

### Renegade Rising  
A Novel  
By J.C. Fiske

www.JCFiske.com

ISBN eBook: 978-0-0000000-0-0

Cover Art: Eugenio Perez Jr.

Cover Design: J.C. Fiske

Head Editor: Cassie Robertson

Co-editor: Tori Kerman Lebrun

Copyright © 2011 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.

### Table of Contents

Chapter 1  
Chapter 2  
Chapter 3  
Chapter 4  
Chapter 5  
Chapter 6  
Chapter 7  
Chapter 8  
Chapter 9  
Chapter 10  
Chapter 11  
Chapter 12  
Chapter 13  
Chapter 14  
Chapter 15  
Chapter 16  
Chapter 17  
Chapter 18  
Chapter 19  
Chapter 20  
Chapter 21  
Chapter 22  
Chapter 23  
Chapter 24

_Prologue:_ The Outcast

Warlord Karm lay restless in his castle. He had the dream again; the one where warriors clad in blue trounced his soldiers and stole away his castle. The face of a certain blue clad warrior, one that he knew personally, flashed through his mind and, like a cold, steel vice, panic squeezed around the heart of the warlord.

The storm raging outside did nothing to help his insomnia; neither did the howling of his prized shih-tzu, Prince. Clad in his purple silken robe, Karm wiped cold sweat from his brow and held a hand to his face. It shook uncontrollably. The warlord, if one could truly call the pathetic man such, grabbed a bottle of wine from his nightstand drawer, uncorked it and raised the bottom up, chugging the liquid as if he were parched. Once satisfied, he wiped his lips clean and shuffled across the polished, stone floor and made his way to the tower balcony.

A sudden lightning burst exploded through the night sky. The blast was so powerful it gave the illusion of daylight. Prince ran for shelter in his purple cushioned bed, knocking over his diamond encrusted water bowl along the way. Karm smiled to himself, savoring the briefness of light. For one moment, he was allowed to gaze over the town of Oak County that lay just beyond the castle walls.

My town, the very cornerstone of my kingdom, Karm thought.

This thought alone brought a temporary calm to his shakes. The light then dissipated and with it, his sense of peace. Karm raised his bottle for another swig when a fierce rat-a-tat came from his bedroom door. After a few quivering steps, the warlord made his way to the thick, oaken doorway. He slid aside the peephole and peered into the dark hallway to be met by a set of battle-hardened eyes. The warriors in blue, they had come! Karm leapt back in fear.

"General Ricard to see you," Ricard said in an orderly voice. Karm regained his composure and faced the peephole once again, breathing hard, but relieved at the sound of his general's voice. So much so, he found his acting voice.

"I shall see none who would show me such disrespect," Karm sneered. He took another chug from his bottle, as if searching for courage at the bottom.

"My apologies . . . General Ricard to see you, my Lord," Ricard corrected, managing to keep his sarcasm at bay.

"You may enter," Karm said as he unbolted several locks upon locks and gave the door a mighty heave, followed by a grunt of displeasure. Still, the door wouldn't budge.

"My good general, I am not here to serve you. You may let yourself in," Karm said, hoping Ricard did not hear his weak arms popping. Ricard pushed the door open with ease and stepped into the room. The warlord took another quick swig from his bottle and coughed hoarsely.

"Now, what could be so important on such a dreadful night?" Karm asked, folding his arms. Ricard made a short bow and then rose.

"My Lord, my men were patrolling the castle walls when they discovered something unusual," Ricard answered.

"Unusual? Since when do I get awakened for the unusual? Well, what it is it? Come now, get to it," Karm said, fluttering his hand forward impatiently.

"Bring him in," Ricard yelled in the direction of the open door.

A soaked soldier walked through the doorway, cradling a small, unconscious boy of no more than four. The boy shivered from head to toe and a beautiful blanket of scarlet red was wrapped about him. The patrolman's eyes were solemn as he held the poor boy.

"I found him wandering out by my post, my Lord. Poor little tike passed out in my arms," the patrolman said.

"Did he say anything?" Ricard asked.

"I asked him if he knew where his mummy and daddy were. He seemed very confused by the question and then started to cry. I think the poor thing's got amnesia or something, but I checked him all over. He's got no bumps on his little head as far as I can tell. He did remember his name though," the patrolman said.

"And?" Ricard asked.

"Well, that's why we bothered you, my Lord. He said his name was . . . Gisbo," the patrolmen said. Ricard and Karm eyed each other at the name.

"Ain't it the strangest thing you ever heard? Now, who in the blue hell would name their kid after the ancient Flarian term for dog? Why, the boy would be better off bein' named Fido or Rover 'round these parts," the patrolman said, drying the boy's wet face with a handkerchief.

"Hm," Ricard muttered.

"ENOUGH!" Karm suddenly snapped, a dangerous edge to his voice.

"Uh, my Lord?" the patrolman questioned, looking up with surprise.

"HOW COULD YOU DO IT!" Karm shouted. Prince began to yap at his feet.

"Sir, I . . ." the patrolman sputtered.

"I AM NOT YOUR SIR! I AM YOUR LORD! You know the color red is outlawed! Banned! Forbidden! Do you not understand the meaning of such simple terms? And yet here you are, unable to simply wrap the boy in a more decent color before presenting him before me. THE NERVE! I demote you. I DEMOTE YOU! You will scrub the waste shoots of the castle for the rest of your days under my service, am I clear?" Karm bellowed. The patrolman scrambled for words, but none came. He looked to his general for support, but Ricard only stood stoically, looking the other way.

"I asked you, AM I CLEAR?" Karm shouted again. The patrolman nodded and lowered his head like a child caught in an act of disobedience.

"You will start immediately. Leave my presence at once!" Karm continued, pointing to the doorway. The patrolman handed the boy carefully to Ricard, then left, his head sunken.

"Such nerve," Karm muttered to himself. Ricard looked down at the boy with curious interest.

"So he's a Flarian," Ricard said aloud. Karm's eyes widened.

"That . . . is not yet proven. Only one way to be sure." Karm walked to his bookshelf and retrieved three carved figurines. They were covered in dust. The warlord quickly blew on them and held out the first figurine, made of a translucent blue stone and carved into the shape of a dolphin. Karm raised the blue sculpture and pressed it against the boy's forehead. Nothing happened.

"Not an Aquarian it seems. Here, you will need to try the next for I am Naforian," Karm said. Ricard nodded as he took a translucent green figurine, carved in the shape of a bear. He pressed it to the boy's forehead. Nothing. Both of the men locked eyes in interest.

"One more. Better be a Soarian or we are going to have quite a dilemma on our hands," Karm said as he grabbed a translucent yellow figurine in the shape of a hawk and pressed it against the boy's forehead. Again, nothing happened. Both men's eyes widened in surprise, unable to believe the possibility of a Flarian in their midst.

"He just might not have enough essence in his body to ignite the stones. I've seen it before. He's also quite young, but, my lord, is there not a fourth piece in that set?" Ricard questioned.

"Red is outlawed, Ricard. Why do you and your men have such trouble understanding? I had that silly bird destroyed ages ago," Karm stated. Ricard struggled to mute his annoyance with the Warlord.

"But, my Lord, your own father carved that phoenix! Vadid the Valiant!" Ricard started.

"OF COURSE I KNOW THAT YOU FOOL! What? You don't think that I know my own father carved that accursed thing? It was because of him and all the other damned Flarians that this world has pain and suffering! Don't ever, and I repeat, EVER, mention my father's name in my presence again," Karm said in a fresh surge of anger. He quickly took a sip of his wine and another lightning bolt crashed through the sky. Prince squeaked in his purple bed and Ricard muttered something under his breath.

"Did you say something?" Karm asked.

"No, my Lord. Now, what do you suppose we do with him? He's so very young. I believe there are several openings on the foster list. The Stanson family would certainly take him in," Ricard said. Karm paced around the room, rubbing at his small beard.

"No," Karm said aloud.

"No?" Ricard questioned.

"Certainly not! I will not endanger the lives of my people. No, this one's a special case," Karm replied.

"But, my Lord, he is just a boy. Truly he can't be . . ." Ricard started. Karm spun on him.

"A BOY! A BOY!? He's an abomination! A MONSTER! For years, your own late father helped me banish the Flarians from our countryside; years! And thanks to men like him, Oak County once again has safety and security. Your father would be ashamed to know his own son wishes to undo what he finished, to shelter the very sort of creature that killed him," Karm said, waving his finger. Prince barked in agreement. Ricard sighed.

"But what would you have me do with him? Toss him back in the woods for the wolves? They'd rip him to shreds!" Ricard argued further. Suddenly, Karm's eyes sparkled with an idea.

"Is that old storage shed still stationed outside the castle walls?" Karm asked.

"The shed still stands, but hasn't been cleaned for years. It would be unliveable. You're not seriously thinking about . . ." Ricard started.

"Just remember, my novice General, it is my job to think, not yours. As a soldier, all you must do is swing your sword and simply obey! You have it quite easy, you know," Karm said with a swig from his bottle.

Ricard said nothing.

"Yes, the shack will be his new home. Take him there now," Karm ordered. Ricard looked from the boy, to Karm, and back to the boy again.

"Any more arguing tonight, General? Or would you like to join your patrolman scrubbing the waste shoots?" Karm asked, as he picked up Prince.

"No, my Lord. As you command," Ricard said.

"Immediately," Karm ordered.

"Immediately," Ricard confirmed. He started walking with the boy in his arms, stopped and turned to look at Karm once more.

"AND, we will clean the shack on the morrow, if that's what you were wondering. It's times like these when I miss your father," Karm snapped. "Lock the door behind the boy when you put him in. You're dismissed."

Without a word, Ricard turned and closed the door behind him.

The rain, now mixed with a slight hail, seemed to pour harder on Ricard with every step. The boy shook in his arms, practically vibrating, but Ricard made no effort to hold him closer. He arrived at the shack ten minutes later with silent gratitude. He quickly unbolted the door, thrust it open with a swift kick and entered.

At first, Ricard was thankful to be out of the rain until he took smell of the place and nearly lost his supper. The stink seemed to snake its way up through his nostrils and clawed at his brain like a squealing rat. He gagged violently and threw his cloak over his nose as he began to knock shovels, rakes and buckets out of his way. Each yard instrument was caked in dried manure and within the manure, maggots jiggled.

After several long minutes, Ricard had managed to clear away a dry spot underneath the window toward the back of the shack and had arranged several old feedbags into a makeshift bed. He laid Gisbo down and wrapped him tighter in his scarlet blanket. The general then stood up and looked over the boy. A deep curiosity began to sink in as he stared at the blood red blanket, a color he had not seen in years. Where did this boy come from and if he were indeed a Flarian, then . . . Ricard's eyes suddenly widened as a terrible revelation crossed his mind. His own late father's domineering voice boomed through his head. The voice whispered how weak he was, how sentimental he was and how he would never surpass his lineage with such hindrances.

Ricard winced and closed his eyes, cursing the darkness around him. He felt sick to his stomach and it was this feeling that also set in determination, determination to prove the voice wrong. He looked down at the sleeping boy again; this time, only coldness enveloped his stare. In one snatch, the general ripped the scarlet blanket off the boy and quickly rushed to the door, slamming it behind him. Ricard began to sprint home with the red obscenity tucked under his arm and fought the temptation to look back. If he did look back, it would only prove his father was correct about him. Try as he might however, the revelation he had come across would not leave him. The thought perched upon his mind like a dark bird and squawked madly.

If the child did prove to be a Flarian, it would be his job, as Karm's General, to kill the boy . . .

Kill, kill, kill . . . the dark bird squawked.

Another massive lightning strike lit the sky and woke the sleeping boy, known only as Gisbo. He sat up, rubbed at his eyes and took in his new surroundings. At least, he tried. His eyes watered from the stinging smell within the darkness. He lifted his hand to hold his nose, only to see a large, hairy spider between his knuckles. The boy let out a small squeal of displeasure and shook it off, throwing it into the darkness where now the various rakes and shovels began to morph into imaginary monsters before him, all with claws and teeth. He began to cry softly.

"Mommy? Daddy?" Gisbo mouthed between chattering teeth and sniffles. The words were only out of instinct. No faces appeared in his mind to comfort him, only blankness. More tears poured down his face in spite of this and he found himself leaning against the back of the shed. He hugged his knees to his face to keep warm, shivering now from both cold and fear. He was about to let out a wailing cry when he suddenly heard an odd, metal grating noise, the sound of the lock being opened from the outside. A few seconds later, the shack door swung open.

Gisbo saw nothing in the doorway. He only heard heavy boots squeak across the weak floorboards. Thunder suddenly flashed outside and the man was lit up for Gisbo to see. The man was cloaked from head to toe to shelter himself from the storm, but instead of feeling fear, Gisbo felt something else. He couldn't quite explain it either. The cloaked man sat down beside him and retrieved a blanket from his pack. He threw it around Gisbo, wrapping him up tightly before hugging him close to his chest.

Gisbo breathed deeply and smelled tobacco leaves. Oddly enough, this smell comforted him and activated a memory. But before it could fully form, it fizzled out, leaving only blackness. Even though Gisbo couldn't see the memory, he still felt its effects. Like a lock giving way in a triumphant click, he finally understood the feeling that this man's presence gave off.

Peace.

But not just any peace. A peace so powerful, so comforting, it set him to sleep almost immediately.

"Sleep, young one," the cloaked man said, rocking him gently for a moment. He then laid him down onto the feedbags and looked down upon him with moist eyes.

"Until we meet again, my little warrior . . . my Gisbo . . ." the man finished. He bowed lightly and kissed the boy on the forehead. He then rose, made his way to the shack door and threw it open. Unlike Ricard, this man turned back for one last look and a single tear dripped down his face before he closed the door behind him.

Not a soul saw the man enter or leave Oak County that stormy night, but if they had, Karm's reasons for shaking would have been validated.

The man was cloaked in blue.

_Chapter 1:_ A Name for Strength

The stories of history must be told,  
of the world of Thera, a sight to behold.  
A place beyond your wildest dreams;  
where endless possibility is not as it seems.  
Where people filled with morning light  
can turn darker than a moonless night.

For power rests within their souls  
and ancient gifts will take their toll  
So strong and wise your heart must be  
to find what others refuse to see.  
Hardships a many and battles long  
So in cornered peril just sing this song.  
Destiny calls and win or lose,  
It is not how you fight but how you choose...  
\- Vadid the Valiant – Warlord

Gisbo sat at the back corner of the schoolhouse reading the familiar lines of the old poem. He had memorized the poem years ago, but he still loved to read it, especially when he was angry and especially when stuck in school. The two often came hand in hand. Hiding the book inside his boring textbook, he continued to read when . . .

Clang! Clang! Clang! The school bell sounded. A large smile stretched across his face as he shut the book with a slap upon hearing the lovely sound, the sound of freedom!

"Finally I can get away from this hellhole! Smell ya later, butt knockers! WAHOOO!" Gisbo cheered aloud.

"Check it out, dog boy even howls. Funny," said a tall, handsome boy with slicked hair. A small group of girls giggled and followed the handsome boy outside. Gisbo tightened his fist, ready to follow, until a stern voice halted him.

"Going somewhere, boy?" Mr. Foogal asked with an arrogant, prissy air to his voice. He was a portly man with thick-rimmed glasses and a circular bald spot on the top of his head. Ever since Gisbo had first mentioned his own name, Mr. Foogal had taken an immediate dislike to him and made a point to show it to the rest of the class. In his mind, anyone who would think of naming a child the Flarian term for dog must have come from an uncivilized, brutish bloodline.

Why was he required to teach such worthless potential? It was only wasted effort, effort that could instead be used to impress and train the privileged children, such as Thomson Ricard, which would then give him favor in the eyes of their parents and would hopefully lead to the increase of his social standings. Maybe then he could even have a future career in the castle with all the other politicians and bigwigs. Why, with a position like that, he would easily be able to afford the silken purple robe hanging in Mack's tailor shop, it would be . . .

His thoughts were broken as Gisbo let loose with a massive sneeze. Mr. Foogal closed his eyes and felt warm spittle wash across his face in a grisly mist.

"Oh, didn't see you standing there, Foogal," Gisbo sneered, wiping his nose with his sleeve. Gisbo then looked up at him and smiled. Seeing that smile and feeling Gisbo's gaze upon him made the bald patch atop Mr. Foogal's head instantly grow hot. The bald spot, which was dead center atop his head, was a frequent target for Gisbo, who called him "Mr. Scrotum Head" whenever given the chance.

Mr. Foogal gritted his teeth. For ten years, these back and forth insults had occurred. The boy was wild and represented a generation that Warlord Karm had finally put a stop to in his reign of power. Thanks to him, the warrior culture was now dead. The educated now controlled the muscle with political leashes. As was proper. Mr. Foogal couldn't imagine such brutish types actually making important decisions. IAM forbid! And this boy, this scoundrel, rather than focus on his studies like the rest of the children, seemed to want to bring the times back whether he knew it or not. But that wasn't the only reason Mr. Foogal despised him. As much as he hated to admit it, there was something in the boy's eyes that made him shiver. At the same time, that same something filled him with envy. Like a jealous child, he saw something in the boy that he himself as a man did not have.

Tenacity.

As much as he was respected in his fields of expertise among his peers, he always felt less than a man when standing in the presence of one of Karm's Elekai' warriors. It wasn't in the way the fighters carried themselves; no, there was something in the eyes and these eyes belonged to the boy as well. In his own way, he had tried to overcompensate for this feeling of weakness by continually mocking the boy in front of the class. What he didn't expect however, was that the boy would throw it right back, undeterred, and thus, the ten year war of words had ensued. Gisbo was sixteen now and done with schooling under him. It was about time he let him have it and end things for good.

"I really can't blame them for picking on you," Mr. Foogal said. Gisbo's eyes narrowed and looked straight at him. Again, Mr. Foogal felt the top of his head burning, just waiting for the name calling to begin.

"This going somewhere, scrotum head? Or can't I get you outta my ass for at least one summer?" Gisbo asked. The vein in Mr. Foogal's forehead pulsed dangerously. He stood in silence and waited for the last student to leave the classroom. No sooner had a girl stepped one foot upon the steps outside than Mr. Foogal slammed the door with tremendous force and rebounded upon Gisbo with ten years of pent up frustration behind him.

"Listen, you foul mouthed little crap! I passed you just so I could get you out of MY ass for a summer! Don't you forget that. Don't you ever, EVER forget that! You are the stupidest thing to ever walk through my classroom! You'll amount to nothing but a ditch digger in this life! You know that?" Mr. Foogal hissed in his ear, the vein in his forehead looking as if it would burst. Gisbo only clenched his fist.

"Oh, what's this? You wish to hit me? That's how you solve all your problems, isn't it, boy? Just punch them away? Well, go ahead! You're sixteen now, you'll go to prison, so you better it make it good. I'll take a hit just to know an animal like you will go right where he belongs, his cage!" Mr. Foogal hissed. It had finally happened. Ten years and it had finally happened. Mr. Foogal lost it. He grabbed Gisbo by both shoulders and pushed him so hard that the boy fell right off his feet. In disbelief of his own actions, Mr. Foogal first looked down at Gisbo, and then at his trembling hands.

"You . . . you like that, you little crap? Come on, get up, right here, give me a good one! Punch your way into prison!" Mr. Foogal challenged, pointing to his chin.

Gisbo coughed once, got up slowly and shook himself off. He than snapped a gaze upward and looked Mr. Foogal square in the eyes.

There it is again, that damned look! What is behind those eyes that makes me feel so, so, Mr. Foogal thought.

Inferior floated to the top of his mind.

It was then Gisbo gritted his teeth and took a bold step forward. Mr. Foogal's eyes flashed with surprise and he found himself taking a nervous step backward right into a desk. He held up his hands in defense, feeling as if this moment wasn't real, as if he were dreaming, when suddenly . . .

"GIZZZZZY!!!" a voice bellowed from behind the schoolhouse. Upon hearing the voice, a voice he hated much more than his teacher's, Gisbo growled and stormed out of the schoolhouse without a glance back. Mr. Foogal let out a huge, shaky sigh of relief and he found the courage to shout out a few last words.

"You'll get it this time! You've bit off more then you can chew now!" Mr. Foogal shrieked, laughing hysterically at his own clever pun. He mentally patted himself on the back, feeling good as he rose up to his full height and took a walk over to his desk and collapsed into a chair.

"You'll get it this time, boy. The wolves are gonna get ya!" Mr. Foogal said, smiling to himself. "And I'm not telling a soul!"

The sky was heavy and gray. It seemed to swell, looking as if it would burst into rain at the slightest prick. Even so, Gisbo marched on behind the schoolhouse, through the bushes and past the fallen pine tree. His long, dark brown, nearly black, hair fluttered out and behind his tattered bandana. He was mad and when he was mad, his hazel eyes flared open like a bull's.

I'll kill 'em this time, I'll kill 'em all . . . Gisbo thought.

