Renegade Rising

by J.C. Fiske

Chapter 13: Honoring of a Hero

  Chieftain Narroway arrived in Heaven’s Shelter soon after Purah’s body was discovered. The Chieftain’s orders were quite clear; arrangements for Renegade Purah’s funeral would begin immediately and nothing was to be discussed on the subject of the death itself. Respect for the Chieftain's longtime friend and personal advisor were to be at the forefront until the Renegade instructor was properly put to rest. The Renegades went about their tasks solemnly as they prepared for the funeral.

  News spread quickly of Purah’s death. Deep sorrow, utter fury and a cold silence enveloped all of Heaven’s Shelter. Gisbo and Rolce felt a mix of these feelings when Foxblade told them the news. Moordin and Falcon shoved down their grief by doing all they could to help with the funeral process. Foxblade actually showed signs of emotion when he came to convey the tragedy, embracing them both in a brief hug before leaving. Gisbo and Rolce stood in their pajamas, not looking at each other as they let the news sink in. Gisbo opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came. Shock, pure shock, enveloped him. Fao began to lick Gisbo’s leg in sympathy, while Rolce turned and sat at the table, facing the opposite direction, trying to hide tears.

  Both boys didn’t say much for a while as Gisbo paced around the room, feeling out of himself. It just didn’t make sense. They were all fishing just last night, having the time of their lives and exchanging stories, and now, now he was gone. Gisbo constantly wished he had said a more meaningful goodbye instead of a simple wave, but how could he have known? He couldn’t imagine how Falcon and Moordin must be feeling now. Why on Thera would anybody want to kill a pre-school teacher? How were his students taking it? Even worse, he would never be able to learn from the renowned instructor upon his third band. Who would teach the class now?

  Questions like these plagued both boys as they brooded, together in the room, yet alone in their heads. Finally, Gisbo couldn’t take it anymore. He abruptly left the treehouse without a look back, Fao following him. Gisbo didn’t really know where he was going or why, he just needed to walk. He headed to the forest, instantly remembering many a bad day back in Oak County. Walking through the silence of the trees always raised his spirits a bit.

  Fao trotted alongside him, constantly turning her ice-blue eyes up at Gisbo, who could only manage a weak smile in return as he rubbed her white velvety head. He didn’t realize it, but subconsciously his feet were taking him back to the pond where they had fished the night before. Upon arrival, Gisbo saw that there was already somebody seated on the small shore with a large tiger seated beside him. Both man and beast were gazing out across the waters, lost within their own minds.

  Falcon didn’t notice Gisbo at first as he methodically scratched the tiger behind the ears. The large cat purred with delight and laid down. Gisbo sat down beside his class master, whose eyes were red and puffy.

  For a moment they both said nothing as they stared into the pond. A fish broke the surface in a small splash and the ripple danced across the pond like the memories resonating through both Renegade’s minds.

  “Foxblade told me you and Moordin were helping organize the funeral,” Gisbo stated quietly, just to break the silence.

  “Do you know me as one to organize anything? Can you even picture me organizing anything?” Falcon asked with a weak smile.

  “Not really,” Gisbo answered.

  “Moordin’s taking care of all that. Funny how IAM works sometimes, eh, pal? You got murderers, rapists and downright horrible people that roam this world who live to be fat and old and what does IAM do? He goes an' takes a pre-school teacher way before his time. I’ll never understand it,” Falcon said, as he wiped his eyes with his forearm before continuing. “Purah, he was the most thoughtful as well as toughest son of a gun I ever knew, besides Vadid himself. I have to thank you, Gisbo, for getting in trouble like ya did; at least I got to fish with him one last time.”

  “It’s no problem,” Gisbo answered tonelessly.

  “It’s funny though, all the accomplishments the man had and never once did you hear him talk of himself. It always of his students, always of others. Hell, even last night, the entire walk back he was gibbering away about you and Rolce, talking about the potential you two had, and especially how similar you were to me growing up. I wasn’t always the nicest person back then, ya know. I was always 'found on the wrong side of luck' is what Purah used to say. I . . .” Falcon stopped as if he didn’t want to give away too much, almost ashamed. “ . . . Well, good ol’ Purah never gave up on me, not even when everyone else did. He is the sole reason I am here talking to you today. I’m sorry, Gisbo, I don’t mean to drag on like this, I’m just, I dunno, trying to let it all sink in. It still feels like he is here somehow,” Falcon blurted out his apology.

  “No, I enjoy listening, not a problem at all,” Gisbo said with a hearty smile. Falcon patted him on the back and ruffled Fao’s fur.

