Renegade Reborn (57 page)

Gisbo could feel negative thoughts brewing in the back of his mind, and he whacked each one down.

Don’t believe everything you think. Don’t believe everything you think.
Gisbo thought, over and over again, as he put one foot in front of the other, made it past the housing sector, and walked through the gates of the castle courtyard. Instantly, deja vu set in, and he was reminded of the last time he was here, when he battled Thomson Ricard, when a then, General Ricard, Leader of the Elekai’ Elite, was inches away from slicing his throat, but he refused to dwell, couldn’t dwell. Instead, he let his hand drop to his wolf next to him, and rub the top of her head, remembering how it was here where he had seen his first Renegade, his first Elekai’ battle, and where he had met his first, and best friend, Rolce Moordin.

With these thoughts filling his mind, he then raised a ringed finger to the sky, called out her name, and in a flash, Fao disappeared, absorbed into him, and together, as one, they called upon the Moon Fire, and said the words of power, only this time, the phrase needed to be altered, just a bit, but what a difference it would make!

“
My sword, I call upon thee! My eyes are ablaze, and now I do see, may the power of fire . . . let it flow through me!”
Gisbo screamed as he thrust the Phoenix Blade to the sky and summoned the pack of the glimmering moon, only this time rather than a dozen, hundreds of ghostly, sparkling wolves appeared to give their support, filling up nearly the entire pathway behind him. Once organized, a certain ghost wolf that Gisbo recognized made his way forward and stood beside him, giving a slight bow of respect.

“It’s good to see you again, Gisbo Falcon. What would you request of Jeshua, and the pack of the glimmering moon?” Jeshua asked.

“Good to see you too, old friend.” Gisbo said, kneeling down, and rubbing the wolf behind its ears. Though he was translucent, he was still solid and greatly appreciated the gesture. “Protect my friends, destroy my enemies, but only on my mark . . .”

“It shall be done.” Jeshua said, bowing out, and backing away to rejoin as leader of his pack, which stood like a river of shimmering diamonds between the walls of blue fire holding back the two armies.

Gisbo watched him go, smiled, gave a nod to the wolf, then stood up to his full height, turned and was met with the eyes of Ranto Narroway, standing a stone’s throw away.

“So, the prodigal son returns, and already he wastes his power for those unworthy. How . . . weak,” Ranto said. “How . . .”

But Gisbo did not reply, only stared at him with a zen-like, emotionless face, as if he didn’t process one word Ranto said.

“He’s, so much, older . . . I can see it in his face! But, how can that be possible? Look at him, Niffin. The old Gisbo would have said some sort of snappy, juvenile remark, but now, he’s so, mature!” Glinda said, talking in a, unbeknownst to her, dreamy voice, when Gisbo suddenly walked to his left stepped through the fire, and put out a hand.

“Whip Miles,” Gisbo said in a very orderly voice. Just the voice alone sent Whip’s senses into confusion. It was Gisbo’s, he was sure of it, but it was somehow, older, deeper, strained, and then, he touched his hand. To him, it felt as if he were shaking the hand of his late father. It was loaded with calluses and scars, and was as rough as sandpaper. He wanted to say something, anything to his long, lost friend, but nothing came.

“Grandfield Groggo,” Gisbo said in the same, orderly voice, as he extended a hand. Grandfield took it, but weakly. He was too caught up in studying Gisbo’s features, his fiery red eyes channeling the Phoenix power, his thick beard, his long, mane-like hair . . .

“Gisbo? Is that really you?” Grandfield asked.

“Is that how you shake a man’s hand?” Gisbo asked, cocking an eye downward. Grandfield looked down, and realized that this whole time, he hadn’t been shaking his hand, but Gisbo’s right index finger.

“I . . .” Grandfield started.

“Too late,” Gisbo said, as he snapped his finger back with Grandfield still holding on, and ripped an ass blast of epic proportions, and just like that, Gisbo’s stone cold face, and rigidness broke, as he, Grandfield, and Whip erupted into the kind of laughter, on the kind of subject that only boys who call themselves men can appreciate.

“I take it back, I take it all back . . .” Glinda said in a huff, folding her arms, and shaking her head, watching the three buffoons smack, and hug each other.

