Renegade Reborn (45 page)

“And still you pace. What are you waiting for?” Purah asked.

“Laws exist within this universe, Purah. Laws that couldn’t have been discovered any other way; Laws of Gravity, Laws of Time, Laws of Space. They were here from the start. We didn’t put them there, which begs the question, who or what did, and how? We as Elekai’ users, we can bend such laws, but we cannot break them. I feel only a being of mass power, existing outside our realm, who made these laws, is allowed to enter in, and break them . . . beings, like IAM and Appoloyon . . . beings like the Man-Phoenix and the Man-Dragon. Only they, have perfect freedom, only they can see how everything flows together, and now? I have that same freedom, Purah.

I see, I see the laws. I see how they connect, and how they work, and how, oh, how beautifully they all keep the universe together . . .

Here’s how it’s going to go, Purah. Like the Man-Dragon and Man-Phoenix, I have the power to break a law, right here, right now. They are like twigs in my hand, but when I do break a law, I must offer something of equal or greater value in return, so forgive me if I’m taking my sweet time with my decision.” Rolce said, rubbing his chin as he paced.

Purah’s eyes went wide at this reveal. He searched what he could of Rolce’s feelings, or, what Rolce allowed, and saw that he wasn’t bluffing.

“And if I were you, I wouldn’t . . .” Rolce started, only to have Purah drop his barrier and fly through the air, sword pointed forward straight toward Rolce’s sternum. Purah saw the blade tip pierce him, then, go right through, along with the rest of his body as if Rolce was a mirage. When he fully passed through, Purah spun around and touched back down.

“ . . . And if you had let me finish, I was going to say that I wouldn’t bother attacking me either. Right now, I’m existing in a stasis, between Time and Space. I’m both here, and not here. It’s the only way I can break a law. I have to be standing outside it, like the creator of this world, now, be patient, as I think this through every angle. I literally have the knowledge of the cosmos flowing through my mind, and, if I’m not careful, it can overwhelm me, and I’ll become as mad as a bag of cats. So, why don’t you get comfortable as I decided how I’m going to end this fight,” Rolce said as he closed his eyes, and sat down in a legs crossed, meditative position.

Purah took a few steps back, from where he was, thrust his sword into the sand, and sat down across from him as he began to weigh what options he had. For the first time in his life, other than facing Drakearon, Purah felt totally helpless. The fight, the world, it had all come down to the decision of one, young, Sybil, a rightful amateur compared to himself, but rather than feel enraged, he felt . . . pride.

“Rolce Moordin . . . if only your father could see you now. He’d be so proud.” Purah said quietly.

“Shut up, I’m thinking, and you wouldn’t want me to do anything rash, would you?” Rolce snapped. He didn’t move, nor open his eyes when he said it.

“Be sure to include in your choice, that due to my ability, whatever you decide to do to me, the same will rebound unto you.” Purah said.

“Not if you die,” Rolce said.

“I’m suddenly reminded of a riddle. What we have here, is what happens, when the unstoppable force, meets the immovable object.” Purah said.

“I’ve heard this riddle before.” Rolce said.

“Then what’s the answer?” Purah asked.

“They surrender,” Rolce said.

“Exactly, and we both know that isn’t a possibility,” Purah said.

“I think you misinterpret the answer.” Rolce said, his eyes suddenly snapping open.

Purah’s eyebrow raised. Rolce continued.

“They don’t surrender their battle, they surrender their lives, Purah. I’ve made my decision. Way I see it, I have only one choice, and with it, ironically, we both get what we want. You want out of this world if you can’t change it, and I want out of this world if I can’t have freedom. Out of those wishes, we have only one in common. We are both ready to give up our lives, for a higher power, a higher idea.” Rolce paused, took in a deep breath, then looked into the blue eyes of Purah Brennan, and said, without a flicker of regret. “I’m going to take away your life, by offering up mine.”

“You’re not serious . . .” Purah said, suddenly, real fear across his face.

“I am.” Rolce said. Purah said nothing as a thin line of sweat dripped from the right side of his forehead. “It looks to me as if you’re terrified of something. I thought you were prepared for death? The last adventure? The great unknown?”

