Renegade Rupture (40 page)

“I wish you never said that,” Shax said.

“Why?” Falcon asked.

“Because now I know for a fact that I’ll be dying, old and grey, parked next to you in this rocker . . .” Shax said.

“Again, speak for yourself, old timer,” Falcon said.

“How’s Jackobi?” Shax asked.

“Doing about as well as any boy could after watching his father die,” Falcon said.

“I never saw it coming. I had no idea; it was . . .” Shax started.

“He knew he was going to die,” Falcon said. Shax turned to him, surprised.

“What?” Shax said.

“When Foxblade walked into that arena, he knew it would be his last fight. That’s why he gave me this,” Falcon said as he pulled a letter out of his pocket and held it up. “For Jackobi’s eyes only, but I can guess what it says.”

“Why haven’t you given it to him?” Shax said.

“You know Foxblade. There’s a specific moment when I’m to give it to him. Every one of his actions is calculated, planned. Even his own death was by his choice,” Falcon said. “He had that little prick dead to rights.”

“And when’s the right moment?” Shax asked.

“When he asks for it,” Falcon said. “Foxblade gave his life for a reason. What that reason was remains to be seen, but in doing so, he saw no other option. If I can guess, it’s because he thought that the only person alive able to put down Grayn, forever, is Jackobi. As smart as you and Moordin are, when it comes to Foxblade’s foresight and ability to prepare for the worst, I doubt there’s another being on the planet with such skill, the skill needed to kill his brothers and the Fox of Blades himself, single handedly shutting down possibly a millennia of tradition and death,” Falcon said.

“I see,” Shax said.

“But even knowing that, it sure as hell doesn’t keep the hurt away,” Falcon said. “The old bastard was one of my best friends, and as we both know, at our age, friends are hard to come by.”

“I always respected you, but I never understood you like Moordin did. He has his wife now, he has Rolce under his wing. People change. Moordin knows I wasn’t responsible for what happened, but it doesn’t make dealing with it any easier. I still think I’m responsible. It’s just been . . . I’ve felt out of place since I’ve come back, a man once dead, trying to find his place among the world of the living. And well, thank you again, Falcon. You have given me something to work for, to live for, and have made me laugh. Thank you,” Shax said.

“Cheers,” Falcon said, raising up a bottle, and together they took a swig. Then, their vision went black, and Rolce’s voice was in their minds.

“Dad, Falcon, you need to come to our tree house right away!”
Rolce said in a panic.

“Whoa, calm down, son, what is it?” Shax said.

“Just come! Now!”
Rolce said, and with that, the Mind-Link was cut off. Shax and Falcon looked at each other, put out their smokeables, and were off into the night.

When Shax and Falcon appeared on the scene, they were greeted by a crowd of green uniforms surrounding their sons’ tree house. Falcon and Shax pushed their way through and toward the middle, where they found Rolce seated upon the front porch with Kennis, Chieftain Lamik, Narroway, and Sybil Honj all present. Upon climbing the stairs, Narroway stopped his heated conversation with Lamik.

“What happened here? The hell’s going on?” Falcon asked, taking in the Strifes’ grim faces and Lamik’s embarrassed face.

“Falcon,” Rolce said, walking up to him and handing him a written letter. “He left this.”

“Who left this?” Falcon asked, then noticed Kennis seated with red, wet, dewy eyes.

“Just read it,” Rolce said. Falcon did.

Dear everyone,

The fairy tale is over; I know what I am now. I know what I have to do, and only I can do it. It was fun while it lasted. The end has come, and I must go to meet it.

-
Gisbo Falcon

“What does that mean? Is he going to . . . kill himself?” Kennis asked, shaking with worry. Falcon crumpled up the letter.

“Falcon, may we talk in private?” Sybil Honj asked. He enacted the Mind-Link, so only those who needed to listen could hear.

“Falcon, it’s all coming together. The vision, what we saw. The boy is too powerful. He could destroy us all, along with himself, if we do not . . .”

“NO!” Falcon yelled, and suddenly, he was back within reality. Sybil Honj toppled to the ground from Falcon’s mental push.

