by J. C. Fiske
“Purah, welcome . . .” Lamik Strife said. As soon as he said it, ten Renegades stepped from the shadows, their various colored weapons, glistening in the moonlight, not yet ignited.
“Where are they?” Purah snapped.
“Well, that’s quite a loaded question . . .” Lamik started.
“WHERE ARE THEY!?” Purah screamed. Lamik let Purah’s yell bounce around the walls and settle in his eardrums before he continued.
“Do you know how to break a man, Purah? I do. If you remember, I was in charge of interrogations during the Veil War. I know what makes a man weep, I know what makes a man laugh, and I know what can turn a brave man into a coward.
Oh, Purah, the purehearted, as they called you back then. Such a fitting title, it just echoes with naivety, and it was from such a title, that I knew right away, just how to deal with you, you, who spoke out and snubbed me at every turn. I told you, you would regret your actions. I told you wouldn’t see my vengeance until it was too late, and as you will discover, I am a man of my word.
Unlike myself, Purah. You are a man of humble, simple pleasures. You are a man who wanted a home, a wife, a child, and a nice quiet life, wanting to affect the world by writing pretty stories for a sad world, in the background, without ever wanted to step onto the stage, and yet, your wisdom, your gifts, they showed through your pages, and you were forced into a greater cause, a cause, you did not put your best foot forward in. If you had, well, things may have gone differently . . . Now, as for your question? You asked me, what happened to your family? My reply?” Lamik then paused, leaned forward in his chair and let his voice take on a dark, practiced edge.
“Why, they’re everywhere!”
Upon hearing the finished sentence, a Renegade opened up the cleansing room door. It fell open in a creaky, slow swing, and moonlight shown through the window, lighting up the entire room. A part of Purah’s mind, to this day, still sees only what his senses could handle and what it could handle that night was only the large picture, not the small details, all save one . . . the smell of his wife’s perfume, intertwined with loosed bowels, and the clumps of a little girl’s golden locks, upon the floor, and walls . . .
“You started this war, Purah, by standing up for that heathen, that blight upon the world, Falcon Vadid. Tell me, was it worth the price of your own family?” Lamik asked. He then looked up to his followers. “Men? Send this bleeding heart to whatever hell his bitch wife and child has landed in . . .”
Lamik’s sentence bounced around in Purah’s mind, taking a bit to settle, to accept, and once he did, Purah found his heavy eyes close, and when he opened them again, he found he had a stich in his side, some blood in his eye and his home was on fire, and revealed before him were ten Renegades, some butchered like meat, while others were split down the middle, from head to toe, exposing glistening lungs and organs, while others had lost their heads. It was only when the ringing in his ears began to die out that he heard the sounds of begging and pleading from below him. Purah looked down to see Lamik on his knees. He looked as if he were yelling, screaming even, as the veins in his neck were bulged and tight, but even with the ringing in his ears gone, Purah heard nothing, but silence coming from the Strife leader, looking like he was playing the most intense game of charades.
It was then that Purah’s arms began to move, seemingly of their own accord, and before he knew it, his Berserker sword was raised and flying straight toward the right side of Lamik’s head, but before it could go any further, he felt his arms lock up, and felt hands upon them. Purah looked from his left and right, to see Falcon and Moordin, holding him back. They looked to be screaming too, but he heard nothing. It was then a breeze brought the stench back to his nose, the stench of his Charley’s perfume melded with human shit, and before he could stop himself, he found himself looking into the open bathroom door again, but his brain wouldn’t let him accept what he saw, and in its place, blackness took over . . .
“Do you know what it’s like, to plan and make a choice, out of good intentions, to try and prevent evil and death, only to have it happen again and again?” Purah asked, flicking up his fishing pole, watching the ripples dance across the water of their secret fishing spot.
“You know I do,” Falcon said, turning to his friend.
“But over and over again?” Purah asked.
“Well . . .” Falcon started, but left it at that.