“If it’s a great unknown, then why do you sound so sure?” Purah asked. Rolce smiled at this.

“This may surprise you, coming from me, but, if you would ask my friends, they’d tell you that my faith in IAM, is strong, captivating even. Give me somebody’s ear, and I’ll talk philosophy and theology with them until I’m blue in the face. I’ve been called incorruptible, pure, and righteous, but, as you know, what my friend’s see, and what I’m truly like inside, are two different things.” Rolce started. He then looked up at the hole in the ceiling that Purah had made earlier. “Before we die . . . you want to know the truth, how I really feel?”

“Shoot,” Purah said.

“I’ve said all those things, not because I believe in what I say, but, because I WANT to believe. They say that having faith relieves the harshness of reality, that faith in IAM, it makes life happy, clear, and easy. Well, I’m here to say that, yes, in times where I let go, stop thinking, I do feel comfort . . . but honestly? I don’t stop thinking. I can’t stop thinking . . . about anything and everything . . . if I could, maybe, maybe I would feel more of this comfort. Is it so wrong, to sometimes, not want to be clever and just be a fool? In a perfect world, Purah, you want to know something?” Rolce started, readying himself for, most likely, the most honest, and private thing he’d ever admit.

“I’d rather live as an atheist, think like an agnostic, and . . . die a believer . . .”

Purah couldn’t help it. He smiled at this, and in turn, Rolce found himself smiling as well.

“Seems you’ve been holding onto that for quite a while. How did it feel, to finally say it?” Purah asked.

“Liberating . . . I’m ready now. I’m ready to let go, and die a believer.” Rolce said, tears streaming down his face.

“Rolce Moordin, it has been an honor. See you on the other side.” Purah said.

“Together . . .” Rolce said, when suddenly, his focus was interrupted by the sound of a small, faint, beeping. It sounded like the alarm he and Gisbo’s Breeze Harmonic gave off every morning to wake them up. It was a dreadful noise. It was the sound of reality, the sound of broken dreams . . .

Purah looked down and pulled out a Soarian pocket watch.

“Seems our time has run out. I have no choice now, Rolce. This, this is not what should have happened,” Purah said, his face solemn, in deep regret. “There is a Sybil ability, Rolce. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. The Five Forlorn Fate. As a precaution, in case things went sour, as they have, I cast it, and used this watch, as, a dam if you will, to hold the ability back, until the alarm sounded, at which time, the ability would be freed. This watch, do you recognize it? It is the same kind a hypnotist uses, and in a way, I hypnotized myself, into believing a mental wall, existed around my mind, a wall, only able to shatter, by the sound, of this old watch’s obnoxious alarm.

Faith, Rolce, how ironic. It has power. To believe in something, especially when it comes to the laws of thought, makes it real, and it was just powerful enough to hold back my ability, but now, upon hearing my alarm, the ability, like a raging river . . . it’s been freed . . .

There’s nothing you can do to stop it, but, much like your ability, for such a great power, there is always great cost, and this one, for me, will be dire.” Purah said, as suddenly, there was the sound of a sonic boom, and a flash of something ghostly, flew outward in every available direction.

“I . . . won’t . . . le . . .t . . . . . . . y . . . o . . . u . . . . . . “ Rolce stammered, suddenly realizing that every syllable seemed to take an eternity to get out, until, he realized, his mouth stopped moving altogether.

“Too late. Around you, time has slowed hundreds of steps behind a crawl. By the time you finish your sentence, and cast your Pneuma Art, I will be long gone. This battle, Rolce, I never expected it to go this way. I’m honored, proud, that I was able to fight you at 100%, for, from now on, should we ever meet again in battle, it will be more like 60 . . .

Right now, you and this city, are trapped in a Time Cage, and within this cage, I can control how time flows, but, to conjure such a life altering cage, well, that is why it’s called the Five Forlorn Fate. I need to alter my own life in return . . .

