Renegade Rupture

by J. C. Fiske

  Renegade Rupture

  A Novel

  By J.C. Fiske

  www.JCFiske.com

  Copyright 2012 by J. C. Fiske

  Smashwords Edition

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Please do not participate in or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Cover Art: Eugenio Perez Jr.

  Cover Design: J.C. Fiske

  Editor: Cassie Robertson

  Contents

  Prologue: Midnight Meeting

  Chapter One: The Open Door

  Chapter Two: Strife Invasion

  Chapter Three: Everything Burns

  Chapter Four: The End of an Era

  Chapter Five: War is Blind

  Chapter Six: The Blond Swan

  Chapter Seven: Moonlit Flight

  Chapter Eight: Dinner and a Fight

  Chapter Nine: The Source of Ranto’s Fury

  Chapter Ten: The Water Event

  Chapter Eleven: The Problem with Fao

  Chapter Twelve: The Vile Lords

  Chapter Thirteen: The Lost Day

  Chapter Fourteen: Murder in the Night

  Chapter Fifteen: The Naforian Event

  Chapter Sixteen: Creatures of the Night

  Chapter Seventeen: Love Never Dies

  Chapter Eighteen: Not a Hero

  Chapter Nineteen: The Flarian Event

  Chapter Twenty: Long Time Coming

  Chapter Twenty One: Kimjow’s Murder Revealed

  Chapter Twenty Two: Gisbo the Gunslinger

  Chapter Twenty Three: The Soarian Event

  Chapter Twenty Four: Grayn Foxblade

  Chapter Twenty Five: The Fox of Blades

  Chapter Twenty Six: The Name in the Desert

  Chapter Twenty Seven: Vice Dastard

  Chapter Twenty Eight: A Widower’s Lament

  Chapter Twenty Nine: Let it go, Jack

  Chapter Thirty: A Lesson in Morality

  Chapter Thirty One: A Mother’s Murderer, Revealed

  Chapter Thirty Two: Vice’s Story

  Chapter Thirty Three: Father and Son

  Chapter Thirty Four: The Final Event, Battle Royal

  Chapter Thirty Five: Duel in Darkness

  Chapter Thirty Six: Code Risinyu

  Chapter Thirty Seven: Falcon’s Last Stand

  Prologue: Midnight Meeting

  “Chieftain Lamik, welcome again to my humble castle,” Warlord Karm said. “Please, have a seat.”

  Lamik did. The chair creaked under his weight.

  “Humble . . . right. The Warlord’s chambers are built farther and farther upward every time I visit. Is that . . . is that Diamond Mass plating along the walls?” Lamik asked.

  “Strictly for the way it glitters. Upon sunrise or moonrise, it looks quite beautiful,” Karm said as he picked up his prized Shih Tzu, Prince, and began to stroke him.

  “Tch,” Lamik muttered, holding back several choice words. Karm cleared his throat.

  “Let’s get right to the point. We are both busy men. Busy men with a vendetta. The date draws near. What does my brother say?” Karm asked with narrowed eyes.

  “I’ve been informed that the barrier shall drop in a few days. Your dear brother Narroway has no choice. The Elekai’ Exhibition will happen. If he refuses, the blood pact that all Chieftains sign shall kill him. His heart will rupture in his chest, and he will die where he stands. There’s no way around it. The question is, how will you handle it?” Lamik asked, leaning backward, folding his arms.

  “In the way that we agreed,” Karm said.

  “As you know, the tournament’s main purpose is to elect a new Chieftain. The winner of the tournament can take the King’s Band for himself or pass it onto one they deem worthy. After many private meetings with your brother, we’ve come to an agreement. It is done,” Lamik said.

  “King’s Band . . . a title much more formal, respectful than Chieftain,” Karm said.

  “That is why Narroway refuses to take the title with the band. I may not like him, but I respect his quiet strength and humbleness. It’s his ethics I cannot tolerate,” Lamik said.

  “The meeting then. It went according to our exact terms?” Karm asked.

  “To the letter,” Lamik said.

  “Elaborate,” Karm said.

