Renegade Reborn (53 page)

“True, but they can work together.” Ranto said.

“What do you propose?” Malik asked.

“I propose that only through order, can our potential be realized, where you believe, that only through chaos, can our potential be realized. We’re idealists. We are victims of sources beyond our control, a control, we wish to be free from. The same sort of control, lies behind these walls. What I propose, is a temporary truce, to permanently break an already broken system, forever. This city, it is symbolic, and when it breaks, so will its people. My army is so few, yet skilled, where yours, is so many, yet unskilled. I say, let us storm this place, break everything within, send a message that this world is changing, then, when nothing remains but blood, and piss, we will let nature take its course, and see, just what will reign. My order, or your chaos . . .” Ranto said.

This time, Malik extended his hand and Ranto took it.

“If what you say is true, you will stop us in the end, but if what I say is true, we will stop you. Either way, order, or chaos, cannot truly exist, while there is Oak County,” Malik said.

“Then it is settled, we will,” Ranto started, when suddenly, from over the wall, came a blown up slide, and down the slide, came men and woman clad in white robes. They stood in a line now, in front of the doorway, all brandishing picket signs with popular Drippy phrases, popping them up and down like batons in a marching band chanting,

“Violence fails, Peace prevails! Violence fails, Peace prevails!”

And like white doves on a wire, they all lined up in front of the gate, as their leader, Miss Blackbox, smiling proudly, thrust out a pale, pudgy finger and hovered it over Ranto and Malik.

“You two! We would have words with you!” Miss Blackbox said. Malik and Ranto looked at one another, then back at the woman, but did not move.

“I have now seen for myself. You come here, brandishing weapons, and I am here to tell you, and your warmongers, that you are not welcome here! Go, in the name of peace and love, be gone, and if you wish to return, return with only peace and love, in your hands! Violence solves, and accomplishes nothing!” Miss Blackbox said. Applause from her most devoted of Freeist followers cheered and clapped, then continued their chant.

Malik and Ranto did not move, only stared at the woman, who nervously, cleared her throat.

“Leave now, before, before . . .” Miss Blackbox started, when in a loud, bass drum of a voice, Ranto interupted her.

“Say that last part again,” Ranto said, a crocodile grin spreading across his face.

“Ex-excuse me?” Miss Blackbox asked.

“The last part. Say it again.” Ranto ordered.

“Um, um, violence solves, and accomplishes nothing?” Miss Blackbox asked.

Ranto, his grin now stretching from ear to ear, his brilliant white teeth flashing in the moonlight, walked toward them. Nervously, Miss Blackbox and her followers took a few steps backward until their backs were against the wall.

“STAND YOUR GROUND PEOPLE OF THERA! He cannot harm peace and love! They are higher, more powerful than anything on this planet! They will protect you! Stand strong! Only through peaceful means can peace be achieved!” Miss Blackbox shouted, raising up two empty hands. Ranto now stood over her, looking down, breathing through his nostrils like a bull, sending up plumes of steam into the cold air.

“Are you willing to put your beliefs to the test?” Ranto asked. “Say it again, that last part. I want to hear it one more time, from all of you, with passion.”

The line of white garbed peacekeepers trembled like hatching cocoons, ready to birth wings of fear, and fly away.

“NOW!” Ranto bellowed, and in unison, and in passion, they spoke, “Violence solves, and accomplishes nothing!” as they looked up into the towering man’s blue eyes, and watched as the big smile, suddenly, melted away.

“I have beliefs too. Much like yourselves, but, you see, when it comes to beliefs, there are true beliefs, and false ones. You see, I believe that violence accomplishes much. For instance, my men and I, we need to get through that door behind you, and, well, you and your fashionably attired followers, stand in our way. Now, I will try things your way. If I asked you nicely, would you let us through?” Ranto asked.

“OF COURSE NOT! STAND STRONG EVERYONE! HE CANNOT HARM PEACE AND LOVE! PEACE AND LOVE NEVER DIES!” Miss Blackbox shouted.

