by J. C. Fiske
“You don’t know these people like I do.” Jackobi growled. “This isn’t a debate, Rolce. It’s a duel to the death for their amusement. You have nothing to prove to these charlatans. I believe their decision is already made . . .”
“Then I’ll have to change that. A Sybil is a warrior, a guide, but also a spiritual leader. Besides, she made things pretty clear cut for us. We either gain an ally or gain another enemy. If we can get Lady Seveara and her Soarian’s on our side, they could make the difference in . . . ” Rolce started.
“They don’t care about your views or Purah’s, Rolce. They want to be catered to. They want to matter. In their minds, it’s all about them. All they want is the glory of being the saviors for one side or the other, and let me tell you, Rolce, the worst kinds of villains are the ones who see themselves as the heroes.” Jackobi said.
“Maybe, but despite what Purah has done, I can’t let this become personal for me. I need to rise above it if I’m going to stand a chance. In the end, both of us want peace, Jack. We just want to go about it differently,” Rolce said. Jackobi glared at him.
“I hate to admit it, but I suppose, in a way, you’re right. You have a rare quality, Rolce. You’re able to see both sides to every argument. Me? I don’t have the tolerance for it. Life is too short to cater to idiots, especially when you know you’re right.” Jackobi said. Rolce couldn’t help but smile and shake his head. He put a big arm around his friend as they walked down a big, golden hallway toward their destination.
“The sun may be gone, but you continue to be the next best thing to a ray of sunshine, Jack. I’m glad you’ve come with me.” Rolce said. They walked in silence for a little while. “So, about, Gisbo . . .”
“He’s in good hands. That’s all you need to know. I think you should be more focused on your opponent. Remember, you are practically going up against a Renegade Chieftain. Purah was the favorite if you remember, but he passed it onto Narroway, and to top it off, he’s a Sybil with years of experience beyond you,” Jack said. Rolce’s face suddenly grimaced.
“That’s not what worries me. What worries me is that I know nothing about him, and he knows everything about me.” Rolce said.
“Not everything. If he did, he would be standing with you, not against you. If there’s one man out I wouldn’t want to mess with, it’s you, Rolce.” Jackobi said. Rolce was shocked. He knew that coming from Jack, this was quite an honor.
“What about Gisbo?” Rolce asked. Jackobi looked at Rolce and audibly scoffed.
“Gisbo’s a chump,” Jack said. At that, Rolce burst into laughter and even Jackobi chuckled a little.
“But, you’re sure he’s all right?” Rolce asked.
“He’s fine. Lay off.” Jack said.
“Why do you always do that? You get off on being withholding, don’t you?” Rolce asked.
“Every man has their pleasures, even me,” Jack said. “Yes, it’s true, I know things, but soon, you will know them too. At one time, Gisbo had to rise above a Berserker, and become something more. I had to do the same, and now? It’s your turn, Rolce, and when you do, Purah won’t know what hit him, and that, that will be a first, and when it happens, I just hope I have a front row seat to see the look on his face . . .” Jackobi said.
Rolce looked at his friend then, seeing something in his eyes flash, and remembered that for a good long year he had been Purah’s prisoner, along with his late father, Shax, and Malik Strife.
“The cave, when he thought you were the Man-Phoenix . . .” Rolce said. Jack looked up at him and nodded.
“That’s right. I’ve seen first hand the kind of man Purah is.” Jackobi said, suddenly growing silent.
“And that is?” Rolce asked.
“A genius.” Jackobi said. “And worse, from what I saw, he’s a genius who’s bored. I can’t tell if this is all just a game for him, or if he truly believes in what Drakearon’s selling.” Jackobi said.
“But, Drakearon, he’s . . .” Rolce started.
“Drakearon isn’t like Purah, not at all. Drakearon’s motives, you can understand, but, Purah? I consider myself a good judge of people . . .” Jack started.
“Debatable.” Rolce chimed in. Jackobi ignored him.
“But when it comes to Purah, I can’t read him and that bothers me.” Jackobi said. “This is why he went undetected as a Renegade traitor for so long, right under everyone’s noses. He only shows us what we want to see. There’s something that rubs me the wrong way about this whole thing, and I can’t figure it out.” Jackobi said. “We’re here.”