“How, how did you do that? How did you,” Sybil Honj asked.

“Listen up, all of you! You call yourselves Gisbo’s friends, Gisbo’s teachers, and yet all I see is blind ignorance! Have you ever known Gisbo to have such good grammar and to write so poetically? My son is a lot of things, but he’s no poet! Would he ever give in and throw his life away? NO! Gisbo didn’t write this letter. You should all be ashamed of yourselves. My son is not weak. My son is the strongest boy I’ve ever known and I’m leaving, right now, to go and get him back. This tournament needs him,” Falcon said.

“Falcon! It’s more than that! Vice Dastard, he escaped. He was tracked here and . . .” Narroway started.

“You don’t think I could’ve piece that together myself? I know how the man works, I know how he functions, probably even better than I know myself. I’m leaving, with or without your approval,” Falcon said. “And I’m taking Jackobi with me. If anyone has any more doubts or wants to stand in my way, then step on up!”

Nobody said a word.

“That’s what I thought,” Falcon said. In a flash, he hopped atop his Talon sword and skeeted away into the night sky, leaving a heated red trail in his wake.

“He’s letting his emotions get the best of him. He’s not looking at the big picture, Narroway! We cannot deny what we saw in my chambers, we cannot deny . . .” Sybil Honj started.

“And we can’t deny what I saw either!” Rolce jumped in. “Falcon’s right! I trust Gisbo. He’s like a brother. He’s never let me down, and I’m not going to start doubting him now!”

“I don’t think we understand the true problem here, do we, Lamik?” Narroway asked. “I always knew you were cutthroat, willing to do anything to achieve your goals, no matter how many are torn asunder, but to throw criminals from Glaknabrade at us rather than your own men? It’s deplorable! It’s . . .” Narroway started.

“It’s what needs to be done to defeat you and protect this planet! I’m in the business of SAVING lives, not ending them! And while you Renegades stay lax, the world falls apart around you! The time for action is now, and under my leadership, all will be made well! Even if I have to wipe you Renegades and all your ideals away!”

“Vice Dastard was YOUR responsibility! A part of our peace treaty! I wanted him alive to give Falcon and Gisbo a sense of possible peace one day, and you let him escape! You’re a fool, always have been. Saving lives? You’d rather it be baptized in blood before you save it,” Narroway said. “All of you, get back to your rooms as I ponder our next move and how to clean up this mess you’ve made.”

Lamik gave Narroway a dirty look, and in silence, he and his men left together, leaving only those clad in blue.

“This is a nightmare,” Narroway said. “Vice Dastard running free . . .”

“Who is he?” Rolce asked.

“If Falcon was Drakearon’s right hand man, Vice Dastard was his left, and he was Falcon’s childhood friend,” Narroway said.

“But if he’s not a Renegade or a Strife, then what is he?” Rolce asked.

“Fire to a brush, water to a flame, wind to a weak structure, earth to a tomb. Some men want to change the world, some men want to understand the world, some men want to rule the world, and some want to cut it open just to watch it bleed. Vice Dastard’s power lies not in his heart or his soul, but in his mind. With enough will, he can bend the elements. In other words, he can bend all that make us human with just a thought or a whim. He didn’t earn his power, he was born with it, and believe me when I say he never took it for granted. In name he was with Drakearon, but in deed, he worked only for himself, for whatever amused him. If it wasn’t for him, Vadid never would have had a chance of sealing Drakearon in the Reath. Vice paralyzed Drakearon. Vice threw him into the Reath. Vadid, he only opened and closed the door. We know what Lamik plans, we understand his motives. We do not fear what we can understand, we fear what we can’t, and that is Vice’s true power.”

“Can Falcon beat him?” Rolce asked.

“Drakearon’s ability with a sword was renown. He traveled the world, dueling and killing all within his path, known to switch sword hands and be equally powerful. Only those that died by his sword knew the truth,” Narroway said.

“What truth?” Rolce asked.

“That Drakearon’s strong arm was not his right hand . . . but his left,” Narroway said. “Vice Dastard is Drakearon’s bastard son.”