  “Thanks, champ, and you too, Fao, for hearing me out. Giz, I hope that you never see a friend come to death. It is unfortunate with the lifestyle we live that death is just so close, always present, skulking in the background; but at the same time, you receive a blessing. It makes you appreciate life all the more. You’ll come to my age one day, Gisbo, with a little luck, and I pray every day you won’t trod down the same path I did.” Falcon paused and ran his hand down the stripes on his tiger’s back. “The stripes of your iniquities never really leave you . . .”

  Gisbo only sat quietly, speechless as Falcon continued.

  “ . . . Please, don’t take the route I did. Take the route Purah did. Live a blameless life. It is the one thing I want for you, Gisbo, more than anything. You don’t need a past to haunt you. Live the right way now, there is a right way, and live it without regrets. Will you do as I say, Gisbo?” Falcon asked with utmost concern written all over his face.

  Gisbo had never seen Falcon in this state; so open, so honest, sounding so ashamed with himself. Gisbo had never really asked Falcon about his past before and at this point it only added to the list of questions he wished to bring up, but simply couldn’t, not now. Gisbo answered by nodding his assent and Falcon smiled once more as he rose to his feet, stretching.

  “Well, let's say we give good ol’ Purah a final send off, eh?” Falcon said, his tone instantly changing. The ashamed, rather odd side of him Gisbo had just witnessed was gone, replaced with Falcon’s usual upbeat tone and glowing face. He thought about a popular term people usually said to themselves when dealing with a bad habit or addiction: “Fake it till ya make it.”

  Gisbo didn’t notice it before, but beside Falcon was a fishing pole, Renegade Purah’s fishing pole to be exact. He bent down, pulled the wooden fishing pole from the ground, stabbed it deep into the wet mud by the pond's bank and began piling stones around the base of it to hold it firm. Class master and student stared longingly at it as Falcon thrust out his fist, raised two fingers to his forehead, lowered his forearm to a bow and brought it back up, stamping a fist across his heart, and finished by lowering his head in a short bow. Gisbo did the same.

  “There isn’t much I can tell you on the subject, but believe me when I say this. There is a traitor among us and when he is discovered, justice will come swifter then the wind can carry it,” Falcon declared, as he clenched his fist, causing his ring to glow brightly.

  Gisbo had to step away. The heat pulsating from the ring stung the surface of his skin. If he thought Falcon looked angry at the sight of Cannon and Scarrr, it was nothing compared to his face now. His anger had seemed controlled back then, but now the control seemed to slip for an instant, just long enough for Gisbo to notice before Falcon quickly regained composure. Today Gisbo had discovered two new sides to his Class Master. Frankly, he didn’t enjoy either of them. They walked back to the common grounds in silence.

  By now everything was arranged. The entire population of Heaven’s Shelter came out for Purah. Gisbo and Falcon stood at the back of the enormous crowd, surveying the area. Every one of the Renegades had their bl
ue hoods over their heads, as was customary for a funeral, and Gisbo and Falcon followed in suite. The non-Renegade citizens of Heaven’s Shelter all shifted from foot to foot, mixed feelings of rage, sorrow and shock incarnated in their body language. There was a stone podium set up in front of the golden statue of Vadid right next to where the puddle of blood had been. There, behind the podium, stood Chieftain Narroway, with his head held high to the crowd, his face like stone and his thoughts elsewhere as he surveyed the crowd before him.

  Everything was silent, all except for the front row where Purah’s very own pre-school class was sobbing and squealing with anguish. Their parents held them close, trying to cover their cries with shushes of comfort. Gisbo noticed that the spot where Purah’s lifeless body was pinned earlier had now been cleaned and in its place was a plaque that was unreadable from such a distance. Around the plaque lay the multicolored finger paintings that once covered Purah’s office and now covered the very spot where he died.

  Staring at the paintings while hearing the small artists crying at the loss of their beloved teacher was just too much for Gisbo. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one. Soft sniffles resonated throughout the crowd and some got up and left altogether. Finally, a band of musicians brandishing stringed instruments and blowpipes began to play and Narroway raised his voice to speak over the somber music. The effect was indescribable.

  “Renegades and Renegades-to-be. We come to this place of mourning with heavy hearts. We gather this day to honor a proud warrior’s legacy, as well as the blameless lifestyle he chose to live. Those who knew Purah well knew his life was an inspiration to us all and never once did Purah seek the limelight. Rather, he was comfortable to stay in the background, letting his deeds speak for him. I still remember when he was offered the title of Chieftain after my father’s disappearance. He declined it merely because he didn’t wish to be the center of attention and he wanted the line of Vadid, my father, to be preserved. In many ways he was MY chieftain, staying by my side and offering his wisdom whenever asked.” Narroway paused, allowing his words to sink in before continuing.

