by J. C. Fiske
“Nothing, can stop my death now . . . I can’t, I can’t undo what Drakearon did, not fully, but what I can do, is show the people of Thera, that Drakearon, is not the only light Thera has to offer . . .” Vadid said, and closing his eyes, he gripped Gisbo’s hand tightly, wincing, as the two of them burst into blue and white flames, and with his free hand, and a triumphant yell, Vadid fired a small, condensed ball of energy into the night sky, then, fell back into Gisbo’s arms, breathing hard, his face soaked in cold sweat, and together, Grandfather and Grandson watched that ball of energy rise and rise into the night sky until they could no longer see it, and only then, did the magic happen.
There was a brilliant eruption, as if the entire sky was loaded with oil droplets, and it all caught fire at once, and spread, and spread, until the entire night sky was enveloped in beautiful, blue and white, dancing flames, and for one moment, just one moment, Thera had the illusion of a blue and white sun, shining down upon them, and what a moment it was, for when it was gone, another gift was waiting for them.
“The moon, the stars . . . you brought them back,” Gisbo said.
“No, we brought them back. I can’t bring back the sun, but the moon, and the stars, well, that’s always been your thing, hasn’t it?” Vadid said, forcing a pained smile. “Look at me, boy. Just let me look at you,”
Gisbo let his Grandfather feel at his face, his tight cheek-bones, his strong jaw-line, as well as beard across his face, and all the while, Vadid smiled, so proud, so happy, so, trusting, as if he knew, all the decisions, all the sacrifices, on his account, for Gisbo, was worth it twice over.
“My whole life, my whole legacy, is yours. I am so proud of you. Just, I . . .” Vadid started when suddenly, he reached up, and grabbed at Gisbo’s necklace, and a broad smile stretched across his dying face, a smile that Gisbo knew, hurt him to maintain.
“My necklace, carved this myself, oh, so long ago from the very material that makes up that black tower behind you. This, Phoenix pendant, do you know why I carved this?” Vadid asked.
Gisbo shook his head.
“I carved this medallion, for your father, Gisbo. The moment he left us, to join with Drakearon. I carved this for him, and upon his return, I gave it to him, to symbolize that no matter your hardship, no matter your sins, there can always be a rebirth. Just like your father, and now, just like you, you both, are the living meaning of this necklace, but, may I?” Vadid asked, reaching up.
Gisbo without a word, took off his necklace, gently raised up the back of his Grandfather’s neck, and put the medallion around his neck. Vadid’s fingers closed around it tightly, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
“It’s funny, that now, here I lay, at the end of my days, with timelines, the cosmos, what could be, what couldn’t be, firing and howling in my head like it always does, and yet, above all that, I think of my wife, I think of your mother and your father. Such fun times we all had, Gisbo.” Vadid said, coughing up more blood. He then reached up and held Gisbo’s hand tightly.
“Well, guess it’s that time,” Vadid said. “Time for me to give you one final piece of advice or something, to, to . . . remember me by, yeah?”
Gisbo’s face tightened and new tears came down. Vadid wiped them with a finger, and stared at the glistening moon and stars reflective in the tear drop.
“These, this is how I know you won’t fail me. Remember your Aunt’s words, Gizzy, The day you don’t feel something, the day you don’t cry, is when you should be worried. So many people have touched your life, given you so much wisdom. You’re a lucky little bastard, you know that?”
“I know,” Gisbo said, through sniffles.
“My son Narroway, Dave, Ernie, Foxblade, Moordin, Martha, your mother, Roarie, Perry, hell, even Vice, ugh, all good people, all gone now, and now, I go to join them . . . what was it again? What was it your jackass of a father told you when he died? I don’t want what I say to be some flub of a repeat,” Vadid said.
“Something about the world needs fools, then he farted a lot,” Gisbo said, suddenly finding himself giggling, despite the tears, and Vadid giggled along as well, until they both bursts into fits of laughter crying not tears of sadness, but of joy.