  “As you know, the Strifes are still Renegades, equal to partake in the tournament for leadership. Naturally, the Renegades don’t want to fight against one another with us there, and vice versa. Civil wars were caused before, but there was nothing civil about them. So, the tournament, if it could be called that now, has been drastically altered. Instead of both sides fighting each other and themselves, this tournament will be an organized event, Team Renegade versus Team Strife,” Lamik said.

  “Wonderful. Simply wonderful!” Karm said.

  “Narroway, being current leader, decides the style of the tournament and what events will be included. But that is for me to handle, not you. Now, we come to your place in all of this,” Lamik said.

  “Now that I know the location of Heaven’s Shelter, what would stop me from sending in my army to decimate you all before the tournament’s end?” Karm asked. Lamik laughed.

  “Common sense would stop you. You would be a fool to try. Your men are but women in steel blouses compared to Renegades. Even if your army was at full numbers, which it isn’t, they would still be lambs to the slaughter. The Renegades may be a pain in my backside and an everlasting obsession to you, but one thing they are not is easily put down. I sent what few Strifes I could for your battle at Sandlake and, as I predicted, you failed miserably. You should remember that. If this is going to work, we all need to play our hands very carefully, and I, not you, will be in control. Understood?” Lamik asked.

  “I don’t like your tone,” Karm said.

  “Then do something about it,” Lamik said.

  Karm sat silent, gritting his teeth.

  “As I thought. I didn’t think it was possible, but you’ve become even more pathetic. Your people no longer respect you. Your two party political system has torn Oak County, the crown jewel of Vadid’s reign, apart rather than united. It is but a shadow of its former self. As you favor one side, you alienate the other. But all that can change, should you listen to me,” Lamik said.

  Karm sat silent.

  “Win or lose, the Renegades will be unpredictable. I’m not sure what will happen. Narroway may leave Heaven’s Shelter with the Renegades intact, or he will resist and a war may break out. The same goes for us. Much thought and preparation must be done. We want the King’s Band around Narroway’s skull, for ourselves. It is a symbol, a representation of a better time, and with it, we can have the control we need. We need to win the tournament by any means necessary. That is our first goal. We cannot risk a war. Should war come between the Strifes and the Renegades again, it could be the end of us both. I am not foolish enough to rule it out completely though. That is where your army comes in. While weak, it may be just enough to tip the stalemate in our favor. But that is a last resort. I will keep you posted, and you won’t even take a piss without me knowing. Understood?” Lamik asked.


  “We both know that my father wanted to disband the title of Warlord for that of a righteous King and usher in a new era of peace. And we both know he disappeared before that could happen. The King’s Band, once returned, will be given to me, this land’s rightful ruler, and you and your men will usher in an era of . . .” Karm started.

  “You? A King? The title was given to Vadid alone as the head Warlord. And you think you are worthy?” Lamik asked.

  “IT IS MY BIRTHRIGHT!” Karm screamed.

  “Power is earned, not given, and those with the power dictate history and can change it,” Lamik said. “With that, I take my leave. I honored my agreement to help you try to bring Narroway down, and you let your sick little project Narsissa leave your control. You did not come through with your side of the deal, and thus, now, you owe me. You are in my pocket, and that is where you will remain until I require you,” Lamik said as he got up and went for the door.

  “You never could have beaten him, you know. Not in this lifetime, or the next,” Karm said. Lamik paused a moment, then spun around in a rage, flipping the table up and straight into Karm, toppling the boney Warlord. Lamik pounced and pressed the table edge into Karm’s throat, his face trembling with rage, color rising up the sides of his neck and his ears.

  “Your brother-in-law will . . . ” Lamik started, then paused. Karm smiled.

  “You won’t even utter his name, will you? Coward,” Karm said.

  “Under my first decree as King, unlike you, I will execute Falcon Vadid with my own hands. Anything else to say, Warlord?” Lamik challenged.

  Karm said nothing.

  Lamik got off Karm in a huff and slammed the door hard, vibrating the Diamond Mass throughout Karm’s chambers.

