Renegade Reborn (33 page)

“Should have expected that, um, Dave?” Purah asked. It was then, a much slimmer Dave made his way through the crowd, hand in hand with his beautiful wife, Eleanor, whose tummy swelled with child.

“Ready, honey?” Dave asked, as they looked up at the sign. Eleanor gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Together,” Eleanor said. Hand in hand, they powered up their essence, hovered their hands over the letters and the ones with special Soarian stones mixed into the cedar wood, lit up in a brilliant, yellow fire.

“Shax Holiner, would you and Shara would please do the honors of lighting up the Naforian’s?” Purah exclaimed. Together, hand in hand, Shax and his wife did the honors, and in a flash, the Naforia letters were lit in a brilliant hue of green fire.

“Renegade Perry, if you would be so kind as to light up the letters for the Aquarians,” Purah asked. Perry came forward, alone, and ignited the letters.

“And last, but not least, I would invite my very good friend, Falcon Vadid, student of Vadid the Valiant himself, to light up the final letters for the Flarian’s,” Purah said.

“Me?” Falcon asked, feeling every eye on him.

“You,” Purah said, smiling.

“I . . .” Falcon started.

“To let him light this fire, will but curse this place to destruction! Let another, one more blameless, do it!” The voice of Lamik Strife called from afar. Several other Renegades raised their voices in agreement. Falcon lowered his head, but Purah spoke in.

“Then let who is blameless step forward.” Purah said.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Lamik replied.

“Then how did you mean it?” Purah asked.

Lamik opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came, and instead, he settled for folding his arms and letting loose a stink eye in Purah’s direction.

“As I thought. Now, Falcon Vadid, light that fire!” Purah said as if he were the host of a game show.

Falcon thought a moment and the words of Lamik bounced through his head. He knew he was cursed. Should he pass that curse on? Then, Falcon looked into the face of his wife, who smiled and nodded. That was the only assurance he needed, and with that, he raised up a ringed hand and lit up the rest of the letters in a brilliant orange-red, completing the sign.

“Welcome, everyone, to Heaven’s Shelter!” Purah exclaimed, raising his hands high, as mostly everyone, applauded and cheered.

“It’s the Great Veil war all over again, only this time, the veil is within our very home and our enemies, the Strifes, are dressed like us, know who stands with Narroway, and who stands with Lamik, where we, we’re in the dark! And because of that, they will always get the jump on us, and, and . . .” Purah stammered, fighting back tears. “ . . . Neffa, she was slain by a cheap trick and broken trust. The best I can do is send her heart back to the fire from whence it came.”

Purah looked down in his arms, where he held his great, grey Tundra Wolf, and with great emotional effort, he laid Neffa gently atop a pile of other murdered boons, and lit the fire himself. Falcon placed a hand on his right shoulder and Moordin placed a hand on his left.

“I’ll miss you girl, so, so much,” Purah said, swallowing hard and wiping his tears away with a sleeve. They stood there with a group of other Renegade victims, in silence, watching and saying goodbye to their animal friends who had given, and showed them so much.

“What’s our move?” Falcon asked to the both of them once the flames began to settle.

“We send our boons away, somewhere safe, to start with. The enemy is going for them first, to cripple our power, make us afraid, and worst of all, it’s an enemy who could be among this group, right now, listening, and to those that are, I say, let them hear this next part. We may not know of all who have turned from Narroway, we may not even know of hand count, but we do know of one for certain, and that one is all we will need.” Moordin said.

“Lamik,” Falcon said, venom to his voice.

“Exactly. We find him, we end this,” Moordin said.

“But where would he go? Where would he be? We know he’s calling the shots, but,” Falcon started. He then turned to Purah. “I know you’re grieving right now, but think, Purah. Out of all of us, you’re the only one on the council. You know him better than any of us, and you were his biggest obstacle. You were the one who revealed him, you were the one who spoke out against him. Think, Purah, put yourself in his shoes. Where would he be?” Falcon started.

Purah thought for a moment, his eyes downcast, when suddenly, they grew large, and bloodshot, and his heart seized in his chest. Without warning, Purah broke through both Falcon and Moordin, and sprinted as fast as he could, but it seemed every step he took was in slow motion. By the time Purah reached his home, his sanctuary within a sanctuary; it felt as if a lifetime had passed. He bounded up his steps to find his door was busted in. Everything from here on moved like a dream, as if he were underwater. Everything felt muffled, unreal, as he stepped over his kicked in door and walked inside to see his normally immaculate home, in total disarray, and in the center of the carnage sat a man in his swiveling desk chair, the same chair he had written his very first story in. The man had his back to him, but upon hearing him enter, he spun around, slowly, in a spine-chilling creak, and faced him, staring him down with his one visible eye.

“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 . . .”