  “Death is a journey we must all take; it is unavoidable, Renegade or not, but we must not mourn our friend. A confusing place is the world we reside in; filled with pain, cruelty and wickedness, but Purah showed us all another side, a brighter side that we should all aspire to. I know Purah believed in a place beyond death where all is perfect, all is beautiful and all is right. I believe he is up there right now being received by his creator with open arms and will watch over all of us until it is our turn to join him. If one believes in such things, where is death's sting? Gone! Instead, the gap is filled with hope and the excitement of one day seeing our friend again,” Narroway said with a smile. Gisbo had never thought of it that way and he smiled as well. Narroway continued.

  “I could stand here for another week explaining in detail all of Purah’s legacy, but I know he would never allow it. So I will leave you with a few personal recollections from Purah’s closest friends, those who knew him best.” Narroway said, lowering his head for a moment as if in prayer before speaking again.

  “Even in death, Purah has victory and so can all of you. Praise his life; be happy for his next journey as you await your very own. My time now comes to a close. I know you are all curious as to the aspects of his death, but sadly I cannot reveal anything without more evidence at this time. I will however tell you this and this alone. The murderer will be brought to justice and all those connected to his death will feel the wrath of generations of Renegades upon them!” Narroway exclaimed with vigor, pumping his fist in the air as the Renegades followed his lead with a loud yell.

  Narroway stepped down from the platform and friends of Purah's came up to share a few memories of their time with the fallen hero, as well as a few funny stories to lighten the mood. All of this was going fine until a man with a red ponytail and long bangs came to the stage. Gisbo’s sorrow was quickly flushed away as a deep realization encroached upon him. Lokin surveyed the crowd before speaking.

  “Well, it is safe to say Purah’s and my synergy suffered a tragic loss when our member Shax died and now my best friend Purah up and leaves me…” Lokin said. Gisbo had heard enough. He grabbed Falcon’s shoulder with a strength he didn’t know he had.

  “Falcon! I need to talk to you right now! In private!” Gisbo ordered. Falcon, registering Gisbo’s frantic expression, nodded. They walked a ways away from the crowd and stopped behind one of the closed shops. Gisbo quickly recounted the full story of his misdemeanor and the conversation Lokin and Purah were having before Gamba and he entered the room. Falcon looked very surprised as he peered over at Lokin speaking and his face tightened in a snarl. He abruptly placed both hands on Gisbo’s shoulders and looked him right in the eyes.

  “Listen to me, Gisbo, I believe your story as well as your accusation. Purah was one of the most powerful warriors I have ever known and the only way he could have died is if he was caught by surprise, a Shininja’s specialty. Lokin has been under investigation for quite some time. Your information may be the final key. I want you to go find Moordin, Rolce and Foxblade. Tell them what you just told me. I am going to report this to Narroway immediately. Tell Foxblade and Moordin to head me off while you and Rolce go back to your tree house and stay put! This whole thing is not as it seems; trouble may be about, so take Rolce back to your room and stay there! Now go!” Falcon said as he broke into a fast trot, parting the crowd to get to Narroway. Gisbo spun about as well, pushing through, trying to spot his fellow synergy mate - only to slam into someone rushing in the opposite direction. It was Rolce, followed by both Moordin and Foxblade.

  “Rolce! I need to tell you something, I…” Gisbo said, but Rolce quickly cut him off with a wave of his hand.

  “I know! I know! I just told Moordin and Foxblade your story, but we need to find Falcon. Where is he?” Rolce asked.

  “He just went to tell Narroway!” Gisbo said, pointing. Moordin and Foxblade simultaneously turned to face the boys. Moordin pulled both of them close, staring into their eyes with absolute seriousness.

  “I am proud of you boys. Now go back to your dorm this instant, you hear? Much has built up these previous months and it is all about to explode. Don’t come out until we come to get you! Move!” Moordin commanded as he and Foxblade pushed through both of them a bit rudely, rushing to get to Falcon and Narroway. Rolce looked at Gisbo, a hint of rebellion in the normally obedient boy's eye.

  “You going back to the tree house?” Rolce asked.

  “Not a chance,” Gisbo replied with a grin.

  “Just as I thought. Way to go, Gisbo. You should have seen Moordin’s eyes light up when I told him. Apparently, this is just what they needed,” Rolce said, returning his grin. They set off to watch what was about to transpire.

