by J. C. Fiske
“Mom?” Gisbo asked.
“Yes?” Nora asked.
“Thank you . . .” Gisbo said, as he moved in and gave her another hug.
“You’ll never be alone, honey, never, because, you made me that promise, right here, so long ago . . .” Nora said. Gisbo pulled away from her.
“What promise?” Gisbo asked.
“You don’t remember? Shame on you . . . you’re just going to have to promise me again, one last time, just to be sure,” Nora said. She then grabbed both of his hands in hers, and squeezed tightly.
“Gisbo, can you promise me that no matter what, even when things seem hopeless, when things get darkest, and they will, that you’ll stand strong, plant your feet, and never, ever give up?” Nora asked. Gisbo smiled at this.
“Oh, that promise . . . you know, deep down, a part of me remembered that I think. You’re probably the reason I never backed down from a fight . . .” Gisbo said.
“We’re McCarley’s, Gisbo, promise or not, we just don’t run, or, give up. Pride, is something we’ll always struggle with, but for now, promise me, promise me again . . .” Nora said.
“I promise, Mom,” Gisbo said.
“We will see each other again,” Nora said.
“I know.” Gisbo asked. “Mom?”
“Yes?” Nora asked.
“I love you.” Gisbo said.
“I love you too, sweetie.” Nora said, as she caressed his hand. “Now, go, and for your mom, focus on the pain that bastard has caused everyone, let it fill you up, and then kick the ever living crap out of him!”
Gisbo grinned, then the ground began to shake beneath his feet and Gisbo staggered back as the ground split between he and his mother, and they found themselves on two separate islands of snow, quickly drifting apart from one another. The black void was all about them. The two stared at one another now, their hands extended out, tears falling from their faces, as they drifted away, into the darkness.
“Body . . .” Nora said, as she thrust out a fist into the air. Gisbo did the same. She then pulled it backward, and raised two fingers to her forehead. “Mind . . .” Gisbo followed in suite. Nora then lowered her fingers, formed a fist, and brought it back up, stamping it over her chest. “Heart . . .” Gisbo finished with her.
“You finally got it right . . .” Nora said, then, she was gone.
Gisbo returned in a flash of green Naforian energy, his mother’s energy, to a startled Malik.
“What, what the hell was that?!” Malik demanded.
Ignore him, Gisbo. Focus. You know who you are, now think about why you’re here, focus, do not let Mom, down! If you don’t stop him, no one else will, no one else can. He will kill everyone here, and, and he’ll do to them, ruin them, just as he did me . . . me . . . me . . . that’s all he’s been focusing on. It’s not about me, it’s about them! It’s about Thera! It’s about why I do what I do, why I wanted to be a Renegade in the first place! I hate when innocents suffer, because, I know what it’s like to suffer . . . and I, if I can help it, I won’t let him cause any more! How many? How many more people are going to suffer at the hands of Malik Strife? Say it, say with your own words . . .
“No . . . more . . .” Gisbo said, and with that, his eyes burst into fire, and the flames of the phoenix wrapped about him, and exploded outward and up, until two, beautiful, blue white bird wings, Phoenix wings, graced Gisbo’s back.
“So, you’re finally taking things seriously? Good, I . . .” Malik asked.
“RAHHHHHH!!!” Gisbo screamed, as he flew at Malik with a speed, power, and ferocity that Malik couldn’t have predicted.
Chapter Thirty: Gisbo Falcon vs. The Goat Man
Gisbo flew at Malik and connected with a fierce right hook across Malik’s chin, opening it up like a cherry tomato, and sending Malik shooting across the grounds like a stone loosed from a slingshot, and just as fast, if not faster, Gisbo pursued, screaming, embracing not only his hurt, but the hurt of others, as he caught Malik in midflight by the throat with his left hand, while Malik was able to do the same, and together they hit each other across the face, the chin, the eyes, over and over again, flying through the air, until they crashed into the north side of the wall, blew right through it, and shot out the other side.