“IAM laughs as men make plans. Isn’t that how the saying goes?” Purah asked.
“I don’t know about laughter, but . . .” Falcon started, and then paused. “With me, I knew, deep down, the decisions that I made were wrong but I made them anyway. I pushed right on through the guilt, and embraced my anger as a catalyst. I was, I was so angry then, so frustrated, but you, unlike me, you’re a victim of circumstance, of something you couldn’t have foreseen,” Falcon said.
“But He did . . . IAM, and yet, despite my desire to make this world a better place, he let it happen . . . why?” Purah asked.
“If I knew, I’d tell ya,” Falcon said.
“Free will. It’s been talked of so much lately. It’s why we went against Drakearon’s regime in the first place. It’s why we went against the Strife’s way of absolute order, and yet, in the ashes, has it really helped? Have we really made a difference? Or have we made things worse?”
“I . . . I don’t know. Big picture? I believe we have. Thing is, we, as people, we never see the results of what we didn’t choose. Only what we did. Who knows what would have happened if we let the Strife’s go about their war on Thera?” Falcon asked.
“My wife, my child, my wolf, would still live . . .” Purah said.
“I . . .” Falcon started, but found he could speak no further.
“Free Will. The more I think about it, the more I see it as just an illusion, Falcon. There are some things that no matter what, happen. Is it because IAM wills it so? Or is IAM just an illusion as well? It is said that He is all knowing, that he knows what choice we will make before we make it, thus, by such logic, can free will even exist?” Purah asked. “Or are we just puppets in the end? Can you offer a counter argument to that?”
“In my humble opinion, I believe the created, is not meant, or able, to understand the ways of its creator, but, that being said, if you’re looking for the answers to the universe, I think you’re asking the wrong person. I barely remember to put on pants most mornings,” Falcon said. A fish nibbled at his line, but Falcon didn’t bother to set the hook.
“I see. Humor, that is your solution to your own pain,” Purah said.
“Among other things,” Falcon said, as he lit up a new smoke.
“You say you made your decisions, knowing they were wrong, and you fought the guilt with your anger. I find that curious. With myself, I’ve watched what I perceived as a good decision, for peace, for the well being of others, only to see it become the opposite. In Oak County, I watched once honorable men, take up political positions for the wellbeing of others only to become overpaid, prideful, selfish shells of their former selves. They have families of their own after all and will do, or say, whatever it takes within their parties to keep their positions.” Purah said.
“Purah . . . it, it wasn’t like you,” Falcon started, but Purah kept on.
“And to prevent a war, I left, along with the Flarians, founded Heaven’s Shelter and then, once again, politics, got in the way. I defended you, along with half of the Renegades, while the other half didn’t, and everything I ever wanted . . . Charley, my daughter . . . they were my whole world. I built my life around them, for them, from them, and in the early days, when I was but a poor, humble writer trying to make it, if it wasn’t for Charley, pushing me and encouraging me when every other voice said I couldn’t, including my own, I . . . I . . .” Purah paused, taking in a deep breath to halt his tears. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I don’t even remember, what the last thing I said to her was, or her to me . . .” Purah started. Now, tears filled his eyes. “I
still walk into my house expecting to smell her perfume, that mango and honey suckle smell, and hear her voice and the pitter patter of my daughter’s feet, coming to meet me, so happy to see her Daddy . . . I . . . I have nothing, no closure, it’s just, open memories of them, scattered in pieces about that bathroom . . . it’s just . . .”
Falcon put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, but couldn’t find any words to say in reply.
“And you . . . all of this, because of you, because, because of me defending you, and don’t you think for a moment that I blame you. I can’t blame you, because, even if we went back in time, I wouldn’t have done anything differently. It’s all my fault. I misread Lamik, only saw what he wanted me to see . . . I knew not what future my choices would bring, I . . . I . . .” Purah started.
“Nobody knows what the future brings. We make a decision and on it comes, we can’t control the end, we can only get there. We’re not Gods, Purah. These are the rules of the universe.” Falcon said.