  “Ill-bred ruffian . . .” Karm said as he tried to get out from under the table. He shoved with all his might upward to no avail and instead slithered out from under the table like a snake. He raised himself up to his full height, breathing heavily, and raised a shaking hand.

  Wincing and cursing, Karm quickly strode over to his nightstand drawer, and there laid a bottle of wine and an odd black contraption. He reached for the wine bottle first, hesitated, then reached for the black contraption. He held it up, placed it into one nostril while covering the other, and pushed the trigger on the device, releasing a quick burst of black powder straight into his nose. Upon impact, Karm’s eyes went wide and bloodshot and tears of peace and satisfaction poured down both of his cheeks and a giggle left his lips.

  Well done, a voice spoke. Karm turned nervously and paced over to his tall standing mirror. He gripped both sides, staring into it with deep longing. At first he noticed nothing; then, he saw it, he saw . . . him.

  “Yes, yes, my deity, my everything, my one. Everything is set in motion,” Karm said, smiling with delight.

  “And I always reward my followers. Kneel, and I shall allow you to gaze upon my features,” the man in the mirror said.

  Karm wiggled with delight and fell down upon one knee. In the mirror, he saw a figure in a black robe with white and golden designs dancing all about it, shimmering like fireflies over a midnight pond. His every footstep was soft, gentle, yet purposeful as the figure seemed to glide over and stand behind Karm’s reflection. Karm trembled with delight and excitement as he heard a clasp unfasten. Karm saw a hand drop to the figure’s side holding a mask made from ivory, black diamonds, and shimmering gold, carved in an exquisite accuracy to match the heart shaped face and jutting jaw of the man standing behind him.

  “Fall as One, to Rise as One. Die as One, to live as One. One as all, all as One . . .” the man in the mirror said. Karm lifted his head slowly, taking in the lovely designs of the meticulous robe, with dancing glyphs and symbols all about, then the long, platinum white hair with golden, shimmering highlights, and finally the face, a face viewed only by a chosen few, the face of . . .

  “. . . finish it,” the man in the mirror asked, not ordered, in a sweet tone. Karm’s eyes bulged with excitement.

  “My Lord, you’ve given me, you’ve given me the peace I’ve so desperately craved, cured me of my anxiety, my fear, with your healing light. I do not mean to question you, my Diety, but by ‘finish it,’ do you mean that, that your time draweth near? Lines have been added to the poem leading up to your return. Does it mean, does it mean we of your Holy Chosen have finally reached the final verse? Because, again, in all humbleness, I don’t consider myself worthy of saying such a . . .”

  “Finish it,” the man said softly. “I believe in you.”

  Karm’s face lit up like a child given the green-light to open presents at a birthday party. He looked into the man’s enchanting, black eyes and felt goosebumps tingle all over as he repeated the phrase and added in the final verse, the verse of the coming.

  “I am, I am speechless and so, so honored you would choose me to speak such a hallowed phrase,” Karm said, stuttering. The man bent down and put a comforting hand on his reflection’s shoulder.

  “Do not be afraid, for I am with you. Finish it, and signal the coming of everlasting peace this world so desperately needs,” the man said.

  “Fall as One, to Rise as One. Die as One, to live as One. One as all, all as One . . . for Deity Drakearon, my stars, my moon, my sun.”

  Chapter One: The Open Door

  “Mommy? Where are we going?” Gisbo asked, looking up into the hazel eyes of a woman with long, dark brown, nearly black hair.

  “Somewhere very special, honey. I’d like you to meet someone,” Nora Amari said, squeezing her son’s little hand tightly.

  “Really? Who?” Gisbo asked.

  “You’ll see when we get there,” Nora said with a warm smile.

  The pair walked farther. As they did, small flurries of snow began to speckle down from the sky and dust their trail with sparkles in the morning light. Gisbo noticed something in the snow and knelt down to inspect.

  “Hey, Mom! Mommy! Look!” Gisbo exclaimed. Nora looked down to see big, gaping paw prints imprinted on the snow.

  “Ah, tracks,” Nora said.

  “What are tracks, Mommy?” Gisbo asked.

