

“I feel your confliction. You believe it too good to be true. You are as wise as you are strong. After all, in this world of chaos, it is so arranged that all forms of life can live only by preying upon one another. As much as equality is preached and even practiced, it can never truly come to pass, for in this world there will always be wolves and there will always be rabbits to sustain them. No longer. I will make the wolves and the rabbits become one! I will make the lion lie down with the lamb! I will change all the rules!

Your tragic story, my son, it is unacceptable! You, my General, my champion among champions, will bring the peace this world needs! This pain, it must die! Pain . . . it hinders the higher life forms as well as the lower, but it is truly us, the highest of life forms that suffer most. Unlike the lower forms, we have the consciousness and cognitive abilities that enable us to both feel and understand pain. Once this pain is felt, we then predict it coming, which gives us mental suffering before it even hits! And then, happiness, happiness exists just long enough to feel pain when it is gone! This race, it was doomed from the start, along with every other. We are born from pain, live by inflicting pain, and in pain, we die. It is senseless and without purpose. All stories will eventually come to ruin, but I will at least be able to change their endings and you, you will lead my charge,” Drakearon said, pausing. He felt Ranto’s heart soften, felt a flicker of faith now, along with his doubt, sit side by side. This was it. If his hope won out, Ranto would be his.

This conversation he was having now, Drakearon remembered he had had it before. He then thought of Falcon once more, and now, in hindsight, he understood why Falcon left him in the end. It was because he gave him the option to. He allowed him free will. He would have to handle Ranto differently . . .

“All I ask in return, is a simple show of humility,” Drakearon said. He stepped away from Ranto, and gave him breathing room as he said the one word that would seal the deal, or break it . . .

“Kneel,”

Ranto did not budge.

“Ah, this again,” Drakearon said. He was about to continue when the two flickering fires in Ranto’s heart, one of faith, one of doubt, suddenly, were snuffed away and replaced with a different fire, one that came firing up, hidden in the depths of his heart and finally understood how through all his pain, all his suffering, he managed to find the means to continue . . .

Where Falcon had unworldly grit, Ranto had pride . . .

“What you said before, it’s true. I look at you, and I see a man, a great man to be sure . . . but so am I.” Ranto said, his head down. He then slowly raised it, and looked Drakearon right in the eyes. “You came to power by influencing others and stealing the life essence of your own people. What’s to stop me from doing the same?”

The otherworldly pride was now filtering from his heart and surging through his body, and it was then, Drakearon knew he had made a mistake. The chaos had affected this boy, no, this man, too deeply, but he wasn’t lost to him, not yet. There was still one way to snuff out that pride . . .

“What’s to stop you from doing the same? There’s only one way to find out,” Drakearon said, lowering his hands and leaving himself defenseless.

Ranto clenched his spiked fisticuffs and ignited himself in Flarian essence while at the same time, channeled his Drakeness infused blood, adding black flapping tendrils to the flames. The roar from his power was louder than it had ever been, enhanced from the echoes in the throne room, designed to modify Drakearon’s voice for speeches. Holding nothing back, Ranto Narroway threw a feigned right straight punch forward, causing Drakearon to throw up a block, only to instead fire forward with his right foot, aligning his spine for maximum damage.

Drakearon, knowing that the speed of gravity always beat the speed of expended muscle energy, simply loosened his stance and let himself fall backward as Ranto’s foot flew past him, and stomped atop the ground, shattering a day’s work of marble tile that sent a crack forward across the floor, and up the wall.

Ranto knew he was in a bad position. He had recklessly charged and now his back was to Drakearon. He was about to explode his essence outward to protect his flank, when he felt his entire body seize up, as if every muscle, on its own accord, had erupted into dozens of Charlie Horses. The Drakeness, it was boiling inside him and affecting his muscle control, before he knew it, he had lost his control over his essence and was down upon his knees with Drakearon standing over him.

“I’m sorry to have done that, but I can’t have you in here destroying the labors of my people. As you know, I could win this way, sending the Drakeness in you into a constant flux, but you’ll always be wondering, what if? I want you to have no doubts . . .” Drakearon said.

A moment later, the two vanished in a flash of black, and they found themselves in the middle of the Flarian desert towards the outer reaches of the Darkstar Caverns.

“Much better. Now then, where were we?” Drakearon asked, releasing his control over Ranto.