“No, we’re not, but there was someone who tried, someone who could have prevented all of this . . . changed the rules . . .” Purah said, a blank look in his eyes.
“Don’t, Purah, don’t even . . .” Falcon started.
“Think about it? Why not? I mean, look at this world. Good and Evil? What is it really? If there is no IAM, then this world began as an accident and will end in an accident. If there’s no higher power, there’s no such thing as destiny, purpose, morals, or good and evil. They are but opinions . . . like yours, one I believe. As you said, I believe there are rules, and I believe that someone, something, higher than us all, put them there . . .
What’s to stop us from making our own rules? Our own morals? Our own good? With the powers of Phoenix and Dragon at our disposal, what’s to stop us, from changing them?” Purah asked.
“I don’t think I like where this conversation is going, you’re tired, Purah, you’ve been through much, you aren’t yourself, come on, let’s . . .” Falcon started.
“Oh? Maybe, this is the first time I am thinking clearly. Maybe this is the first time it all makes sense. Maybe, for a greater good to come about, there needs to be someone like Drakearon or Vadid with the power to make the hard decisions, to take out the weakest link, to slaughter the sheep so the wolves may feed . . . maybe, they were born with such powers for a reason?
There’s so much talk of changing the world, and yet, those men, literally, had the power to! One wanted to change Thera, and one wanted to prevent the change. I made my decision, to stand with Vadid, to preserve my current life, only to lose it.
Perhaps, if I chose to stand differently . . .” Purah started, then, stopped himself, closed his eyes, and breathed the forest air in deeply. “ . . . I’m sorry my friend. My mind got away from me. You’re right of course, you’re always right. I’m not myself right now. I just . . . Charley . . .”
Purah then broke down into tears, his face falling into his hands. Falcon wrapped his friend up in a hug.
“This pain, it is so terrible. I hope, for your sake, I hope nothing ever happens to Nora . . .” Purah said.
“Nothing ever will,” Falcon said.
“Or to your son,” Purah said.
“That on the other hand, I can’t promise,” Falcon said. They then broke free from each other and Purah looked at him oddly.
“What do you mean?” Purah asked. Falcon with a smile, reached into his pack, pulled out his wallet, and from it, he retrieved three pictures and handed them to Purah, who took them. Purah held up the first. It was a picture that showed a toddler aged Gisbo trying to drink from a cup held upside down with a frustrated look. The second showed toddler Gisbo trying to listen to music with ear buds plugged into the wrong end, and the final picture showed toddler Gisbo hovering a metal fork over a yellow, glowing, electrical generator with a gluestick shoved firmly up his nose.
“What, why do you keep these?” Purah started.
“They’re hilarious, that’s why,” Falcon said.
“But, Falcon, these are, just a little sick . . . they’re . . .” Purah paused. “Is he seriously trying to plug the wrong end of the earphones into his ear?” Purah said, a faint chuckle exiting his throat.
“That’s my boy! Believe me, Gisbo’s going places . . . probably not a library, or a school graduation, but places for sure . . .” Falcon said.
It was then Purah’s face lit up and he laughed, laughed so hard that it was infectious and Falcon joined him, but Purah’s laugh was just an echo, an echo of a man who inside, had already died.
“An exciting time, is it not? To see and test this newest generation of Renegade?” Moordin asked.
“Mm,” Purah muttered.
“I must say, I am quite interested, scientifically speaking, how essential energies, when passed down, if it becomes stronger, or waned? And how our teacher’s sacrifice with Code Risinyu, affects the offspring? Such an exciting time, such an . . .” Moordin started, and that’s when men, clad in green, entered the room, and Moordin’s face turned to that of humility. “I . . . oh, Purah, I’m so sorry, no doubt, your thoughts turn to your daughter. I’m so sorry, I was thinking out loud, I really didn’t mean . . .” Moordin started.
“It’s fine old friend, really. It is,” Purah said.