He came upon the open field as quickly as every time before. An ominous feeling of déjà vu swept over him as he glanced around, spying familiar faces. These familiar faces, however, he was only used to seeing on their own in a place like this, but now, they were all here, all ten of them, and together their faces morphed into an unholy collage of misplaced superiority and cruelty.

The Black Wolf Pack, as they were properly known, was Oak County's pride and joy. They were the regional champs at a sport known as "clash," which was played throughout Thera. Their black handkerchiefs fluttered in the breeze under their stuck up noses and shark smiles.

Gisbo recalled that there was a good reason for him being here, but with so much hot rage smoldering through his mind like a lava flow he couldn't quite remember the specifics or why he had volunteered to face them all at once in the first place.

"Gizzzy!" the ringleader taunted. Gisbo cringed at the tone in which his name was being said. "What? You don't like your name, Gizzy? Well, I could call you by your last name, but mummy and daddy didn't want to share it with you . . . didn't want anything to do with you! I can understand, what with an idiot like you for a son," sneered Thomson Ricard, son of Karm's renowned General Ricard, and leader of the Black Wolf Pack.

Gisbo said nothing. He only tossed aside his school bag and began to crack his knuckles and neck.

"Wow, your big fat mouth got you into this mess and now you got nothing to say?" Thomson asked, stunned.

Gisbo surveyed his competition. He took a moment to relish in the bruises and black eyes that he himself had inflicted upon Thomson's band of savage wolves when he got them alone, all except for Thomson's face. It was as clean as a fat man's dinner plate. There wasn't even a visible scratch. Today, Gisbo meant to fix that.

"Well . . . that's a frightening look," Thomson said, as cool as a winter breeze. "I would almost think you wish to fight. Look around, dumbass! If you fight all of us, you may not walk again for some time and come to think of it . . ." Thomson mocked, cocking his head upward as if remembering something. " . . . that would make it impossible for you to try out for Elekai' training tomorrow. What a shame. That's your big dream, isn't it? Become an Elekai' warrior? Cute. Well, let me be the one to burst your bubble there, Gizzy. When it comes to Elekai', lineage is everything and you, buddy, amount to jack squat. Me, on the other hand, well, my dad's General Ricard! I practically have it in the bag! So, let me tell you something he always says, something you should remember. Some were made to do great things, like me. Others were made to serve those who do great things, like you. You can't fight destiny, Gizzy. We are who we were meant to be," Thomson sneered. On cue, his cronies cackled like a pack of hyenas, impressed by their leader's dagger-like tongue. Gisbo continued to stand in silence.

"Hmph, what a stupid mutt! He's so scared he can't even respond to me, Heff," continued Thomson. "Heff?"

Thomson turned as Heff continued picking his nose in the deepest of concentration, smiling to himself with greed. Thomson replied with a swift backhand to the side of Heff's head. Gisbo couldn't help but laugh despite the seriousness of the situation. Seeing this enraged Thomson all the more.

"You hear something funny, Gizzy? A dog like you wouldn't last in a pissing contest!" Thomson jibed with an arrogant assurance.

Gisbo took a few threatening steps forward as another voice sounded behind him.

"Hey, Thomson, I've got his bag!" yelled Rowley as he began to dump its contents onto the dusty ground. He picked up a large storybook, looked at the cover with a scoff and chucked it deep into the forest.

"Say goodbye to your wittle faiwytales, loser, it's time you got a dose of reality," snickered Rowley.

Gisbo let fly an abundance of expletives as he watched one of his most prized possessions fly into the dark abyss of trees. He then turned and stared at Rowley with two crazed eyes. Suddenly realizing he was alone with Gisbo, Rowley retreated back to the safety of the Black Wolf Pack in a nervous sweat.

"So, mutt, we gonna fight or what? If we do, I better tell you my dad's first rule of combat since you won't be hearing it tomorrow. Rule number one: Never challenge your superiors when faced with impossible odds," hissed Tomson. Gisbo snapped his focus back to Tomson and cracked an evil smile.

"That last part . . . yeah . . . not gonna work for me," Gisbo said.

In an instant, the silence broke at the sound of Gisbo's battle cry as he charged straight for the son of Ricard. Thomson raised his forearms in defense as Gisbo reared his right fist back to swing. The distance rapidly decreased between the two fighters. Please, what kind of idiot reveals his attack from such a distance? Oh yeah, Gisbo would, Thomson thought, chuckling to himself. He changed his stance once more, readying for Gisbo's attack.

Gisbo reached attack range. He swung with a fierce right hook, missing his target by half a foot as Thomson reared backward out of the way. Thomson began to lean back up with a smug look on his face when he felt the sharp pain in his gut that took his breath away. Gisbo had faked the punch and instead plunged his shoulder into Thomson's gut. The general's son gasped for air as he hit the ground, sending up a cloud of dust. Gisbo sat atop Thomson's stomach and began decorating Thomson's face with striking blows before his cohorts could join the struggle.

Gisbo fell into a crazed laughing fit as he began ripping up grass-ridden dirt clods and shoving them into Tomson's gaping mouth, giving him dirt instead of air. It was then Gisbo realized hands were upon him, big hands, and his new opponent had succeeded in lifting him off Thomson. Out of impulse, Gisbo plowed his grimy fingers into the eyes of his attacker. It was Heff, Thomson's largest crony. Gisbo had never been fond of him and vice versa. They had had many scrapes and there never was a true winner. Gisbo meant to fix that too.

The big boy screamed in pain, dropped Gisbo and clawed frantically at his throbbing eyes. Gisbo landed on his back, but did not hesitate. Upon landing, he leaned backward and kicked out with both heels into Heff's gut. Heff let go of his eyes and instead wrapped his arms around his belly before falling backward into two of his rushing comrades.

Gisbo rolled to his feet and ducked, dodging a shot from one of the Wolves who had joined the fray. While ducking, Gisbo eyed a vulnerable area and let loose with a straight right punch. The victim fell, squealing like a pig and holding his groin.

WHAM! A surprise right hook connected to the back of Gisbo's skull, sending his vision into a white flash and felling him to the ground. Gisbo's vision was blurry, but his instinct and experience in dirty schoolyard brawls served him well. He managed to get on his back and caught the boy's foot in his hand, stopping all attempts of it digging into his face, only to have another boy put him into a full nelson. Other boys quickly jumped in, claiming each of Gisbo's limbs as their own as they held him down to the ground, face up.

Gisbo struggled and thrashed with all the strength that he could muster, but it was useless. It may have taken five boys to hold him down, but regardless, he was now caught. It was then that the one boy Gisbo never wanted standing over him was back on his feet. Thomson stood, breathing hard. Blood, bruises and dirt covered his haughty features. Without saying a word, Thomson reached down and grabbed Gisbo by the throat. Thomson's mouth quivered and his eyes bulged from his skull. Gisbo glared at him, snorting like a captured animal.

"Look what you did to me! Who the hell do you think you are? I'll kill you, I'LL KILL YOU! I'll rip out your freakin' eyes, I'll . . . "

Gisbo didn't let him continue into another haughty diatribe. They may have held down all his limbs, but he still had control of his noggin and he used it by throwing his forehead straight into Thomson's nose. There was a crunch, followed by a burst of blood. The son of Ricard reeled back, let go of Gisbo and clutched his nose with both hands as blood poured from it. In a fit of rage, he dove forward in the same manner Gisbo had done earlier to him. He sat upon Gisbo's stomach and pummeled him with blow after blow, letting his own nose bleed freely over Gisbo like a runny faucet.

"Come on, trash! Let's hear your smart talk now! I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" Thomson yelled, continuing his onslaught on Gisbo's face. The rest of the group added their fair share as well as they kicked and punched at his body, chuckling with every strike. This continued for several long minutes until the boys seemed to have had their fill and Gisbo had stopped moving. Heff stood, out of breath, with a worried expression across his face.

"Man, we went too far, Thomson! What will we do if someone finds out? We could get kicked off the clash team for all of us teaming up on one kid!" Heff exclaimed. Thomson threw him a withering look.

"Please, this isn't just any kid. Everyone hates him! Hell, my dog gets better treatment then he ever will. All we have to say is that we were on our daily run through the woods and this lowlife demanded my wallet and proceeded to attack me; nobody would believe his word over mine. Especially if he's dead." Thomson replied with an assured smile. "Come on, let's get out of here, it stinks."

Thomson and the wolf pack turned to walk away. When they neared the clearing, one of the boys turned around for one last look and froze in place. Noticing this, Thomson turned as well and didn't believe what he saw.

Gisbo stood, hunched over, breathing hard. His knees wobbled like a drunk, but standing he was, with his fists still clenched. Thomson was stupefied. How could someone still be afoot after receiving such a beating?

"HEY . . . ya . . . you . . . call that a beating, ah . . . ASSFACE!?" Gisbo yelled through choked breaths. "I'm not through yet! I came here for one bastard and I got ten! I'm . . . I'm calling you out, Thomson!" Gisbo screamed, pointing a shaky finger at Thomson. For a moment, the finger scared him, but then he realized his wolf pack was with him. This brought his courage roaring back.

"Hmph . . . you had your chance and you failed. You have no fighting style and you're not worthy of any more of my time. Besides . . . I have a family to return to," Thomson said and with that, he turned and walked away in silent victory. The pack followed.

Gisbo had had insults aimed at him his whole life and brushed off most of them. He had outgrown the nights of crying himself to sleep, but there were times when these poisonous arrows were unavoidable. That last remark hurt and it hurt badly. Thomson managed to land the final knockout blow after all. All strength and spirit left Gisbo and he felt himself slump to the ground with his head between his knees. His rage quickly turned to deep sorrow as he sat in silence, watching his enemy walk away with his head held high. At this moment, the swollen clouds finally burst. It began to rain. Gisbo cursed to himself and, after a few ill attempts, managed to rise to his feet to begin the long walk home. With every step, the clouds seemed to grow blacker and the rain became an outright downpour.

Even nature has it out for me, Gisbo thought.

Worst of all, the rain was cold and it stung at his injured body. As Gisbo walked the cobble-stoned road down the main street of Oak County, he couldn't help but stare into the warm, lit windows of the homes he walked past. They seemed so cozy and glowed a comforting orange color, like a fruit. He couldn't help himself. Gisbo walked up to the nearest house and peered through the glass window. It was then he saw it, the very thing he had always longed for, but could never have. If only it was just a glass window that truly separated him from it, but it was much more complicated than that.

Gisbo saw a father and son wrestling across a carpeted floor, laughing, while a mother made a dinner that smelled so good it made Gisbo's mouth water. However, the corner of the mother's eye spotted Gisbo's head in the window. In a quickened shuffle, she made her way to the doorway and thrust it open. Gisbo tried to open his mouth to say something, but it was of no help. With a speed that didn't fit her age, she took off her shoe and threw it at Gisbo, hitting him in the side of the head.

"Get out of here, you little degenerate! Shoo before I call the guards!" the woman said before slamming the door.

"Gah! What the hell, lady? Screw you!" Gisbo yelled, rubbing his poor aching head. It felt like a pressure cooker and that lady had just rattled it with a spoon. With a huff, Gisbo shoved his hands into his pockets and stared downward the rest of the way home.

Exhausted, Gisbo finally made it through the town's gates before they closed and arrived at his small hut, tucked away in the trees right before the forest thickened. Feeling dizzy, he reached into his pocket for his key only to find it missing. Gisbo slammed his fist against the door in anguish and cursed loudly and made his way out behind the shack. As he walked past the side of it, he noticed newly written graffiti sprayed across the sides of his home in every color but red; loving words of encouragement from his classmates no doubt. Gisbo stopped and stared at it for a moment, just shaking his head at the nerve of some people. He often wondered if adults had pitched in too, for most of it was written quite neatly and there were some curse words even he wouldn't say aloud. He did his best not to dwell on the words as he continued to the back of his shack where the only window was installed.

Gisbo reached upward and put his hands on the window sill, grunting in pain as he tried to pull his injured body upward. He only managed to get one foot on the sill before he fell into a deep mud puddle building at the base of his hut. Gisbo cursed again, but made no attempt to stand up. The raindrops really came down on him now, firing on his injured face like a barrage of cold needles. But still Gisbo couldn't find the strength to move or find the strength to stop the tears now running down his face, merging with the raindrops. It was then a shadow fell over him and he snapped back into focus.

Through his blurred and watery vision, the man's face was indefinable, but the outstretched hand was not. Gisbo smacked the hand away and clumsily rolled to his side and, with much effort, managed to stand, but not so much ready to fight. Thankfully, upon closer inspection, Gisbo realized it was not one of his classmates. He quickly dropped his fighting stance and rubbed at the back of his head, embarrassed.

"Sorry, I thought you were somebody else," Gisbo said.

"I would be some enemy to help you back on your feet, wouldn't I, friend?" replied the man in a deep, yet upbeat tone.

The man standing before him was tall and wrapped in a strange white hooded cloak. Most people in such days wore cloaks to remain hidden and mysterious; a white cloak just defeated the purpose. He could discern the man was in his forties. His face was hard and weathered, looking like tan leather. He had stubble all about his cheeks, chin and neck and brandished a thick, dark mustache that held droplets of water in it from the pouring rain. Gisbo would have thought this man to be fierce looking if he didn't look at his eyes. They were a light sky blue and seemed to twinkle. Laugh lines ran down the corners of them, looking as if they were carved into his skin purposely.

"Well, champ, I would first like to apologize for any discomfort I caused you. It certainly wasn't my intention. You can call me Falcon. I'm the new janitor in these parts. The last one contracted some sort of terrible flesh eating disease from cleaning the waste shoots of the castle . . . horrible stuff really . . . we won't go there. Anyhow," he paused and gave a small bow to Gisbo. A bow was a rarity in those times, reserved only for the presence of a Warlord. "And what would your name be, my young friend?" continued Falcon as he rose back up to his full height and extended a hand toward Gisbo, who gladly accepted this time.

"My name's . . . Gisbo," he stated with reluctance. His blood boiled at the sound of his own name as he prepared himself for a laugh or two. As expected, Falcon did laugh, but not as he thought. It was a goodhearted laugh, natural, and it almost made his name feel normal . . . almost anyway.

"Well, Gisbo, that is certainly a name to be remembered. So refreshing to the ears! Normally I'd be looking down and petting one's head when saying such!" Falcon exclaimed. Gisbo couldn't help but smile as well.

What a crazy guy, he thought to himself.

"So, Gisbo, tell me, why would a lad such as yourself be down in the mud sobbing on such a fine day as today?" Falcon asked, as if the sun were shining brightly.

"You think I need to share my life's troubles with the local janitor? What are you doing here anyhow? And . . . HOLY HELL!? What is that smell?" Gisbo asked, while clambering to hold his nose. He then noticed the stains covering Falcon's cloak and he dared not wonder what they might be. Waste shoots, was all Gisbo thought.

"Well, I noticed some horrible four letter words written all over your shack and, well, I can't imagine why someone would like to have such decorations, so if you would look here you would notice that I began scrubbing them away for you, free of charge. I was also ordered to bring you your weekly food shipment. The door's unlocked by the way, but, hey, if you prefer crawling into windows, then be my guest! If not, try turning the knob first; it's always a solid move. Here, you can have my key. I got plenty of spares back at the castle," Falcon replied, tossing Gisbo his spare. Gisbo caught it and stared at him in silent disbelief of his kindness. It was foreign to him.

"You know, I'm sorry for the rudeness. It was uncalled for. I haven't had such a banner day if you know what I mean," Gisbo answered, followed by a sigh as he collapsed on his small steps.

"Understandable. You look as if you just woke a hibernating bear. I'm sure that wouldn't be a banner day at all. What happened? If you don't mind my asking and you replying," Falcon asked with utmost sincerity.

"Bear, huh? Might have been easier than a pack of wolves . . . I just, I don't know. Have you ever felt like you don't belong?" Gisbo asked. Falcon spread out his stain ridden cloak.

"To answer your question, I'm pretty sure I got poo on me. What do you think, Gizzy?" Falcon asked. Gisbo burst into laughter over this. It felt good. He couldn't remember the last time somebody had made him laugh. It made him feel even more comfortable, so he continued.

"Well, other than the obvious, I mean. Do you ever feel like something inside keeps telling you that you are meant for something, something big, but nobody else seems to hear it? I know it sounds crazy," Gisbo said, looking through the falling rain.

"No, no, keep going," Falcon encouraged. "I don't mind listening, I'm getting a free shower out here."

"I mean, I just look around and see no point in what people do around here. Hell, they don't even notice it themselves. There's no adventure or purpose. No passions or dreams anywhere. They remind me of ants or something. All they care about is money this, money that, who's dating who, who broke up with who, what was the clash score last night? Clash players are a buncha sissies if you ask me. None of them fight for real, it's all fake, but," Gisbo stopped and pulled a book out of his bag. On the cover was an artist's rendition of a warrior wielding a flashing sword. "But when I read stuff like this, back in the day, why, it just . . . it just makes me wish I was born in a different time! Like I'm not where I'm supposed to be!" Gisbo said with a sigh.

"Keep goin'," Falcon interrupted with a laugh. "I can tell you've been holding onto this nugget for quite some time. It's good to let it out."

"Look, I'm not some whiney little sissy, ok, but you are the only guy around to talk to so you're gonna listen, ok?" Gisbo asked.

"I already told you I would," Falcon said. "Fire away."

"And it's just so unfair! Some people are just handed everything! Everything they need to shape them into what they want and they don't even appreciate it! Where the rest of us get crap," Gisbo said.

"Yup, preach it, boy, preach it!" Falcon encouraged.

"Heh, I don't know. For once in my life, I guess I've had enough. I'm starting to feel just as insignificant as a, well, what the hell? A dog. Some people were meant for something great and others just, well, weren't meant to be at all, I guess . . . " Gisbo trailed off with his head hung low. It wasn't low for long however. Falcon knocked his knuckles against Gisbo's skull hard with a CLUNK sound. Gisbo jumped up, surprised, and began pointing and shouting curses.

"What on Thera did you do that for? Is there something wrong with your head? Gahhh!" Gisbo screamed in pain, rubbing the new injury to his noggin.

"Hm, possibly, but I should ask you that same question, pal. Now I don't want to see that head lowered in shame again, ya hear? It is too nice a day outside to be wallowing in shame," Falcon replied.

"But it is freaking raining out!" Gisbo argued.

"That's not the point! I listened to you, now let me ask you something," Falcon interrupted. "I'm a bit of a history buff and was wondering something as soon as I saw ya. Do you wear that bandana on your forehead as a fashion statement or for another reason?" Falcon asked. Gisbo reached up and felt his blue headband.

"Oh this? It's just from an old bed sheet," Gisbo said, a little embarrassed by his tribute to the Renegades of old.

"So you were just quite fond of that bed sheet, eh?" Falcon questioned. He then chuckled. "Sissy."

"Hey! Well, ok, you got me. It's in remembrance of the Renegades. I like them, ok? Most of all because they did things their own way and didn't care what anyone else thought of 'em! Just like me! They took one look at society and said, 'Screw you guys!' And because of it, they became the greatest warriors in history! I want to be an Elekai' warrior so badly! Then, then I can do anything I want! I can have adventure and excitement and fight evil stuff. Wham, bam! Take that, you Flarians!" Gisbo said, finding new energy as he bounced around punching at the falling raindrops. Once he had his full, and gave one unfortunate raindrop an uppercut, he turned back to Falcon.

"I can't see myself as anything else. There's nothing I want more! Just the thought of it . . ." Gisbo said with a dreamy look in his eyes.

"An Elekai' warrior, eh? So that's what all this is about. I hate to break it to you, kid, but you do realize it's something that's gotta be in you. Not everyone can be an Elekai' warrior just because they want too," Falcon said.

"I know that, but I don't care. I'll find a way!" Gisbo said. Falcon smiled at Gisbo's enthusiasm.

"I like your attitude, kid. That stubbornness might just get you somewhere. You wanna know what I think?"

"No, but you're going to tell me anyway," Gisbo said. Falcon ignored Gisbo's comment.

"Those Renegade guys, I remember them, you know. They used to walk right down that main road there all the time. Each of them were great men and woman. They fought for their dreams and fought for a purpose and that is why the people loved them so much, but it was also what brought them their power. You lose your dreams, you lose your heart, and when that happens, woo boy, you don't wanna know," Falcon said. At this Gisbo was interested.

"What? Huh? Tell me!" Gisbo asked.

"Well, since you asked so nicely. You want to know what happens when someone loses heart? Well, you become nothing more than a hollow being . . . a shell that slaves his life away with no purpose, kinda like these people you speak so fondly of around here. That's not what you want, now is it?" Falcon asked. Gisbo shook his head. Falcon rubbed at his hair and continued.