In total, a Sybil is allowed to summon five cages in a lifetime, but to do it, they need to sacrifice one of their five senses. In this case, to get the job, done, I needed three cages. One around all of you, to stop time, one around me, to maintain time, and one around Lokin Razgul, to speed up time, so he could accomplish his mission.

As I speak, three of my senses are now gone, and now, all I have, is sight, and hearing, and I will never taste, smell, or physically feel, ever again. It was functionality versus pleasure you see, and for me to continue my mission, pleasure, pleasure had to be the one to go . . .” Purah said, as he walked past Rolce, and began climbing the stairs, but then, stopped, and turned back. “I’m sorry to say, but this fight? It was only a diversion. I needed to give Lokin the time he needed to sneak in, and take the very thing that powers this city, the Sun Spire. Our city, Paradisio, it needs light! And now, the light and power that gives this city the ability to glow and float, is ours. If only, if only you saw things my way, Rolce. Thank you, for the battle of my life . . . in many, if not all ways, you were truly my equal.” Purah said, as he climbed the steps, one at a time, and not one person, was able to stop him.

Chapter Twenty Two: Vadid’s Story

“Ugh,” Gisbo said, awakening to a warm, wet doggy tongue lapping across his lips. “All right, girl, I’m up, I’m up!”

Fao did a spin and wagged her tail so fervently her whole body shook. Gisbo smiled, shaking his head.

“Even if I’m gone for an hour, you act as if you haven’t seen me for years! Wish I had your joy!” Gisbo said, leaning forward and scratching Fao behind the ears, then burying his face in her chest. “Love you girl.”

It was then he noticed the quiet. Usually his Grandfather was up before him, and Gisbo would awaken to the sound and smell of something greasy and delicious sizzling on the skillet, but this time, there was only Fao.

“You see where he went girl?” Gisbo asked. Fao barked. “Ok, then, show the way!”

Together, Gisbo and Fao climbed down the stairs with Fao in the lead. She led him through the garden, across the bridge, and up the hill where the doorway awaited. Together, they walked through and made their way into the black hallway, and toward the elevator, but before they could reach it, the elevator flashed, then opened, and Vadid the Valiant stepped out to meet them.

“It’s time,” Vadid said in an odd, no nonsense demeanor. Gisbo was taken aback by the tone.

“Time for what?” Gisbo asked.

“Follow me,” Vadid said, and together, all three mammals stepped into the elevator, and the door closed behind them.

“Master Control Room,” Vadid said. Unlike before, the elevator, instead of lurching right or left, instead, shot straight up. Gisbo looked at his Grandfather’s, normally cheery face, and for the first time, maybe it was the way the lights were hitting his face, he saw not the just over mid-life crisis age, but, an ancient, old man, and, just like that, it was gone as the elevator dinged.

Without a word, Vadid walked out of the elevator and down the black hallway toward a single white door, thrust it open, and they all shuffled inside.

“Whoa,” Gisbo muttered to break the eerily silence.

Before them, was an all-black room, save for one light source, a single, giant monitor screen, the same type that he had seen within Narsissa’s underground slave ring, only this one was easily the size of cabin wall. Wherever you stood, it was as if you were seeing it straight on, and before the monitor was a large, leather easy chair, along with buttons upon buttons popping up from a long lit, pad that hovered in the air, beneath the monitor. Vadid was now sitting in the chair, and pounding away at the buttons in a fury of clicks and clacks, that had an oddly, soothing sound to it. With every button struck, images began to appear, and flash across the screen in a series of graphs, numbers, and colors. Gisbo walked up and stood behind the chair.

“What is this thing?” Gisbo asked, standing behind Vadid.

“It’s yours now,” Vadid said, not turning around as he continued his typing.

“Mine?” Gisbo asked.

“Yes. It’s time you learn how to use, and pilot it,” Vadid said, still clacking away.

“Wait, did you say . . . pilot?” Gisbo asked as a series of numbers and colors that meant nothing to him danced before his eyes.

“That I did,” Vadid said, and with a final clack, he spun the big leather chair around to face him. He then leaned forward, put his elbows on the armrests, and formed his hands into a church steeple. “What did you think this place was? Just a simple tower?”