Renegade Reborn

by J. C. Fiske

  “What he did to you, I can barely even discuss it out loud. You asked why I didn’t come for you earlier? When you were at the bottom of your rope? It’s not because I didn’t want to, it’s because you had to learn the most important lesson possible if you are going to take on the mantle of Man-Phoenix, and that lesson is, if you want to change, YOU, need to be the one to do it. I, and no one else can do it for you, and it’s only when you can change yourself, have you the right to use your power, to help those who cannot help themselves.

  We as humans deserve nothing in this life. Even the air we breathe, it’s just a lucky break. Entitlement, it is a disease that is spreading like wildfire, and in a way, it’s even worse than the Drakeness. People today, they want the rewards, without the work, and they don’t realize, that when something comes for free, something else, is taken from someone else, and that something they receive, is not appreciated, and when something is not appreciated, it’s not loved, and when it’s not loved, well, I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this, but you Gisbo, you are not what I just spoke of.” Vadid said, his eyes watering as another proud smile erupted across his face.

  “You, Gisbo, have turned into a fine, young man,” Vadid said, wiping the corner of his eyes before continuing.

  “I still don’t know how you sit here. All I know is that if our roles had been reversed, hell, I don’t know where Thera would be right now. In my case, once the fighting was done, when my purpose became sitting between two political parties, by IAM, I never felt more dead inside. I was better suited to swinging a sword, leading a charge, than leading a land. When the battle died and there was peace, my purpose was served. I brought peace to a world corrupted by war, and believe me, the irony is not lost on me, for you, you’re going to bring war to a world corrupted, in a way, by peace, and when it is over, and when your fight is done, they will want your leadership, just as they did mine.

  Politics, an evil beyond even Drakearon in some ways, and it was standing neutral between two parties, that my frustrations grew and my patience died, and that was when I felt him, Drakearon, deep in my heart, having conversations with me just as I have with you now, due to our connection. That was why I had to leave. If I stayed, through me, Drakearon would have found a way to escape the Reath, and returned to claim Thera, and I just couldn’t allow that. I needed to leave while people still had hope in me, and in the middle of the night, without telling my wife, my daughter, my sons, no one . . . I left. It was a decision I made for Thera, not myself.” Vadid said, tears pouring down his face. He couldn’t let his mind travel to their faces now.

  “And it’s true, Gisbo. When I was Man-Phoenix, I was what the people wanted to be, but never could. I had a pure, moral compass; I was gifted beyond belief, and in all regards, a prodigy. Though you come from my blood, Gisbo, you aren’t me, and that, that is wonderful. We don’t need another me right now. We need someone flawed, damaged, unsure of themselves because, to the people of Thera, unlike me, you will not represent something above them, you will represent the best of what they can be with a little faith and a little tenacity.

  You are a good man, Gisbo Falcon, an everyday man, and because of that you can inspire the world in a way I never could! You can, you can, ugh . . .” Vadid started, he walked away, picked up the phoenix blade, then returned to stand over his grandson once again.

  “I speak better with a sword in my hand. Always have. The past, the past is done. The future is ahead, and you, my grandson, my flesh and blood, my piece of my heart, you are not only going to save this world, you’re going to change it. It’s one thing to inspire hope in people. It’s a whole other thing to get people to act upon that hope, but that’s only when you get back into the right mindset, the mindset of your fairy tales . . .

  There was a time when you were thinking mythically. You were strong when you said, how do you want your ending? You were right to believe there was a story, that your life does matter, that we are part of something big and grand, and that every story, has a destination. And then, he came. He saw your happy ending, with Kennis, and he took it away from you, and you fell away. You dealt with your pain your way . . .” Vadid said, his fist clenching tighter around the sword.

