Renegade Rising

by J.C. Fiske

Chapter 12: A History of Lies

  The boys arrived back at their tree house, happy to be greeted by their Boons. While they relaxed over some cold drinks, they watched as Harpie took her first attempts at flight. Fao seemed to offer encouragement to her feathered friend and provided her own furry head as a perch for Harpie to spring off of. While the Boons played, Gisbo told Rolce all that he had heard that day and his speculation that Falcon could be his father.

  “I could see it, but Falcon said himself he wouldn’t hold anything back from you unless it was Renegade classified. Something tells me that kind of info wouldn’t be. Besides, I can’t imagine Moordin being my father; he looks nothing like me!” Rolce said.

  “Hmph . . .” Gisbo muttered.

  “I haven’t really thought of my lineage either up until now, so don’t beat yourself up over it. I mean, we’ve spent our whole lives on our own for the most part. It's only natural I suppose,” Rolce explained, trying to cheer up his friend. “As for the other thing, my reading on Renegade history as of late has been pretty extensive. I know of and admire Renegade Purah fully now, probably above all other Renegades. You wouldn’t believe how smart the man is! He set up the entire Renegade curriculum and would have been named the next Renegade Chieftain in Narroway's place, but in the end, he chose against it because he wanted the title to stay within the bloodline, can you believe it? Boy, would I like to be just like him someday!”

  “Yeah, that’s great and all, but you should meet the guy in person! He’s prolly the coolest guy ever!” Gisbo said.

  “I would sure love to meet him. Perhaps I’ll have to hit Rake tomorrow, the third band is just too far away!” Rolce said.

  “Do it, I dare you,” Gisbo said.

  “I just might!” Rolce replied.

  Both boys continued to sit anxiously, waiting for Falcon to arrive for dinner. According to the Breeze Harmonic, that wouldn’t be for another two hours, so they resorted to popping in some Phoenix Force while Gisbo read and Rolce made conversation with Fao and Harpie.

  However, about fifteen minutes into the boy’s downtime, a surprise arrived at the door in the form of none other than Falcon with a special guest . . . Renegade Purah. Rolce immediately went white as a ghost when both men stepped inside, brandishing four fishing rods.

  “So, Purah tells me you're startin' fights with Lokin’s boy?” Falcon exclaimed, trying not to beam at his subordinate’s utter lack of discipline. Purah noticed and he nudged Falcon in the ribs.

  “Oof, I . . . well, I mean that was VERY wrong of you, Gisbo, very wrong! I don’t want to see that kind of behavior in Roarie’s class again, ya hear!” Falcon said as he made a wink that only Gisbo and Rolce could see. Next to him, Purah changed the subject.

  “Good to see you again so soon, Gisbo. Your visit to me today encouraged me to take a rest from my busy schedule and visit my old friend. Boy, are we going to show you quite the fishing spot! ‘Tis a secret for your eyes only though, understand? We haven’t even told Foxblade of it because . . . well, he doesn’t throw the fish back as we do,” Purah said reluctantly.

  “He tends to makes a real mess of things, throwin’ his daggers at the water. No class whatsoever,” Falcon said as he pounded his chest and unleashed a loud belch. Both boys laughed and Falcon bowed comically. He then looked up and stared at Rolce curiously.

  “Rolce? What’s the matter with ya, son? You swallow a ghost?” Falcon asked. Rolce’s white face quickly turned to bright red.

  “Oh, don’t mind him, he just has a man crush on Renegade Purah, that’s all,” Gisbo gibed, leaving Rolce enraged and embarrassed.

  “I DO NOT!” Rolce yelled as he ducked away.

  “Sorry to disappoint, son, but I don’t swing that way,” Purah grinned, obviously wanting to take the joke a little further.

  “NO! I, well, I just greatly respect you is all. What great things you’ve done!” Rolce stated, this time with clear admiration. Purah awarded Rolce with a benign grin.

  “Well, thank you, but you shouldn’t believe everything you read nowadays, especially if it was from Oak County. I think a few of their books are still laying around on these old bookshelves. Karm’s city is notorious for brainwashing their younger generations with misconceptions and falsehoods. Silly Freeists. It's awful what they are doing to those young people’s minds. The nerve of Warlord Karm, spreading such lies about the Flarian race. His own Father and brother’s race!” Purah ranted. For the first time, Gisbo noticed a hint of anger enter the humble man’s tone.

  “But, yeah, let's go fishing. I need to get my mind off the political crumbling of our world. It’s sad, but people believe everything they see in print these days. Well, off we go!” Purah said.

  They made their way past the open field the boys had come upon in search of their Boons, then strayed right to follow the rounded edge of the barrier until they came to a small pond. Falcon and Purah smiled as they clearly began remembering what they always referred to as the good old days.

  “You see, boys, nobody goes fishing this deep in the woods due to all the local stories around here; tales of the biggest fish being in the sunniest portions near the common grounds. Actually, those stem from a nice little rumor Falcon and I passed around,” Purah chuckled, as he and Falcon exchanged gleeful looks.