Together they stopped and stood before a large archway. Jack reached out with his Soarian energy, placed a finger on the center, and drew a seamless line down the middle. Suddenly, the doors opened and together, they walked inside.
“Cripes . . . this is, this has to be the nicest place I’ve ever been in! We’re staying here?!” Rolce asked, spinning all about, trying to take it all in.
Before them was a golden domed room that sparkled and glistened like a morning sunrise over the Aquarian ocean. Jewels of a variety of hues adorned the walls, ceilings, and were even embedded within the floor tiles in a variety of different, eye catching patterns. Within the domed wall were indents and within the indents, books were placed, and wrapped around a spiral staircase in the middle of the room that went upward to a second floor. Rolce began to climb the stairs as Jackobi grumbled something behind him.
“I can’t believe you’re complaining. Just look at this place! This, this place is like a work of art!” Rolce said.
“Superficial drivel for soulless shells.” Jackobi muttered as they reached the top of the stairs where two waterbeds encrusted in a golden shell lay, just beckoning them for a dream filled sleep. “The only true beauty this room has, is the ceiling.”
Rolce looked up to see a brilliant night sky. Rolce was taken a back. It had been years since he had seen a star studded sky, and its beauty nearly gave him cause to weep. He knew of course it was just the same technology down within the Ronigade’s old home that portrayed the night skies in many of the family rooms, but the machines powering the displays all burnt out within a few months of staying. Rolce’s pack fell out of his hands and for a long minute, the two of them just stood there and stared.
“When you’re right, you’re right, Jack,” Rolce said, suddenly feeling his eyes moisten.
“We have a long few days ahead of us, but before that starts, it’s about damn time to even the score.” Jackobi said, seating himself on one of the beds. The waterbed jostled beneath his weight.
“Even the score? What score?” Rolce asked.
“You said it yourself. Purah knows everything about you and yet, we know nothing about him. Time to change that,” Jack said.
“And just how do we go about that?” Rolce asked.
“I won’t lie to you. I’ve been thinking a lot about this, even before you said it. This is all experimental, maybe even hearsay, but being that I am fluent in the Drakeness, and it cannot break me, I am privy to a thing known as Memory Chains. You see, the Drakeness’ purpose is to bring everyone under one mind, one heart, one consciousness. Those that are infected by the Drakeness, including myself, are all linked, plugged into Drakearon’s network if you will, and I, I can not only see them, I believe I can access them . . . get where I’m going with this? I believe, that through absolute concentration, with your help, I should be able to locate the very chain linked memories of Purah and . . .” Jack started.
“Amazing, Jack! Anything I can learn about him, anything at all, can help me find a weakness, a crack! Let’s do it. What do I have to do?” Rolce asked.
“You really need to stop interrupting me.” Jack said.
“Sorry, but this, this is huge! Tell me, what do I need to do?” Rolce asked.
“Just as Purah, through Shax, once sent the Drakeness into you temporarily to open that portal for you and Gisbo, I will be doing the same thing. First though, I must gain access to the Memory Chains
and find the beginning of it all. My concentration must be absolute, so, I will need your Sybil abilities to help guide my way through the chains like a light in the darkness. As I said, I’ve never attempted this before, but I’m sure we can pull it off,” Jack said. If anyone else besides Rolce or Gisbo heard his final sentence, they would have heard nothing wrong, but Rolce, being his best friend and synergy mate, heard the slightest of quivers in his voice.
“What’s wrong?” Rolce asked.
“I won’t lie to you. What we are attempting is very dangerous. We are, essentially, opening the door of our minds, and as you know, doors swing both ways . . . something could come back in, something unwanted, like, him,” Jackobi said.
“By him, you mean Drakearon?” Rolce asked. Jack nodded.
“Should he discover us messing with the chains, he could assault our minds, and if he does, there would be no counter attack, no defense, no escape. We would become brain-dead, vegetables,” Jackobi said. Rolce took in a deep breath.
“The way I see it, if I go into this fight blind, I’m already dead, but you Jack, you don’t need to risk yourself on my account.” Rolce said. Jack rolled his eyes.
