by J. C. Fiske
The first two hits hurt badly before the numbness activated, preventing Gisbo from suffering from the next three hits and the tufts of hair Malik ripped from his scalp. This is it, he thought. Time was up. He secretly wished to himself that he had killed Jackobi as he laughed in contempt of his own indecision. He knew he wouldn’t have been able to do it, he just wished he were different. Drakearon would now return and with him, a new age. At least Gisbo could say he had fought his battle hard, to the end.
He knew not where he was going to go, but he wished it was wherever IAM resided. Funny how he had never cared about any of it before; could joke about the notion of life after death so cockily and mock those 'crazy' people, thinking he had it all together. Death had been so far away then, but now here it came, at the hands of some spoiled Strife prince, smashing his face into stone. Could be worse - could be Thomson or Ranto plowing in my face, Gisbo thought. What were opinions and points of view now? He remembered all the political arguing in his classes at Oak County. What were they now? Nothing … absolutely nothing, Gisbo thought. Many conversations he had with Rolce early in the year floated to the top of his mind. For the first time ever, Gisbo Falcon prayed.
A strange feeling washed over him and yet it was somehow familiar, as his mind went black and he felt the sensation of falling into darkness. Suddenly an arm emerged through the obscurity. Great, Gisbo thought, Shax is going to sacrifice me. This is it, he’s about to grab me. Contact was made and a flash of blinding light appeared before all went quiet.
Gisbo rubbed his eyes before opening them and was astonished. Oak County? Gisbo thought; he couldn’t believe this. He rose to his feet and dusted himself off. He didn’t hurt anymore and there was no blood on him whatsoever. He spun warily around and realized he was right in front of his old schoolhouse, standing on the cobblestone road and still dressed in his Renega attire. What the hell is going on? Gisbo thought.
It was then he heard a voice he hadn’t heard for nearly a year … No way, I’ll kill him! he thought, as he ran to the back of the schoolhouse and saw Thomson, along with his wolf pack, surrounding a large boy Gisbo didn’t quite recognize. He was a huge kid, hair greasy and dirty, wearing the oldest pair of overalls that were entirely too small for him. He clutched a stack of weathered books to his chest, just below his familiar pale face. Rolce?
“Listen, Ox, I am sick and tired of hearing my parents ask me, ‘Why don’t you get top grades like that boy Rolce? Why is it always him? You know Rolce comes from nothing. Why aren’t you smarter then a farm boy?’ It makes my freakin’ ears bleed! I’m sick of it! Look Rolce, this is the final exam for this year and you’re gonna let me get top scores, understand? I mean, what do you hope to accomplish getting all those perfect scores anyway? You think your gonna get a job at the castle or something? Look at you, you’re a scrub! And one more thing…” Thomson said in his usual derogatory tone. Gisbo was about to charge when he heard a voice coming from above them all.
“Would you butt holes can it? Somebody’s trying to read up here,” the voice said. All the boy’s eyes wandered up to the tree branch and there, sprawled out along it, leaning against the trunk was ... “That’s me! I’m seeing myself! What the hell is going on?” Gisbo said aloud.
“Shut it, Gizzigo, this doesn’t concern you,” Thomson said.
“Oh the hell it doesn’t. I’m trying to read here and you’re blabbing away like your mouth has diarrhea,” the other Gisbo jeered from his branch.
“Like you would study for the exam anyway,” Thomson said.
“I only read what I want to read - you know, entertaining stuff,” Gisbo said.
“Ah I see, all your little fairy tales. Still wearing that piece of toilet paper ‘round your head too, I see,” Thomson retorted.
“You know, you’d look real nice with a broken nose,” Gisbo parried.
“Oh would I?” Thomson taunted. Gisbo shut his book and rolled off the branch, falling neatly to his feet, startling Thomson.
“Yeah,” Gisbo challenged with a grin, as he grabbed Thomson by the neck. Immediately all the wolf pack gathered around him with fists raised. Gisbo looked at them all, cracked a smile once more, and reeled back his fist to punch.
“That is enough! All of you! Gisbo, back away from Ricard’s son now!” Mr. Foogal bellowed.
“Sure, right after I break his nose,” Gisbo said.