  “As you know, a battle is coming, but not the final battle, not yet. All this battle will determine is who will be left to decide the fate of Thera. After this, the world, it will be split in two, and you, you and your friends need to win, need to be one of these two sides, for if you’re not . . . hope, love, mercy, compassion, goodness, and all that’s is just and good, it all dies, and believe me, HE, above all others, knows this, and when it comes time to face the outcome of your decisions, he’ll be there, personally, to collect the cost.” Vadid said. Upon saying this, Gisbo’s neck twitched slightly. Vadid took in another breath and continued.

  “The word villain, it’s not tossed around in everyday speech, neither is archenemy. These words, it’s something saved for the stories of fiction, of something so horrible, it lives and thrives only at the peak of our imaginations, and it is only fiction that can contain such evil, but not anymore. Evil has a name Gisbo, and it is as real, as you and I. Not a dark, grisly, decrepit evil either, no. I feel in most stories, evil is portrayed that way, because even the authors themselves are afraid of it, because evil, true evil, is wrapped in good. It is something bright, something captivating, even beautiful, untraceable, because the potential for it lies within all of us. Untraceable evil, yes, that is the most dangerous kind.

  “I’m sorry for rambling. Heh, you probably won’t even remember this, even after spilling my guts to you. I just, I’ve been alone for so long, Gisbo. Have thought of so many things to share with you over these years. Maybe, maybe I’m being selfish, spilling all of this more so for me, than you, maybe I just needed to get that monologue out of me. Either way, thank you, Gizzy, thank you for listening, you saint you . . .” Vadid said, as he kneeled down, and kissed Gisbo upon the forehead.

  “Just hold on. You will get through this, not because I want you to, but because you have to. There is, no one else . . . “ Vadid said, as he then turned, and looked at the Phoenix. “Ok, old friend, tap me back in, I’m ready.” Vadid said, as he sat back down, and closed his eyes, but rather than be reconnected to Gisbo, he strangely found himself seeing a triangle shaped game in his mind. Vadid stared at the game board closely and saw that two pieces had already made their move, a Goat, and a Dragon, and behind each piece, were two shrouded figures, looking at him, waiting for him to move the piece sitting in front of him, a blue carved Phoenix, but Vadid, rather than move, simply, laughed, long and hard, then eyed the two figures behind the pieces with a hot stare.

  “Games? GAMES? This is a game to you all? Oh, I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with here. My Grandson, he doesn’t play games with the likes of you two. Games have rules, and rules, have never sit well with him, and if he were here, he would look you right in the eyes, and find a dark place, in each of you, to shove this game board, and its pieces, but luckily for you, he’s not here, not yet, but let me tell you that he IS coming, and when he does . . . well, let me tell ya a little bit about my grandson . . .

  His name is Gisbo Falcon. Pretty stupid ass name isn’t it? Despite what they tell you, he’s not the greatest fighter. Not at first. He doesn’t move like he should. He’s clumsy. He’s reckless, but then, he take a few shots, and a part of him that he knows is there, but doesn’t like admitting, rises on up, knocks on his skull, and asks to come in, to take control.

  Now, he’s kicked back down this part of himself where it belongs, many times, but sometimes it's just easier for him to just let it in, and stay a while. Not because it feels wrong, but because it feels, oh, so right . . . and when he does, just like that, you and he will suddenly feel your inner devils vacating the area. Why? Because, they know what's coming next, even before you do, and what's coming next, gives even devils cause to blush . . .

  This game’s already over. Why? Because, the
re’s already a winner,” Vadid said as he rose his fist, and in one clean drop, shattered the board, its game pieces, and the vision.

  Instantly, Vadid was brought back. He smiled widely, then, continued his connection with Gisbo, molding, and shaping him into everything he had just bragged about.

  Chapter Fourteen: The Wolf of Sparta

  During my many travels within the realms of earth, Gisbo, I came upon a warrior culture of vast renown, The Spartans. They were the first culture I visited where everyone was unified under one banner, one race, one purpose. There were many aspects to this society that I chose not include within the Renegade credence. I consider all life sacred, where the Spartans saw weakness of any kind, as a means for death, rather than means for improvement.