Immediately upon receiving control of his body back, Ranto ignited his essence and Drakeness again, channeled all of his frustrations, raised a palm, and fired forth a blast of black encrusted fire, so bright, it could no doubt be seen all the way from Cledwyn City on the other side of the desert.

The blast, the size of one of the caves around them, flew at Drakearon with the speed of an eagle dropping from the sky for a fish. Ranto readied his other hand, was about to fire again, expecting Drakearon to dodge to his right, when he stopped himself.

Drakearon wasn’t moving.

With little effort, Drakearon raised his hand, caught the blast and shrank down the massive fireball until it became the size of a grape before it evaporated in a weak, puff of black smoke. Drakearon wiped the soot off of his glove, and stared at Ranto with mock interest.

“I honestly hope that wasn’t your best?” Drakearon asked. Ranto was beside himself with shock, but did not let it show. He had thrown nearly everything he had into that one blast and Drakearon blocked it as if it were a passing breeze. It wasn’t over yet though. Ranto, realizing such a strategy wouldn’t work, moved on to his speciality, close quarter combat.

Without wasting time for a reply, Ranto quickly exploded his body outward into black flames then, using the compression technique, sucked the energy back in and distributed the power evenly into the ends of his fists and his feet until they glowed hot as an orange fire pokers with black, bubbling Drakeness bouncing all about inside the flames.

He then rushed at Drakearon, and in a surprise move, teleported, instantly appearing a foot in front of the Man-Dragon in a spearing tackle, but just before he could pick Drakearon up, and run with him, Drakearon, as if pushing himself up out of the edge of a swimming pool, did a quick hop, and pushed down upon the center of Ranto’s shoulders with all of his body weight. Ranto’s balance gave way and he fell flat on his face, feeling sand fill his open mouth and eyes.

Drakearon could have ended him then, and he knew it. This enraged Ranto all the more, being catered to, being played with, being treated like a child. Blinded now by rage and sand, Ranto did a somersault forward, landing on his bent right leg, only to feel hot fingers intertwine with his hair, hold it tight, and throw his forehead downward into Drakearon’s rising knee. Ranto saw a flash of white and felt his body go weightless, realizing as he fell that once again, the Man-Dragon was toying with him. If he wanted to, Drakearon could have broken his nose.

Fighting to keep his consciousness, he called out to his Drakeness for help and saw the flash of white before his eyes, slowly, like encrusted ice from a window, be scraped away, allowing him to see. Drakearon was just standing there now, his arms folded, looking bored. Ranto spat on the sand, and picked himself up, when suddenly, appearing in his face, was the demonic side of Drakearon’s mask.

The business side had finally come out of him.

Startled, Ranto tried to amount a defense but it was to no avail. He felt an iron clad grip grab his hair again and realized he was now being dragged across the sand as if he weighed nothing. A moment later, Drakearon lifted his head up so he was looking right into the sides of one the black, Darkstar Caverns.

“Kneel?” Drakearon asked, his tone dark, raspy and high pitched.

“No,” Ranto muttered.

There was not a second of hesitation. Drakearon brought Ranto’s face into the side of the cavern, then, brought it back up.

“Kneel?” Drakearon asked.

“N-No . . .” Ranto sputtered out, only to have his face be driven in again, then again, then again, until his face was beginning to look like the top of a melted pizza.

“Kneel?” Drakearon asked, pulling Ranto’s face back up. Ranto spit out a tooth.

“Nah . . . nah . . .” Ranto started, unable to form the last vowel needed to say, ‘no’, and that’s when Drakearon threw him backward so Ranto landed on his back. Ranto stared at the full dark sky. There was a moment of peace, a moment to take in a deep, wanting breath, but that’s all Drakearon allowed. In a viscous stomp, Drakearon dug his heel right into Ranto’s groin, and the big man screamed.

“Kneel?” Drakearon asked.

“YES! YES!” Ranto said. Drakearon released his foot, and Ranto, with much effort, rolled over onto his stomach.

“Close enough. Who do you kneel to?” Drakearon asked.

“You . . .” Ranto sputtered out.

“Who am I?” Drakearon asked, lifting up his face from the sand.

With sand encrust lips, Ranto yelled, “DRAKEARON! DIETY DRAKEARON!” and with that said, Drakearon turned his mask back around, and reached a hand down to him. Ranto stared at it, then, reluctantly, reached up, grasped it, and in a burst of black, they were back in the empty Throne room of Paradisio.