“You hit him, Gisbo, and I fail you immediately, for the year. You will have to repeat this year over again, do you understand me?” Mr. Foogal threatened. Gisbo looked at Thomson and shoved him aside.
“You’d really put up with me for one more year? I doubt it,” Gisbo gibed.
“Better than being fired when General Ricard finds out I was unable to stop his son’s face from being punched in. Now back away, NOW!” Mr. Foogal yelled.
“Stupid mutt…” Thomson taunted.
“The woods, after school. I know you won’t come alone 'cause you’re a gigantic pussy, so bring all your little gang. I’ll kill em’ all,” Gisbo hissed as he made his way through the crowd and into the schoolhouse. The Black Wolf Pack followed them in, leaving Rolce standing by his lonesome. He leaned against the tree, shaking, and sobbed while punching it. The Gisbo dressed in Renega attire looked on. Now that he thought about it, he had completely forgotten how and why he got into that fight. He had no idea, he was just so angry at the time. He didn’t even know Rolce then, only saw his name at the top of the test score chart and assumed he was a goody-goody.
Suddenly, the scene before him melted away and was replaced with an image of the woods. Gisbo stood in the trees, watching himself as the whole starting line of the clash team, the Black Wolf Pack, was staring him down. Now this part Gisbo remembered, only now he noticed that Rolce was standing behind the tree next to him! Rolce was here? Rolce stood and watched me fight ten guys? No way! Gisbo thought.
Gisbo saw himself charge Thomson and begin the process of shoving dirt clods into his mouth. Now that part was fun, Gisbo thought with a private smile. Then things got ugly as the boys overpowered him and kicked and punched him into the ground. Did I really get up after all that? Gisbo wondered. He looked over at Rolce, wincing every time a blow hit Gisbo. Tears, real tears, were streaming down his face. At that moment, Gisbo felt the same painful aching in his stomach as Rolce’s feelings were transferred to him. This was what Rolce had been hiding from him, this terrible guilt that almost made him want to throw up. He watched as the younger Gisbo stopped moving. Thomson and his group walked away from the outcast boy's battered body.
It was a feeling of awe-inspiring hope as Gisbo saw himself stand up and watched the Black Wolf Pack's stupid faces as they stared on in shock. Suddenly all the horrid guilt was washed away, as Gisbo felt gooseflesh rip across his skin. Rolce’s feelings were being transferred to him once again. Glancing over, he saw a smile stretch across Rolce’s face momentarily. Then the Wolf Pack turned to walk away and the injured Gisbo slumped to the ground in misery. The feeling of painful guilt was washing over him when the blackness returned and he heard Rolce’s voice. It sounded like a loud echo all around him; Gisbo seemed to be floating in the midst of it.
“Gisbo, I don’t know if you’ve figured it out yet, but I have just established a mind-link to you. We are on a different plane of existence, so time is irrelevant right now. I have been holding this back from you, Gisbo, for so long. I told you the day I met you I was inspired when I heard that some kids saw you stand up to the entire Wolf Pack. It wasn’t true - I was the only kid that saw you that day. You may not have remembered why you did it, but you changed me that day. This entire time the guilt has been so painful, mixed with everything else I have been dealing with.
“I’ve been wanting to share this with you, but couldn’t think of a way to do so until now. The time has come for me to stop cowering and running. I have just been so afraid; afraid to fight. I’ve never been afraid of my strength, just afraid to fail. It is time that I face my fear head on and destroy thi
s guilt that's eating away at me. I would rather die fighting than allow my inner demons to win the battle, torturing my soul like this throughout my life. It’s going to kill me from the inside! You’re my best friend, Gisbo, and always will be, 'til the end. I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for you. Now the time for talking is over. It’s about damn time that you sit back for a change, about damn time that you stop protecting me, and it’s about damn time that I protect you! Open your eyes, Gisbo!” Rolce's voice commanded and Gisbo obeyed.
The moment he lifted his eyelids, the numbing pain returned. Gisbo saw his own blood on the cave floor. With all his might he struggled to look up and see why Malik had stopped hammering his head into the ground. There, standing tall and proud in Nazarite attire, Rolce stood, pole-arm held ready. Rolce let out with a battle cry for the ages as he ignited his weapon and with it the entire cave shook and glowed green from Rolce’s raw power.