  Falcon and Moordin reached Narroway, followed closely by Foxblade. Narroway’s face grimaced in curiosity only to turn to wide-eyed surprise and recognition, as if he had found the last piece to a puzzle lying on the floor. Falcon pointed toward Lokin, who was still speaking at the podium. From that point, everything happened very quickly. Lokin was still deep in his speech when suddenly, in a flash of green and red, Falcon and Moordin appeared at both sides of the Shininja. Falcon pressed the tip of his blade over Lokin’s heart while Moordin threw his pole-arm over the Shininja’s throat from behind, locking him in a chokehold. For a moment Lokin looked surprised, then a smile broke across his face.

  “So, I assume there is a reason for this outburst?” Lokin said with an eerie calm. Narroway walked up to look Lokin right in the eye. For a moment, Lokin’s composure was nearly lost at the sight of Narroway’s enraged face.

  “You dare to speak of him as a friend, Lokin? You dare stand before us all and spout your lies? I have every reason to slice your tongue off this instant. You best have a good argument prepared, Lokin. You’re going to need it,” Narroway said, power dripping from his every word, conjuring up memories of his father. For a mome
nt Lokin didn’t say anything as he tried to hide from the Chieftain's gaze. After a few long seconds, the Shininja finally mustered enough courage to face his Chieftain.

  “I need no argument, not one. I’ll tell you the truth right now, that I, Lokin Razgul,” Lokin paused, enjoying the crowd hanging on his every word. “Killed Renegade Purah!” Lokin finished.

  In a flash, Narroway’s Talon Sword was out and had joined Falcon’s, looming dangerously over Lokin’s adam's apple.

  “You admit it? Then . . .” Narroway faltered as if he had forgotten something, suddenly turning around to the crowd behind him, with his head darting back and forth in search of something.

  “That’s right, you think I’d come alone? Strifes! To action!” Lokin yelled as various people in the crowd threw back their blue hoods to reveal odd green uniforms. The green-clad invaders quickly grabbed whatever Renegade was standing nearest and held them tightly at sword point without releasing their essence. Lokin gawked at Narroway with a snide look.

  “You're not as slow as I thought. Slow, sure, but at least you realized it. Unfortunately for you, it’s too late. Now, let's pass the authority to me for a bit. You are going to let me walk away from here before you lose some of your precious Renegades to the Strife’s blades. Understood, Chief?” Lokin asked confidently, until he saw the smile of superiority on Narroway’s face.

  “I think you forget the place you have invaded. This is home to the last true remaining warrior culture on Thera. You honestly think they would allow you ground for bartering?” Narroway questioned with glowing pride.

  Blades were instantly wrapped around the necks of the Strifes by more Renegades. Suddenly, long ropes of energy in every color extended, attaching themselves to the Strifes' weapons, and they were immediately disarmed. Their lost weapons soared back along the energy ropes and into the open hands of Renegades, leaving a dangerous situation remedied and completely turned about. Lokin’s face went white. He wasn’t expecting this at all.

  “Always, always power up your weapon when in the presence of another Elekai' Warrior, Lokin. You never know when the same race is about you; even the Renegaras around here know the basic rule. You have come ill prepared, a trait that embarrasses your Shininja class. You will die, right here, for the death of one of the most noble men I have ever known,” Narroway said as he drew back his fiery sword, ready to sever Lokin’s head from his neck. Suddenly, a sharp yell hit the air.

  “No! Don’t do it! He’s my Dad!” screamed Rake, as he ran to the stage and wrapped his arms around his father in attempt to protect him from certain death. Narroway lowered his sword slightly as Rake held his father like a life preserver with tears streaming down his cheeks.

  “You can’t do it! He’s the only family I have left!” Rake screamed, his watery eyes pleading with Narroway. The Chieftain stood staring at the boy as Falcon and Moordin released their grips slightly, enough for Lokin to grab Rake with blinding speed. The traitorous Shininja ignited his blade with his own fiery glow, not about to make the same mistake as the Strifes. He held the dangerous blade over his son’s throat.

  “Dad? Dad!? What, what are you doing?” Rake stammered. Lokin looked down at his son in his arms as if he was holding a priceless treasure, grinning with a greedy smile.

  “Shut it! Well, it seems my son isn’t such a failure after all. About time you served me some sort of purpose, eh boy? Now back away, all of you, or I will slice my son's throat open, right here, for all to see!” Lokin said, as he spun to leer at Narroway. “Is that something your conscience can take, Narroway? Well, is it? I never knew if I had the complete loyalty of the Strifes, so one must always have an ace up one's sleeve. I see all of you, even now, thinking how to kill me without hurting the boy. I think it’s time I keep your attention elsewhere. Thank IAM for such idiotic subordinates, eh Falcon and Moordin?” Lokin taunted with glee. Suddenly, two green-clad Shininjas dropped out of the trees, trapping Gisbo and Rolce’s throats behind their ignited blades.