"My boy, you are at a pinnacle point in your life right now, where your dreams are called into question. Unfortunately, the average person gives up when the going gets tough and instead accepts a mediocre existence. Life, as we get older, has a nice way of snuffing out who we really are. It's only the strong that doesn't let it hinder them. Nothing worthwhile ever comes easy. In fact, it requires all that you are," Falcon said. He reached for a short cigar in his pocket, lit it and puffed away.

"Hm," Gisbo said.

"Yeah, 'hm' is right. Now, let me tell you a little something about these buggers you talk about, the guys that have it easy. There's another word for 'em: prodigies. Prodigies are never happy, you know. Be thankful you aren't one," Falcon said, blowing out a thick plume of smoke.

"Yeah, I beg to differ," Gisbo said.

"Oh, they may look happy, but such people have nothing to strive for or achieve anymore. The only thing they care about is keeping their titles; but you, you're something different, the opposite of a prodigy," Falcon said.

"Really? What's that?" Gisbo asked.

"Well, to put it nicely, pal, you're a failure," Falcon said. Gisbo was stunned.

"Hey!" Gisbo said.

"Now, now, let me finish. Being a failure is a good thing," Falcon said.

"No, it's not!" Gisbo argued.

"Yes, it is because you already know more than those who got it all right the first time. You know of every way to get it wrong. See? And when you get it right, you'll already know more than the prodigies. Those who are dubbed failures or outcasts, those who work hard, come from nothing and fight on with a fiery desire, they, my boy, have nothing to lose and everything to gain and what do they gain? How about an unrivaled satisfaction you can die happy with. If you ask me, that sounds pretty good," Falcon said. He paused for another puff. "The very moment you can die without regret, kid, is the very moment you start to live. This is where a self-made man comes from. As long as you don't give up, you'll never truly fail," Falcon said with glimmer in his eye. He blew a smoke ring in the air.

Gisbo sat on his front steps deep in thought, not uttering a word. Falcon sat beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, I know what this town thinks of you, Gisbo, I know. I say, don't let a name like yours become a hindrance. Instead, turn it into a strength. Consider your name a lucky one. Not every boy gets fighting experience every day by boys wanting to pound him. Either way, far as I'm concerned, you've been given quite a rare gift. Use it to help you in your quest to become a great warrior," Falcon said. He rose and stretched with an obnoxious grunt. He then began to pat his pockets.

"Well, seems I've run out of speeches for the day. Got to go, kid. But hey, do me a favor, would ya? Never, ever lose those dreams of yours. Chin up," Falcon said.

"Don't you think your opinion is a little biased? What, being a fellow failure like me? You're a janitor, man! And you clean up crap shoots all day long! A lot of heart and desire there I bet. Big dreams in an occupation like that. You must have found a hell of a lot of fortune cookies in the trash or something because . . ." But before Gisbo could finish his sentence, there was another loud CLUNK that echoed off his skull.

"AH! Where do you get off? Gahhh!" Gisbo said rubbing his head. Falcon smiled at him.

"Hmph, at least my words didn't fall on deaf ears; use 'em or flush 'em. Good luck with the tryouts, kid. Speaking of waste shoots, ugh, I gotta go clean out Karm's waste shoot tonight. Yuck, all the guy eats is veggies. He's all about the whole meat is murder deal. Hey, sure, meat is murder! But you know what else it is? It's also delicious!" Falcon said as he began walking away, first talking to Gisbo and then to himself and before long he had disappeared into the mists of the rain.

Gisbo stared out after him, watching him until he could see him no more. Never had anyone taken time out of their day to talk to him about, well, remotely anything, and here was a guy who not only took the time to stop for a friendly hello, he had also stopped to tell him that he was worth something. No one had ever told Gisbo he could achieve his dreams. No one had ever cared enough. No one.

And all I could do was insult the guy? Gisbo thought. He immediately felt bad. Well, he may be crazy, but he's also right. Pity party's over, Gisbo, it's time to man up! I'm better than this!

"Ugh," Gisbo winced as he clutched his mid-section. "But first some sleep and possibly a body cast." Gisbo entered his tiny home, each step a painful struggle, but with every step he grew more determined and the dream in his heart made it all worth the while.

_Chapter 2:_ The Tryouts

The moon was high and full, a wolf's moon, as many called it in Oak County. Moon rays shone through the tinges of fog within the dark forest, giving the air a twinkling effect. The wind blew through the branches of the trees, sounding like a groaning dead spirit. Gisbo had no idea how he had gotten out at this time of night or just where in the forest he was. In fact, this forest wasn't like anything he had seen before. It seemed otherworldly to him. Only the shimmering, full moon gave any remembrance to the familiar. He took a deep breath. He was lost and he hated the feeling. Hated the feeling of not being in control. Panic began to rise in his chest and then it skyrocketed. Suddenly, there was a crash behind him, as if something huge and hulking had dropped from a tree onto a patch of dry sticks and leaves.

Gisbo swirled around. There before him was a huge, black thing. Its body wasn't visible, but its eyes certainly were. They shone like two red-hot coals. The contrasting fog made the eyes glow far brighter then they might have.

"Holy . . ." Gisbo managed to mutter in a quivering voice. He felt goose flesh rip across his whole body like some form of instant infection.

SHWOOSH! Suddenly, pillars of fire shot downward from the sky and began to swirl around the creature. The darkness hid its full identity, but even in the dark it was safe to say the monster stood a little over ten feet tall and had every intention of inflicting misery upon Gisbo.

With a screech, the thing lumbered forward, slowly, with a confident stride. Gisbo began backing up. Every part of him was screaming at him to turn and run, but he found he just couldn't take his gaze off those hypnotizing red eyes. The creature, as if sensing this, started to laugh. The laugh was deep and unnatural and made the fluids in Gisbo's stomach boil. Then, the thing started to charge. The way the monster's pounding footsteps sounded broke Gisbo from his paralysis. He turned directly around and began sprinting as fast as he could. Even as he ran he could still feel the fiery eyes of the creature burning into his back. Gisbo leapt over a log and, a few seconds later, the monster tore through it like a hot knife through butter, sending old, crusted bark flying.

Cripes! He's right behind me! DAMN IT! Gisbo thought, as he ran like mad to try to claim some distance. Apparently he had run a little too mad, for it was then he tripped over his own feet and fell flat on his face. He slid a good ways and felt pine needles, pebbles and sharp pointed acorns dig into his face. If Gisbo had one thing going for him, it was his tolerance for pain. Undeterred, Gisbo rolled and jumped back to his feet, already feeling the sticky pine sap drying on his face, but it seemed the forest floor had other plans . . .

Large, vine-like roots shot out of the ground like hissing pythons. In a speed Gisbo couldn't prepare for, the roots wrapped about his feet and prevented him from leaving. Gisbo pulled as hard as he could, but to no avail. The roots began to spread now and wrapped themselves tightly around Gisbo, turning him into a living sushi roll snack for the monster who had now caught up. The demonic red eyes of the creature seemed to pierce his very soul. They were wild, untamed, dangerous. Its breathing was heavy, like an early spring wind current. Gisbo's hair fluttered back with every snort from the creature's nostrils. The monster then raised its massive arms and more fire erupted from them with a roar. The flame pillars spread and encircled Gisbo, the heat unbearable . . .

And then Gisbo awoke. He snapped upward and felt himself all over, never having been more thankful to see the interior of his run-down shack of a home. Breathing hard, he did his best to shake the remnants of the dream, assuring himself he was back, back to reality, but try as he may, a feeling of déjà vu crept over him anyway. He had had versions of this dream as long as he could remember. He fell backward on his pillow with a loud THUD realizing too late it was actually his wooden headboard.

"DAMN IT! Ugh, my poor head," Gisbo yelped. At least the pain to his head confirmed the thought that he was indeed back to reality. He sat up again, massaging his throbbing skull. The demon seemed to be getting closer and closer over the years, but he had never gotten this close. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen the next time he dreamed of it. Would he die? Was it some kind of bad omen? He didn't know, nor did he ponder it any longer. The sun was about to come up. It was time. The tryouts were about to start.

Gisbo rolled out of bed, got dressed and dug out a small piece of fruit from his food crate to munch along the way. Playing a game of hopscotch, he skipped around his messy room. It was piled almost ceiling high with books. After some effort, he had cleared a path and made his way to the door where he paused, noticing his ratty bandana hanging on the wall by a nail. Smiling, he tied it on, remembering all the things it represented, dreams he had almost abandoned. He silently thanked Falcon under his breath and he was out the door in a sprint, but it soon turned into a slow stride.

The aches that covered his body popped up to say hello and reminded him of what happened yesterday. Gisbo managed to grunt a few curses and made his way slowly, but surely to the castle courtyards. Soon, excitement took over, dulling the pain. Not only would he be able to display his fighting talent and become a respected soldier, he might even get to slam Thomson's face into the ground in front of everyone. This thought alone made an evil smile stretch across his face. Adrenaline rushed through him, replacing his pain with a prickly sensation throughout his body. His slow stride became a sprint again as he neared the gates of the castle. They were wide open, welcoming him, challenging him. With all pain forgotten now, Gisbo charged through it, bandana tails flowing behind him in the breeze.

Upon entry, the prickling feeling intensified as he spied them, Karm's Elekai' warriors. All of them wore matching, mirror-like armor that glistened in the sun and reflected the scenery around them. Gisbo's smile widened. The thought of someday being one of those soldiers and fighting for Warlord Karm was an outright euphoria to his mind. Gisbo got in a line with the other kids, which was quite long. Many parents and grandparents had come out to see their children off and wish them luck, beaming with pride.

Once Gisbo's eyes had their fill staring at the soldier's armor, he took sight of the scenery around him, which was a sight to behold. He had trouble taking in the whole view at once. The place was in a frenzy as groundskeepers, gardeners and soldiers alike went about their daily duties. The grass was a luscious green and carpeted the entire castle grounds. Elegantly trimmed hedges in the shapes of animals stretched all around the walls and the scent of roses and jasmine wafted through the air. It was then Gisbo spotted it, on a far distant corner at the base of the wall: a lone flower whose color was different from all the rest.

He did not think it had been there a moment ago; he probably would have seen it. It was a short, brilliant red lily, which shone beautifully out of place amongst the other flowers around it. Gisbo didn't have time to stare very long however. A gardener, armed with pruning shears, rushed towards it as if it would set the castle on fire and snipped it clean.

Gisbo didn't mind though. He accepted the ban of the Flarians along with their color, as everyone else. The word Flarian was equivalent to a boogieman. Parents used to tell their disobedient children that if they misbehaved, they would be tossed out of Oak County to live with the Flarians. Gisbo remembered his books had detailed the murderous atrocities of the barbaric race quite vividly. They said that if you even looked at one wrong, they could set your whole body on fire just by snapping their fingers. At least I'm not THAT bad, Gisbo thought to himself.

The line continued moving at last. Gisbo was nearing the front and it was then he saw them, the last known living heroes from his books: The Elekai' Elite. Gisbo practically vibrated with excitement. These three men were Warlord Karm's top warriors, but they were more than that. They were a symbol of hope that all in Oak County aspired to. Each of these warriors was considered to be masters of their own racial element. Alone, these warriors were statistically at the top of their game, but when working together, they were unbeatable. Gisbo knew this wasn't just a theory either. History backed them up.

The legends all sat a large oak table, signing autographs and signing in hopeful Elekai' warriors for the tryouts. Gisbo was now close enough to see their weapons. To him, the weapons themselves were far more intricate and beautiful than the entire castle grounds. Each of their weapons sparkled with the elemental race of their wielder in hues of yellow, green, and blue. Vivid images of warriors questing for treasure, fighting monsters and battling across open fields against the evil Flarians began to fill up in Gisbo's mind. He then found himself frowning as he looked past the warriors and noticed the men with overweight guts from too much beer at the tavern, women discussing and judging all the latest fashion trends as if it were as important as life and death and spoiled children having temper tantrums over souvenirs from the various display carts. Gisbo just shook his head and sighed, wondering if too much peace was a good thing and if he too was going to end up like them one day. No way, Gisbo thought. Not if I pass these tryouts!

If he became an Elekai warrior, he would get a taste of the old world that he desperately craved. This day was the first step and he knew it would be his only one. The pressure both terrified him and excited him and now the Elekai' Elite now stood right in front of him.

On the left side of the table, Gisbo noticed Captain Scarrr. Gisbo's books called him a ruthless, cutthroat warrior of the elemental class of wind, the Soarian race. A mysterious helmet graced his head and covered his entire face, all except for his mouth. Gisbo could make out the edges of three long scars etched down his chin in a neat row. Many rumors circulated of what lay beneath the helmet of Scarrr. Some guessed that he was horribly burned or born horribly ugly.

A boy with thick-rimmed glasses stood in front of Gisbo. A thick book graced his hands. Gisbo recognized him as Sid Lurney. Much to Sid's dismay, everyone called him number two. This wasn't because of the bodily function, but because whenever the test scores were put on display, Sid was always number two, which infuriated him. Either way, Gisbo knew Sid didn't stand a chance in hell at becoming an Elekai' warrior. He was about as brave as a retreating dove, but, like Gisbo, he too was fascinated by Elekai' warriors. He read aloud in a prissy, educated tone to his best friend Mort.

"Let's see . . . Captain Scarrr . . . Oh! It says here that he has the ability to suppress gravity around him and avoid friction altogether. This allows him to move so swiftly that he can become almost invisible to the naked eye. Cool!" Sid said as he pushed his glasses up with one finger. Gisbo smiled at the kid's enthusiasm. Sid continued reading, moving his index finger across the page.

"'His weapon of choice is a blade not long enough to be a sword, but too long to be considered a dagger, giving him an equal balance in offense and defense. It does not have a name as he fashioned it himself . . .'" Sid said, readjusting his glasses again. Mort pointed to the man on the far right.

"What does it say about Captain Cannon?" Mort asked. Sid began flipping through some pages and finally stopped.

"Mmmm, here it is! It says that he's a powerful user of the earth element from the Naforian race and is also a biological anomaly. He's a short man by the standards, but weighs three times as much as a man his height should. Weird, huh?" Sid asked. Sid's friend stared at Cannon with a nervous glare.

"Don't let him hear you say that. What's he do?" Mort asked. Sid returned his finger to the page and began to read again.

"'What Cannon lacks in speed, he compensates for with power and defense. His weapon of choice is also of his own creation. A thick steel baton with two large block hammers on each side of it that he calls the Ham-Pole,'" Sid said.

"That's pretty lame." Mort muttered quietly. Sid continued reading.

"'When holding his Ham-Pole, Cannon can undergo an instant photosynthesis to grow his body larger at will by absorbing solar energy like a plant. He can also absorb the properties of any stone substance around him and emulate it, making his skin quite literally rock hard like an impenetrable armor. Many blades have been broken against his body.' Jeesh, this guy's crazy," Sid exclaimed. Mort smiled.

"Sure they are, but they are both minor league compared to the guy in the middle. What does it say about General Ricard?" Mort asked with his arms folded. Sid smiled as he flipped through some more pages then stopped.

"'A natural born fighter and second in command only to Warlord Karm, Ricard is said to be so powerful that none have ever witnessed him at his true strength. It is also common knowledge among the soldiers that Ricard can trounce both his Elekai' Elite members with ease,'" Sid said, going bug eyed.

"Cripes," Mort muttered. Sid continued.

"'He's a water user from the Aquarian race. Ricard's basic abilities are the ablility to draw moisture from both the ground and the air and freeze them. From here, these droplets are morphed into any shape desired, ranging from daggers to arrows. Eyewitnesses have seen him send such shapes in countless numbers straight through opponents with ease. This is but his basic technique. It is said his real powers have yet to be shown to anyone,'" Sid said, looking up. Mort laughed.

"Told you the guy was incredible. What's his weapon?" Mort said. Sid returned his gaze to his book.

"'His weapon of choice and source of power is a unique sword very similar to that of a fencer, the gentleman's weapon; quick, agile and cunning. Traits that personify Ricard perfectly,'" Sid finished.

Gisbo stared at Ricard who kept signing autographs with a shimmering smile. As much as Gisbo hated Ricard's offspring, he couldn't bring himself to hate the general. If anything, Ricard was Gisbo's favorite.

A few more minutes passed and it was now Gisbo's turn to sign up. He stood under the gaze of the living legends for a good ten awkward seconds, unable to utter a syllable. Ricard cleared his throat impatiently at Gisbo. On either side of him, Scarrr and Cannon were busy with other children.

"Well, son, do you have a name or are you here to waste my time?" Ricard asked.

Gisbo bit his lip and he said his name in nervous shame. Gisbo didn't know why, but Ricard's eyes seemed to light up upon hearing his name.

"Gisbo, you say?" Ricard asked.

"Yes, sir," replied Gisbo.

"Surname?" Ricard asked.

"I have none . . ." Gisbo answered, feeling uncomfortable at the way Ricard was staring at him. Ricard knew he didn't have a surname, but he played along anyway and forced an air of disinterest.

"Wait now, I know of you. I trust your food shipments from the castle have been arriving on schedule? If you have any further complaints, you may put them in writing and you should receive a response within five days or so," Ricard said, testing him, with a feigned seriousness. Gisbo looked at him oddly before answering, wondering what was with the sudden change in demeanor.

"I'm here for the same reason as everyone else, sir, to be an Elekai' warrior," Gisbo stated, matching Ricard's seriousness.

Needless to say, the respect Gisbo had for General Ricard faded in an instant. The General burst into laughter, along with a good portion of the crowd around him. Even the notoriously serious Scarrr couldn't help a half smile. Gisbo clenched his fist in anger, wanting to wallop them all, but managed to refrain himself. He was not going to blow his chances, let alone risk dying by fighting the Elkai' Elite.

"Now, now, everyone, calm yourselves. We will give this boy the same chance as everyone else to try his or her skill. Even if he comes from no reliable lineage, we have no idea if his essence has potential . . . Well son, I will add you to the list. It will be up to you to keep it there. Based on your history, I am already colored unimpressed. You are going to have to do much to catch my attention, understand?" Ricard said in a condescending tone, implying that Gisbo should stop kidding himself. He really hoped that Gisbo would turn around and go home, but he didn't, much to the disappointment of Ricard. He couldn't outright insult the boy in front of all these people.

"Yes, sir," said Gisbo through gritted teeth and for a moment, he could see the face of Thomson in General Ricard's features.

"Good. Tryouts begin in ten minutes. Prepare yourself," Ricard said. Gisbo spun around to walk away, followed by Mort and Sid.

"Hey, dog boy, why don't you just go get a real job? This isn't the place for a scrub like you," taunted Mort. Both the boys rushed past him, laughing. Finally losing control, Gisbo found himself grabbing the back of Mort's shirt collar and unleashed a wicked punch to the back of his head. Mort went crashing to the ground. Sid looked from his fallen friend, then to Gisbo and began to run away.

"Where you think you're goin', four-eyes?" Gisbo yelled as he tackled Sid to the ground. In his rage, Gisbo had forgotten his surroundings. He was no longer in the back woods. Other kids and even parents began to grab hold of him and rip him off the two boys.

The parents used more force than was required to restrain Gisbo, throwing him to the ground and kicking him while yelling degrading remarks that rivaled the school kids. Gisbo felt a chill. He looked up through hazy vision at the three members of the Elekai' Elite standing over him.

"On your feet, son," Ricard said with a stern air to his voice. The parents hoisted Gisbo upward as Sid and Mort squirmed away, unnoticed. For a moment Ricard only stared in frigid silence.

"When I said impress me, this is not what I meant. However, I appreciate the effort. Let the boy be. Ten minutes now!" he yelled to the onlookers. Ricard spun around and walked back to the tables, leaving a bewildered Gisbo and angry parents in his wake. The crowd began to disperse, for nobody dared challenge the authority of the Elekai' Elite. Gisbo watched them retreat with thankfulness and noticed the Elekai' Elite whispering to each other on the way back to the table. Nice job, Gisbo, Gisbo thought as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Trying to keep a lower profile, he made his way over to the training grounds, attempting to walk off the newest aches and pains. Why can't I control my stupid self? Gisbo thought. He had assumed his reputation would at least signify that he was not one to be messed with. At this rate, it seemed like he would have to beat down every kid in town just to earn a shred of peace.

After every participant was checked in, Cannon, Scarrr and Ricard all made their way to the castle front. The three men formed a triangle and stood at ease. The soldiers around them saluted as their general walked forward to face them and the crowd.

"Hello and welcome, young men and young ladies, to the chance of a lifetime! May I personally welcome you all to the youth army tryouts! Here you will work and train under the best of the best, including the Elekai' Elite!" he shouted. Thunderous cheers erupted from the crowd at the mention of the Elekai' Elite.

"However, this is still but a chance. I see before me almost two hundred contenders. Out of you, only a mere thirty will proceed. We will put all of you through rigorous tests that will challenge your skill, your strength and also your mind. All of these must work precisely and be equally strong before you even hold an elemental stone in your hands. Even then, you may not have enough elemental essence floating within you to be accepted, but one thing is certain. If you cannot first prove yourself a fighter, essence or not, you have no chance at being an Elekai' Warrior. By observing these tests you are about to partake in, we can determine your potential. Bring your families honor and make your Warlord proud! Let us begin!" General Ricard shouted.