Chapter Twenty Three: Rolce Reborn
Rolce charged forward as his deep battle cry reverberated off the walls. Malik sprang up, rushing to meet this new adversary, followed by the rest of the small army. Gisbo was able to sit up and watch, through one eye, the magnificence that was Rolce. The Renegade-to-be thrust his pole-arm forward, slamming it into the first boy’s stomach as he pushed backward into three more, forcing them to the ground. Rolce jumped over the three fallen boys and let out a fierce kick to another boy's mid-section, following it up with a thrust upward from his pole-arm that struck the boy in the chin. Rolce then spun his pole-arm rapidly in a tight defensive circle. Anybody who tried to take a swipe at him was met with a strike from his spinning pole-arm.
Gisbo saw firsthand the power of a Nazarite in close quarter combat. With his pole-arm, Rolce made the enemy’s advantage in numbers turn to nothing. Rolce’s pole-arm began to glow even brighter as he held it above his head, spinning it like a green whirlwind.
Boys were thrown left and right from the force of Rolce's weapon, slamming against the cave walls. Like before, the boys were back on their feet in no time and, in a swarm, all of them leapt in the air, seeking to crush Rolce with their weight. Rolce actually smiled! He raised his pole-arm into the air and, with another battle cry, slammed the hilt of it into the cave floor, twisting it as he unleashed a combination of Nazarite abilities Gisbo had never seen.
Hundreds of stalactites and stalagmites broke from the ceiling and floor of the cavern. With another wave of Rolce’s pole-arm, they whizzed through the air, about five at a time, making contact with each charging boy in mid-air. All twenty or so of them flew backward, slamming back into the cave wall. This time they weren’t coming back. Rolce stretched out his hand, hovering his palm in the direction of each boy, one at a time. The stones and spikes melded together, pinning each boy to the wall with their arms by their sides. Shax’s slaves all hung by their mid-sections a few feet off the ground, pinned and struggling to break free of the stone restraints encircling their torsos. Rolce planted his pole-arm straight up in the ground and stood idle, his eyes locked on his father. Gisbo watched as father and son gazed at one another.
“Bravo! Bravo, my boy! Wonderful job! Never have I seen anyone combine such a variety of Naforian techniques like that at your age! Thrusting the stones at the kids without harming a single one, then melding them together to trap them. Wonderful work, my boy, you make a father so proud!” Shax exclaimed, flashing his blackened smile. Even Lokin looked impressed as he surveyed the area in awe.
“Shut up!” Rolce said. Gisbo had never seen his eyes angry like this, even more than when he crushed the snake’s head. Shax looked hurt at his remark.
“Get 'em, Rolce! Kick his ass! Fao, to Rolce! Help him!” Gisbo yelled. Fao jumped to Rolce’s side as they both broke into a run, headed for Shax. Rolce recoiled his pole-arm and thrust it toward the invisible wall which had stopped Gisbo. Glowing green cracks seemed to appear out of thin air. Rolce recoiled again and held his pole-arm like a bat as he gave a mighty swing, shattering the barrier in a mist of green sparkles. Shax looked alarmed, but Rolce didn't wait as he stormed ahead with Fao by his side, unblinking.
As Rolce suspected, Lokin dove from Shax’s right side, but with a quick swipe of his pole-arm, Rolce deflected his daggers and followed it up with a quick a blow to his stomach, literally lifting the man from the ground with freakish strength. Fao leapt behind Shax with great agility and skillfully bit his lower leg, causing him to look back for just a moment as Rolce continued to charge, swinging his steel pole-arm downward upon Shax’s head.
With surprising agility for a man of Shax’s size, he managed to lean backward, narrowly missing a blow that would have knocked him out - but not quickly enough. The tip of the metallic pole-arm graced his nose, breaking it in a fierce crack. Blood poured down his face. In a yell, Shax swirled about with his own staff, unleashing a burst of darkness that sent Rolce and Fao skidding across the stone floor away from him. Rolce and Fao were on their feet in a hurry as Shax stood, clutching his bleeding nose in disbelief, amazed that Rolce had managed to draw blood from him.
“Such aggression. You definitely didn’t inheret this mindlessness from me!”