A large oak separated the two fighters now as they went rolling, bouncing and tumbling through the forest, hitting rocks, falling trees, and scattering angry, recently awoken, squawking birds from the trees. Gisbo was the first to regain his composure, and using his energy, he spied a still tumbling Malik, pushed his Phoenix essence into the back of his heels, and used his wings to steer him as he soared at the Man-Dragon like a battering ram, digging his right shoulder into Malik’s stomach, and cutting off his air supply. Gisbo, now in control, lifted him up and up until they were beyond the tree tops, and that’s when he released his cousin, and let him have it. Using his body like a juggling ball, Gisbo swung right, then left, hitting Malik higher, and higher into the air, until they were both soaring through the clouds.
Now flying above him, and with Malik fighting for consciousness, Gisbo interlocked his hands into, and like a hammer, slammed them down into his cousin’s stomach, sending Malik flying downward, and again, Gisbo caught up with him, this time, grabbing Malik by the sides of his head, and gripping his hair like handlebars, Gisbo brought his own head down, over and over again, like a bull ram, into Malik’s forehead, and continued head butting him viciously all the way down, until they both hit the center of the courtyard with a loud CHOOM noise, spraying up dirt, and grass, as if an underground landmine just went off, but the salvo didn’t stop there, it kept going . . .
Through the haze of the dirt, the yells and screams of a mad man could be heard, and with every yell, there was a flash of blue and white, followed by explosion after explosion, as Gisbo unleashed upon Malik’s fallen body with series upon series of blows, pushing him deeper and deeper into the ground, until everyone present felt the blows connections deep in the earth, coming up through the balls of their feet, then vibrating up through their bodies.
“HOLY! LOOK AT HIM GO!” Grandfield screamed, his fists balled up, a wide grin on his face. “GET HIM GISBO!”
“What is he doing!? No strategy, no nothing! It’s . . .” Glinda started.
“They stopped fighting with their heads long ago. It is a fight made up entirely of animal instinct, of opposing forces.” Jackobi said.
“I’ve never seen anything like it . . . such, passion, such, rage, as if nothing else even matters . . . I want to be there! I want to feel what he’s feeling right now . . .“ Rake said, pure awe washed across his features.
And then they watched as another yell pierced the air, a cry of desperation, then a boom, and Gisbo was shot clean out of the hole, up into the air, and collided with the east side of the castle wall with a crash, then, fell flat on his face.
Malik was on him now, speeding into him like a runaway skeet sword with a rising knee that went right up into his sternum. Gisbo hacked out blood, but ignored the pain, and in a desperate maneuver to keep from rising up into the air, hugged Malik’s knee, then, swept his cousin’s one standing leg out from under him, felling them both to the ground. Malik then pushed out his Dragon power through his heels, just as Gisbo had done earlier, and shot them across the ground, up into an incline, their hands intertwined, as they fought and struggled for leverage, and before they knew it, they were rising back up into the sky, flying through the scraping treetops, and running into a cluster of screeching bats, bursting most of them into meat, and sinew, but before that happened, in the confusion, Gisbo managed to free one of his hands from Malik’s grasp, pluck a bat from the air, and while it was still thrashing, jammed it straight into Malik’s open mouth, and down his throat.
Beyond surprised, Malik’s eyes went wide, and he puked outright, his cheeks blowing out and filling up with stomach fluids. He was forced to let go of Gisbo, and pull the enraged bat from his mouth, which served as a plug, so he could dra
in his filled mouth, that stung with stomach acid. Once the bat was out, it spiraled downward, then, righted itself, and flew away, possibly more horrified than Malik, and that’s right when Gisbo rewarded him with a huge back fist that sent the Goat Man flying back down to the earth, landing next to the first hole he had made, as he skipped like a stone across water, until the east wall stopped him, just as it did Gisbo.
Breathing hard now, trying to catch his breath, Malik was able to rise back up to his feet, as he scanned the sky for Gisbo who didn’t bother to make himself scarce for a stealthy, counter attack. Instead, he brought the fire . . .