On Ricard's signal, the soldiers began to divide the participants into three groups. Once they were aligned in an orderly fashion, General Ricard spoke again.

"Now that we are all settled in, let us begin with the preliminaries. The rules are very simple. You must pass two of the three tests to move on. If you fail to do so, you go home. The first test will measure your strength, for what is a weapon without strength to back it up? The second test concerns your skill with a weapon. And the third will measure the speed of your mind as well as your eyes. At the first trial, there will be three soldiers, each of them wielding a large padded shield. They will stand in a line, evenly spaced from each other. On either side of them lie two boundary lines. Your goal is to run from the starting position and past the guards without being bumped out of bounds." General Ricard said in a demanding tone. The children glanced at each other nervously.

"For the weapon test, you will be equipped with a humble training stick. Everyone you see here has trained with these sticks before a real weapon graced their palms. You will be no different. This test involves another three soldiers, but in this case they are unarmed. On each of these soldiers, an apple hangs from a different vital point of the body. The first soldier, as you see, has his apple hanging in front of his heart; the second, his head; and the third, his throat. Your mission is to knock away and obliterate these apples in three minutes - one minute for each soldier if it's done correctly. The men may move, but they will not attack you, only defend themselves. To be a successful soldier, you must have the ability to strike a vital area when the time arrives." The children nodded in response.

"And for the last test, there sits a soldier by the name of Blur. He is graced with such a name because he is arguably the fastest man in all of Karm's kingdom, after Captain Scarrr of course. If Scarrr ran this test, it would not be fair to any of you!" Ricard said. Cheers erupted upon hearing Scarrr's name.

"Blur's reflexes are uncanny and what he lacks in power he doubles in speed. There are ten pots and under one of those pots is a pebble. The test is simple enough. The pebble will be placed under a random pot in plain sight. Blur will then begin to shuffle the pots around the table and when he is finished, you must guess which pot the pebble lies under. There are ten pots, so if you lose sight of the pot for any reason, you have a 10% chance of guessing correctly. What you can't make up in skill, you better be able to make up with luck. Some have it, some don't. Now! You have heard the rules of all three tests, good luck to you all. I am eager to see the results! Let the games begin!" finished General Ricard and he made his way to the observation balcony with his two comrades.

The soldiers began to lead the groups to different sections of the courtyard to begin their tests. Gisbo looked around at his group. There were about seventy kids in all. He began to think about what a small amount would make it. A nervous rush of doubt started to sink in, but he knew he had to fight it. This was all he had. There was no plan B. All of his eggs had gone into one basket.

The other kids around him jumped up and down with excitement, talking to each other and bragging to their friends about who would pass and who wouldn't. Gisbo looked ahead to see which test the soldiers were leading him to. He could see a large table with ten clay pots upon it. Gisbo's first test would be the eye test.

Everyone watched as Blur made his way to the large table and called forth his first contestant. It was Thomson. The General's son would not have to wait in line. He would probably be the first for every test he took, Gisbo assumed. Either way, Gisbo was thrilled to find out he was in the same group as Thomson. He wanted to see the little butt nugget fail miserably. Thomson approached the table with an arrogant, assured smile. As always, his minions cheered him on, doing their Black Wolf Pack cheer. Awwwooo! Awwwooo! Gisbo cringed at the sound. In their own little world, they may have thought they sounded like wolves, but to Gisbo and many others, they sounded like coyotes with a bad case of the runs.

"All right, let's get this thing over with. Show me what you got, Blur boy!" Thomson sneered. Blur cracked a sly grin and looked down at the pots.

"Watch closely and we will see just who the boy is," Blue replied. He held up the pebble for Thomson to see and then placed it underneath one of the pots.

"Are you ready?" Blur asked. Thomson nodded and Blur cracked his knuckles, placed his hands on two of the pots and began shuffling them about the table. He shuffled them slowly at first, and then, in a breath's pause, Blur's hands started to move back and forth and up and down, touching all the pots and moving them about with blinding speed. Thomson's head darted back and forth for a quick instant and then stopped as the pots continued to speed in front of him. He threw his hands into the air with a frustrated curse.

A few moments later, Blur's hands stopped and a single pot wobbled back and forth, echoing across the wooden table. The line looked on as Thomson scratched the back of his head. Gisbo relished Thomson's nervous tension. Then, all of a sudden, Thomson's head jerked down. His eyes wandered almost as if he were thinking, but Gisbo could see he must be looking at his father out of the corner of his eye. Gisbo quickly turned his gaze to the General and he swore he saw him quickly flash a hand gesture from his seated position.

Was I the only one who noticed that!? Gisbo wondered. He examined the crowd around him, but everyone's eyes were still on Thomson.

A smile stretched across Thomson's face as he pointed to the third jar in front of him. Blur shot a quick glance over at General Ricard, then lifted the jar to reveal the pebble. The rest of the Wolf Pack began to clap and howl again at his success.

That little crap had daddy cheat for him! Gisbo thought.

Thomson turned from the table with a wave and a smile for the crowd and made his way beside his father to watch the rest of the results. The kids who followed Thomson were not so lucky, save the members of Thomson's pack. Most of the kids lost eye contact with Blur's hands almost as soon as he began and in most cases they guessed wrong. Now it was Gisbo's turn. He walked forward, feeling Thomson's gaze burning down upon him. Gisbo reached down and ripped a grass ridden dirt clod off the lawn. He looked up at Thomson on the balcony with his father. Gisbo flashed a wicked grin and crumbled the dirt clod in his hand. Thomson's expression changed to a snarl and he shook with rage.

"Are you ready?" Blur asked. Gisbo was about to answer when a weird ringing entered his head. The ringing soon turned into a voice. It spoke with a deep, almost frightening tone.

"Concentrate; do not look at his hands. He wears colored rings to trick your eyes. Squint your vision and concentrate on the pots alone," the strange voice commanded rather than suggested. Blur's voice began to sound through the ringing.

"Son? Hello? Are you ready?" Gisbo realized he must have blacked out for a moment. He peered towards the castle grounds, wondering where the voice had come from. Thomson stared at him with squinted eyes.

"Yeah, uh, sorry about that..." Gisbo replied.

"Good, then let us begin." Blur said.

What the hell is going on here? Gisbo thought.

Without any time to consider, Gisbo did just as the voice had told him. He squinted his eyes and watched the pots. Blur began to move. To Gisbo's surprise, the squinting seemed to work. He could see Blur's movements. Twice his eyes wanted to shift to see the colors dancing back and forth, but he fought the temptation. Gisbo's head bounced to the left and right, following Blur's exact movements. Blur noticed this and moved even quicker, but Gisbo continued to match his eyes to every movement.

Blur began to sweat and breathe hard as his arms finally ceased flailing. Without a second of thought, Gisbo pointed. The tension rose throughout the crowd as Blur reached forward and tipped over the jar to reveal . . .

Nothing. A smile stretched across Blur's face.

"Sorry, son, but you lose. Next?" Blur said, looking past Gisbo.

Gisbo raised his hand in front of Blur's face and snapped his fingers to regain his attention.

"Hey, I'm not done. I never pointed to the pot. I pointed to your lap where the pebble now sits. Put it back and give me a passing score," Gisbo ordered. Blur was shocked along with everyone else. It was no wonder that so few had gotten it right because Blur was sliding the stone into his lap without anyone noticing. Whatever pot they picked would be wrong, except in cases like Thomson's. It was all fixed.

Applause erupted at Gisbo's success. A warm feeling unlike any other washed over Gisbo. Never before had he received this much, or any, admiration. His happiness only grew when he saw the angry looks on the Wolf Pack's faces.

He basked in his glory for another moment before remembering the voice. He would not have passed if it weren't for whoever-it-was.

Well, it seems I'm not alone in this. Somebody wants to help me, but who? Gisbo continued to ponder this to himself as he rejoined the rest of the group behind him. Of the seventy or so kids that were in line, only about twenty kids had passed the first test. Only a handful of kids managed to guess where the pebble was now that the lap trick had been exposed. Gisbo's group was first to finish, so they went to watch the other tests.

Gisbo watched as a thin blonde boy sprinted through the line of soldiers in the strength test. He made it past the first and continued running as the second guard thrust his shield forward to knock him down. At the last second, the boy dove under the shield and made his way towards the last guard. The boy jumped right and sprinted to the left, but the guard caught him hard in the mid-section, sending the boy crashing out of bounds unnecessarily hard. The children looked at one another with grimaces.

Gisbo turned to watch the weapon test as a young girl chased after the three soldiers, swinging her stick with tremendous speed. She easily destroyed the apple hanging from the first guard, sending moist green and white flecks flying through the air. She moved on to the second, then the third, demolishing all the apples with over a full minute to spare. Gisbo applauded with the rest of the Elekai' hopefuls.

The other two groups finally finished their tasks and with a much greater pass rate than the speed test. A total of thirty-two children passed the strength test and forty-six passed the weapon test.

Gisbo's group was next led to the weapon test and once again Thomson took the front of the line. He grabbed his stick and the guards took their places. A whistle blew and the countdown began. Thomson destroyed the three apples with ease, leaving a full minute and thirty seconds on the clock. Booming applause burst forth at the new record. General Ricard smiled proudly as Thomson again sat beside him, securing his entry into the finals.

The weapon test did prove easier to pass. All but ten had succeeded when it came to Gisbo. A guard walked over and handed him the wooden sword. He gripped the stick tightly and it felt good in his hands. He suddenly laughed out loud at this thought, his dirty mind not being able to help itself. Before he started, he glanced over at Thomson's face and studied it for a minute. He felt his blood boil. Now he was ready. The guard held a metallic whistle to his lips, waited a moment, and blew. Gisbo lunged forward, catching the first guard by surprise, and obliterated the first apple. Pieces splattered all over the guard's face. Gisbo gave him a swift jab to his midsection just for good measure as he ran past him and towards the next guard.

The second guard saw him coming and began to sprint away. Distance closed fast between his weapon and the apple hanging from the second guard, who took on the face of Thomson rather realistically to Gisbo's imagination. Gisbo leapt ahead of the guard, spun around and dove forward, catching the guard straight in the chest and, luckily, causing him to stumble backward into the third guard. As they went down, the third apple broke off its harness and flew into the air. Gisbo watched it soar toward him and with a mighty swing, he connected with it, exploding it in a white mist.

The guards and children stood wide-eyed and silent for a moment. Gisbo dropped his sword to the ground and peered around at the stunned crowd, stupefied by his own actions. A young soldier broke the silence.

"Two minutes and thirty seconds to spare! We have a new record!" he declared as he made his way to Gisbo to pat him on the back. The other contestants clapped hesitantly as if at a poetry reading, remembering that no one actually liked him.

Gisbo didn't even notice the lackluster applause however. He stared at his hands as if they were foreign to him and held up the wooden sword. Did I just do that? I've never even picked up a weapon in my life. It was just so easy . . .

Easy or not, Gisbo had now made it to the finals!

_Chapter 3:_ The Final Test

As the tests came to a close, the two hundred or so kids had been halved. The guards rounded up the remaining contestants and General Ricard rose to his feet once again. With a booming voice, he explained what would happen next.

"Congratulations to all of you who have made it thus far. I hear whisperings that I might have been wrong on the original thirty count. Let me assure you, I have not led you astray. Even the thirty of you who manage to make it are not guaranteed to learn Elekai'. This is but the first step in a long and rigorous training process. I will, however, receive my thirty and this last test will determine who stays and who leaves."

A collective muttering ensued from the crowd of kids as they all looked at each other with surprise and terror. Questions began to fly out as General Ricard raised his voice to speak once again.

"Silence now. I will explain. This next test will separate the men from the boys and the women from the girls. As you see, the soldiers are laying down white powder to form a large circle enveloping this whole courtyard. Once you step inside this circle, it will become your world. Once inside the circle, you will step out of your role as children and briefly step into the role of a novice Elekai' Warrior. It will be all of you against one another, fighting for your position in a Battle Royal. You will be handed the same type of wooden sword used in the weapon test. The rules are simple.

"If you step out of the circle for any reason, any reason at all, then you are eliminated. If you are rendered unconscious in any way, you are also eliminated. Other than that, there are no rules. Anything goes, like a real battle. Honor is among fellow comrades, not against an enemy. As of right now, you are all each other's enemies. You may choose to make alliances to eliminate your enemies or stand alone. The choice is yours. Life is uncertain. Life is hard. Battle is no different.

"This is no ordinary exam, boys and girls. Only those with the warrior's spirit will survive this. I say this every year and every year you each claim you will stay and fight, yet as soon as the swinging starts, many of you will quickly run out of the circle and back to your homes . . . make no mistake . . . the life of a warrior is not intended for everyone." There was dead silence in the castle grounds as Ricard finished his ominous warning.

The children gathered in a tight circle and spaced out within the barrier, gripping their weapons. All of them had fearful looks on their faces, except for the Wolf Pack. They looked hungry and all stood together. Gisbo was on the far side of the circle near the castle gates. He was near ten boys and three girls. Their eyes darted back and forth in anticipation as they all contemplated the task at hand. The girls started to move together and whispered something, forming an uneasy alliance for survival.

Gisbo was shaking, but not from nervousness. In this moment, he had found just what he was looking for. A piece of the old world he so desperately craved. Not even Thomson's fiendish sneer could match the one plastered on Gisbo's face. He stared downward at his weapon, then across the circle at Thomson, the source of his trouble. Gisbo felt that for once, he held the solution in his hands.

Just then, a boy made his way over to Gisbo. The boy was huge and towered a good six inches over Gisbo and was nearly twice his width, but not at all fat. He was solid muscle and had arms like a gorilla, but the rest of him was human looking. He had sandy blonde hair, soft blue eyes. Gisbo recognized him from school and noticed with surprise that the boy was also grinning ear to ear. He also looked as if he just rolled out of a manure pile as he shuffled nervously in his farmer overalls before speaking.

"Hey, you're that guy who passed that eye test, right? That was, that was awesome," the boy said. He had a very deep voice as if puberty had struck him about ten years too early. Still, it was friendly. However, Gisbo only half listened, too immersed in his own vengeful thoughts against Thomson and said nothing in return.

"Well, I don't know if you noticed, but everyone else around us is forming small teams. And, uh, what do you say you and me form a team? I'll watch your back and you watch mine and we'll get through this together? What do you say?" the boy asked Gisbo.

"Where I'm going, pal, I don't want help," Gisbo said as he turned his back on the boy. Not at all deterred by this, the boy continued.

"Aren't you nervous at all? By the way, the name's Rolce. You?" Rolce asked.

"My name's Gisbo. Go ahead, yuck it up," he replied, emotionless.

"Whoa, whoa, you're Gisbo? The Gisbo who went to my school? The one who took on the entire clash team by himself?" Rolce's surprise rivaled Gisbo's initial reaction to him.

"Uh . . . yeah," Gisbo responded, this time with interest.

"Wow! Well, I hope you know that you aren't the only one who hates those guys. Because of you always messing with them, you made them leave kids like me alone. I heard all about your fight. It's amazing you're even walking! And just a day later! You know, I was reluctant to think I stood a chance of being an Elekai' warrior, but, well, not to get all sappy or anything, when I heard that one kid stood up to the starting line of the clash team, it honestly inspired me. I want to thank you, man. You're the reason why I'm here," Rolce said. Gisbo cringed at the awkward series of compliments.

"Thanks," Gisbo managed to reply.

"I know what you are up to. You're going to finish the job on Thomson and I want to help. I've received far too many wedgies in my day to let it slide anymore. Please, let me help. I think IAM truly had us cross paths purposefully today," Rolce blabbed on, still grinning.

Gisbo did not know what to say or think. It came as a shock to his system to realize that he wasn't alone in his hatred. He had been self-centered for so long, thinking he was the only one who had to live with all this conflict and pain, and yet here was a boy who had been bullied as well and who truly looked up to him. The kid's face was beaming just being in his presence. At that moment, a brick wall around Gisbo's heart was removed. Gisbo wasn't about to let the guy down.

"Well, you can believe whatever the hell you want, but I'm rushing at Thomson and his goons head on. Follow if you want, I could use a buddy," Gisbo said with a grin, truly making Rolce's day.

"It looks like they are about to start this thing. Man, am I nervous! Just do whatever you did to those apples and we are all set. I can't imagine why you never made the clash team . . ." Rolce replied as he raised his weapon and stood in attack position.

"Have you seen those handkerchiefs? Only pansies get in," Gisbo joked. Rolce laughed nervously and readied himself for the signal to begin as Captain Ricard made his way to the outside of the circle.

"Is everybody ready?" questioned Captain Ricard. There was silence. "I SAID, IS EVERYBODY READY!!??" Captain Ricard's voiced boomed again. The kids all let out a loud jumble of mixed cheers. Ricard smiled. "I'll take that as a yes! When this sash touches the ground, you may begin. This is it, boys and girls, the final test. Succeed for your family's honor, succeed for Warlord Karm, and most importantly, succeed for yourselves! Now, without further delay . . ."

With a raise of his powerful arm, Captain Ricard tossed the blue sash upward. Everyone watched as it floated slowly down and hit the ground. Everyone froze. Nobody moved. They all stared in awkward silence at each other, waiting for someone to begin, anyone, anyone at all. There was suddenly a loud obnoxious yell, more beast-like than human. All eyes turned to find the source only to see Gisbo rush through the midst of them with Rolce following close behind.

"Alright! Let's get this thing started!" hollered Thomson. He jumped forward and swung his pole at an unsuspecting girl's head. With a loud crack, the poor girl fell to the ground, unconscious, her pigtails draped over the top of her head lazily. There weren't a whole lot of things that made Gisbo upset, but there were a whole lot of things that enraged him. Upon seeing the cruelty of Thomson towards the young girl, Gisbo lost all sense of reason as he sprinted even faster to his destination, screaming the whole way there. Noise suddenly erupted as the young warriors dove at each other with wood clashing against wood.

Thomson and his gang ran after every lone fighter and began picking him or her off like flies stuck in a dessert. It was then the son of Ricard noticed the rampaging Gisbo flying toward him and, for the first time in his life, he felt truly afraid. He had never seen such fury in the eyes of a boy. It was like something out of a nightmare. Nonetheless, Thomson was warrior born and refused to show fear. He fed off of it instead and braced himself for his attacker. As promised, thirty or so children dropped their poles and ran out of the circle crying and clutching their sides.

The moment Gisbo had been waiting for was here. He and Thomson would clash in the ways of the old world, as warriors would, with everything on the line. Only one boy would walk away with his dreams intact. They would leave it all on the battlefield, every last bad memory, and all unfinished business would be justified. Gisbo had never felt more confident in all his life as he parried his first blow with Thomson, barely even realizing his hands were moving to block.

They met each other's blows in a crisscross, their wooden poles forming a perfect "X" as their eyes met, snarls formed and their battle cries rivaled all others within their circular world of warfare. There would be no words exchanged. The time for talking was over. Thomson turned to his goons and with one word they understood.

"Go!" shouted Thomson. Heff and the others scattered to defend themselves from oncoming battlers. Rolce stood behind Gisbo, frozen, not knowing what to do until a girl jumped at him from the side and barely missed him. Rolce quickly raised his weapon up in defense, momentarily leaving Gisbo and Thomson on their own.

Thomson was just as excited for this moment. How dare some wild dog challenge his standing and hunt down his fellow wolves as if he were their equal? Nobody, that was who. Nobody dared oppose the captain of the clash team and the only boy Warlord Karm favored. He was son of the general. His bloodline was noble. And yet, here was a boy, a mere, uncouth, bastard child, who felt no reason to give him the respect his bloodline brought him.

Thomson felt doubt and fear for the first time and this led to hatred that pulsed with power. The wild boy even bruised his face, stuffed dirt down his throat. He humiliated him in front of everyone, but worst of all, he made Thomson question the value of his abilities. The bastard would pay and he would shake this feeling of doubt only upon the barbarian boy's defeat. He had to be rid of it. Everything now rode on this fight; his reputation, his dignity, his self-assurance and the worst part about it, Thomson realized, was while he had everything to lose, the bastard boy had everything to gain.

Gisbo's fury was an asset for sure. When he got angry, it seemed his body moved of its own accord and all of his senses seemed heightened and alive. Rage never blinded him. It only enhanced what was already there and this rage was the only thing allowing him to stand toe to toe against the experience Thomson had. Gisbo had received not one iota of instruction on how to swing a weapon, ever. Street fighting was his only means of gaining experience, but that was entirely different. Thomson's life, by contrast, had been filled with training from the best of the best. The stuck up brat knew the tactics of battle simulation and, for him, this was no more then an extreme form of just another clash game. As much as Gisbo hated to admit, Thomson was no slouch.