“Oh, oh that turkey, look what he’s done, made me cough up more blood all over myself. Oh, that father of yours, he was a piece o’ work all right,” Vadid said taking in a shaky breath. “Ok, son, look at me, and look at me good,”
“I’m listening, Grandpa,” Gisbo said.
“You called me, Grandpa? Oh, you spoil me,” Vadid said. “You’re a good man, Gisbo Falcon. If I could sum up the greatest lesson in my life, Gisbo, it would be this, hell, if I get a gravestone out of this, write it on it, and that lesson would be, you’ll never get anywhere in life by listening to the guy next to you. Chances are, that guy’s an arsehole, and probably double dips in the chip bowl.” Vadid said. Gisbo laughed at this.
“No, you’ll never get anywhere looking at the next guy. Instead, look at the first guy, the sucker in the mirror staring back at you. Ask him what he wants, ask him what makes him happy, and no matter what he says, or how embarrassing it is, you go and do that.” Vadid said, pausing, he smiled a shaky smile. “You know, I had a dream once, when I was, but a lad. It was an embarrassing one too. Wanna hear it?”
“Of course,” Gisbo said.
“Won’t laugh?” Vadid asked.
“Never,” Gisbo said, giving Vadid’s hand a pump.
“Above all I’ve ever done, I, I wanted to be a performer,” Vadid said. Gisbo grinned at this and before he could say anything he was met with Vadid’s shaky finger in his face.
“Won’t laugh, I promise,” Gisbo said, raising a hand in pledge.
“Damn right you won’t. Now, I’m telling you this because, even now, I have this hurt in my gut, knowing, I never pursued it. Why? Mostly, because once, I told my father about it, and, well, he didn’t take too kindly to the idea of his son being in a traveling performing group.” Vadid said. “So, I never spoke of it again . . . until now, and let me tell ya, Gizzy, I wish I had pursued it. It’s the one regret I have, that I, I never got to perform on stage.”
“What kind of performance?” Gisbo asked.
“Well, acting, music, I wanted to do it all, but one night, on my many travels throughout Time and Space, I, found myself in a smokey, dungeon of a bar, and there, I came across a man, and let me tell ya, this man, he got up on stage, and he sang a song that hit my heart like a thunderbolt. Maybe it was the way he sang it, or the lyrics. This song, it had a lot of different singers, I’ve heard it before, but this man, oh, to me, he sang it like no one else. Even to this day, I don’t know who that singer was or where in time I was. I was a little too drunk. I asked around, but all I got was one name . . . they called him, ‘The King’.” Vadid said.
“The King?” Gisbo asked.
“Yes, and by my beard, Gisbo, oh, that song of his, I lived my life by it, save for the irony, that, never once, have I sang, in front of anyone . . .” Vadid said. Gisbo then pumped Vadid’s hand again.
“Sing it,” Gisbo said.
“What? No, no way . . .” Vadid said.
“You don’t want to die with regrets, right? Sing it. My Dad told me that the moment you can die without regrets, is the same moment you start to live.” Gisbo said.
“Ugh, he stole that from me,” Vadid said.
“Sing it,” Gisbo said. “Please?”
Vadid looked at Gisbo for a long moment, then, breathed out a defeated sigh.
“If you ever figure out how to use that tower, or, should Rolce figure it out, please, do me a favor, find out who sang this song, and just who this ‘King’ was, would you?” Vadid asked. Gisbo’s face brightened.
“So, you’re gonna sing it?” Gisbo asked.
“Shut up before I lose my nerve.” Vadid said, his breathing stifled, and dry now. A long minute passed, as Vadid stared up at the moon and stars, and Gisbo knew, that he wasn’t going to do it. That he h
ad had enough.
And that’s when, to Gisbo’s amazement, his Grandfather, cleared his throat, closed his eyes, transporting his mind back to that smokey dungeon of a bar, and with the last of his strength, belted out a song in a thick, beautiful, baritone and with each rising verse, tears, upon more tears rolled down his old, wrinkled face, as well as Gisbo’s younger one . . .