Malik had time to blink, before the giant, blue white fireball was upon him, but Malik was older, wiser, more experienced than his attacker. He did not panic, only acted, as he knocked the fireball aside with his Dragon energy, up and over the north side of the wall where it exploded harmlessly. His attention left Gisbo for only a moment to defend himself, but in that moment, much had happened. Now, dozens more fireballs were on the way, coming straight for him in groupings of two or three at a time. Malik did all he could to deflect and dodge most, but not all of them, as he took a shot to the right side of his body, which singed his white, bloody robe. Cursing at the pain, Malik curled both his biceps, bent into himself, powered up, and then whipped his arms wide, exploding his Dragon fire outward, catching the rest of the blasts, and canceling out the bombarding strikes.
Breathing hard, his head swimming, Malik fell to one knee, snapped his focus to the sky, and his heart skipped. Gisbo was no longer there. Malik leapt to his feet now, looking all about, trying to feel him out, and felt nothing. It was as if he had literally vanished.
“Where are you . . .” Malik muttered himself, his head snapping in all directions.
“Boo,” Gisbo whispered in Malik’s right ear. Malik spun about and was met with a flying knee right to the center of his face. The blunt force trauma caused his whole vision to go white and sent his body flying through the air again. Gisbo followed, hitting him over and over again with punishing combinations, sending him a bit further along through the air with each strike toward the west wall. Malik, seeing the wall coming, tried desperately through warped vision for any type of pattern, any opening for a counter attack, anything to regain control, but it seemed Gisbo had thought of everything, seemed to switch and fall seamlessly into a variety of styles making every hit untraceable, unpredictable.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Malik knew he had mere seconds before his head went through the wall, and in his weakened state, it could end his consciousness. To confirm his thoughts, Gisbo grabbed the sides of his head, holding him firm, ready to help along the process . . .
“NO! Not, like, this!” Malik screamed, and with a burst of his remaining power, he shot them both straight up into the air with a burst of turquoise light, so bright, those watching had to shield their eyes. Together they shot up into the air with Malik finally gaining the leverage he needed. Just inches from the wall, Malik grabbed Gisbo’s head, and with much struggle, managed to plow his face into the wall, grinding it upward.
Gisbo felt as if he had just put his face into a cheese grater. His vision turned into sparkly blue, green, and purple popping lights, blinding him, as the feeling of sharp edges and protrusions of uneven rocks, and rubble pressed into the skin of his face, until finally, he was free from the wall, only to have Malik grab him by the hair, spin about, and spike him downward.
As Gisbo fell back down toward the earth, Malik pursued, landing several solid hits to his battered face along the way, making his return trip to the ground quicker. Every hit Gisbo took felt as if his field of vision was being wiped away by a scraper, turning the top right portion of his vision, then the middle, to blackness. All he could see now was Malik, rushing toward him, hitting him, then shooting back away, only to rush forward to do it again, and again . . .
The ground was coming fast now, and Gisbo knew he had only one chance to regain consciousness . . . he couldn’t use his Phoenix power to heal himself, he needed it to maintain an equal energy wave length in order to do damage to Malik, so instead, he did the only thing possible. He called upon the Drakeness, pushed it, shot it up into his brain, and like gasoline to a fire, his mind exploded with clarity, bringing back his vision, and a renewed stamina, and at the last moment, Gisbo pushed his Phoenix energy down to slow his fall, fighting against gravity and velocity, and won. Now, rather than smash into the ground, Gisbo managed to plant one leg as it fought against gravity, and won, as Gisbo, rather than smash into the ground, managed to land on his feet, then, like a frog, jumped back up to meet the pursuing Malik with a spinning roundhouse kick.
The Goat Man’s eyes went wide in surprise, but his instinct kicked in, as he managed to duck under Gisbo’s wild kick. Gisbo’s kick however, in a windstorm of energy, blew into several onlookers, knocking them over and tumbling them about like leaves in the breeze. Gisbo cursed at the miss, and that’s when Malik followed up his dodge with a huge uppercut that sent Gisbo flying back up into the air, but this time, Malik did not pursue. The Man-Dragon fell to one knee, breathing hard, as Gisbo righted himself in the air, flapping his wings to keep himself afloat, and let his body relax as he too desperately tried to catch his breath, and let the Drakeness heal his tattered face that greatly resembled the top of a pizza with the cheese melted to one side.