Both Gisbo and Thomson tried to push each other off their weapons as they pressed them forward, digging their feet into the ground below. Not even the earth would be left unscarred as the boy's dreams came head to head.

Thomson's experience began to show as he nimbly pulled away and spun to the right, causing Gisbo to fall forward with his back unprotected. Thomson cracked a swift strike to Gisbo's side in an attempt to take his breath from him. Gisbo reeled in pain, giving Thomson momentary confidence as he went for Gisbo's head in a wild swing.

There was no way Gisbo would be able to raise his weapon in time to counter now. Thomson knew he had him. This maneuver had given him many a victory on the clash field, however, this was no clash field and Gisbo was no clash player.

In an unexpected maneuver, Gisbo dropped his sword and caught Thomson's weapon in mid swing. Gisbo jumped upward, leaned back, and kicked out with both of his feet into Thomson's chest, breaking the wooden pole in two and sending the surprised boy to the ground, stunned. Gisbo landed harmlessly on his back while Thomson fell into a roll landing flat on his chest. Thomson curled into a ball as he clutched his chest in pain.

Ricard stood from his seat, his face full of dismay at the sight of his son in a position he had never seen before, on the ground and in pain. Cannon rose to his feet as well, stood on his chair, and whispered in Ricard's ear. Ricard raised his hand while shaking his head. Thomson saw this, but Gisbo did not as he ran toward his fallen enemy, holding the broken pieces of Thomson's weapon in each hand.

In a desperate maneuver, Thomson charged upward, shoving his shoulder into Gisbo's stomach, knocking the wind out of him. As Gisbo hunched downward, Thomson flipped him over his shoulders and attempted to grab the half of the sword held in Gisbo's left hand. Try as he might, however, Gisbo would not let go. Instead, Gisbo swung his other pole overhead, hitting Thomson's main sword hand hard. The sound of fracturing bones was music to Gisbo's ears. Thomson reared back and clutched at his injured hand.

Back on his feet now, Gisbo clenched both of his weapon-filled hands firmly and marched once again towards his enemy. Thomson retreated backward and Gisbo pursued him. Luckily for Thomson, he was ambidextrous. He managed to grab Gisbo's original fallen sword and he brought it up in an upward thrust to block Gisbo's next advance, making a loud CLANK noise.

Thomson quickly realized that as far as close quarters went, Gisbo outmatched him. He was more muscular and quicker, but he was far from skillful. Wielding the longer weapon, Thomson put it to good use by using it to keep the distance. He quickly adapted to the stance of a fencer and now held his weapon with one hand and thrust forward, forcing Gisbo to block his advances and match his quick footwork. Gisbo's clumsy feet had no chance and Thomson did not let up as he graced Gisbo's ribs and shoulders with quick, painful stabs. Try as he might, Gisbo could not advance forward and could not retreat backward quick enough to counter. Thomson was now making him look like an absolute amateur as he took a quick jab to his forehead.

Stunned, but far from from done, Gisbo tried dropping one of his weapons to grab Thomson's like before, but to no avail. Thomson was moving far too fast and only graced his temple with another blow, dazing Gisbo enough to cause him to flinch. Thomson seized the opportunity as he swung again for Gisbo's head. At the last possible moment, Gisbo managed to raise his forearms in a cross shape, blocking the blow, but sending him crashing to the ground. Not about to let the opportunity pass, Thomson rushed upon Gisbo, kicking him hard in his kidney, followed by another kick to his stomach that knocked the wind right out of him once more. It was now Gisbo's turn to curl into a ball as he fought desperately to regain his breath. Thomson stood over Gisbo and allowed a premature victory smile to spread across his face. He shot a quick glance at his father, who gave him a nod and a proud smile.

Gisbo tried desperately to stand up, but it was no use. Hist stomach twanged and sent a shudder of pain throughout his body. The son of Ricard raised his weapon high, ready to put his full body weight behind a single blow that would end it, but that was when Rolce arrived. In that instant, Rolce's weapon stepped between Thomson's victory and Gisbo's defeat.

"Get up, man! It's not over yet!" Rolce yelled at Gisbo. The enraged Thomson went mad with fury and struck out a low sideswipe to the corner of Rolce's knee. There was a loud cracking noise and it wasn't from the wooden pole. Rolce screamed in agony as he buckled to the ground, clutching his now broken knee. Thomson stood over the boy and let fly an abundant amount of curses as he beat Rolce's body like a sack of dirty laundry. Blow after blow, Rolce screamed until he finally fell silent.

It was then something happened, something that would change the life of Gisbo, no surname, forever. Maybe it was listening to Rolce's screams of pain that did it. Either way, like a force of nature, it was unavoidable.

WHOOSH! Suddenly, Gisbo's eyes ignited into burning flames! Each pupil lit up with its own internal fire, looking like miniature comets. Gisbo's vision went completely red and the sounds around him grew muffled. It was almost as if he were underwater in a pool of blood, staring up through the surface. Where most pools cooled you off, this one did the opposite. Gisbo felt as if his very insides were swelling like a hot marshmallow over a fire. His skin hurt, his eyes bulged and the hair on the back of his neck stood up so high it felt as if they were trying to tear themselves free of him. In spite of it all however, Gisbo only knew one thing.

He liked it.

Before he even knew what was happening, he was on his feet again and charged at a stunned Thomson, who stood frozen under his gaze. Each of Gisbo's fists felt as if they had a life of their own. Thomson tried to stab his stick forward to stop the rampaging advance, but to no avail. Gisbo bashed his stick down with two interlocked fists, swung them around and smashed Thomson in the stomach with such blunt force that Thomson spat blood before he fell helplessly to the ground.

Gisbo leapt into the air higher than he thought he could and landed with both knees in Thomson's stomach, sending up more blood from the boy's throat. Before Gisbo was about to land a fury of punches, he was interrupted by a loud CLANG that resounded off the side of his head. His vision went hazy and the surface of the red pool he was looking through suddenly ringed out as if someone chucked a rock into it. He then felt hands on him and the next thing he knew was that he was flying through the air, out of the circle and into an armory station. Helmets and chest plates fell off their stands and dropped all over Gisbo, burying him a pile of steel. It was then his red vision cleared and he saw the bright blue sky and then looked down to see General Ricard lowering his metallic sword sheath and standing over his son's beaten body.

"Tend to him," Ricard said, motioning to his son. He then marched straight for Gisbo. His features quivered with rage.

He . . . he hit me, right on the side of the head like a freaking sports ball. Why is it always my head? Gisbo found himself thinking.

Ricard reattached his sheath to his belt before he dragged Gisbo out of the pile by his neck, across the ring and onto the wooden performance stage meant for theater and announcements. All had gone silent after Ricard had entered the ring and every boy and girl had immediately stopped fighting. They were stuck in a dilemma of fear, not knowing whether to be more frightened by the boy whose eyes erupted into fire or by General Ricard's sudden brutality. Cannon and Scarrr stood at the ready next to Ricard, surveying the silent crowd with stony, glowering faces. After a very long pause, Ricard spoke.

"Future Elekai' warriors. To all of you who remain standing, this title is now a great possibility. You may relax. You are qualified to continue on into our fold, all except for one. I know you are confused as to what exactly is going on and why I had to step in. If you look closely, you all know exactly who this boy is. He has been to your schoolhouse and lived among you his entire life, the wild dog, Gisbo.

"I am sure I have jogged many of your memories by this point and for good reason. When you think of this boy, I am sure you instantly recall many of his well-known characteristics . . . violent, unpredictable, dangerous and the like. You all felt threatened by his wild tendencies and, in turn, isolated him from your groups of friends, your social get togethers. You may have felt a bit bad about this, but I am here to tell you something different. Your intuition has served you well, even though you could not have known this boy's evil origins," Ricard said. The word "evil" was whispered through the crowd.

"The boy that now sits before me is a surviving Flarian!" Ricard revealed. A gasp of surprise and horror arose.

"As residents of Warlord Karm's kingdom, we found this boy when he was but a child, just outside the city wall, and having the merciful and wise Warlord that we do, Karm allowed him a chance to be brought into our fold. Although suspicious of his origin, we nonetheless gave this boy compassion and a chance at normalcy, hoping that nurture would supercede nature, hoping he would be different. I hate to say it, but we were wrong. What you have seen here today is a witness to why the once revered color red is now outlawed and why the Flarian's barbaric race was extinguished and outlawed. Their elemental fire and the temper that smolders within them is uncontrollable. They are a danger to all within their range. For your own safety, I was forced to step in before his newfound elemental abilities awakened any further. I know not where he is hiding his stone, but it is of no matter now. We have tried the fair and just methods and are left with no other choice but one. To save a rabbit den, you must kill the fox. The boy known as Gisbo will now die by my sword," Ricard proclaimed. All eyes were on Ricard and Gisbo as the general unsheathed his sword, ever so slowly.

Stone? I don't have a freakin' stone! All this time . . . I finally know why everyone hates me and now, now I'm going to . . . Gisbo's mind raced. Cannon and Scarrr tightened their grip on him and Ricard moved his blade gently over Gisbo's exposed neck, preparing to strike when...

BUMP!

A man in a white cloak, wielding only a broom, collided with the general from behind, nearly knocking him over. Ricard, stunned, turned in to see a lowly janitor humming to himself while he swept the staging area, not even aware that he had knocked into the esteemed general. The Elekai' Elite were at a loss for words as the man continued on with his cleaning, humming to himself and making swishing sounds with his broom as he moved back and forth with little skips. Finally, Ricard found words.

"Janitor! Can you not see what lies before you? Did you not hear what is going on at this moment?" Ricard said, his bewildered tone also tense. The janitor looked up now, looking as if he had awakened from a dream, and smiled.

"Apologies sent in your direction and yours alone, my good sir! Why...YOU! You are General Ricard! The leader of the Elekai' Elite! I humbly cast a slew of apologies in your direction upon this realization, forgive me, forgive me. Falcon is the name and I am at your service, my dear general," Falcon said in an upbeat tone. He suddenly snapped to attention, as thin as a board, and saluted. Then the smell of the man's cloak hit the proud warriors nostrils. The Elekai' Elite gagged and grasped their noses in desperation at the horrible smell. Eyes watering, Ricard waved the air, coughed and found his voice once more.

"Aye, apologies granted. Now please, make your way off the stage. This is not the time to . . ." Ricard started, but he was soon interrupted.

"Oh my, if it isn't my young friend Gisbo! Good to see ya, champ. So, why is it that every time I see you it seems you have just survived a bear attack? Where is this bear? I'm sure the good general here would be able to dispose of him for you. Why I could be of service too, what with my trusty broom in hand, I'm sure we could beat him back into hibernation. SWOOSH! SWOOSH!" Falcon burst out, swinging his broom all about.

"Enough! Your stench is unbearable, janitor. Cannon, Scarrr, please dispose of this bothersome bloke," Ricard said before falling into a coughing fit.

"Yes, sir! Come now, janitor, there is much cleaning to do elsewhere. Yes, very far away. Just come with me and we will . . . WHOOP!" Cannon reached out to grab Falcon and in an odd disarray of events, he tripped over Falcon's foot and fell like a rock due to his heavy armor. Completely embarrassed, Cannon saw Scarrr loom over him with a half smile. This only angered the mountain of muscle even more.

"That's it! I'VE HAD IT! You are coming with me!" Cannon exclaimed as he regained his feet with much effort. In that instant, Falcon lashed out with lightning speed and punched Cannon square in the face, knocking back on his duff. Dazed and confused, Cannon sat upon the ground and realized his nose was bleeding. He now held it both due to the smell and to contain the flowing blood.

"What on Thera . . . YOU DARE STRIKE ME!!??" Cannon bellowed.

It was then Falcon's demeanor transformed as he straightened up and carried himself like a whole new person. He turned away from Cannon and looked Ricard straight in the eyes.

"You dare strike that boy again and I can promise, a bloody nose will be the least of your concerns," Falcon said. His voice had dropped a whole octave and adapted a scary tone. At this point many guards had gathered round, as well as parents and children. The general eyed Falcon with curiosity.

"Falcon, is it? You have made it clear that you are no mere janitor. I hesitate to order my guards to rush in and slay you where you stand for one reason. And do you know why? In all my years of service to Warlord Karm, a man has never looked me in the eyes as you have. For a brief moment, you took me back to the days of battle where status meant nothing. Back then, only strength spoke for a man. Obviously you are here for this boy. You have most likely been employed for quite some time to keep an eye on him and, for the moment, I do not care why. You, my janitor friend, are far more interesting . . ." Ricard stated, arms folded. Falcon looked at Ricard with a thin smile, then peered down at Gisbo. He seemed to practically glow with a calm reassurance.

"Gisbo, I am sure you are bewildered at this point, but do not worry yourself. I, Falcon, have come for you and will protect you with my life. When we leave this place, all will be explained. For now, I want you to trust me and stay conscious. You certainly won't want to miss this..." Falcon said. He then flashed a crazy grin and with a flick of his wrist, ripped back his white hood to reveal a beautifully stitched, vibrant blue, two tailed bandana.

_Chapter 4:_ Dreams Anew

A Renegade!!?? That's . . . that's . . . Gisbo was in complete shock. He knew the bandana well. The vivid artist's renditions from his books came flooding back to him as Falcon ripped away the rest of his scrubby, stinky cloak to reveal the full uniform. The color scheme made it look as if the entire suit glowed like the vivid blue flames at the heart of a fire. Everything was present: the flowing blue cape with black and white jagged edges; the loose, sleeveless, jump-suit-like uniform; the tight black leather bracings around the chest, waist and legs with lighter blue trimmings.

Almost as impressive as the uniform's design were the night black tattoos that streamed down Falcon's entire left arm, where a scabbard, tied directly to his hip, pointed down behind him. The sword's handle was topped with a brilliant red stone that glittered like a sunrise.

The citizens of Oak County stood in awe at this revelation, not knowing whether it was the real thing or an insane imposter who stood before the Elekai' Elite now. But then again, the man had sent hefty Captain Cannon flying from his pedestal . . . no mean feat. All gazes shifted from the blue clad warrior to the Elekai' Elite, each with the same question emblazoned across their faces that read, What are you gonna do now? Ricard, not to be outdone, quickly drew attention back to himself.

"To think you a mere janitor was a mistake, but to think that a Renegade was hidden under that obscene garb? Can it be?" Ricard said, as if he were talking to himself. Scarrr and Cannon remained speechless as they began moving behind their leader with caution, awaiting orders.Gisbo sat still, not wanting to move with Ricard's sword still just a swing away.

"I hate to be a bother, but you must understand . . . I still have much sweeping to do and, if you would be so obliged, I would love to do it with the three of you." Falcon paused to let his statement sink in, before continuing. "Now, we Renegades have always been the more battle battle, less talky-talky type. So let's get to the part where I climactically defeat you all and am on my way with the boy intact," Falcon said, folding his arms impatiently.

Captain Ricard stood for a moment and pondered a question that had long troubled him. In his own way, he had surpassed his own father's legacy, no easy feat, but now a new possibility occurred to him. The only thing to rival his accomplishments now was distant memory of the Renegades, the mythic elite of old. Supposed elite, Ricard thought. Should he defeat one now, the question would be settled once and for all. He, General Ricard, would be known country wide as the ultimate warrior and the trouncer of Renegades. He even had an entire crowd to witness it.

It's the chance of a lifetime, Ricard thought. He had made his decision. Why end things so anticlimactically by sending all his guards to attack one man? He had the people's eye; why not make things interesting? Ever since the Flarians left, life had been so awfully boring anyway.

"Guards, restrain the boy," Ricard ordered. The guards obeyed and dragged Gisbo a safe distance away.

"Your offer is indeed . . . intriguing, Falcon. However, I would need to see for myself that you are worth my worth. Meet my subordinates, Cannon and Scarrr," Ricard said.

"We've met," Falcon growled. Cannon and Scarrr suddenly looked at one another.

"Together they do not equal my true strength. Fight them both, defeat them, and you will be rewarded by fighting me as . . ."

"Foolish TURKEY! You are not a prize to be won! You honestly think yourself able to withstand the fury of a Renegade Berserker? Hah! You turkey!" Falcon barked. Ricard was left speechless. "However, I do love me a fight, challenging or not. Send me your worthless peons but, I will say, I cannot guarantee their safety. Upon facing me, they may never fight again," Falcon warned, this time his tone as mild as if he were discussing the weather. Ricard felt as if he were back in his young days as a soldier and a drill sergeant had just reprimanded him.

Did he honestly just call me . . . a turkey? Not just a turkey, but a FOOLISH TURKEY? Less talky-talky, huh? For someone who does not like to talk, he doesn't seem to shut up! Ricard gathered his thoughts.

"CANNON! SCARRR! HAVE AT HIM!" Ricard screamed, thrusting his sword in Falcon's direction.

Ricard stepped off the wooden staging and made his way over to the guards in charge of Gisbo. He stood with his arms at ease as his men began to prepare for battle. The townsfolk and children all backed away to a safe distance, eyes wide, afraid to blink lest they miss something. The children were especially excited, for this would be their first time witnessing a real Elekai' battle! Not only that, but if the man's word was true, they were about to see a long lost Renegade fight before their very eyes!

General Ricard smiled with confidence once again as he saw his two companions ready themselves. Their teamwork was intrinsic and their powers unrivaled. In his mind, Falcon was the one unqualified for this bout.

Much has changed since the days of the Renegade. These two will annihilate this poor Flarian, Renegade or not, Ricard thought to himself.

Cannon and Scarrr looked across at their opposition. They pulled their respective weapons from their sheaths and, in traditional Elekai' Elite fashion, began spinning their weapons ostentatiously, stepping forward and backward and finishing their dance with a synchronized spin, standing in each other's original position with knees bent and weapons flourished overhead. A quick burst of applause rang out causing Cannon to beam in satisfaction. It was good to hear fanfare after his embarrassing incident and it had been an excellent display of handiwork and footwork, after all. He and Scarrr awaited their opponent's next move as Falcon continued to stand, indifferent, with arms folded.

After a few moments passed, Falcon stretched, yawned and scratched his rear end. Cannon and Scarrr were outraged by such disrespect, but remained calm. It was now Falcon's turn to draw. In a humble gesture, the Renegade drew his sword from his sheath with a quick SHWING noise and pointed it towards his opponents, holding the same careless stance.

Cannon and Scarrr glanced at each other and nodded. It was time to release their elemental essence. They gripped their weapon handles and the stones in their hilts began to glow brilliantly, Scarrr's a transparent yellow and Cannon's an emerald green. Both weapons began to emit a constant whining noise as first the handle, then the entire weapon matched their stone's colorful glow before erupting into powerful, pulsating beams of light.

Cannon's seemed to spark and drip with raw green energy. The veins in his arms and face glowed the same hue as the power flooded through his body. Scarrr's burst forth in a perfectly straight beam that flashed with a deadly precision. His veins glowed a vibrant yellow, equally distributed throughout his body.

With a unified battle cry, Cannon and Scarrr unleashed a surge of energy, causing a flash of combined aura so powerful that the wooden planks and floorboards on the staging began to crack beneath their feet, sending splinters flying through the air. Falcon's cape and bandana tails ruffled behind him from the sheer display of their power. The Renegade betrayed an expression of profound fear as he lifted his forearm over his eyes to shield them.

This ever-so-serious Scarrr absolutely flushed to see the Renegade's fear. However, their excitement quickly faded. Falcon suddenly dropped his forearm and laughed heartily to himself. They couldn't hear him through their weapons constant whining, but the body language was enough. Falcon finished his laughter and adapted the same gaze he had shot at Ricard earlier. The two Elekai' Elite members both felt their neck hair rise as the Renegade raised his blade, slowly, and pointed the tip to the sky. The red jewel at the end of the handle glowed first. It was entrancing, almost exotic to see the color red in their vicinity once more. Falcon's veins emitted a glow that made it seem like a lava flow had replaced his blood stream. And then, the explosion hit.

ROARRROOOSH!!! In an instant, Falcon's essence was unleashed. It sounded like a bomb going off. The blast of fiery energy was so powerful it split the entire stage platform in two, sending the two members of the Elekai' Elite tumbling off. Falcon's roaring blade had also completely silenced the dull, whining noise of Cannon and Scarrr's. If one closed their eyes and listened, they might have guessed two mosquitos were fighting a lion. Falcon calmly walked down the steps and onto the castle grounds toward Cannon and Scarrr. Both of them covered their eyes from the intense heat and they were pushed back from their standing positions as if their feet were on ice skates due to the sheer force of Falcon's power..

After much effort, Cannon and Scarrr managed to regain their ground. They had no other option but to resort to their most powerful abilities and fast. They both spread out to the left and the right of the Renegade. Cannon called upon his innate powers as stones and pebbles began to fly from the ground and cling to him like magnets.