“Ah, I figured as much, but, you see, you and your group? You aren’t peace and love. You’re people who have put themselves on a pedestal, a pedestal, that is protected, by this door, and these walls, but now, you’re out here in the real world, beyond the safety of these walls. I tried your belief, I asked you nicely, and, well, it didn’t work. You didn’t move. I think it’s time I now try it my way, and share my belief, and that belief, is this . . . I believe that where peace and love fail, violence prevails . . . what was it that the visionary of this city once said? Vadid the Valiant? How did that line of his go? Oh, right, ‘slowly, the people are beginning to realize that although they may not believe in violence, there are certainly those that do and they are always ready to preach.’

‘Slowly’, is the key word here, and clearly, your minds were either not fast enough, or too ignorant. Me? My men? We are converts of such a line, and as for myself . . .” Ranto started as he tightened his near bowling ball sized fists, and erupted them into a slow burning, Flarian red essence, a superstitious color to begin with for the citizens of Oak County, but combined with his size, strength, and tone, several of the extremist Freeists filled their drawers as Ranto leaned in next to Miss Blackbox’s left ear, while eyeing her followers behind her, and said,

“ . . . I’ve come to preach . . .”

There were screams, loosening of bowls, spilling of blood, splattering of white cold fat, shattered marrow, and Ranto, like an artist, not wasting a bit of human resource to paint his picture, and prove his beliefs, decorated the giant, wooden doors of Oak County.

Once finished, Ranto, and his men, looked upon all he had done, and saw that it was good.

“It was only in your deaths did you finally see, that violence, doesn’t just solve a few things . . . it solves, EVERYTHING!” Ranto said, as he raised his essence charged fist, ready to give the order to attack, and charge through the open gates, when suddenly, there was a commotion, coming from the forest behind them. Together, he and Malik turned to see less than a quarter of a military force, Oak County soldiers in glistening armor, charging for both of their now combined armies flanks, making themselves known with battle cries that sounded more like whimpers in the night compared to the sound of their own army.

“Well, this is unexpected.” Ranto said, watching as the Green and Black Armies took to them surrounded and enveloped them like wolves, herding sheep.

“Lead the charge inside. I will deal with them.” Malik said, as he charged up his essence, and leapt clear over his army, and began charging through the small forces of Oak County soldiers with dual curved swords, threshing them as if they were wheat to the many cheers of his men, watching their champion, the one man who was able to channel their chaos, and point it at something worthwhile.

Ranto took a moment to marvel at his prowess, as in one hand, he brandished patience and precision, where in the other, he brandished tenacity and rage in a perfect blend of ice and fire. Ranto grinned as he noticed his heart pumped faster, knowing that soon, he would have to personally deal with him, but not yet . . .

The Strife leader now turned his attention to the doorway, where behind it, lay a squad of Oak County’s best, propping up the door with supports and elemental barriers.

With a roar, that sounded more bear-like than human, Ranto compressed his essence into his right fist, and sent a surge of Drakeness into it until it quivered and shook, like a frozen explosion in time, then, threw it forward, straight at the center crease of the gate, then, stepped back as the door vibrated, then crumbled to the ground as if it were a stained glass window, splatted in a variety of human colors donated by the Freeists who had died, standing up for what they had truly, and utterly believed in.

“Leave nothing standing! KILL THEM ALL!” Ranto screamed, as he and his green army, as well as Malik’s black army, in a cone shape, funneled in through the breached entryway of Oak County.

The War for Oak County had begun.

Chapter Twenty Six: The War for Oak County

“So, is it true? About that blue light? That Vadid’s back and he caught a whole damn city, and . . . GRAH!” Crass yelled, as he scraped out the squashed remains of a bug that collided with his right eye. Together, in a flying V-Shape, there they were, The Renegades, in cleanly pressed blue uniforms flying across the night sky, all holding hands with Jackobi at the lead in the center, channeling his power of flight to his comrades, and flying over the woods of Naforia on their way to Oak County.

“No doubt about it! He’s back! He flew up there like a blue comet, WOOSH!” Grandfield said, swinging his weight forward in a punch to describe the speed at the far side of the V causing everyone to lose their balance.