“Hitting you is like hitting a belt sander . . .” Malik said, breathing hard. “We both know, it’s not going to come down to a matter of strength, or skill between us, but who can take the most punishment. What do you say we just cut to the chase?”
Gisbo sucked up his breath, cracked his neck and knuckles, then with a look in his eyes as alive as when he first began, he flew at his cousin headfirst, smiling like a maniac.
“BRING IT, BITCH!” Gisbo screamed.
Malik leapt to meet him, and the two, if they weren’t fighting with their heads before, proved how much they actually were. Now there were no counters, no dodging, no strategy. There was only straight up giving and taking punishment. The two of them, fists clenched, literally took turns striking one another’s heads and faces, and with each strike, their fists grew faster, and faster, until the speed of their fists began to rub against the friction in the air, bursting their fists into orange fire, as their faces exploded with blood, and their necks swiveled dangerously and unnaturally.
“My word . . .” Anaka said, raising a hand over her mouth.
“This is, this is . . .” Grandfield started, at a loss for words.
“How? How can they take so much pain!?” Glinda asked.
“The Drakeness is maintaining their consciousness and healing their wounds, but only to a point . . .” Jackobi said.
“To a point?” Glinda asked, turning.
“More like a limit he means. I don’t know where they’re finding the stamina for this. They should be dead, or at least brain damaged.” Rolce said, wincing with every strike.
“You worried?” Jackobi asked.
“With a head like, Gisbo’s?” Rolce asked. He then shook his head. “No way. Malik is finished . . .”
Upon Rolce’s words, the Man-Phoenix and Man-Dragon’s punches began slowing, and slowing, and as they slowed, they floated back toward the ground, their wings disintegrating into particles, melting away until they were both standing on the ground, barely standing, their arms hanging by their sides as if they weighed hundreds of pounds. Their faces, looking like hamburger meat, swollen, red, and purple, nearly unrecognizable, began hissing as steam rose from the pores, healing up cuts that would become permanent scars and serve as souvenirs for one of the most epic battles in Thera’s history.
Gisbo moved first and with his arms flailing behind him, he ran at Malik snapping his head back, then forward into a wicked head-butt, striking Malik right in his temple. Cheers erupted from behind them as Malik stumbled back, nearly losing his footing, then, shook it off, and charged right at Gisbo with a head-butt of his own, hitting Gisbo on the
bridge of his nose. Gisbo fell down to one knee, shook his head from side to side, then, pumped his leg muscles, and jumped up like a cat, hitting Malik beneath his chin with the top, thick part of his skull.
Malik fell to the ground in a roll, but refused to stay down as he rode the momentum and landed, getting up on one knee. The two stared at one another now, faces bleeding, and hissing as the Drakeness healing abilities were pushed to the limit, healing much slower than before. They had no need to speak to one another. Their eyes said it all. Together, they rose back up to their feet, their knees wobbling, shaking, threatening to buckle, but they fought it, and in unison, ran at each other, ready to pour all they were, and all they were going to be into one, final blow. Like two male rams, they flew at one another in a straight line, The Dragon on one side, the Phoenix on the other, both screaming, leaving all their pain, all their sorrow, all their grievances, on the battlefield, and then, their heads connected, forehead against forehead in two, dual, sickening strikes. The onlookers held their breath, as the two separated, stumbled about, looking like two drunks at last call. They swayed and swayed, and then, it finally happened . . .
Malik Strife fell, and Gisbo Falcon stood tall.
Cheers erupted so loud, Gisbo’s ears began to ring as he looked down at his cousin, face in the dirt, down, but still breathing, still alive. With much effort, he rose his face up. His left eye, and the corner of his mouth twitching.
“You . . . you should kill me . . .” Malik stammered, as he hacked up a mix of blood, and blackness upon the ground.
“I would, if I could . . .” Gisbo said, suddenly dropping to one knee as he threw up as well. The two stared at one another now, blood drying on the corners of their mouths, heaving, as the Drakeness worked overtime to heal them. Malik was the first to find his feet, and stand. He looked down at Gisbo, with an unsettling smile.