Scarrr turned his weapon sideways and activated his air suppression, creating the appearance of teleporting back and forth as he sprinted towards Falcon. Cannon sprinted on as well, activating another ability that increased the size of his body to towering heights. Cannon now looked like a giant rock monster with green moss growing over every nook and cranny. Scarrr attacked from the left as Cannon stormed in from the right, just a breaths pace behind Scarrr.

Ricard stood ever so still as he watched the green and yellow glow about to make contact with the red one. Falcon's immense elemental roar may have impressed everyone else, but they were oblivious to the giant smile plastered on the general's face. To all appearances, Cannon and Scarrr weren't messing around either, skipping over their warm up to their most powerful attack. They never even tried it on me for the sheer danger of it; I doubt I would come out of this unscathed. Let's see how the Renegade fares, Ricard thought.

Gisbo watched with intense interest. He thought meeting the Elekai' Elite was the highlight of his life, but it had just taken a quick backseat to what was going on in front of him. His imagination of what an Elekai' battle would be like was shattered. Nothing could have prepared him for the amazing display of unleashed essence. No, nothing could prepare him for the essence that Falcon, the Renegade was emitting. Was this the true power of a Renegade? Could he be capable of such force himself? So many questions, but Gisbo would have to wait for now, but he didn't mind. He was fully entranced by the show before him. The many blows that his noggin had taken in the past day seemed like nothing. His fear of death was gone almost as quickly as it had come. Everything felt like it was going to be all right, knowing that Falcon, the Renegade, was on his side.

Falcon's essence seemed to be enveloping his Elekai' Elite opponents as they neared striking distance. Scarrr flashed a false forward swing with his blade, but before the frontal image of himself even dissipated, he was behind Falcon, ready to land a killing blow.

Cannon, with his stone like arm, now close to the size of an oak tree, reeled back and poised a giant, boulder-like fist just above Falcon's head. Before impact, everyone, including the two strikers, saw Falcon still standing put, allowing triumphant smiles to stretch across the faces of Scarrr and Cannon.

Scarrr struck first, so as not to be smashed by Cannon's falling blow. Scarrr's eyes lit up as he felt his blade pass right through Falcon's neck, but . . . it kept going, too quickly. Before he could even comprehend it, Scarrr had passed through Falcon's body as if it were made of a red mist. At first, Scarrr felt nothing. All he heard was Cannon's crashing blow behind him that sent grass clods and dirt showering over him. Suddenly, the normally quiet Scarrr screamed! His skin began to crackle and turn black as if it absorbed something, and then burst into flames. Scarrr ran like a rampaging bull straight toward the castle's gushing water fountain. He jumped in, submerging himself in the cold water and sending up plumes of steam, but the pain was too much. Scarrr passed out, convulsing and shaking like a fish out of water before he lay still. Guards rushed to his aid and later, looking in a mirror, Scarrr would realize that he had all the more reason to wear his helmet.

Cannon's stone-like form spun around to see the now grotesque form of his comrade being dragged out of the fountain. He lifted his boulder-like fist from the point of impact, realizing too late that there was nothing there but a crater without any human remains. It was then he felt an immense pain in his right shoulder. It was now Cannon's turn to scream, but instead it came out sounding like a roar, a roar that competed with Falcon's fully powered blade. Cannon stared down at his body in horror as red, vein-like crackles began to spread across his chest and move downward, filling every nook and cranny of his rock body with a molten, lava-like substance. Seconds later, the rocks blew apart one by one like a series of fireworks. With every explosion, Cannon's body began shrinking back to its normal size, save for his arm, which stayed the same. As he shrunk, Falcon revealed himself behind Cannon's massive shoulder. He was perched on it like a blue parrot. Cannon stumbled all about like a drunkard. His gigantic arm was the only thing that kept him standing. His body looked to be covered in puss-filled boils where the rocks used to be. Falcon then forcibly ripped his blade free of Cannon's gigantic arm and the big man squealed like a pig. Falcon walked around to face the short man who now dragged an arm the size of a small oak tree.

"Cannon the Cruel, as you were once known, I have severed your shoulder tendons. For as long as you live, you will be forced to carry these unsightly scars and lug this gigantic arm as payment for the many Flarians crushed beneath it unfairly. You will live in dire pain and anguish for the rest of your days. Do not ponder even once if I have granted the two of you mercy," Falcon said, glancing over at the defeated Scarrr. "Living is the hard part, death is easy," Falcon finished.

The butt of Falcon's sword handle connected with the back of Cannon's head, ending the poor man's suffering for the time being. Wasting no time, Falcon marched straight up to Ricard, ever so calm. The general was shocked beyond belief, but he wasn't about to allow himself to show it. He had underestimated Falcon's abilities, sure, but he had never expected to see his men disposed of so easily and so . . . violently.

So, the Renegades survive . . . Ricard thought. This thought, which initially excited him, now terrified him. What would the people think now? The Elekai' Elite were the pinnacle of perfection that society looked up and aspired to.

Ricard began weighing what few options remained to him. Should this Renegade defeat him, his very authority would be called into question. He would be doubted among the people and, most importantly, Warlord Karm. He had to take initiative to preserve the remaining attention he had. He was General Ricard after all. He still had favor with the people. He would defeat this lone Renegade and finalize his place in history.

Both men stood a few feet apart from each other, scrutinizing the other's movements with caution. Ricard was in no mood for talk. Action was called for, but something needed to be said regardless. He had to maintain his air of control in front of his people. The general unsheathed his fencer-like sword and in seconds, he ignited it into a roaring crystal blue color, rivaling the noise Falcon's blade had emitted earlier. Falcon replied by igniting his own blade once again and awaiting his opponent's action. This time his red essence did not overtake his foe's. The energies collided as if they were doing battle on their own. They swirled and wafted through the air and upon contact with each other, thick steam rose to the sky as water mixed with fire. Much to Falcon's surprise, their energies were equal in strength. Falcon disposed of his earlier lackluster stance and adapted a defensive position with his sword pointed straight forward, ready to parry. Falcon knew Ricard's blade was meant for quick, stabbing thrusts while his was made for wild swinging.

This should prove interesting, Falcon thought to himself, excited. He had not once come across a fencer on the battlefield. Fencing was thought to be an outdated practice as it was not invented to face multiple opponents, leaving the wielder with an obvious weakness out on the battlefield. However, this was no battlefield and a fencer dominated in one-on-one combat. Insofar as weapons were concerned, Ricard held the advantage.

For now . . . Falcon thought.

Ricard watched his opponent take his stance, enjoying the fact that Falcon was taking him seriously. The general then held his sword upward, pointed to the sky. Oddly enough, all of Ricard's roaring blue essence began to be absorbed back into his sword, making the general's veins glow even brighter as he compressed the released energy back within himself. Falcon was really surprised by his use of this maneuver. It was known as the compression technique, a Flarian technique, born out of necessity to help control their swirling fire and not harm others. Doing so did have its advantages however. It enhanced all of the users physical attributes, including speed, reflexes and adrenaline production, all at the same time. It also allowed for unwasteful energy consumption, allowing them to stay powered up for longer periods of time. Ricard had indeed done his homework and Falcon couldn't be more ecstatic as he raised his own blade to the sky and mimicked the maneuver, compressing his own swirling fire back into himself.

"Flarian, I beg of you, do not hold yourself back from me. As a fellow warrior, grant me this small pleasure. The unknown limits of my prowess have been unbearable. I've had no one able to test me. Please, throw your all at me. I hold you in utmost respect and simply must uphold the laws of my Warlord and the Freeists. Let bygones be bygones as we do battle, agreed?" Ricard asked, addressing Falcon with respect. Falcon did not smile or show an ounce of humor as he answered the General.

"Do not discuss politics with me. Freeist or Purist, it matters not. I am a Renegade, separated from petty party squabbles and wielder of my own ideals. The values one wishes to uphold and protect determines their role in life, not parties. Let us pour our very beings into this battle, spend ourselves for the glory of our causes and may IAM uphold the victor," Falcon answered.

In a flash, the two men disappeared from their stationary positions with an air sucking noise, as if they had teleported. People gazed all over, looking for them in surprise until sparks of red and blue flashed across the ground. The air reverberated with loud cracks of ringing steel. Gisbo's eyes could barely keep up. A smile stretched across Gisbo's face as he witnessed a battle like no other. This talk of Freeists and Purists Gisbo knew nothing about, but the thought didn't remain long. The two warriors suddenly vanished once more and reappeared halfway across the courtyard. It was here Falcon and Ricard finally slowed, realizing they could not gain openings with quick footwork. They now moved on to true swordplay.

Ricard went on the offensive and pummeled Falcon with quick stabs and thrusts. However, Falcon, in an odd array of wild swings, dodges and feigns, gracefully countered the general for everything he could throw at him and nearly caused Ricard to lose his balance a few times. Gisbo noticed that as far as power and footwork were concerned, they were dead equal. But as far as swordplay was concerned, it was clearly Falcon's unorthodox style, or lack of style, that held the advantage over the fencer. This was not due to one style being better than the other, but simply because Falcon's reflexes were in another league.

The Renegade swirled his sword in a figure eight fashion, completing each rotation faster than Ricard could draw back and thrust his sword forward. Ricard understood that Falcon was feeling him out, first for power, then footwork and now handiwork. He knew now where Falcon had the advantage. Because of this, he forced him to switch to the next stage. The historic writings of the Renegades and Flarians made them seem like mindless berserkers. Could the books be wrong? Ricard gritted his teeth as Falcon now held the upper hand and went on the offensive.

What is going on? Ricard thought. The reports never mentioned Flarians or Renegades fighting in this manner. And yet, here one stands with a highly controlled disposition. In a mere thirty seconds he has felt me out and found an advantage! Every strike has rage and power behind it, but . . . it is not mindless, it's controlled! What is going on?

Essence, footwork, handiwork. These were three requirements for every Elekai' warrior. But there was one more and Ricard switched to it quickly. It was time to move the focus to technique and here he knew he had the Renegade outclassed. The amount of material exclusively for him, the general, was nearly limitless. When he wasn't training his body, Ricard devoted hours of his time to technique, studying everything available to him, pulling from various sources and forging his own signature methods.

Ricard managed a quick dodge and then struck out with a wild attack, causing a fierce backlash, which sent both men flying backward in opposite directions. Both fighters landed neatly on their feet and Ricard mentally praised himself. The first part to his strategy had worked. He now had the distance he needed to unleash his first technique. For the first time in decades, Ricard felt unsure of victory. A repressed anxiety surfaced and washed over him. Strangely enough, he loved it. Never had he faced an opponent like Falcon before. The uncertainty made the general feel alive once again, as a true smile of joy stretched across the warrior's face. He gripped his handle a little tighter and called upon the essence needed to unleash his inner powers. As always, he loved the tingling, tickling sensation in his veins as he did so.

Ricard first thrust out a temporary wall of ice, as transparent as glass, to prevent Falcon from interfering with his technique. The Renegade watched with care as Ricard cut a circle in the ground with his sword's tip, surrounding his body. Upon completion of the circle, hot steam shot from the cuts in the ground in a loud hissing noise, surrounding the general in a thick, steaming fog. Falcon and the crowd watched the fog swirl round and round to form eight needle-like shapes in the air. The needles began to swell and form into hefty icicles, all with extremely sharp points at each end. The spear-like tapers began to revolve around Ricard in a tight circle as the wall of ice melted away, replaced by this odd new protection. What was even more eerily mesmerizing was that within the core of each icicle, the same steaming fog substance swirled like tiny caged tornados.

"I have studied the abilities of the Flarian for years, Renegade. Out of all of us, it was you who specialized in the use of heat to torment your foes. You were practically built with the ability to destroy life. It is safe to assume, should one wish to burn their victims, that one would need to acquire fire. We humanoids are so very fragile to heat, after all. Even the metallic armor we wear can be melted into liquid form at the proper temperature. Yes, heat is the universal weakness of life, but who said fire was the only substance to emit it most effectively? The common man realizes that fire, like everything else, can be snuffed out with water - but that is just so boring.

"Some say water gives life, while fire takes it. From this logic, a common belief was formed and the Flarians were banned from the plains of civilization. For every individual Flarian who could control their flame, there were ten more in line who could not and the obvious outcome occurred. However, I think a little differently. I respect the powers of Flarians, even obsessed over them for a time. How suitable they are for war and combat. I wanted the abilities of your people for myself and so, discontent with mere aquatic powers, I did some research and I found out how wrong I was. Nearly the opposite was true, Renegade, as I will now show you and this crowd the fruits of my labor. I'd tell you to prepare yourself, but there is no way you possibly can," Ricard boasted with a confident smile.

The general raised his sword high in the air and one of the large icicles shot into the sky like a rocket. Falcon followed it a ways with his eyes until it was lost to view. Ricard then pointed his blade forward in Falcon's direction. SHOOM! The icicle descended, breaking the sound barrier as it shot downward towards Falcon. The Renegade rolled to the right as the large icicle crashed into the ground, breaking into hundreds of tiny shards. It was then Falcon realized his mistake. Ricard was not trying to hit him head on. The general wanted him to dodge. Ricard made his icicles hit at a precise angle. The ice was only a container for the real weapon, the steam inside. The force of the impact shot the steam directly at Falcon. The general even forecasted what side Falcon would roll to. Warlord Karm had chosen his second in command well.

In a last ditch effort, the Renegade twirled his blade like a fan. It deflected most of the substance, but not enough. The steam made contact with Falcon's fingers and his flesh was permeated. The glands in his skin absorbed the steam like a sponge to water. The pain pulsed through his fingers, forcing him to drop his blade. With the loss of his sword, Falcon lost contact with his elemental power and his veins converted to their normal state. However, Ricard's attack was not finished yet . . .

The remaining ice shards from the blast began to vibrate and they suddenly shot toward Falcon's dropped blade, encasing it in an icy shell. Once encased in its icy prison, the frozen blade shot through the air and joined the icicle display hovering around Ricard, replacing the broken piece. Falcon stood powerless while Captain Ricard grinned from ear to ear. He had won and it was about time the Renegade heard an earful about it.

"It's over, Renegade. I see you are starting to understand what I was speaking of before. Fire may be the supreme element for absolute destruction, but there is a far greater way to dispose of a human. Steam is infinitely more deadly to the skin than just an ordinary dry heat burn. If one accidentally puts his arm into a flame, he has time to pull it out before suffering damage. Steam is another story. Should a quick release of steam grace your flesh, it immediately goes to work, as the skin absorbs it. Enough steam can literally melt the flesh off one's bones in seconds. I wonder, can an animated skeleton walk? I've yet to see. I only know that I have mastered the technique of controlling temperatures according to my will, heating or cooling water molecules to unknown degrees while supernaturally maintaining its form. I can even encase steam within ice, as I have demonstrated. How? Well, I can't give away all my secrets, now can I?" Ricard said, enjoying himself. He loved the way his voice sounded. He had won and, best of all, he had a crowd of people, his people, here to witness it.

Falcon stood quietly, staring at his weapon floating around Ricard with longing in his eyes. The general's face flushed with color and pride, knowing that the people would never doubt the strength of the Elekai Elite again.

"Well, Renegade, with your source of power gone and your hands unable to hold a weapon, I grow tired of you. Present and past have collided here today and I now know the question that has been plaguing me for decades. Clearly, you outmatch me in physical combat and essential energies, the Renegade specialties, but your time away has greatly limited your research and mastery of technique. Much has changed since your days in the castle walls and hosts of new abilities have been discovered. Nothing like mine, of course. I do respect you, but you understand that I cannot let you walk away. I must uphold the law and instead of one Flarian dying today, there must now be two. As much as I . . ."

"Foolish squawking turkey . . ." Falcon interrupted with mystifying calm. Ricard's face went white as he watched Falcon raise his right hand upward, showing what appeared to be a ring on his finger containing a familiar red stone in the band. The ring began to glow a bright burning red as elemental essence charged through Falcon's body.

Ricard's eyes widened as he glanced down at Falcon's sword encased in ice and it too began to glow the same fierce red. The ice around it began to crack. The sword itself thrashed and vibrated with red energy. Falcon thrust his ring forward in a tight fist and a red rope of energy shot from the ring and connected itself to the sword's stone hilt like a grappling hook.

What!? No! He was toying with me this whole time? Impossible! I . . . and with that, Ricard thought his last conscious thought for the day. Falcon's sword ignited fully, exploding like a firebomb. The force sent the general flying through the courtyard like an awkwardly loosed arrow and he slammed hard into the castle wall. The stones cracked all around him from the impact of the general's strong armor and the remaining ice shards followed him, penetrating deep into every unprotected part of his body, turning Ricard into a human dart board. Ricard then passed out, not from the force of impact or the pain, but from the sight of his own bleeding body.

Falcon looked at his fallen opponent and saluted. He then cleared his throat and walked through the charred grass, retrieved his sword, sheathed it, and calmly strode toward Gisbo humming a little tune. The guards restraining Gisbo quickly let him go and backed up slowly with their hands out in front of them, showing they were not a threat. Falcon nodded and then the guards split like squirrels, rushing to the aid of their desecrated general.

Gisbo rose to his feet, unable to take his eyes off Falcon, unable to believe that it was only yesterday that man stood before him in the rain, wearing his nasty white cloak. And now here he was once more, standing in the sunlight, graced in the attire of a Renegade. It was then a slight breeze came and shuffled his blue cape and bandana tails. Falcon smiled.

"Come, my friend, and make your dreams anew," Falcon said. With that, he turned and walked straight out of the courtyard, still humming to himself.

Gisbo followed.

_Chapter 5:_ The Truth Revealed

To Gisbo, it felt like it took a lifetime to walk out of the city and, strangely enough, nobody followed. Even so, he still found himself looking over his shoulder, expecting to see a slew of guards trying to take advantage of Falcon's injured state, but none came. He then reminded himself that the man had just defeated the general of the Elekai' Elite with no more then a flick of a wrist.

Gisbo walked along silently behind Falcon, watching him hum and whistle to himself casually. Gisbo doubted that Falcon even knew the ramifications of his actions. The Renegade challenged the strength of the strongest and trounced not one, but three. Did he even realize how this would affect the people? They would be telling this story for centuries to come with no need for exaggeration. The future generation may not believe it, but those that saw it would likely never forget. Where were you the day the Renegade came? Gisbo thought with a laugh.

Falcon suddenly stopped and Gisbo realized they were finally at his small shack of a home. New graffiti had somehow, magically, come overnight. Gisbo shook his head and muttered a curse under his breath.

"Well, pack your necessities and we'll be off!" Falcon said with an upbeat little cheer. Gisbo was stunned. He stared at Falcon with a dumbfounded look.

"Are you serious!? After all that walking in silence, after . . . after . . . oh man . . . I can't even believe what you just did back there! After all that, you just expect me to willingly pack up and leave, no questions asked? Just like that?" Gisbo demanded, bewildered. Now it was Falcon's turn to give a dumbfounded stare.

"Um, do you plan on staying here, champ?" Falcon asked straightforward. Gisbo then realized how stupid his question must have sounded to the man who had saved his life.

"Uh, no! Of course not!" Gisbo replied. There was a brief pause that was awkward for both of them.

"Well, pack your necessities and we'll be off!" Falcon repeated his cheer. Gisbo just stared at Falcon, shaking his head.

"I just don't believe this. Someone hit me! This must be a . . ." WHACK! Falcon did exactly as Gisbo commanded. Gisbo sat on the ground rubbing his very sore head and shouting his usual curses when he noticed that Falcon's hands were completely healed.

"Wait! How the hell did you even hit me just now? Your hands, they were . . ." Gisbo trailed off.

"In simple terms, my wounds pretty much melted away. An elementary healing technique did the trick. I employed it while we were walking. Just now finished its effect, actually, perfect timing! Especially considering how you requested that I hit you and . . ." Falcon got no farther before being interrupted.

"All right! All right! I get it, but seriously, just give me a minute to wrap my head around all this. Ok, there I was fighting Thomson, I . . . I nearly got my ass handed to me. If that guy Rolce didn't hop in and . . . oh no . . . Rolce! That kid took a major beating for me and I had only just met the guy! I hope he's all right," Gisbo said, true concern to his tone.

"Why don't you ask him yourself? Look behind you. He's arrived right on schedule," said Falcon, as he pointed to the left side of the castle walls. There, walking quite normally, was Rolce. He trotted toward them with a big grin and a wave.

"Rolce! How did you . . . you're healed too? How are you even walking? THE HELL IS GOING ON!?" Gisbo yelled as he grabbed his throbbing head in frustration. Rolce didn't answer Gisbo. Instead, he walked straight toward Falcon, a finger pointed at him.

"You! How did you do that? I heard a voice in my head tell me to follow you! One minute my leg is broken and the next it's . . ." Rolce stammered, and then, like Gisbo before him, stared at Falcon in a dreamy shock. Finally, Falcon crossed his arms and sighed deeply.