  “All Purah’s idea. Here you could cast out a piece of cheese and instantly nail yourself a big one! Reason being, half of this pond is in the warmth of Heaven’s Shelter while the other half is nearly frozen outside the barrier. Naturally, all the fish migrated to the warm side and have since had time to grow and multiply, leaving us loyal partakers in the greatest fishing hole Heaven’s Shelter has to offer!” Falcon explained, as they cast their rods happily. Purah and Falcon began telling the boys various fishing stories as they waited for their rods to dip. Gisbo wasn’t about to believe them when suddenly he felt a huge pull on his line. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rolce was almost tugged right into the pond as his rod bent to take on an upside down U shape. He and Rolce were thrust into the fights of their lives as they lowered their rods to give some slack, then hoisted them up and reeled in like mad. A few tiring minutes later, the boys landed two of the biggest fish they had ever seen.

  “Well done, boys! Nearly simultaneous I . . . oop, I GOT ONE!” Purah yelled with glee and a short time later he also landed a fish, nearly as big as Gisbo and Rolce’s. They immediately threw them back, only to catch fish after fish until the sun began to set, forcing them to make their way home. On the way back, Gisbo desperately wanted to ask the question that had been haunting him throughout the day. He decided he would wait until they were about to part ways and ask Falcon in private.

  “So, Renegade Purah sir, I was just wondering if you could tell us a little more about the false history taught in our books from Oak County. I mean, Gisbo and I practically spent our lives with our noses in the books they offered,” Rolce requested with concern.

  “Well, all right; a lengthy tale for a lengthy walk I suppose. Flarians, Naforians, Soarians and Aquarians. The four races of Thera each held their own territory at one of the four corners of the world.

  “Civilization began with small tribes which eventually lead to many civil wars, but eventually four countries were formed, each bound by race and ruled by their strongest fighter, known as the warlord. In Flaria and Naforia, the descendants of the original warlord remained in control, forming monarchies. In Aquaria, contests of skill were held once every five years or so to elect the strongest fighter to power, but the Soarians, who were renowned for their intelligence, formed the first democracy.

  “The Soarians set the standard for the modern world and eventually every country, though different, adapted a civilized society. Even the barbarian –like Flarians, to a point. With the races no longer warring amongst themselves, they naturally began to fear what they did not know of their neighbors. So, it was in this time that Thera’s four races continued to grow in isolation and animosity, like water steaming in a kettle.”
Gisbo and Rolce listened with rapt attention as Purah continued the tale of a history they had never known.

  “As you can imagine, the kettle finally reached a steam. Thirty years ago, a great world war began,” he paused for a moment to glance at Falcon, who nodded at him to continue, as if seeking permission from him for some odd reason.

  “There are those that believe that one man cannot make a difference. I devoutly disregard this opinion. All it takes is a single spark to set the world afire and this spark came in the form of a man. This man, a Flarian, began to promote Soarian democracy, freedom, change and world peace. He was a dangerously charming man who knew how to wrap venomous snakes in candy and force-feed them to his adoring public. People began to literally fancy him a living God upon Thera and, in no time at all, he encouraged his followers to rise up against the Flarian warlord in a violent rebellion.”

  “Who was he?” Rolce asked. Purah paused before answering.

  “Drakearon.” Purah said through gritted teeth.

  “Drakearon? How come I’ve never heard of him?” Rolce asked.

  “We will get to that later. This is where it gets interesting. If you have wondered why there are not many Flarians left in the world, this is why. Drakearon killed them, his very own brothers, to increase his own power. Nobody knows how he achieved such a power, but when he himself took the life of a Flarian, he realized that he could literally absorb their essence, their memory and their power to increase his own. No one knows where such a power came from, but you must understand that contrary to popular belief, there is a dark power in this universe. A dark power that lies within the hearts of man. It is this darkness that leads to murder, child mutilations, disease, calamity and ever other grisly act you can think of. If you want my opinion, I truly believe this darkness to be an element just like the four of this planet, an element that I believe Drakearon somehow, opened his cold heart to as home owner does for a guest. It was as if evil itself wished to use him as a vessel and he gladly accepted its offer. And from this vessel, he was able to spread this darkness, this power to others. His closest and most devoted followers began to feed off of it and it enhanced their own powers greatly, but at a cost to their own freedom and well being. This substance, this power, later known as the Drakeness acted like a drug. With every use, you would literally get closer and closer to being nothing but a mindless, monstrous slave to Drakearon himself.”

  “On the cusp of civil war, with Flaria divided and the warlord murdered, the country turned to chaos and Drakearon and his followers quickly gained power over Flaria and turned their sights on bringing the world under one flag to bring the ‘peace’ he claimed, but that was obviously not the case. Up to this point, the other countries had not been concerned about the blood shed in Flaria until Drakearon arrived on their own front steps,” Purah said with a hint of disgust. “And so the Great Veil War began.”

  “But there is another player the boys should hear about as well,” Falcon chimed in. Purah glanced at him questioningly. “The son of the Flarian warlord, Vadid the Valiant!” stated Falcon.