“ENOUGH! Come out! Whoever you are! Let's see the real puppet master!” Rolce interrupted.
“Rolce, what are you talking about?” Gisbo asked, rising to his feet and stumbling to his friend.
“Exactly what I said, Gisbo. Look at his eyes! Look at all these kid’s eyes! They're white orbs! The telltale sign mind-link is being performed. Now watch my eyes as I connect with the boy over there. Look at my eyes, Gisbo,” Rolce said as he raised his hand to the boy trapped against the wall nearest to him and closed his eyes. Slowly, Rolce lowered his hand and opened his eyes.
“Don’t you see, Gisbo! I’m just a beginner Sybil and can only use the mind-link when I close my eyes. A master, however, is a totally different story! A master won’t need to raise their hand over people and can leave their eyes open, even carry on conversations while connecting to someone from miles away. It is a powerful ability! Now look, look at my father’s eyes, Gisbo! They're white! White as all the kids here! Somebody’s controlling him too,” Rolce said, pointing at his father. Gisbo finally understood.
“Yeah, but wouldn’t Moordin have noticed that? You mean to tell me that your dad has been controlled this entire time?” Gisbo asked aloud.
“Moordin isn’t a Sybil, Gisbo. Only someone like Sybil Honj would have noticed such a minor detail and Moordin was the only one who saw him the day he went crazy. It makes perfect sense! Somebody else is here, I know it! Come out!” Rolce yelled.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Lokin said, laughing hysterically, rising to his shaky feet.
“Yes, in fact, we would!” said a voice behind them. Gisbo turned to see Harpie land on Rolce’s shoulder, followed by Falcon, Moordin, Foxblade and Narroway himself leading the charge. Seeing them all burst forth like the warriors of old caused gooseflesh to erupt over Gisbo’s body.
“Now you’rr gonna get it, you freak!” Gisbo yelled, pointing at Lokin. Everyone stood beside them, weapons raised and fully ignited.
“We got your message from Harpie just in time, Rolce. I rushed here with everyone at my dinner table and made it through the portal before it closed. It seems you both have done quite well for yourselves, Gisbo a little worse for the wear…let us take it from here, if you don’t mind, boys,” Narroway explained as he patted both boys on the shoulder.
“Narroway? Good to see you once more. Oh, and Moordin too! Why, with you, this is quite the reunion! Too bad my lovely wife couldn’t be here as well,” Shax said, grinning. Moordin’s face contorted in fury and disgust.
“Reveal yourself, traitor! I want to kill you myself! One who destroys families and the lives of children deserves the fiery plains of hell!” Moordin yelled.
“So poetic for such an intense situation, Moordin. You will know my identity soon enough - I bet it's killing you. Even now you are praying that it is so, praying yo
u will have your good friend back after all these years. This would have been so much easier for us if your father didn’t up and disappear, Narroway – or, as I conclude, run away. Would have saved so much suffering . . . but no matter, Jackobi is here and he will open the portal for us. The new Man-Phoenix! The visions of the Sybil are absolute! We know the portal will open for us tonight and we will provide Drakearon with his Sybil, his key to reenter his home realm,” Shax said, staring at Narroway. Strangely, Narroway laughed.
“You laugh at this?” Shax asked, his face twisted in confusion.
“Yes, I laugh at this ridiculous plot. If you would come out from the doorway, I would explain to you fully just how flawed your plan really is…Purah,” Narroway said. All eyes were on Narroway at the mention of Purah's name.
“Purah? Narroway, are you . . .” Falcon began as footsteps echoed from the dark doorway behind Shax. A man stepped forth into the light. It was indeed Purah. Everyone in the room was shocked, especially Falcon.
“Purah! Is . . . is that really you?” Falcon yelled. Purah emerged shakily from the doorway, clutching his head and squinting in pain.
“Falcon! Falcon, is that you? Oh, oh my head…the Drakeness is everywhere,” Purah mumbled, walking slowly towards them.
“But . . . but how are you alive, my friend? We saw you impaled on Vadid’s statue! What happened?” Falcon exclaimed, but Narroway interrupted.
“No, Falcon, I’m sorry to have hidden the truth from you, but that is not the Purah that we know.” Narroway said as he held Falcon back from rushing to his friend.