"Quit lookin' at me like that, what do you think this is? One of your storybooks where something profound happens and you are filled with questions, but I, being the adult, tell you, 'No, boys, you are not yet old enough to hear the truth. In due time, when you are ready, all will be revealed!' Or, better yet! 'You two guys are the chosen ones! We need you to fight against some evil empire and slay the emperor!' Blah-da-di-blah! Psh, you guys read too much lousy fantasy," Falcon walked crazily this way and that, waving his hands around as he ranted. If sarcasm could take human form, it just had.

Gisbo and Rolce transferred their stares from Falcon to each other, then back to Falcon once more. They both muttered, "Huh?"

"Bah! What a serious bunch you two are. Fine, fine, the truth it is, eh? All right, kiddies, I won't hold anything back." Falcon put his hands on his hips for emphasis and cleared his throat.

"What I am about to tell you will not set easily, so you better start preparing yourselves. Whew, here goes." He paused again, trying to choose his words carefully, then plowed right in.

"Boys, I am a messenger from the almighty IAM, the immortal being and creator of this planet. A plot of utter evil is underway to rid this world of everything decent and just. You two have been chosen, by destiny, to face this evil and prevent their wicked deeds. The fate of the world now lies in the decision you will make to this question, this one question. Will you two give over your lives for the greater good? Or doom us all by refusing? Only in your deaths can Thera be saved . . . now choose," Falcon said in utter seriousness.

Gisbo and Rolce's faces fell as Falcon's words sunk in. They couldn't even look at each other upon hearing such news. Gisbo at first thought that Falcon must be kidding, but one look at the Renegade's eyes said he was not. He recalled the change in his demeanor when he had faced the Elekai' Elite. His voice held the same seriousness now. Falcon looked at them, his eyes swinging back and forth, awaiting their reply. Another long awkward silence ensued. Neither Gisbo, nor Rolce said a word. The two of them only shuffled their feet nervously and stared at the ground.

"BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Falcon burst into a peal of laughter, pointing at Gisbo and Rolce's bewildered faces.

"Oh," he gasped. "Oh boy . . . I . . . I . . ." The Renegade then burst into another fit of laughter. "You should have seen the looks on your faces! Classic, absolutely classic! Oh how I love bringing newbies into the fold!" Falcon said. He clutched his convulsing middle and grimaced in pain, then laughed again. Rolce gave the Renegade an angry glower, but Gisbo's face lightened up. His heart pounded in excitement as if it were trying to bust through his chest. Gisbo tried to force back his rising smile, but it was impossible.

"Wait, you mean, you mean to tell me that you are here to make us . . . Renegades?" Gisbo asked, hoping upon everything holy that it was true. Falcon put a hand on each of the boy's shoulders.

"All right, all jokes aside now, promise. Gisbo, Rolce, I have come here to retrieve the both of you. It's time to continue your Renegade training," Falcon said, beaming with pride. The boys adopted their confused looks yet again.

"'Continue?' What on Thera do you mean by 'continue?'" Rolce asked.

"Just as I said. Both of you, as of right now, have completed the first stage in your Renegade training. I know you guys feel lost, a bit out of your minds, but all that is normal. I felt the same way when I was your age. You boys are Renegade born and have passed the first part of your training with flying colors. For you to truly become a Renegade, you must know what it means to walk alone and learn the lessons of pain, sacrifice and sorrow and overcome them under grueling circumstances. Only then can one be deemed worthy of training. Deep down, although you may not have known it, you have always been Renegades," Falcon explained.

"We have? I still don't get it. Why me of all people?" Gisbo asked.

"Easy, kiddo. Let me ask you this. Do you have a problem with authority? Do you have a problem with people just like you and me telling you what to do? Who are they to have the right? Do you hate feeling restrained or being ordered to speak as is politically correct and sometimes don't you just want to explode from the frustration of it all?" Falcon asked.

"Hmph, you got no idea . . ." Gisbo muttered, remembering his days in school.

"Yeah," Rolce said.

"Not fun being a square peg in a round hole, is it? Ok! We have at least determined the fact that the two of you are rebels, but we have no shortage of those. A rebel and a Renegade are two different things. A rebel simply rebels to be difficult, to stand out and to seek attention. You've seen 'em. I know you have. I'm talking about the fakers. The people who wear silly things, talk in ways that aren't their own, make outlandish statements just for a laugh. Oh, they'll tell you they are a big deal, brag about themselves, SAY they will rip you a new one if you cross em and are usually VERY good at talking. But you must understand, it's all just smoke and mirrors, a defense mechanism to hide their weakness. They are all surface, no substance. A rebel, simply put, takes a side route off the main road, but not out of sight from the rest of the crowd. They need to be noticed and always look to their left, seeing if the main path is staring back at them, always craving attention. Like it or not, they are still a sheep like the rest of them. They are going the same direction. Yeah, we are in no need of those," Falcon said. Gisbo pictured Thomson's cronies as perfect examples, as well as the many girls with piles of make up and who treated the latest fashion trends with the same importance as life and death.

"Now, a Renegade, that's something much more substantial. A Renegade has all the qualities that a rebel has, with one big difference. Renegades set their own ideals, their own opinions, and forge their OWN path. They never look over at the main road for guidance. They are disciplined visionaries and they could give a flying turd about what the sheep are shouting over to them from the main road, usually sounding something like, 'Hey! Where you going? Look, everyone else is doing this! It must be right!' Even through the criticism, the Renegades persevere and set out undeterred with their heads held high. They never live their lives for any other approval besides their own. And don't think it's such a lonely way. The Renegade's life is but flames lit by dreams and passions. With such flames, we bring light to the world around us and know full well that when our time comes, although our bodies may die, our flame will live on. Our fires will ignite anew and join with the fires of future torch carriers worthy of the name Renegade," Falcon said.

"Quite poetic. I like it," Rolce said.

"I don't get it," Gisbo muttered.

"It's something you must discover on your own. I'm not worried about you, Rolce. It's the butt for brains here that I'm worried about," Falcon said.

"Who's got butt for brains?" Gisbo asked. Falcon and Rolce both glanced at each other and fought back a laugh.

"So, think back on your current lives, boys. Close your eyes and think. Are you a Renegade? Or are you a rebel? If you would, let me help you out with a third party perspective," Falcon continued, glancing at Gisbo first.

"Gisbo, this should be easy for you. Did you ever wonder why you were the outcast of a town, without a friend in the world, and being constantly picked on for your strange name? What? Did you think IAM dealt you a bad hand because he simply didn't like you? No. Everything happens for a reason, champ, and your name was given to you specifically for a purpose. For a child to survive on his own in this cruel world, he's got to be rugged, like iron. This name has forced you to break free from your comfort zone. Your name has made you fearless, brave and, above all else, confident, with an undying willpower. Everyone told you that you could never be an Elekai' Warrior. Everyone told you that you would amount to nothing. Everyone hated you, but did that stop you? No, not you, Gisbo. You are set apart from the timid souls and have already started down your own path, but you must realize something . . ." Falcon said.

"Realize what?" Gisbo asked.

"You must realize that they were also right about you. You will never be a plain old Elekai' Warrior. You weren't meant too. Instead, you will be a Renegade warrior!" Falcon pronounced, with an encouraging smile. Gisbo stood transfixed, thinking back through his life as everything started to make a little sense. Falcon then turned in Rolce's direction.

"Rolce, this should be easy for you as well. A boy who lived in a foster family that only took him in to receive tax breaks and only picked him because he was the biggest and strongest of all, perfect for unbearable chores. Your adoptive parents were all forms of lazy, yet wanted all the comforts that hard work brings. The reward without the sacrifice and through you, they undeservingly got it. You slaved away at their farm, day after day doing the work of ten farmers and boy, did you do it well! You became one with the earth as you grew more crops than any other farm in Oak County, providing your lazy foster parents with great wealth. You couldn't be more different from them. They provided you with dirty rags for clothes, miniscule meals, and no place to sleep but with the livestock while they embraced their superficial nonsense and spent their days in pointless luxury and rose within the social ranks." Rolce began to pat the dirt off his overalls just at the mention of his childhood.

"Your greatest fear was abandonment and that if you did not do as you were told, you would be tossed into the streets with nothing and nowhere to go. This encouraged you to focus on your studies unlike any other student, faithfully believing that if you succeeded, a better life would come your way. Others became jealous of the overgrown farm boy's high marks and sought you out every day after school for beatings, subconsciously attempting to stop you from overachieving and showing them up. They were always in a group, mind you, for they were afraid of you. Always in groups they came. You knew full well that with your great physical strength you could have trounced the lot of them, but you chose not to resort to their violent ways, making yourself a free punching bag because you wouldn't retaliate. What seemed like cowardice or goody-goody pacifism was, in reality, your true nature developing. You embrace self-control, intelligence, wisdom and an undying integrity. You stand apart from those purposeless fools," Falcon continued. Rolce beamed. He too began to think back at the steps that led him here. Before, only pain had come from these memories, but now an odd surge of happiness replaced them. Falcon folded his arms once more as he looked down on the boys and continued.

"As you can see, when one ventures through a path of desperation, one gains extraordinary skills that people whose lives are governed by normalcy could never hope to achieve. Once one knows how to overcome, improvise, adapt and find purpose in this life, one can achieve anything. Your only limit is the reach of your dreams. Whether you know it or not, both of you have branched off and started down your own paths. The funny thing is, both of you have gone your entire lives thinking that you were alone when unbeknownst to you, just around the corner, there was someone going through the exact same ordeal. You both now understand what it means to overcome grueling circumstances and you have become much stronger for it. It is said that IAM only pressures those he loves to make them stronger. From where I sit, it appears that he loves the two of you very much." Falcon smiled, giving them both a hard, encouraging clap on the shoulder.

"Now, though you were also unaware of it, I have been back and forth watching the both of you mature and I couldn't be more proud of who you have become. Before you lies the opportunity of a lifetime, but there is still a choice to be made and I am duty-bound to present it. You may believe that this whole thing was a setup and we merely tampered with your lives. Not true! Deep down, you feel that burning desire in your hearts and know this is what you were meant for. A simple choice remains. Choose to go back to your present lives and I will burn away the memory of this conversation. It's quite painful actually, or you can choose to follow me, prove yourselves to be a true Renegades, not rebels, and I will reveal to you a series of paths only for those strong of heart. So? Yes or no, boys?" Falcon commanded an answer. There was no awkward silence this time as Gisbo and Rolce responded with a resounding, "Yes!"

"Yes to what?" Falcon grinned.

"Yes to continuing our Renegade training, SIR!" Gisbo answered at once. Falcon then looked to Rolce.

"And what about you?" Falcon asked.

"Yes to continue our Renegade training, SIR!" Rolce echoed with a sharp salute.

"Are you sure? Seems to me you aren't one for fighting," Gisbo joked.

"Nah, I just know when to choose my battles. For me, attacking the entire Clash team by my lonesome was not a logical choice," Rolce defended himself with a grin. Gisbo laughed and stretched out his hand.

"Well, either way, you took a beating for me and I owe you one. It is a pleasure to meet you, Rolce, put 'er there," Gisbo said and Rolce pumped his hand hard. Falcon watched the two boys exchange handshakes and couldn't help but feel his heart skip. How smoothly this had gone! He could scarcely believe it. These boys have no idea the kind of team they will make, Falcon thought.

"Well, I'm fresh out of speeches it seems," Falcon said as he patted his pockets. "All right, kiddies, we ready to leave?" said Falcon.

"Not like I own anything else. My ratty clothes are all I got, and my schoolbooks, but I've pretty much memorized those, so I'm all set," Rolce rambled. Gisbo laughed.

"You actually memorized textbooks? Wow! You nerd," he gibed. Rolce looked at him with an aura of utmost calm.

"Just because you have a dog's name doesn't mean you should score like one," Rolce said. Gisbo cocked his brow in surprise.

"And what are you getting at, pal?" Gisbo asked, defensive.

"Oh nothing, I just remember seeing the last math exam postings and a boy with your very name was at the bottom of the list. What was your grade again?" Rolce said.

"I got a 7!" Gisbo said, quite proudly, folding his arms with a smile.

"Out of 100? You got 5 free points just for putting your name down! No one, and I repeat, no one can be that stupid," Rolce stated, dumbfounded.

"Textbooks are stupid and studying is stupid. Doesn't mean you're dumb if you get low marks, it just means . . ." Gisbo paused, deep in thought, trying to come up with something to say.

"Yeah, way to prove my point," Rolce said, laughing. Gisbo frowned.

"Hang on, it's coming . . . it just means, I'm a Renegade!" Gisbo said, smacking a fist across his chest. Falcon sighed.

"The path to stupidity is never a Renegade's path. There are far too many thorns and briars," Falcon said.

"Yes, but plenty of blackberries!" Gisbo chimed in. Rolce just shook his head and stared slack jawed.

"Heh, well put, my friend. Renegade Perry will enjoy having you in his philosophy classes. Well! Let us be off! It's not as though you have much to bring either, Gisbo, so let's cut to the chase," Falcon said.

"We don't have any food; I mean, we gotta pack something. How long is it going to take us to walk?" Rolce asked. Falcon looked as if he were estimating.

"To walk? Ohhh . . . I'd say about a week, possibly shorter if we run the whole way and don't sleep or eat, of course," Falcon said, in an assuring tone.

"How is that possible? Hell, it doesn't even look like you brought a pack with you! Did you really run all the way here without sleeping or eating?" Gisbo asked. Rolce wondered the same thing, but didn't want to sound dumb. Gisbo the impulsive would ask first.

"Boys, for two so smart, I'm astonished that you haven't caught on to my humor yet. Of course I came here without eating or sleeping," Falcon replied evasively.

"But that's impossible!" Gisbo refuted.

"Ah, but who said anything about walking?" Falcon added.

"You did!" Gisbo argued.

Falcon ignored him as he unsheathed his sword and tossed it to the ground. Rolce and Gisbo stared on, puzzled. Falcon nimbly hopped atop the blade, stretching out his right foot to meet the tip of the sword and placed his left foot just above the hilt. He then pointed his ring downward toward the hilt-stone and instantaneously a rope of beaming energy stretched out and connected with the blade, igniting it immediately. With a more controlled roar, the blade began to pulse with power from its underside and before long, Falcon began to rise into the air and do what could only be described as flying.

Rolce and Gisbo watched on amazed as Falcon shot into the sky, leaving a fiery streak behind him and using his ring to steer the agile blade. When he swung his fist, the sword obeyed immediately, following its every motion with great precision. Demonstration now completed, Falcon landed with a loud WOOSH in front of the boys, spraying up a cloud of dust.

"Nothing like a bit of skeeting! Only way to travel in my opinion. Now come on boys, Heaven's Shelter awaits our arrival! And believe me, many more surprises are in store for the likes of you two!" Falcon shouted over the roar of his blade. Before Gisbo could ask how they were supposed to fly, Falcon took the initiative.

The Renegade lifted his cape upward, revealing two red gleaming pieces of metal attached to his back. He removed them from their straps and threw them on the ground, one on each side of him. Swords they weren't, but rather they were two rectangular sheets of thick metal with two half-ring cups on either side.

"Well, you two can't release your essence yet, but don't worry, these will do. Go on, try 'em on; beginner skeets, perfect for training or towing multiple flyers. Slip your feet into the footholds. One size fits all, as you'll see," Falcon encouraged.

Rolce and Gisbo both stepped on the reddish metal planks. Their feet were way too small to fit into the holds, but no sooner had the thought crossed their minds than Falcon's essence snaked out in a rope once again. With a flash of red, both metal slabs ignited in a fiery blaze. At first, Rolce and Gisbo were alarmed as fire flickered all about them, but amazingly enough, it didn't burn them at all. On the contrary, it felt warm and almost soothing. The two metal footholds suddenly appeared to melt over their shoes like mercury and then solidified, holding their feet firmly in place. Gisbo looked over at Rolce with excitement, but the big guy didn't seem to share his enthusiasm. Rolce looked as if he had swallowed a ghost.

"Now then, just bend your knees and keep both arms out to steady yourselves and lean with the turns if you can. If not, I'll prevent you from wobbling with my essence and we'll arrive at Heaven's Shelter in no time at all. Any questions?" Falcon said, prepared to take off.

"I . . . uh . . . what if an enemy attacks us midair? I mean, you don't have your sword, you're defenseless!" Rolce exposed his nervousness.

"Well now, glad to see somebody thinking. The answer is quite simple. If I were on a skeet, this weapon of mine would be too big and too clumsy to swing. Hence, I have this angry little sucker," Falcon said. He reached downward and pulled something off the back of his boot heel and attached it to his fist.

"Knuck Knife, favorite of the Shininjas. Brass knuckles with a surprise . . ." Falcon threw his fist downward in a quick snapping motion and a long, curved dagger with reddish glints flipped around and clicked into place. "Ooooo, pretty huh? Trust me, we will be fine. Any more questions?" Falcon asked.

"I . . . just don't do well with heights, er flights, oh jeesh," Rolce said, wiping sweat from his brow. Falcon then grinned a wicked little smile that caused Rolce's knees to wobble.

"That ain't no question, that's a statement, my man. Typical Naforians, always ground ridden. Boy, when I'm done with you, you're gonna love the heights! And don't worry about that fire. It only burns someone when I want it to. Now . . . " Falcon paused and rubbed his hands together in excitement.

"Sky blue! Air breezy! Fly true and don't get queasy! HAHAHA!" With an uppercut punch, Falcon launched his burning blade upward, shooting straight into the sky, dragging the boys skeets with it at exceptional speed.

Wind rushed through Gisbo's hair and the sun warmed his cheeks as they rose higher and higher. He couldn't help but scream with enthusiasm, a big WAHOOOO, to be exact. He stretched out his arms and bent his knees the way Falcon had demonstrated. Never had he felt so free! Never had he been so high! He couldn't believe the sense of euphoria. Gisbo took a glance down and saw Oak County literally shrink away and saw frantic soldiers scurry about like ants in the castle courtyard. Gisbo shook his head in disbelief, wondering how many times had he wished he could just up and fly away from Oak County like a bird.

What a day for dreams, Gisbo thought, smiling. He looked over at Rolce to see if he was enjoying it as much as he was.

Rolce was bent down clutching the bottom of his board. His face was sweating and white and looked like melting snow. His eyes were squeezed shut and he shook his head back and forth as if to say, This isn't happening, this isn't happening. Gisbo couldn't help but laugh at his newfound friend.

Falcon leveled out and shot forward again at an even faster rate of speed. Gisbo looked down again and was graced with a vista of beautiful lakes, streams and many different birds that flew above the treetops beside them. Falcon turned to look back at him.

"Looks like you got the hang of things, eh kid? How'd you like a little more leeway?" Falcon yelled back. Gisbo quickly nodded his head in agreement.

Falcon gave him thumbs up and the thick rope-like essence attached to Gisbo's metal board seemed to thin out a bit. Gisbo felt himself begin to drop slightly and it became shakier. Out of instinct, he thrust his arms out further and within no time he had balanced himself. Gisbo found that by leaning his board backward and tilting the front tip upward he could float higher and the opposite was true to float lower.

After some quick practice and test maneuvers, Gisbo was really getting the hang of skeeting. He weaved in and out of the passing clouds and gave a quick peek over at Rolce. Gisbo was so glad he had for, at that moment, poor Rolce was wrestling with a giant eagle he must have collided with while his eyes were closed. The eagle screeched, pecked and fluttered as Rolce held its sharp talons at bay. It was quite the sight and going as fast and as high as they were made it all the more hilarious to Gisbo. He found himself laughing so hard he almost completely lost his balance.

"Aye, that'll teach ya to keep your eyes shut, eh Rolcey boy? Come on, ya big gallute, enjoy yourself! Take in the views! Ain't no better air to breathe than the air you're breathing now!" Falcon yelled back to Rolce. He then took a deep breath and let it out with a satisfied smile.

Rolce gripped the bottom of his board tightly and tried to take a brave look down. One look at the rushing land below was all it took. The big boy's eyes went wide, then rolled to the back of his head and he passed out, right then and there. Upon doing so, his body collapsed to one side and he dangled upside down on his feet like a sleeping bat. Falcon seemed to slow at the dead weight he was now trailing. He took one look back and laughed heartily.

"Skeetin' ain't meant for everyone! Let's say we kick it up a notch, eh Giz? Going to have to now that we got ourselves an anchor! We'll be there in no time now!" Falcon yelled. Gisbo gave him a thumbs up and Falcon's red essence flared wildly with a roar, sounding like the revving of a powerful engine, then compressed itself and shot them forward at almost double their initial speed, heading toward some large mountains in the distance.

Gisbo couldn't help but marvel at the amount of space they had covered in this short amount of time. It was incredible and here he had thought they had some grand trek ahead of them.

They were now approaching a snowcapped mountain range and, as they grew closer, Gisbo began to make out the appearance of lighted windows nestled within the very surface of them. Upon squinting, he swore he even saw the silhouettes of people walking back and forth and hanging out their laundry to dry.