  “Ah yes, silly of me to forget the hero of my story,” remarked Purah. “Vadid had been abroad when news of his father’s death at the hands of Drakearon reached him. He had been something of a rebel, leaving his native Flaria to marry a beautiful Naforian woman. Vadid, as I’m sure you can guess, returned to his people and united them together once again under a common flag, eradicating Drakearon from his country. He won the rank of warlord, not by force, but by gift, for the Flarians had now seen the evil of Drakearon. Vadid was no usual warlord however; he was the first ruler to be trained as a Renegade and many believed he was endowed with special powers from the phoenix of IAM. But better than this, he united the four warlords in a common war against a shared enemy, Drakearon. Upon the last battle, the four warlords did battle with Drakearon personally and all were killed except for Vadid, who managed victory and finally ended the spread of the Drakeness and brought peace to Thera once more. With the other Warlords slain by Drakearon’s hands, the world sought leadership and Vadid was elected Supreme Warlord over all of Thera, ushering in a time of prosperity like no other. At the peak of this prosperiety however, the good man . . . vanished. Nobody knows how or even why, but the man was gone without a trace and was never heard from again. What followed was a political battle so to speak, resulting in Warlord Karm’s rise to power; a leader who spit on everything Vadid believed in. At the time, the Renegades were personal guard to Warlord Vadid, but in no way would support the son and so Chieftan Narroway and the Renegades came to Heaven’s Shelter and we have lived here in peace and secrecy ever since,” Purah finished.

  “Why would all of those people want to follow Drakearon? And how did Vadid get powers from the Phoenix? How did they defeat…” Rolce fired off questions, trying to piece together the story in his logical mind.

  “All good questions, Rolce. In time they will be answered, but I believe we have reached our destination,” answered Purah.

  They had finally reached Gisbo and Rolce’s tree house. With a final wave, Falcon and Purah walked away to return to the common grounds. Gisbo noticed Falcon had been much quieter than his normal self, but as the two old friends made their way out of the clearing he saw Falcon smile and begin to speak with Purah. Gisbo watched them until they were lost in the darkness of the night. He was happy to have caused the events that allowed Purah to catch up with Falcon once again. However, he quickly smacked his forehead and ran his hand down his face in frustration.

  “Uh, you all right, bud?” Rolce asked, leading Gisbo to look to the moonlit sky, shaking his head at his lousy memory.

  “I totally forgot to ask Falcon the question! I got so caught up in that story it totally slipped my mind!” Gisbo said as he and Rolce turned to walk up their spiral stairs.

  “Eh, don’t feel so bad. That was quite the story after all. Seriously, I never would have thought Karm would use ignorance as a weapon. I memorized those books only to find out they are utter rubbish, Karm’s false delusions. I am so mad right now! Especially at myself. Just think, if I had stayed in Oak County, I would have believed those lies to my dying day! Damn it all!” Rolce said through clenched teeth, as he pounded his fist against the side of the large tree.

  “Wow! Look at you, you are really mad at all this. You can take punch after punch without throwing one back, but you get all pissy over a few books with wrong information?” Gisbo said, totally amused and amazed by Rolce’s outburst. However, a vivid flashback of Rolce’s large hand crushing a snake’s skull immediately made him halt the teasing.

  Both boys prepared for bed, fed their Boons and were soon off in a dreamless sleep. The hours passed and sunrise was now just a few minutes away from bringing a new day. However, unbeknownst to the slumbering young Renegas, the light of this day would make visible the sins of the night…

  At first and to most, it was a normal morning in Heaven’s Shelter. Rays of light were slowly shining through the treetops, soon to be followed by the sun's full sphere of immortal light. Shop owners were busy organizing their stores for opening time and the familiar smells of autumn foods drifted throughout the grounds. As usual, Grandfield was the first at Marge’s Bakery to grab his caramelized apple for the day, now his only one, due to his recent unavoidable diet. Grandfield realized that for once he was actually earlier than he needed to be and relished in his free moments before class. He leaned against the golden statue of Vadid the Valiant comfortably, watching the morning light fill the commons, and took a deep sigh of comfort, breathing in the foggy, fresh air of the morning.

  Grandfield raised his treat for a crisp bite, only to stop as he noticed a red blotch on the top of the apple. He watched with curiosity as the blotch slowly dripped down over the apple’s rounded edge. Grandfield rotated his treat, wondering where the red had come from. Looking down, he grimaced when he noticed he was standing in a thick red puddle.

  Grandfield turned his head upward, very nervously, pray
ing to IAM that his hunch wasn’t correct. He was answered by another drop of red that splashed on his forehead. His eyes turned to saucers, not because of the blood that now dripped down his cheek, but because of what was hanging above him.

  In a gargled yell, Granfield dropped his apple and backed away from the statue, his boots leaving a trail of bloody footprints as he desperately shouted for help. Everybody who had heard the scream arrived on the scene of the now fully lit courtyard, staring up at the grisly sight.

  There, impaled through his chest by a sword, hovering at least fifteen feet off the ground, pinned to Vadid’s golden statue . . . Renegade Purah hung dead. Fresh droplets of blood dripped from his exposed chest into the growing pool of red below.