“Do you think I would have brought it up if I wasn’t already to go through with it? Spare me your sentiment. A Shininja’s speciality is stealth. Not too often can one test his skills in such an arena as this. One wrong move and we’re dead.” Jack said, smiling creepily.
“Tone it down on that smile, huh? I’ve seen corpses more welcoming.” Rolce said.
“I told you, I have my pleasures. Nothing gets my heart pumping like facing the possibility of death and telling her to go screw.” Jack said.
“Death’s a woman is she?” Rolce asked.
“Death’s a bitch, so yeah,” Jack said. Rolce laughed.
“All right, tell me, what do I have to do?” Rolce asked.
“Take my hand and don’t let go,” Jack said, looking Rolce right in the eyes. “Seriously, don’t.”
Rolce nodded, took his hand and in an instant, their minds were transported while their bodies remained seated and still in Stratataris.
When Rolce opened his eyes, he found he couldn’t speak. It was as if he were underwater at night, looking up into a turquoise green, rippling moon. The slimish, unnatural color glowed ominously and seized at his heart. Unlike the Phoenix’ blue white light, this green blackish light instilled him with doubt and fear, but he was a Renegade. Controlling fear was his speciality. Rolce took a deep breath and stared right into the glow, studying it, making it more familiar. The more familiar a thing was, the less it scared him.
From the glow, countless, glistening chains stretched all about and past them, floating, rising, and falling like black, glistening tentacles. He never expected the chains to be a real, transient thing. They felt ice cold to the touch as they draped under and over Rolce’s shoulders and around his body and legs. Rolce immediately thought back to his youth, slaving away at crops on his foster family’s farm and the time he got lost in the cornfield. This was similar, except instead of being surrounded by green, warm stalks of vegetation; all was black, hard, and cold. Only the green light gave him any sense of direction. Rolce then felt a comforting squeeze atop his hand, and he turned and looked at Jackobi Foxblade, whose eyes were reflecting the green light, but through it all, the blue hue still shone through, his identity still his own.
“Ready?” Jack asked.
“I assume it’s safe to speak?” Rolce asked.
“Quietly, yes,” Jack said. “Anything above a dull roar though . . .”
“Jack, this place . . .” Rolce said, his hand subconsciously rubbing at his chest.
“I feel it too, the pressure, the dread, the fear, the guilt, this, this is the source of the Drakearon’s power.” Jack said. Rolce let out a shaky breath, and it rose into a smokey plume.
“It feels just like that time, almost, when we were all struck by the Drakeness, and only Falcon, only he rose to his feet. Even now, this, this isn’t nowhere near that time, but, I still don’t know what he found to rise above all that,” Rolce said, suddenly, feeling his emotional heart ache. He did his best to fight back a sniffle, but failed. “I miss them all, so much, Jack. Falcon, Moordin, Foxblade, my Dad . . . I can’t believe they’re all gone . . .”
Jack gripped him by both shoulders and looked him right in the eyes.
“Don’t give into despair, Rolce. You still have me.” Jack said, winking. Rolce laughed, then covered his mouth. Suddenly, the chains stiffened around them, as if a nerve was poked.
“May want to keep that down, something tells me an emotion such as joy may reveal us. Come, we have work to do. These chains, we must find the one that links to Purah. Every one of these links, alive, or dead, are people that Drakearon has come in contact with,” Jackobi said. Rolce looked through the weaving chains, swaying in all direction like countless cobras, ready to strike, and his heart seized again in his chest.
“We need to hurry. I don’t know how long I can take this. It feels like Grandfield is sitting on my chest . . .” Rolce said.
“Watch the jokes,” Jack said.
“It’s no joke. He got me hammered one night and we wrestled. This is exactly what it feels like,” Rolce said, wincing in pain.
“May as well start here. I’m going to start touching chains, and together, we will both see these memories flash before us, some will no doubt be hard to bear, but they are only memories. The past can hurt us, but it can’t kill us.” Jackobi said.
“Tell that to Gisbo,” Rolce said.
“He’s still alive, isn’t he? If anything, it will make him stronger.” Jack said.