“No wonder you were looking so rigid walking down that road! To hold in a fart like that? Oh, man, you had me going there for a second!” Grandfield said.

“I was saving that one especially for you, bud! Boy, think the nerves are getting to me . . . whew, this is quite the predicament we’re in, huh, boys?” Gisbo asked, smiling.

“Gisbo Falcon. It’s good to have you back, but this, this is . . .” Whip said, feeling the fire all around him.

“Still have some kinks to work out, but hey, think I’m doing pretty well so far, right?” Gisbo asked. “But yeah, before I go, Grandfield Groggo? Whip Miles? You have been two of my closest friends, but I wanted to ask you, right here, right now. Will you fight with me? Until the end?” Gisbo asked. The two of them looked at one another.

“What? You think I squeezed into this thing for religious reasons!? Now I know what a damned sausage feels like! Of course I’m fighting, and Shaved’s fighting with us!” Grandfield said. Gisbo pumped Grandfield’s hand hard at this.

“For Shaved . . .” Gisbo said.

“I can get behind that. I almost didn’t believe it was you for a minute there, but yup, there it is, the wet dog smell’s back!” Whip said. “Of course we’re with you!”

Gisbo grinned, and smacked them both in the shoulders.

“Thanks, guys. Thank you so much,” Gisbo said, as he made his way down the line until he was standing before Anaka and Glinda. He stood there for a moment, then, dropped to one knee, and took both of their hands in his, squeezed them together gently, kissed the top of them, and held both the girl’s hands against his forehead, bowing.

“Anaka, Glinda, what I have done . . . the pain I have caused you, with Ashlin, it is beyond forgivable, beyond anything I can say, or do, I just, I just . . .” Gisbo said, taking in a deep breath, trying to find the words, but Anaka wouldn’t let him as she dropped down to both of her knees and embraced him in a tight hug, pressing her face firmly into his right shoulder, tears flowing, and soon, although resistant at first, Glinda found herself dropping too and the three of them huddled there, together, holding one another up, and began the process of healing their hearts the only way they could . . . with tears . . .

“We can talk more later, but as you can see, we’re in quite some trouble here. Anaka Laurin, Glinda Bicknill, will you stand with me tonight? Will you fight with me?” Gisbo asked, pulling away so he could look them both in the eyes.

“There was a time, I blamed you, but, in retrospect, when I think of Ashlin, I think of the hand, the hand of Drakearon, through that portal, controlling you . . . and . . . and . . .” Anaka said, fighting back tears.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, we can talk about this later. We can . . .” Gisbo started, and then, Anaka found her resolve.

“I’m with you. Til the end.” Anaka said. Gisbo smiled, and kissed her on the forehead, then, looked over at Glinda, who opened her mouth, but then, closed it, and settled for a nod. Gisbo nodded back, rose to his feet, and made his way down the line.

“Gisbo?” Glinda called. Gisbo turned his head.

“Kick his ass!” Glinda said, smiling. Gisbo smiled back, and made his way down and now stood in front of Niffin, Rake, and Crass.

“You’re not gonna hug me, and make out with my hand are you?” Crass asked, folding his arms. Gisbo shook his head. Crass walked toward him, and looked him up and down. “You’ve changed. Good. That being said, I think we can both be men here. I won’t bullshit you. I don’t know if our relationship will ever be the same again. I know it wasn’t your fault, what happened to my father, but, damn it, man. I just look at you and it hurts, it hurts a lot.”

Gisbo took in a breath, held it, and nodded.

“But, none of that matters right now. All I know is that right now, I’ve seen what you are, and what you can do. You’re the Man-Phoenix. You want to waste these assholes? Good. I’ll be right behind you. You got me?” Crass said, raising an eyebrow.

“Thanks, Crass.” Gisbo said. He then turned to Niffin, and gave her a smile that showed all of his teeth.

“Niffin Roarie,” Gisbo said as he moved in, and picked her right up off her feet, and held her close. “Thank you. Thank for believing in me, even when I didn’t.”

“It’s . . . it’s ok . . .” Niffin squeaked out. Gisbo then let her down, and Niffin cleared her throat, slowly reached out, and grabbed his hand. “If she were here, Gisbo, Kennis, she would be, so proud of you, but since she can’t, um, I wanted to say that, that, well, I’m proud of you . . .”