  But, that being said, there was much I did draw, and learn from them, and the two biggest virtues, were self-denial, and simplicity. It was these virtues that I helped adapt within the Renegade philosophies, as well as many of their fighting technique. You will now live through the life of one of my honored friends from another space, another time, known as Likos. I have a feeling that walking in his steps, you will find much in common.

  Take from this life, his strengths, but also notice what I believe to be the true meaning of self-denial, and simplicity. You may see things differently, but in my eyes, I see self-denial, or put another way, selflessness, as a means to give to others your strengths, your skills, your life.

  In simplicity, I see the means to not overcomplicate things, to keep things natural. In my humble opinion and experience, it is only when things in their basest forms, are altered, and forced to change do things go wrong. I hope, I pray, that through this journey, you glean much, and add their wisdom, and strength, to your own!

  – Vadid the Valiant

  “Self-Denial and Simplicity. I am ready, he is ready, take him,” The woman, clad in bloodied robes said as she handed her newborn son to the soldier.

  “You honor your state and country. Self-Denial and simplicity. You embody this well,” The soldier said. In one arm, he cradled the babe and reached out his other hand. The bed-nurse handed him the bottle of aged, dry wine, the divining rod between weakness and strength, or, in the ways of the Spartan warrior, life or death.

  The soldier poured the wine over the babe, it screamed, and writhed, and wriggled in displeasure, squeezing its little fists tightly together.

  “Weak. Too weak for Spartan life. Put it in the basket with the rest,” The soldier ordered. The bed-nurse beside him bowed, and took the babe away. The mother did her best to hide her sorrow, and it was enough for no one but herself to take notice as the guard passed her on and moved to the next.

  The soldier knew his captain would not be happy. Already, six out of seven newborn boys were to be discarded, destined for the bottom of the cliffs, too weak for Spartan life, but now, here he was, on the last, the seventh, where the situation for him had suddenly become quite personal . . .

  “Hello, wife,” The Spartan soldier said. The woman smiled.

  “Hello, husband,” The wife said.

  “Are you ready?” The Spartan soldier asked.

  “Self-denial, and simplicity my husband. He is ready, I am ready, but, are you?” The mother asked. The Spartan paused for half a moment. He didn’t like how it felt, this sudden pause, and did his best to push down and swallow all emotion, and weakness that was creeping up his throat. It was enough for no one else, but his wife to notice, as she handed the babe to her husband, and he couldn’t help but look it in the eyes. He knew this would either be a mistake, or a triumph, when something unexpected happened. Rather than looking at closed slits, he was staring into the most beautiful, most piercing dark hazel eyes he had ever seen in one other person.

  The babe’s mother.

  “The wine,” The soldier ordered. The bed nurse beside him placed the bottle in his hand, and with much effort, the soldier, the father, poured the wine over his newborn son, starting from the head, as it rolled down its face, then his body. The soldier waited, watched, expecting to hear the babe cry, but there was nothing. No sound. Just silence, just wonderful silence. He did his best to hide the smile, creeping across his face, but failed.

  “This one, keep it with the mother. I will return for it in seven years. The blood of Sparta itself, flows in this one . . . what is his name?” The soldier asked.

  “Likos . . .” The woman said.

  “The name for wolf. A strange choice,” The soldier said.

  “For strange times,” The woman said.

  “Coddle him not. It will make him strong.” The soldier said.

  “Strong as you my husband,” The wife said.

  “No, he will be stronger,” The soldier said. “Because, he came from you,”

  “Likos! What? How!?” Leobotas asked, staring at Likos with an exasperated smile.

  “Caught it wandering around the sewers,” Likos said, holding up a live, wriggling fox by the tail as it snipped and yelped, trying to get at its capturer.

  “Are you . . .” Leobotas started.

  “Sharing? Of course, brother! They starve us to teach us strength, but I say, strength comes to those who don’t get caught . . .” Likos said. Leobotas rubbed his hands together eagerly.