“Jack, hate to be a dead weight here, but I won’t be able to take this much longer and . . . and we haven’t even started yet. I feel, I feel so much pain here, besides just my own, I feel, screaming in my head, from the deceased, from those still alive, I . . . I . . .” Rolce started. Jackobi spun on him then.
“You can do this, these screams you hear, it should only be encouragement, to stop this from happening ever again, to anyone else. Find your resolve Rolce, let go of despair, and push on through,” Jackobi ordered.
“I . . . I can’t, it’s so . . .” Rolce started, when Jackobi slapped him hard across the face.
“Get mad, Rolce,” Jackobi said. Rolce felt his cheek stinging.
“Jack . . .” Rolce started.
“Think of all these people, all their pain. The source of it, is right there,” Jack said, pointing to the horrible green aura. “Consider ourselves fortunate. Unlike the start of the Great Veil War, we know exactly who our enemy is. Our enemy has a name, evil has a name, and his name is Drakearon. Now, get mad!” Jack said, slapping him in the same spot. Rolce felt his blood boil, feeling just as he had the day him and Gisbo were climbing the tree to get Harpie, his wonderful boon whom he loved with all his heart, only to be taken by Drakearon, who possessed his best friend and sundered her, wing from wing. The memory came up out of him, still so fresh, still so real, he didn’t know if it was because of the place he was in, or it was always like that, but he kept it at the forefront of his mind, and strangely, felt his mouth tighten, and his lower lip quiver into a snarl.
“Let’s go,” Rolce said.
Jack nodded and led him through the sea of chains, looking for one of the bigger, thicker ones that were linked to so many others, then, satisfied with one, he reached up and slowly grabbed at it.
The memory that appeared before them wasn’t a memory at all to them. It was real, as real as life itself, and they were forced to take it in and watch like flies on the wall, unable to change its course . . .
“It’s ok, Puggy, it’s . . . it’s . . .” stammered the little girl with the blood red hair. She burst into tears, holding her just recently received birthday present, a pug puppy, who she immediately and without hesitation, named Puggy. The little dog with his red birthday ribbon still attached to his collar, looked up at her with his large, dewy eyes, and w
rinkled, pushed in face, then quickly lapped up the little girl’s tears, sensing her dismay as only man, and woman’s, best friend can.
There was another explosion and this time, the soundwave seemed to travel straight at them, echoing down the alleyway, toward the back, where her hiding place was. The girl closed her eyes, fought back a scream and held Puggy tightly as her hair and little dress flapped all about from the power of the explosion. A moment later, she felt her hair and skirt fall back into place and felt the pup’s warm tongue lap at her face. The little girl, with much effort, opened her eyes and held a hand over her mouth.
At the end of the dead end alleyway, there was fire and destruction all about, as well as soldiers, and black, dripping monsters, running all about, not noticing her. She leaned closer into the cold, steel of the dumpster that she was hiding behind. With all the sudden rising heat around her, the chill of the dumpster against her body felt good, and comforting. She then felt her eyes flutter close again, and when she did, she saw it, saw the soldiers in black break into her home while celebrating her fifth birthday, and saw them grab her parents, and . . . and . . . the girl burst into tears.
“Mommy . . . Daddy . . .” The little girl squealed, crying, and holding Puggy close to her chest. She couldn’t move, couldn’t even close her eyes. She could only listen to the horrible sounds men, women, and children being slaughtered by the monsters in black. She then felt Puggy squirm in her arms, not enjoying the high pitched screams with his heightened senses.
“Don’t worry, Puggy, they won’t find us here, they can’t, they just can’t!” The little girl said. Puggy whined in her lap, and nuzzled his warm, moist face deep into her chest. “They can’t, they just . . .”
Suddenly, there was a roar, a roar so terrible, so menacing; it caused her body to shake all over. She looked up, and saw the smoke part in the air, and like a knife, a giant, winged monster cut through it. The little girl tried to look away, but found she couldn’t. The monster was as big as a cottage, and spiraled through the air with the grace of an eagle with its long, leathery, and green glowing veined wings. It had no arms, no legs, just one long, twisted, thick body, like a snake’s with glowing, turquoise green scales that pulsated, matching the rythm of its heartbeat, and red, fire lit eyes. Then, the worst thing happened.