And now the end is near
So I face the final curtain
My friend, I'll say it clear
I'll state my case of which I'm certain
I've lived a life that's full
I've traveled each and every highway
And more, much more than this
I did it my way
Regrets, I've had a few
But then again, too few to mention
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exception
I planned each charted course
Each careful step along the byway
Oh, and more, much more than this
I did it my way
Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out
I faced it all and I stood tall
And did it my way
I've loved, I've laughed and cried
I've had my fails, my share of losing
And now as tears subside
I find it all so amusing
To think I did all that
And may I say, not in a shy way
No, oh no not me,
I did it my way
For what is a man, what has he got
If not himself, then he has not
To say the words he truly feels
And not the words he would reveal
The record shows I took the blows
And did it my way
The record shows I took the blows
And did it my way
“So song, and beer makes you cry, interesting,” Vadid said.
“I love you, Grandpa,” Gisbo said, wiping at his wet eyes. Vadid sputtered out a cough.
“I love you too, Grandson, now, when, when I go, don’t go back to the liquor. Take the pain, use it, make it yours, then process it later, the right way! You know how . . . I . . . oh, Gizzy, a hell of a time these past five years have been. Use them wisely. Help those who can’t help themselves, love those who don’t love you back, and above all else, life? Do it your way, as I, I did it my way . . . ” Vadid said, as he closed his eyes, took in one last breath of his home planet’s air, held it, then let it go.
Vadid the Valiant died that night, his dreams, fulfilled.
In Flarian custom, when one is born from the flames, they must return to them. Gisbo Falcon stood now, watching his Grandfather’s remains burn upon a humble funeral pyre with the moon, the stars, and Fao to give witness, as his ashes returned to the world that birthed him.
Gisbo stood, straight up, and watched that fire burn until it was nothing more than a smoldering, black pile, and when no light remained, he felt it again, the weight of destiny upon his shoulders, realizing that now, the fire of Vadid had passed to him, and even as he stood idly, two armies, lead by two of his greatest enemies, were converging upon Oak County, his childhood home, to destroy it.
Gisbo looked up to his moon and stars, standing alight, standing as valiantly as the man who had brought them back, and took in a deep breath of the cool night air.
“Do it my way he said . . .” Gisbo started, when suddenly, his face grimaced, grew tight, and his eyes vibrated with righteous fury as he held up his Phoenix blade, entranced by gleaming red letters that spelled out his name across the blade. He then looked down at Fao.
“Girl? I don’t know of any other way . . . I hear Malik and Ranto are in the same place right now. It really must be my birthday! Head into the tower for now, girl. I’ll be needing you soon.” Gisbo said. Fao barked in response, and Gisbo ignited his ring and sent her away to the gardens below the treehouse.
And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a golden glint within the sky, reflected off the newly revealed moonlight. It was falling, and with that, Gisbo Falcon, Man-Phoenix of Thera, took seven steps forward and ignited his birthright, surrounding himself in roaring, blue and white fire, as two energy structured Phoenix wings sprouted from his shoulder blades, and with one push of energy from his heels, he launched himself into the night sky and took flight, as if, he had done it a million times before . . .
Chapter Twenty Four: Out of the Black, into the Blue
From Rolce’s perspective, it seemed that it took an eternity to watch Purah Brennan, simply, walk up and out of the now nearly pitch black arena, injured, limping, but free as a bird, and then, all at once, as if time never slowed at all, it came back. The first thing Rolce felt, was the sudden rush beneath his feet and feeling his heart jump up into throat. Then, came the screams . . .
We’re falling, the city, it’s falling! MOVE! Rolce thought, but before he could force a step, he felt a huge body slam into him, and tackle him from behind.
“GET DOWN!” Lady Seveara said, as she now lay on top of him. A broken piece of scaffolding that had once held the Soarian Power Source, had fallen, and smashed into the place Rolce had stood just less than a moment ago.
“Lay down flat, it’s the only way now, hold onto me, Rolce,” Seveara said, as she used the Soarian device on her person to order everyone else to do the same. Amidst the screaming, the people heard the voice of their leader, and did as they were told, and prepared for impact.