Gisbo bent down, kissed Niffin on the forehead, and hugged her tightly to him once more, before turning to Rake.

“Nothing to say. You know what you have to do, and I know what I have to do. Go,” Rake said, cocking his head toward Ranto’s direction. Gisbo smirked.

“Does my heart good to see you haven’t changed one bit, Rake. Thank you,” Gisbo said. Rake gave him a rare smirk, and nodded. Gisbo nodded back and made his way through the flames into the pathway in the middle where Jackobi was already waiting for him, his arms folded. Gisbo walked up to him, meeting his ice cold blue eyes, with his red enflamed ones.

“You’re an asshole,” Gisbo said plainly.

Jackobi said nothing, and folded his arms.

“But you’re my asshole . . .” Gisbo said, breaking out in a grin, then, realized exactly what he said and twisted his face into a grimace. “That, that could have been worded better.”

“From you? Doubtful,” Jack said. Gisbo shrugged.

“You know, you would think after all that training, all that time spent getting my head straight, to control this power, I might’ve learned something. It scares me just how quickly I returned to the liquor, after all that . . .”

“But you came. Kicking and screaming, sure, but that’s what I’m here for. To keep your ass in line.” Jackobi said. He then walked forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You can do this. This fight is yours, but, Gisbo, you do realize, channeling such power as you are, you do know the cost of it, don’t you?”

Gisbo frowned at this, then shook his head.

“Don’t want to think about it,” Gisbo said. “Life’s hard, Jack. Always will be, but I’m harder!” Gisbo said, and then put his hands on his hips shaking his head. “Ok, you know what? I’m just going to stop talking for a while, and . . .”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying all this, your cute little reunion, but last I checked, we have something to settle. I gave up myself, left my comfort zone, all for this moment, the moment, The Goat Man promised me! I gathered an army, I searched deep, saw what I wanted for this world, a world that I cannot have, while you still live, while you still haunt my dreams. You! You made me do that! Every thought, every action in these long years, have been leading up to this! You will not make me wait a second longer!” Ranto screamed as he teleported forward with the Drakeness, and struck over Jackobi’s shoulder at Gisbo with a dual, Flarian, Drakeness infused punch. There was contact, and the ground erupted upward into a spray of dust, dirt, and grass, as if a geyser beneath it suddenly, went off.

Ranto grinned, waiting for the dust to settle and looked down, only to see his fist had made a crater, twelve feet in diameter, and three feet deep, but other than that . . . there was nothing.

Ranto looked all about now, preparing for a counter attack that wouldn’t come, and found him, off to his right, to see Gisbo had somehow dodged the blow, but also, had time to carry Jack safely with him. The two were walking, side by side now, over to a large, broken pile of a man, Rolce Moordin.

Nobody, nobody’s that fast . . .
Ranto thought, his fist still embedded in the ground, glaring at his back, his disrespectful back, as if he didn’t even matter, that all he went through, didn’t even matter. He took in a deep breath. Emotion, it counteracted the Drakeness. Made it behave strangely, made it seem as if Drakearon, not him, was in control. With a quick yank of his fist, he pulled it free from the dirt, bringing up pebbles, and clods with it, and stood, waiting, taking in long, deep breaths. He was here. He would have his revenge . . . without a doubt, Man-Phoenix power, or not, he was no Drakearon. He was new, inexperienced, and soon, he would kill him, and the Phoenix power would be his. He smiled at this thought, and waited patiently.

Rolce, through slits, saw two red fireballs, then saw, those two red fireballs were attached to a face, a face of a great hero that he had seen many times in his visions and dreams, the face of his best friend, Gisbo Falcon. He smiled, and his lips split open again.

“I knew, I knew . . . you’d come . . .” Rolce stammered out.

“Take it easy, buddy. I’m here. Let’s get you fixed up.” Gisbo said, as he bent down, and lifted Rolce’s large frame gently, as if he were holding a newborn, and walked with him over to the blue flames, and laid him within. In moments, the fire flickered about him, patching up his innards, repairing his cracked ribs, and replenishing him with stamina until he was as fit as before his battle with Purah.