  “I have no idea how the taste of fox is, but, anything, anything at all for sustenance! I . . . oh no,” Leobotas asked. Suddenly, a group of older boys made themselves known.

  “Well, now, what have we here? Planning to eat that without telling us?” Teleklos asked. Likos flashed a look of disinterest towards the older boy.

  “Yup,” Likos said, as he held the fox down, and lifted up a large stone above the creature’s head. Teleklos suddenly grabbed at Likos’s wrist, tightly.

  “I’ve never much cared for you, Likos. You don’t show your elders respect, nor take your beatings from us willingly! It is Spartan Code, Spartan tradition! And you squander it!” Teleklos said.

  “I’ll squander your mother, your sister, and your face should you not let go,” Likos said. Teleklos had heard enough. He launched Likos up onto his feet and reeled back to strike him, only to hear a horn blow from behind. The boys all turned to see one of the Captain’s of the guard approaching.

  “Hey! You there, boys, what is this commotion?” The Captain yelled, making his way over and freezing all the boys in their tracks.

  “Quick! Get rid of it! Or we’ll all get beatings!” Teleklos whispered. Likos, not ready to release the promise of food, quickly shoved the crazed, wriggling fox under his shirt, and crossed his arms, holding it in place. The other boys, older included, looked at him as if he were mad, and maybe he was.

  “Now, what seems to be the ruckus? Boys such as yourselves should be seen, not heard as you train, and,” The Captain stopped, noticing Likos. “Why is it that whenever there’s trouble, you’re never too far away, Likos?”

  “Sir, there is no trouble here, I assure you,” Likos said with a straight, unwavering face. The Captain looked him right in the eyes, and smiled.

  “Whether that was truth or not, you said it with confidence and surety. Well done, Spartan. The rest of you could learn from this one,” The captain said, turning and walking away.

  As soon as the Captain was out of view, without warning, Likos suddenly released a pent up grunt of displeasure, ripping the fox free from his undergarments, and there, within the foxes mouth, was a five inch, thick strip of his own skin.

  “Likos! By Zeus’s beard!” Leobotas yelled as Likos pulled up his shirt to reveal a portion of his stomach, eaten, and torn into by the fox’s teeth and claws.

  “You mean to say, you, you kept that straight face, to keep us all out of trouble?” Teleklos asked.

  “No, I did it to keep me and Leobotas out of trouble.” Likos said.

  “All the same, it seems even the elders can learn from the youth. Self denial, and simplicity . . . this action of yours will become a story. It embodies everything about the Spartan Way. When I tell stories of courage to th
e youth tonight, they will hear of this, along with their youth someday. You have earned my respect, Likos,” Teleklos said.

  “I had the dream again last night. Of a different life, a different time, as if, in my dreams, I live another life, a truer life than this,” Likos said as he munched on a dead rat. He tried to ignore the taste, but damp hair and hot, sun-boiled, metallic tasting blood can only be ignored for so long.

  “You’re lucky to even have rest, Spartan,” Leobotas said. “What we are doing is entirely against the rules,”

  “First off, I’m not a Spartan yet, and if you remember Ajax’s announcement that there are no rules, how can we be breaking anything?” Likos argued as he tossed the other half of the rat to his friend, a friend he had known since life itself. Leobotas took off the Rat’s head with one bite as if he were trying to pull a cork off a bottle with his teeth.

  “This tastes like shit,” Leobotas said.

  “You would know. I told you it wasn’t a good idea.” Likos said.

  “At least it was warm,” Leobotas said.

  “Remember salted pork?” Likos asked.

  “No, I don’t think I do.” Leobotas said.

  “I do, somewhat, but it’s just beyond my reach.” Likos said.

  “Quit complaining. Persian’s do that.” Leobotas said. Likos laughed.

  “Would you believe the Persians have something called “Furniture” In their dwellings?” Likos asked.

  “Furniture?” Leobotas asked, confused.

  “Yes, my father described it as something you sit your ass upon to relax within your dwelling place.” Likos said. Leobotas looked at him wide-eyed.