  “Well, living things leave tracks behind as they travel to their destinations. They prove one’s existence. See, look behind us, we too have left tracks,” Gisbo’s mother said. Gisbo did, then turned back, fascinated by the paw prints in the snow.

  “So, whose tracks are these? A fox? I like foxes,” Gisbo asked. Gisbo’s mom knelt down beside her son.

  “No, dear, these tracks belong to something much bigger and much fiercer,” Nora said.

  “What?” Gisbo asked when a loud howl broke the silence of the forest. Gisbo startled and clung to his mother’s leg. Nora laughed.

  “It’s ok, honey! Easy now,” Nora said.

  “What, what was that?” Gisbo asked.

  “Look over there and see for yourself,” Gisbo’s mom said. She knelt down, cuddled him up in her arms, and pointed to a briar patch where a young, white wolf was tangled up. The wolf thrashed all about and small droplets of blood splashed upon the snow’s surface. It whined and howled and writhed desperately to free itself.

  “The poor thing’s trapped,” Nora asked. “What should we do about it?”

  “We should help it!” Gisbo said. “Come on, mommy!” Gisbo wriggled himself free from his mother and ran to the trapped wolf. Nora smiled, her chest filling with pride as she watched her son bound toward the trapped creature with a natural compassion all his own.

  “What, what is it?” Gisbo asked. Nora joined him.

  “It’s a wolf, but not like any I’ve come across. It’s the purest white I’ve ever seen, even more so than the snow,” Nora said.

  “She’s . . . she’s so pretty!” Gisbo said, dropping to his knees.

  “How do you know it’s a she?” Nora asked.

  “Um,” Gisbo stammered.

  “That right there, honey, is a boy wolf. It’s much too big to be a girl, and you see its mane? It’s bigger and fluffier than
a female’s,” Nora said.

  “Oh,” Gisbo said.

  The wolf looked up and howled again, causing Gisbo to dive for his mother. Nora wrapped him up in her arms.

  “Don’t worry, dear, he won’t hurt you as long as I’m here. Remember, Mommy’s a Naforian. Mommy can understand animals,” Nora said. “Here, take this. Cut the briars loose around the wolf’s neck and you can save him.”

  Nora handed Gisbo a small dagger. “Be careful now, it’s very sharp.”

  “Can’t you do it, mom?” Gisbo asked. “I’m, a little afraid.”

  “Then you simply must do it,” Nora said.

  “Why?” Gisbo asked.

  “Because, honey, only when you know fear, can you know bravery. Do you want to be brave like your Daddy one day, Gisbo?” Nora asked.

  “Yes!” Gisbo said.

  “Then, go for it,” Nora said. “He won’t hurt you.”

  “Ok,” Gisbo said. He walked over to the wolf slowly and bent down beside it. The wolf looked up at Gisbo with dewy, wet, hazel eyes and Gisbo froze, enchanted by them.

  “Mommy, his, his eyes, they look just like yours . . .” Gisbo said.

  “As well as your Grandfather’s and yours, Gisbo. A wolf’s eyes, as a pup, are blue, but as it matures, sees how the world truly is, they darken,” Nora said. “Go ahead, honey, you can do it.”

  The wolf trembled and breathed hoarsely as its chest rose up and down. Gisbo raised the knife and the wolf thrashed again, sensing danger, and shed more blood.

  “Tell him it’s going to be ok, Gisbo, talk to him; look him right in the eyes and tell him everything’s going to be all right. He can understand you,” Nora said.

  “I . . . ok,” Gisbo said as he leaned forward, looked the wolf in the eyes, and smiled. The wolf suddenly stopped its writhing, as if seeing something he recognized. “It’s . . . it’s ok, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to help you, ok?”

  The wolf eyed him suspiciously, but stopped thrashing. Gisbo lifted the knife slowly and began to cut the briars around the wolf’s neck, then the one around its chest and feet. Upon the third snap, the wolf bounded out of the briar patch and leapt right over Gisbo, causing him to fall back with a yell. The wolf ran up a small incline and was lost to view.