“GRANDFIELD! For the last time, your fat ass is hard enough to carry, even for me. Refrain from moving!” Jackobi snapped, gritting his teeth, and focusing his energies.

“Bah! You’re just jealous!” Grandfield said, swiping a big hand in the air in defiance.

“GRANDFIELD!” Jackobi snapped again.

“Ok! Sorry! Jeesh!” Grandfield said. ”Just trying to relieve some tension is all. Rolce, is it really as bad as you say it is?”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Rolce said, doing his best to hide the worry in his voice.

“You’re from there, aren’t you? How does it feel? Saving a city that despised you?” Glinda asked.

“They didn’t so much despise me like they did with Gisbo. I’m not conflicted when there are those who need help, and from what I hear, there’s not one, but two armies there,”

“Two? Like, not including Oak County’s army?” Anaka asked, biting her lower lip.

“Including Oak County’s army, there are three.” Rolce said.

“Rolce, do you really think it was him? That it was Vadid?” Anaka asked. Rolce looked up at her, her hair flapping in the wind wildly.

“No, no I don’t,” Rolce said.

“Oh,” Anaka said, frowning.

“I think it was Gisbo,” Rolce revealed. To this, everyone turned their heads to look at Rolce, throwing off the alignment.

“Focus people . . .” Jackobi ordered.

“Rolce . . . that, that would be . . .” Glinda started.

“I believe him,” Rake said, surprising everyone.

“Bullshit. We all saw him a few days ago. He was no longer sucking out of the bottle. The bottle was sucking out of him! The Gisbo we knew died during the Rupture. Face the music, and . . . oh, no . . .” Crass said, his eyes growing wide.

The high walls of Oak County came into view, and with it, came smoke, and fire, rising from within the walls like a distant, blazing torch.

“We’re . . . we’re too late . . .” Rolce said, cursing silently under his breath.

“No, I still see movement, shadows, in the flames. They’ve breached the gates, but it’s not over yet! Everyone, be as still as possible. We’re going down . . .” Jackobi said, and with that, he tilted his body, slowly, into a downward arc, and the flying V of Renegades landed right in the middle of a warzone.

Thomson Ricard, along with his father, stood back to back, parrying and striking like a moving, impenetrable turtle shell, striking against the crazed men garbed in Black, and the few, but very skilled men garbed in green.

“Hold your ground! Do not let them reach the tower! HOLD! Wedge formation! Wedge formation!” Ricard screamed, as his soldiers retreated back forming a near perfect arrowhead shape with Ricard and Thomson at the point, and using the interior castle walls as a breaker and support for their left and right sides. If they were going to get into the courtyard, they’d have to go through the wedge formation, which was easier said than done.

Both Thomson and Ricard, breathing heavily, looked at the sudden halting of the enemy, deciding what their next move would be, considering anyone who rushed forward now, would be undone, and any sane combatant was not ready to throw their lives away so meaninglessly, but unfortunately for the Oak County soldiers, many of Malik’s men lack sanity, and on they came, ready to give their lives for the eternal peace they had always craved.

Father and son looked at one another, each reading the other’s thoughts. This was their last stand. Their backs were against the wall, literally, and in moments, the two armies, in their vast numbers, would swarm them, push them together, and their wedge formation would push together, then break, and implode, leaving them dead.

Thomson watched as the men in black, snarling, and guffawing like hyenas, charged at him. Everything seemed to move so slowly now as he found himself looking past them and at his home city, now covered in flames, and his thoughts wandered, as they tended to do from time to time, to the Flarian boy, the boy who was plucked up by The Renegade Warrior, the boy who had made him doubt who he was, and then, just like that, a green warrior appeared, raising up a giant, yellow lit warhammer that washed over Malik in a crushing shadow, ready to come down, and break him. He knew with his fencing sword, there was no amount of defense he could muster, and if he left his position, the wedge would fail, and if he were to die, he would not die running from his post. No. Death was no longer coming. It was here. He had to focus on something, anything besides his ruined home, and the snarling soldier with the hammer coming down, and that’s when he saw it, the last thing his mortal eyes would ever look upon. There, growing not from the rocks in the wall, but through it, was something he couldn’t believe . . .