by J. C. Fiske
“Shut up would ya?” Crass ordered.
Gisbo then looked up at Rake, and sighed deeply.
“You really want me to make an ass of myself? Don’t you?” Gisbo asked, his voice trembling. “Ugh, I’m so tired of talking . . . and I’m sure everyone else is so tired of listening . . .”
“It won’t be hard. Go, say something,” Rake said as he motioned Gisbo past him. Gisbo took a few steps forward, took in another deep breath as he took in the hoard of questioning eyes, twinkling at him like a sea of stars. Gisbo swallowed hard, was about to say something when a breeze wafted across his face, carrying a smell with it, a smell, that caused all the blood to drain from his face . . .
The odor was a perfume for women constructed of juniper berries and various passion fruits, but worn by a man. As soon as the hideously sweet smell hit his nostrils, Gisbo froze where he stood, and his breath became sporadic as he was immediately taken back to the scene of Kennis’ murder.
Only one man wore such a scent.
Gisbo walked forward now, quickly, then, broke into a jog as he fought his way through the crowd, and when he cleared it, and faced the entrance to the courtyard, he couldn’t believe it . . .
Hello again, my dear, Gisbo . . . Drakearon said within his mind, standing tall, all alone, in all of his golden, glowing radiance in the entrance of the courtyard.
Gisbo’s thoughts were all over the place now, sporadic. He couldn’t have replied even if he wanted to, and he didn’t . . . all he wanted to do, was charge, and tear the head from the Man-Dragon’s shoulders, an act he knew was impossible in his current state, which frustrated him all the more as he stood, fists clenched, nearly foaming at the mouth, summoning every ounce of self-control he could muster.
I sense that from your point of view, you have received a small victory here today. How beautiful, how inspiring that the beaten dog comes back to save his tormenters. I can sense the people’s hearts. They are, truly moved, but, let me show you, just why I do, what I do, why I need to do what I do. People’s hearts, Gisbo, they are as fickle as the winds. Watch, as I undo, all that you’ve done . . . Drakearon said, his mask hiding the smile on his lips.
“A wonderful display of action from the Man-Phoenix and his Renegades on this day! The saviors of Oak County! I believe they deserve an applause, do they not?” Drakearon asked, as he clapped his hands in a slow, rising, clap, and then stopped, as he gazed out at the wide-eyed, intense stares, reveling in the attention. “You there, the older gentleman. You’ve been alive, have seen much in your days . . . tell me . . . do you know who I am?” Drakearon asked, pointing. The elderly man, slacked jawed, coughed a little to clear his throat.
“Y-yes . . .” The old man said.
“Tell me, what’s my name?” Drakearon asked.
“Dah-Drakearon, it’s Drakearon . . .” The old man said. Upon the mentioned name, there were audible gasps, and disbelief from the crowd.
“Yes, yes, it is I! The terror of Thera! The tormentor of dreams! At least, that’s what one version of history tells you, the perverted history that Vadid tried to share, but luckily, his wise son, Karm, he showed all those who would listen, the truth, did he not? Even among you, I can sense the enlightened! Those of my Holy Chosen who were promised of this day, who believed, who had faith of my return, for you, I have brought a gift! And for those who are still unconvinced, mayhap, this will change your minds. It is a gift for you as well . . .” Drakearon said.
Gisbo watched as Drakearon raised his Dragon Blade to the sky, the blade that had stolen his love’s life. It was then, sensing his discomfort, Jackobi appeared at his side, and held him back.
“Don’t even think about it. He’ll kill you. Patience.” Jack said.
“I . . .” Gisbo started, when suddenly, his whole vision went white. Something hit his face like a sludge hammer, nearly forcing him to his knees. His head pounded and sparkles in a variety of colors went up before his vision even though his eyes were closed, and then, the pain began to disperse, disappear, and that’s when he heard the screaming, but to his surprise, they weren’t screams of terror, but rather . . . of joy . . .
“It’s back! It’s back!” A woman cried, sniffling in-between her words.
“A miracle!” Another cried.
Gisbo forced his eyes open, only to have to close them again, and blink furiously, and little by little, his surroundings cleared, and he was blown away by what he saw.
The sun, the bright blue sky . . . it had returned.
The strange merger of The Reath, and Thera, had been eliminated by the man who brought them together in the first place, and all around him, people ran, danced, skipped, hugged, and cheered, but Gisbo, as well as the Renegades, couldn’t rejoice, or say a word, but Drakearon could, and did.
“Ladies and gentleman, please, I assure you, there is more blessings where that came from, but first, may I ask, who writes history? The winners of course, and I am quite sure, you have all heard of the horrors, the atrocities, that I have committed, all in the name of peace, fairness, and equality.” Drakearon said, making his way forward, walking past Gisbo to get closer to the crowd behind him.
“I will keep this brief. Here today, stood the Man-Phoenix, and the Renegades. Look at them. Admire their strength, for these few are all that are left of an elite, fighting force. Elite, because, they are special, unlike all of you . . . Why are they special you ask? Because, they were fortunate, born great for reasons unbeknownst to us. I am not here for those born special. What I am here for, is for people like you, the ones, who were not, born special, the ones, who were not lucky in the genetic lottery. It is to you all that I speak now, the lame, the poor, the deaf, the dumb, the weak! Need I go on?