Chapter Twenty Nine:
Let it go, Jack

Jackobi Foxblade sat alone, staring out across the surface of Falcon, Moordin’s, and now Foxblade’s secret fishing spot. Two dwarf suns were lit on thick poles, lighting the area, an area Jackobi hadn’t left in nearly two days. He stared at the beautifully crafted urn between the two light poles. It contained his father’s ashes, ashes meant to be scattered across the pond, ashes he couldn’t bring himself to be rid of.

Since his father’s death, he hadn’t cried. He felt nothing but emptiness. No feeling whatsoever. Only the image of his father’s chest blown open and Grayn Foxblade’s face kept him company.

“You’re next.” “You’re next.” “You’re next.”

“Should you really be alone at a time like this?” a familiar voice spoke from behind. Jackobi turned to see Moordin walk toward him from the forest, step into the light, and sit down beside him.

“It’s been two days, son. You really shouldn’t isolate yourself like this. It’s not good for you,” Moordin said.

“I’m used to it,” Jackobi said.

“It’s not something worth getting used to,” Moordin said.

“My father did,” Jackobi said.

“Yes . . . and no,” Moordin said. “Your father, much like you, was given too much to deal with too soon. Because of that, he grew up too quickly, never learning what it was like to feel, to want, to know purity, innocence, and treasure it. He only knew . . . how to act,” Moordin said.

Jackobi said nothing.

“Suffice it to say, if you included all aspects of a warrior, balanced up strengths and weaknesses in accordance to any and all situations, your father, he may have been the best of us,” Moordin said. “Behind me of course, but now he’s dead, isn’t he?”

Jackobi said nothing, but felt agitated by Moordin’s careless tone.

“By Grayn Foxblade, your brother in many ways . . . If his mind was twisted before, it’s downright gone now,” Moordin said.

Again, Jackobi said nothing.

“He’s powerful. Even more so than me. If Foxblade couldn’t defeat him, then you probably don’t stand a chance either,” Moordin said. Jackobi looked up at him, then back down to the ground.

“After all, you are but a Sentry. That is your sole purpose in life, correct? Duty above passion, sacrifice above want, and death over life if called upon. It must be hard to not have an original thought of your own beyond Gisbo’s safety. It must be good to have such self-control, to feel no emotion, like your father, and not face Grayn just to fulfill some pointless feeling nagging at you. Witnessing my friend’s death was hard enough. Who wants to see his son die as well? I’m glad you’re not stupid like Gisbo or Falcon. They’re fools, slaves to their emotions. Not you, not Foxblade either. I envy you, Jackobi, able to have a clear-cut mission in life. Protect Gisbo at all costs and throw your own life and feelings away. Besides, that’s what you’ve been trained to be, right? Well, that’s what your father trained you to be, and then he just up and died . . .” Moordin started. Jackobi was on his feet, and with a wild swing, knocked one of the lamps in two. The mini sun fell in the water, disengaging its light in a fierce hiss.

“HOW DARE YOU SAY SUCH THINGS! YOU WERE HIS FRIEND! YOU WERE HIS PARTNER!” Jackobi screamed.

“Yes, but that was two days ago. Not anymore. But you, you’re still the same, aren’t you?” Moordin asked. Jackobi was on Moordin in a flash, grasping his robe and pulling him to his feet, seething with anger.

“What do you want me to say?! That I’m afraid to step beyond my station? That I’m afraid to have a life of my own? That I’m a coward, and I don’t just think I can’t defeat him, I know I can’t? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?” Jackobi bellowed, breathing heavily, gnashing his teeth.

“No, not at all,” Moordin said.

“THEN WHAT!?” Jackobi asked.

“I want you to get rid of it, all your anger, all your fear. I want you to let it go. As long as it is present, it stands in your way of what you need to do,” Moordin said. Jackobi stared at him, mouth agape as he let go of Moordin with trembling hands.

“Unlike your father, you feel. I know you do. You are all that your father is and all that he could be, but your father never learned to work with his anger or his fear,” Moordin said.