Feeling powerless, and drained, Rolce found himself looking into Seveara’s eyes, if anything, just to feel the closeness of another person. If he was to die, he was not going to do it alone. He felt his hand wrap into hers, then squeeze tightly as they braced for impact, when suddenly, Rolce felt his heart lowering from his throat. No doubt about it, somehow, impossibly, they were slowing.
“How is this . . .” Seveara said, feeling the sensation too, when there was suddenly a wicked lurch that threw them all forward and tumbling about like marbles in a round jar. Emergency battery lights flickered and sparked, and then, with an ear splitting creak, the arena was bent to one side, sliding people down rows of seats, and sliding Rolce and Seveara down, along with the sand of the arena, up against the arena wall, which was now tilted at an angle, then, there was silence.
“Are you ok?” Seveara asked.
“Yeah, amazingly enough, how did we not crash? It was as if something, something . . .” Rolce started.
“Caught us?” Seveara asked, saying the word Rolce was thinking, but did not want to say out loud. The two of them locked eyes with one another, went to say something, when suddenly, someone dropped in front of them, wielding two daggers ignited in yellow essence.
“Not out of the woods yet, look around us,” Jackobi said. Only when Rolce focused his eyes did he notice. Pouring out of the doorways, the vents, and the hole in the rooftop, were rivers of flashing white eyes, and black bodies of various sized. Some chittered, some chattered, some screeched, some roared, but all of them charged like some sort of rabies infested mad zoo.
“Drakelings? Here? But, he, he promised! He PROMISED!” Seveara said, anger rising in her tone.
“Can you still fight, Rolce?” Jackobi asked, helping Rolce to his feet.
“If I’m standing, I’m fighting . . .” Rolce said.
“They’re everywhere,” Jackobi said, as screams of people being attacked, and mauled by the black creatures echoed throughout the arena.
“Surrounded on all sides.” Rolce said. “Lady Seveara, stay close and,”
“What do I look like to you? A maiden in distress? These are my people, my home. Throw me one of those daggers, Jack,”
Jackobi looked at her for a long moment, then, tossed her one of his Soarian daggers which she caught nimbly for her size, before igniting her essence in a roar of Soarian ener
gy that sounded like a lioness on the hunt, and with gritted teeth she flew up into the stands, and slashed and stabbed at everything that looked at her wrong with an incredibly long reach.
Jack quickly shoved Rolce’s Pole-arm into his stomach fiercely, causing him to emit an OOF noise.
“Snap out of it. She’s got that stairwell, you take the one to her left, I’ll handle the two to her right. Kill anything that isn’t human.” Jackobi said, and with that, he too flew away and dove into the fray, moving in a zig zag pattern, like a firefly, over both stair cases, slashing, and slicing.
By now, several other yellow lights had appeared within the stands, giving their all to defend themselves, their city, and those closest to them from the sudden black invasion, and Rolce wasn’t about to let them fight alone.
With his essence spent, Rolce leapt into the fray, spinning his big-pole arm with one arm, only to realize the weight of it, and pain of it, was too much to bear without having his essence to help. In a quick maneuver, he leaned his pole-arm at an angle against one of the benches and brought down all his weight right in the middle, snapping it in half, and picking up one side, while leaving the other behind to continue his fight, as he blocked an advance from a Drakeling with a charge from his good shoulder, saving a little red-headed girl in the process. The Drakeling, stunned, fell on its back, and Rolce brought the sharp part of his broken pole down right into the little beast’s gaping mouth, and out the back of its head. The Drakeling squealed, gurgled, then lay still, but Rolce didn’t have time to savor his kill.
At that same moment, three Drakelings of varying sizes tackled him, with the one in the lead having a crocodile like mouth. Fortunately, just as Rolce fell onto his back, he managed to catch the monster’s mouth, and it was now a fight to keep the big, strong jaws from closing around his throat, but in his moment of focus, he forgot about the other two Drakes, who repaied him in kind, one by biting him on the calf of his leg with teeth that felt serrated, while the other, bit into meat of his shoulder with rows upon rows of little teeth.