  Panic stretched across Falcon and Moordin’s faces as Lokin walked with his son past Narroway, making his way through the crowd. Instantly, those around Lokin ignited their weapons and surrounded him. Lokin simply smiled and stared at Narroway as if to say, 'Well?'

  “Let him through,” Narroway ordered, causing Lokin to smile even broader. All the weapons disengaged their essence and parted the way for Lokin to pass. Gisbo and Rolce stood looking at each other each saying the same thing with their eyes: “How could we be so stupid?”

  “I figured you heard me outside Purah’s office, mutt, but it really didn’t matter. How ironic that you got sent there for punching out my poor excuse for a son. Oh, don’t worry, I could care less. The little weakling probably deserved it. You have incurred my wrath for one thing, though, and that’s squealing. Let me show you what happens to squealers where I come from . . .” Lokin said as he made his way closer to Gisbo.

  Gisbo squirmed every which way, but it was no use against the essential power of the man holding him. He watched as Lokin reached to his side to pull his other dagger from its sheath, powered it up, and spun it around his fingers playfully. Gisbo winced. Lokin was within striking distance. The Shininja grasped his dagger tightly and reared back for the kill.

  Gisbo closed his eyes, bracing for a strike that never came. He opened them only to see Lokin, frozen, focused on something behind him with a look of horror and surprise.

  Foxblade struck quickly, coming out of a stealth position with both daggers glowing a brilliant yellow. He wasted no time plunging his first blade through the Shininja holding Gisbo. The Strife let his weapon drop from Gisbo's throat, roaring from the pain that seared his kidney. Foxblade reared back and plunged the same blade deep into the Shininja’s chest, planted his foot beneath the new wound and kicked forward to free his blade once more. The Strife fell backward, dead before he hit the ground. Foxblade wasn’t done with his combo quite yet. He swung his other leg in a roundhouse kick, catching the chin of Rolce’s capturer who dropped the young Renega.

  “Duck,” Foxblade ordered Rolce, who obeyed immediately, gaping as Foxblade continued his dance of death. With his other dagger held at the ready, he let loose, slicing the throat of the green-clad Shininija with a back hand while spinning his body for velocity and force. The Shininja grasped his bleeding throat and toppled over, gurgling. Foxblade completed his spin and thrust the same blade upward at Lokin, his aquamarine eyes as like blue fire. Lokin took a step back from Foxblade, clutching Rake even closer to himself like a shield.

  “Drop your boy and I’ll kill you. Best I can offer,” Foxblade stated. Both Renegades locked eyes.

  “Back off, you’ve already spilled Strife blood, Fox of blades. They will come for you especially. I’ll be sure of that,” Lokin threatened, nervousness crackling in his voice. Foxblade didn’t bat an eyelash.

  “Let them come. I’ll arrange a place of meeting on the morrow and kill them all. My original offer stands,” Foxblade said without moving his eyes from Lokin, who took another step of retreat. Foxblade sheathed his other dagger and let that free hand fall into his side pouch, pulling up three razor-sharp throwing discs. Lokin’s face crinkled in fear, but his eyes widened.

  “You wouldn’t. What if you miss? You could kill my boy!” Lokin said, trying to dissuade Foxblade from a reckless decision. Lokin turned with a quick glance at Narroway, Falcon and Moordin’s reactions. All radiated confidence.

  “I don’t miss,” Foxblade said and drawing back his arm, he threw an energy-charged disc, aimed directly at Lokin’s head. The disc would have hit true if it weren’t for the black, slick, oil-like substance that surged up around Lokin. The sludge blocked the shot with a resounding metallic clang and black smoke spiraled in the air upon the point of impact. Foxblade spun around as a newcomer blasted a ball of the same black ooze at him, narrowly missing. The Renegade Shininja leapt into the sky, called upon his innate Soarian power of flight and hovered in the air, watching the ooze hit the ground
. Within moments, it had eaten through it like acid, leaving a crater. You couldn’t see his face under the mask, but Foxblade’s eyes betrayed his surprise. The other Renegades who saw the figure standing before them gasped, especially Rolce, who clutched Gisbo's shoulder with thick stabbing fingers and pointed frantically with his other hand.

  “Gisbo! It’s him! The man from my dream! The guy who has Jackobi!” Rolce screamed.