by J. C. Fiske
“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, praying 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.
Chapter Thirteen: 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 wor
se, 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 blue 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 limeli
ght. 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.