All of you are stuck with a hand you are forced to play, for the rest of your days, with no chance of getting a new one. Well, I am here to tell you, that is no longer the case . . . You’ve seen what I can do with the sky, and that’s just the start! I can make the lame walk, the poor rich, the deaf hear, the dumb speak, and the weak, STRONG! Equality is preached, but rarely is it put into practice.
Look at you all compared to these Renegades. Would you call them equal to you? Of course not! The politicians, cowering up in their tower. Are they your equal? Of course not! Are either the Renegades, or your leaders, or the Man-Phoenix able to bring you up to their level? Of course not, but, there is one who can . . . and if you are interested in true, real equality and change, then all you must do, is listen to these final words, and decide for yourself what you want out of your gift of life . . .” Drakearon said, as he turned to Gisbo, then back to the people.
“It has been said, that the biggest flaw of the human race, is our desire to be Gods, without the means to do so . . . but now? Such a phrase is outdated . . . come, follow me, and I will make you Gods!”
And with that, Drakearon turned and began to walk toward Gisbo, who shook all over, his chest rising and falling like a bull ready to charge, locked behind a gate.
“Not all will follow of course, but I think you’ll be surprised at just how many do. Eventually, we will both have to discuss the result of Vadid’s death, and what it means for the two of us, but, until then, stay alive my weapon. I’ll be in need of you again soon. I know you believe me to be the greatest threat to planet Thera, but, as you will soon realize, I’m just one of many bumps in the night . . . ‘til next we meet, Man-Phoenix.” Drakearon said as he strutted past him, and toward the courtyard entrance. As soon as he passed through, the crowd began to stir.
More than half the citizens of Oak County that day, with hope in their hearts, left their possessions and homes behind to follow the angelic, golden haired man out of Oak County, and into what they believed, a new life.
Gisbo watched them all go, his heart aching at just how many people left, ready to believe in Drakearon’s lies, but could he blame them? The life of freedom was hard, filled with pain, loss, and suffering. Could he blame them for wanting to re-write the rules? A simple, �
��no” echoed through his mind . . .
“Ah, screw ‘em!” Grandfield shouted as he left the crowd and stood in front of them, raising his voice high. “My heart hurts for those who’ve left, but it also leaps at the site of all you still here! Now, I don’t know about you, but what I just witnessed here, gives me cause for some celebratin’ and by celebratin’, I mean beer! Let’s crack the kegs! Raise our mugs high! Thera doesn’t end here, it begins! And if I’m going to toss back a few drinks, I want it to be with all of you! The bravest men and women of Oak County, ready to cling to something as old, and outdated as freedom! Who’s with me?!”
There was much cheering, and hooting and hollering at this idea, as Grandfield pumped his fist to the sky, and began hooting and hollering, rallying the crowd.
“Then as your party leader, Grandfield Groggo, that’s me by the way, as your party leader, before we begin, I want to bring forward the man who made this all possible! Gisbo Falcon! Get your ass over here, and, and . . .” Grandfield started, turning this way and that, but the Man-Phoenix of Thera was nowhere to be seen.
“Gisbo? Where’d he go?”
Elsewhere, at that moment, Gisbo Falcon sat in the dark control room. Whether Vadid knew it or not, when he had died, all of his knowledge and memories, went straight to Gisbo, including, how to run the tower, or as he called it, the air ship.
He knew he shouldn’t have used the Drakeness to teleport away, but he had to. He just, had to get away from it all . . .
Slumped in the spinning chair, Gisbo stared up at the monitor, saw his friends and the people of Oak County celebrating, and heard the hoots and hollers through the speaker system. He saw kegs crack open, saw the glow of grills fire up, saw fireworks fire off, and before he turned from the screen, he saw Rolce wrap Kinny up in his arms and kiss her tenderly. He smiled at this special moment of reunion. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Rolce and Kinny, but he found he couldn’t look very long. All it did was bring thoughts of Kennis to his mind, along with a reunion, that would never come . . .
Quickly, he spun his chair around, and stared at the closed elevator, finding it far more interesting. It was then, out of reflex, as he had so many times before, Gisbo slid his hand down toward the back of his right boot, and from it, pulled up a flask, his emergency stash.
The Drakeness, it had healed his beaten body, but his heart, was another matter. It felt heavier than ever before, but fortunately, the solution was just a few swigs away . . .
With a trembling hand, he popped the top off, and was about to raise it, when he stopped himself.
“Rule one, no hard liquor, ever, ever again. Rule two, never drink alone . . .”
Vadid’s words echoed in his mind, and suddenly, the flask felt very heavy in his hand.
Is this how you’re going to honor your Grandfather’s sacrifice, Gisbo? By undoing everything he worked so hard for? Gisbo thought.
It was true. His heart felt heavier than ever before, but to fix it, he couldn’t run from it. There were other times, future times, where he knew he would, where he would fall back to the liquor, but Gisbo decided, right then and there, that this wasn’t going to be one of those times.
Vadid, even Malik, deserved better.
With a clatter, Gisbo let the flask drop from his hands, watched the reddish brown fluid spill out of it, and with his face in his hands, Gisbo fought the toughest battle of every warrior, the inner battle.
As his friends celebrated on the monitor behind him, he let the memories come, faced them, and healed his heart the right way, the only way . . .
Gisbo wept.