“If your daughter were here, no doubt she would be among the elite. If it’s still too soon for you to be among these Strife and test their children, I could step in for you.” Moordin offered.
“I’m fine, Moordin, really. It was my idea, after all. I know, firsthand the horrors of war and I will do anything I can to keep the peace, and to keep the peace, is to be an example of it.” Purah said, forcing a grin.
“Then, you’re a better man than I.” Moordin started.
“Greetings my friends,” A man said, walking forward, standing in glistening, golden armor.
“Sybil Honj,” Purah said. He and Moordin, out of respect, issued out the traditional Renegade greeting and he returned it.
“Let’s get this started, shall we?” Sybil Honj said. Not bothering to stop and make small talk, he walked through the mass of people and began pacing in front of the line of Renegades and Strife’s whose children waited in the adjacent room behind closed doors.
“I’ll be honest. I’m finding it, difficult, to keep this smile off my face, fellow Renegades and guests, and I find it equally difficult to withhold my excitement, so, let’s get right to it, shall we?” Sybil Honj asked as he turned about, and walked toward a pool filled with bubbling, churning, black water, whose surfaced sparkled in hues of red, blue, green, and yellow.
“What you see before you, is a treasured Renegade Relic and nearly as old as the Soarian race themselves, the ones who crafted this device, a device used for measuring essence and the potential for Elekai’ output. I have no doubt that your offspring will prove, just as their parents have, to be ready and able for Elekai’ Training.
Every one of us, if you can remember, has entered this symbolic pool. It is symbolic, because it requires each element just to exist and function, much like Heaven’s Shelter itself! Earth, holds the pool in place and provides it a foundation. Water, fills the pool and surrounds the child to test every part of his body. Air, keeps the water churning and moving and lively, through pipes, and lastly, Fire, keeps the water hot, to get the child’s heart beating and to open the pores for pristine testing.
This ritual, required for every Renegade, should serve as a reminder that it takes all of us, of every race, to keep this world moving, give it purpose and protection. One by one, you will call your children in from the next room and request them to enter the pool, this pool of blackness, mixed with the dust of every elemental stone. When your child arrives, this pool will represent the unknown in the mind of your child. It will be . . . interesting, to see how each child reacts and handles the unknown.
Once the child is in the pool, the device over here, run by Narroway, Purah, Shax, and myself, will show the score of each child, calculated by adr
enaline maintenance, growth potential, and spaces within the cells themselves.
So, without further ado, let us start in random order. Purah, would you go and retrieve Niffin? She will be the first,“ Honj asked. Purah nodded, walked across the room and opened the door and called for Niffin. She slowly walked out, closed the door behind her, and then noticed all the eyes upon her. With a little shriek, her gaze found the floor, then, upon hearing the voice of her mom and dad, she looked up and found her courage.
“Niffin Roarie, if you would, please, get yourself into the pool,” Honj ordered. Niffin looked at him, then at the pool, and stood in place for a long moment. She looked up at her parents one more time, then shuffled forward slowly, and placed a toe into the pool, testing its warmth, then, sat down on the outer ridge, and slowly, placed in one leg, then the other, and slowly, waded herself into the pool until only her head showed, in silence.
“Now, keep still for me, honey, it’ll be over in a minute.” Sybil Honj said. A few moments later, there was a series of rapid fire beeps upon the monitor, then, the beeping ceased and Sybil Honj walked over, saw the results, smiled and raised his voice, looking at Niffin’s parents.
“As you know, the minimum score required, is 2500. Niffin has scored . . .” Narroway started, pausing for emphasis. “A whopping 4000! Her output for energy is amazing, but, as you know, essence is not all that is needed for battle. Still, be quite proud. Niffin, will be a Renegade. Will the parents of Niffin please come forward and retrieve her. Purah, would you please retrieve Jackobi next,”
Purah nodded, did as requested, and out came Jackobi, looking up, eyes narrowed, not in surprise, but in interest at all the people gathered and the pool, laying below him.