All at once, Gisbo suddenly felt very cold. Looking downward, he saw a blanket of pure white snow covering the treetops. The various ponds and streams were now frozen and glistened like crystal. As much as Gisbo wanted to take in the sights, the cold was becoming unbearable, especially at their speed. Gisbo was just about to speak up when unexpected warmth washed over him. Amazingly, he didn't even need to ask. Falcon's essence began to wrap and swirl around him, supplying instant warmth.

"That should be a bit better, eh? Told ya I can heat this stuff when I want to. Don't worry now, our destination is just within these mountains. I'm sure you've noticed our neighboring Sorians by now! They hollowed out most of the mountainside and live within it. They also got a secret city that floats in the sky somewhere. We used to have our differences in the past, but now we are the greatest of allies! They even allowed us to share bum space with the lot of them, opening their homes to us gracefully. This is one of the only places on Thera you'll find us Flarians nowadays and them Sorians are a fantastic people to let us stay. You'll come to love their hospitality and their great food as well! Of course, they aren't the only race you'll find up here. Every one of 'em calls this place home. Almost there now. Next stop, Heaven's Shelter!" Falcon yelled. Gisbo looked over at Rolce. The boy was still swinging upside down, unconscious. Gisbo couldn't help but laugh once more at his huge unconscious form swinging about lazily.

It was then Gisbo noticed other skeeters in the sky as well, towing what seemed to be other Renegades-to-be, just like him. Many of them waved at Falcon, apparently recognizing him from a distance. Falcon was happy to give a salute back, as well as a few waves. Gisbo did notice that only those with the same fiery red essence as Falcon were doing the skeeting and he supposed it was a technique only Flarians knew. That suited him just fine. He craved learning how to skeet for himself. It had always been clearly stated in his lessons that the only race capable of flight was the Soarian race. He began to wonder what else his schoolbooks were wrong about and how outdated or purposefully edited they must have been.

Falcon began to slow up as he got nearer to the mountainside. We must be getting close, Gisbo thought. He noticed the dozen or so other Renegade skeeters begin to slow down as well. It was then that reality itself began to bend. The Skeeter in front of them outright disappeared. He didn't just fade away either. The Renegade skeeter was there and then he simply wasn't. Gisbo was taken aback. Falcon looked back and smiled at Gisbo's reaction as they neared the place where the air seemed to have swallowed up the skeeter. Upon hitting the spot, there was a strange SHWOOP sound and what Gisbo saw next made his mouth hang open. There a large village appeared before them. They had arrived at Heaven's Shelter.

The beauty of it was breathtaking, like a lost paradise. Taking in what only a few moments ago had been an empty, snowy valley between two mountain peaks, Gisbo didn't trust his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that the entire village was covered in trees he had never even seen before. Sure, he recognized the oak and pine, but these new trees were foreign species that Gisbo remembered learning about in his books. "Palm trees" was their official name, he believed, but how could it be possible? He recalled that they were only able to grow in tropical climates and here they were in the middle of snowcapped mountains!

Gisbo noticed that the warming essence around him had ceased swirling. The air was quite warm now. Falcon continued his slow coast overhead, allowing Gisbo to take in the astounding sights around him. In the midst of the trees, Gisbo could make out hundreds of huts, buildings, sports fields and ponds, but above all, he couldn't miss the massive golden statue raised high in the center of it all.

The statue was in the form of a gigantic man garbed in Renegade attire, holding a sword pointed toward the heavens. Gisbo figured he must have been somebody of paramount importance. His facial features were highly detailed, even revealing scars. It looked as if it could come to life at any moment. Behind the man stood a needle-like tower that extended past the point of his sword. Small windows could be seen at the top of the tower and oddly enough, Gisbo noticed that it gave off a strange bluish glow. Even on a day as bright as this, it had the effect of an additional sun. It hurt to look at it too long.

Finally, Rolce was coming to. He awoke upside down and immediately began flailing and wailing to regain an upright posture. Falcon saw this and, with a quick surge of essence, Rolce was back in a standing position, knees shaking. He instinctively fell back to his crouched stance, holding his knees and closing his eyes.

"Where are we? Is this Heaven's Shelter?" Rolce asked, eyes darting.

"Of course it is! Welcome, boys, to the home of the Renegades, now your home too. We'll go ahead and touch down and get you two situated. You know, protocols and such, blah blah . . . then we'll get some grub! The chefs have been hard at work preparing for the best barbeque you've ever had!" Falcon exclaimed.

The ground looked increasingly welcoming as Falcon lowered them to the entrance. Overhead, a sign in huge, flaming letters in all the colors of the elements read, "Heaven's Shelter, Welcome Home!" Falcon melted away the bindings on Gisbo and Rolce's feet, freeing them to step onto solid ground. Rolce collapsed with a wheeze, looking just as happy as Gisbo had been zooming around in the sky earlier.

Falcon refastened the two skeets to his back and disengaged his essence. He then looked at his recruits and stretched out his arms under the sign with a grand flourish, as if to say, "viola!"

"Home sweet home! Now if you would just follow me," Falcon said as he spun around with a whirl of his cape and began making his way under the fire-lit sign. Rolce and Gisbo exchanged grins of anticipation as they followed Falcon, taking their first steps into Heaven's Shelter. It amazed Gisbo that just a hundred yards back they would be in a freezing cold, snow-filled mountain range. How they maintained this atmosphere he had no idea, but he figured he would learn soon enough. They walked upon neat cobblestone roads surrounded by palm trees. Exotic flowers grew at their roots and filled the air with pleasant, sweet smells that Gisbo's nose had never witnessed before. Past the flowers and the trees however, Gisbo noticed animals of all kinds running about freely, animals he had only seen pictures of. Monkeys cooed and bounced through the branches. Brightly colored parrots squawked in greeting and even bears and tigers walked side by side, eyeing Gisbo's group suspiciously.

Now getting near the main section of the city, Gisbo saw people walking to and fro, tending to the enchanting scenery. One man was spraying a watery mist over the plants through a ring on his finger. He waved at Falcon as they passed. The whole scene reminded Gisbo of Warlord Karm's castle earlier that day, however, here, everything seemed so different. Unlike Karm's place, Heaven's Shelter did not feel artificial at all. If anything, it felt natural, right. In his wildest dreams, Gisbo could never have known such a place existed and the thought that this was to be his new home didn't fully register.

They continued walking and Rolce pointed to a towering pole. Atop the pole, a great ball of swirling fire spun. A man beneath it was using a red ring on his finger to keep it powered up. The ball began glowing brighter until it shone like a miniature sun. Falcon noticed Rolce and Gisbo staring at it with curiosity.

"Don't stare at that too long, boys. You'll burn out your retinas! Oh, what's this? It seems I've found some more speeches in my pockets. Lucky you! Those fireballs are known as dwarf suns and harnessing their energy is a Flarian technique. You'll find many all about the grounds. They allow us to regulate our own climate so that nearly all forms of life thrive: plants, animals, you name it," Falcon explained, then pointed up into the sky and continued.

"That bubbly energy field we traveled through earlier acts both as a visual shield and as a way to contain this wonderful weather. Every race is required and needed to keep this place functioning. Flarians provide the warmth, Soarians provide the atmosphere, Aquarians provide periodic rain and manage the water supply, and the Naforians provide our plants, landscaping and dwellings. Amazing, is it not? This is the perfect place for us Flarians, since most of us left our old homes in the outer deserts to come here. The last place you would expect a Flarian to be, after all, would be somewhere cold and Karm's men are still trying to round up the remnants of our society by scouring the deserts of Flaria. There are of course a few stubborn sorts who still live out there, my brother for one, but the general populace now dwell here in the cold winter mountains of Heaven's Shelter." Falcon radiated pride for his homeland.

Gisbo and Rolce bobbed their heads and turned in all directions, trying to take everything in. As they continued their stroll, Gisbo saw a group of Renegades seated at a table playing some sort of card game. It was Poka, a game Gisbo knew well. The only way he got any cash back at Oak County was through gambling and not too often as he had rotten luck. He noticed that some at the table were not dressed the same way as Falcon. They were all wearing the same headbands and the same color combinations, but some bandana tails were much longer than others. The uniforms were different too. A few sported short, sleeveless robes of varying lengths under the conventional Renegade poncho and others wore masks that covered the lower portion of their faces that extended from their ponchos. The tattooed markings on their arms also ranged widely. Some only had a marking on their forearm and mid-arm, while others were fully emblazoned all the way up their arms.

"Hey, Falcon, why are there different Renegade outfits? Some of their markings are different too," Rolce asked. Falcon turned to see where Rolce was looking before he stopped and responded.

"Ah, well, there are three classes of Renegade, determined by natural talent and skill. The first, oldest and most commonly seen is known as the 'Berserker Class,' my class. Our talents are all well-rounded and balanced in close quarter combat, employment of technique and some distance fighting. We are usually a wild bunch and primarily make the enemy focus their attack on us. We train our bodies to be able to withstand major damage and we learn to focus our adrenaline so that it grows more and more powerful as our fury and pain heighten. Anybody can lash out in a rage. To control it and harness it is something else entirely. A Flarian is especially suited for the Berserker class, but with the perpetual expansion of techniques and powers, every race has proven their potential for this class," Falcon answered, then pointed at one of the seated men who was garbed in robes.

"In recent years we have added two new classes to the Renegade roster. The one in the robe-like uniform is known as the 'Nazarite Class,' our newest class. These guys are pure genius. They train their minds and cultivate knowledge even more than physical prowess. That is not to say that they can't take a hit or two in close quarter combat. Everyone trains in each area to the point of proficiency before choosing the path that suits their talents best, focusing there, and excelling above and beyond typical human capabilities. These guys can make your head spin with their intelligence as well as raw power. Most argue it is the Nazarite who triumphs in one on one combat, but I've yet to see it proven," Falcon said, as if thinking of a certain time he had dueled one. He then pointed to the masked people.

"Now if you want intimidation and fear, look no further then these guys. They are part of the 'Shininja Class,' fast, agile and deceptive. If you give these guys an opening, they will have you chopped, diced and shredded within seconds in close quarter combat. The Shininja focus on nothing but speed, power and technique as they train their minds to balance with their body. You'll never find a more reserved individual. They are but polar opposites of the Berserker Class, for Shininja's are notoriously serious and masters of both patience and battle strategy. Experts of many disciplines including acrobatics, poisons, hand to hand combat and dagger use, their special skill set is essential as they tend to suffer more from hits because their bodies are suited to speed and stealth rather than bulk. They follow the philosophy, 'You can't hit what you can't see.' They aren't distance fighters, but they can wait for days on end for the perfect opening and make ideal assassins." While Falcon continued, the boys ate up his every word, slowly moving past the table, staring at the citizens of Heaven's Shelter. Gisbo noticed the other Renegades explaining the same things to their recruits.

"Now that that's all covered, I'll explain about the Renegades themselves. We may have different classes within our league, but we are still bound by one common name, along with all it represents and upholds. You may have noticed by looking around that some bandana tails are longer then others. You may have also realized that the markings on their arms tend to differ as well. All these differences come down to one thing: rank. The longer the uniforms, capes and bandana tails, along with the size and number of tattoos, represents the strength of the Renegade and where he stands in his training. You two are not deemed Renegades yet, nor will you be for some time," Falcon said as he continued talking without looking back.

"But I thought you said . . ." Gisbo began to protest. Falcon raised his hand to command silence, still refusing to face the recruits.

"Renega, Renegara and finally, Renegade. These are the three titles given to you upon completions in your notches. You two have completed your first trials and will be deemed official Renegas at a ceremony to take place soon. For Renegara, you must complete the three notches in Renega, and to meet the requirements for full Renegade status, you must complete the three notches in Renegara. With me so far?" Falcon finally turned around, still walking. Gisbo and Rolce both nodded.

"Good," Falcon continued. "Within each of these prestigious levels, you will receive three tattoos. Within Renega, upon completing your first notch, you will receive a simple black band around your forearm. Upon completion of notch number two, you will receive another black band on the middle of your arm, and upon notch number three's completion, you will receive another around the top, near your shoulder. Once you have all three, you will move onto your next title, Renegara. Here is where you will begin to study within your classes. You will be designated a Class Master and it's here that the markings will differ from each other and each notch completed will start at the bottom of your arm and move upward. By training in this fashion, your arm will serve as a constant reminder of your trials to bring you confidence, let others acknowledge your strength, and show your commitment to the Renegades," Falcon explained with a touch of pride in his voice. Gisbo and Rolce both noticed the tattoos emblazoned on Falcon's arm, covered with intricate black designs.

"Also, with each completed stage, your outfits will change. Renegas wear traditional headbands with miniscule tails and a simple poncho, all clean-cut with solid colors and a short scarf. When you gain the title of Renegara, your headband will have short tails, your poncho will have a short cape with jagged edges attached and the color white will be added to your uniform. Upon earning the full title of Renegade, you will don the true garb of the Renegade: long bandana tails, caped poncho with tattered edges around the front and back and the iconic light blue color will be added to the designs across the uniform. When you complete the three notches of Renegade status, only then may you have the color black grace your uniforms. Like mine, for instance," Falcon stated, striking a pose.

Their little group had reached what looked like the center of town. They could now see the huge golden statue of the lone Renegade Warrior and the black needle-like tower behind him. It was this monument that Gisbo wanted an explanation of. This man looked like the ultimate warrior. The statue was even more detailed up close and looked as if it could come to life at any moment. The scars stretched vividly now across the man's proud face and his neat chinstrap beard and thin mustache were precisely rendered. His hair was like a flowing mane, thick and long. His face was frozen in intense excitement, as if he was about to land the final blow to his enemy. The man looked wild and would have been terrifying if it weren't for his quiet eyes. Gisbo reckoned they must have been a soft shade of blue in person.

The man's uniform looked a lot like Falcon's except that it had further intricate designs and some sort of a light armor chest plate and leggings. It was then Gisbo observed how long his bandana tails were. They nearly touched the ground. He hadn't noticed before, being up in the air, but by his side was a large fearsome lion, looking like the man's wild persona incarnate. Gisbo and Rolce didn't move as they gazed with the rest of the boys and girls who had joined their little group. Falcon was beaming, watching the kids gaze at the statue. He cleared his throat and began to explain just who this man was.

"My favorite part of this little tour! Watching the looks on your faces as you gaze in awe of the Renegades greatest champion. Believe me, he was even more of a sight to behold in person, outdoing this hundred foot golden statue by far. Ladies and gents, I introduce Warlord Vadid the Valiant! Renegade Chieftain, Berserker Class, above and beyond notches." Falcon spun around to stare up at the statue as well. Gisbo's eye's lit up.

"That's Vadid the Valiant? So he was a Renegade? Oh man! I've read all about him! Well, what's left about him," Gisbo said with vigor.

"Good to know you're a fan! You should also know that this man was my Class Master," Falcon said, beaming with pride. Gisbo's face flushed with excitement.

"Wait, Vadid . . . trained you? No way!" Gisbo said excitedly.

"Yup! When you reach your Renegara stage, a Class Master takes you on as his trainee. While you train under your Class Master, you will also be forming a synergy with two other subordinates. A synergy contains a Berserker, Shininja and a Nazarite. Their three Class Masters will be working together to train the synergies to play toeach member's strengths and compensate for each member's weaknesses. The classes were created for this very purpose, since no one person can become a master of everything. Rather, you become fluent in all forms of combat, but focus on one area for mastery while your counterparts focus on others, making you an impenetrable force when you work in unison. Synergies are mostly how the Renegades operate nowadays. Every Renegade belongs to their own synergy and should something need our attention, a synergy is usually sent to deal with the issue," Falcon stated.

"As for you two, I will be one of your synergy's leaders, meaning that you will also be in the same squad," Falcon said as Gisbo and Rolce looked at each other, excited.

"All of our lives have been carefully calculated from birth. We place our offspring in situations that will allow their natural talents to thrive based on their pre-determined class. I think you two might have figured this out by now . . . but I'll tell you anyway." Falcon turned his attention to Rolce.

"I am quite proud of you, my young friend. Intelligence, integrity, self control and brute strength. A Nazarite you will be," Falcon continued and Rolce beamed, reddening just a little.

"Now as for you . . ." Falcon said, pointing at Gisbo. "WE are going to be spending some quality time together. Fearless, confident, powerful and possessing an undying will, a Berserker you will be. I will train you personally upon completion of your Renega stage. Now, as for me and my personal synergy, it will be our first time taking on a group of our own for training. Sure, I have rounded up the kids to bring them here, but never rounded up my own synergy. You two have probably wondered why you never had proper surnames and now . . ." Falcon began to look rather nervous before continuing.

"Now . . . ah jeesh . . . well, it's Renegade custom that a Class Master passes his name down to his trainee as their surname for the ceremony . . . and, well, I'd completely understand if you didn't wish to . . ." It was then Gisbo interrupted him.

"No problem at all," he said with a big proud smile. He turned to Rolce, who gave a quick nod, matching his grin. Gisbo swore Falcon had a small tear in his eye as he continued.

"I . . . I thank you. AHEM! Why don't we head to the festivities, shall we? To the courtyard of strength!" Falcon stated as he spun to begin the trek. Gisbo began to walk forward and couldn't help but focus upward at the glowing blue tip of the tower once more. What on Thera is that? Gisbo wondered to himself, wishing he had asked Falcon, but no matter, he was sure he would find out at some point.

It was then a man clad in Nazarite attire made his way toward them, smiling broadly. A thin black beard extended down about a foot from his chin, looking somewhat like a spike. He had very long black hair with only a touch of gray flowing over his shoulders on both sides. A thick, green steel colored pole-arm was strapped to the man's back. He had a friendly air to him, but also some very stern facial features and thick aging lines across his face. His voice matched his intimidating persona. It was deep and resounding.

"Well, well, look who has finally returned to us. None other than Falcon Vadid," the stern man said, extending his fist. Falcon returned the smile and thrust his own fist outward to make contact with the Nazarite's, then pulled it backward, raised two fingers to his forehead, threw them downward, and raised his hand upward again in a fist which he stamped over his heart, finalizing it with a short bow.

Must be a traditional Renegade greeting. Wonder what it means . . . Gisbo thought.

"It's been a little while, good friend, and look who I have brought you," Falcon stated as he motioned to Rolce. The stern man's eyes sparkled for a moment before dimming, as if he were embarrassed to show excitement. He walked toward Rolce, who was easily a head taller. Even so, Rolce looked rather nervous as the stern man looked him up and down with curiosity.

"So this is him? Hmmm . . . I sense much potential in him, much potential indeed. Also much conflict within, passive feelings, fear . . . yes, I will have my work cut out for me. That is certain," the Nazarite man said to himself.

"Oh, how rude of me, boys! May I introduce you to . . ." Falcon started a formal introduction before he was interrupted.

"The name is Moordin Grandir, Renegade, Nazarite Class, above and beyond notches. Falcon has told me much about your progress, young Rolce. I look forward to training you personally upon your Renegara status," Moordin said smoothly. Falcon rolled his eyes.

"Or as I like to call him, Moordin the moody. Professional as always . . . Look what happens to you when I leave for a week. IAM knows you belong in the Shininja class with your utter lack of humor. Try a joke a day, Moordin, just one is all I'm asking! It can do wonders for your health, old friend. Why, did you hear the one about the chef and the sheep when they . . ." Falcon started.

"That joke should not be told in front of such young ears! Honestly, how will subordinates learn discipline and respect if their Class Masters do not show it? I can already sense YOUR subordinate will be just as reckless as yourself." Moordin flashed the same disapproving look Gisbo's way.

"If you only knew the trouble your Class Master has gotten me into and the countless times I have had to bail him out! I assure you, MY trainee WILL learn discipline and respect above ALL else . . . won't he?" Moordin turned his stern look back in Rolce's direction, whose smile disappeared and fast. Moordin's wicked stare turned to that of curiosity, then anxiety, as if a cryptic thought had suddenly flashed through his mind.

"Falcon, where is the third?" Moordin asked, sounding rather worried. Falcon looked down and Gisbo noticed his fist tighten in anger as he looked up and continued.

"I am afraid they have gotten to him first. He was gone before I got there. I even went a week ahead of schedule to check on them, due to my suspicions," Falcon said. His voice held reluctance and a touch of anger as he looked away from Moordin's gaze, ashamed. The Nazarite looked down as well, abashed.

"This is severely troubling news. The number has nearly doubled this time around. We have had a total of eight interceptions this term, leaving a mere fourteen subordinates to be initiated this year. Foxblade will not be pleased when he's told about his chosen subordinate. I hope he won't try anything rash. Perhaps we should not share the news 'til the morrow. He usually passes on the ceremony anyway and has been in quite the mood today."

"I already know," said a gruff, growling voice. It seemed to come from the air itself. They all looked about to see nothing at all.

"So, how long have you been standing there?" Moordin asked. A man appeared out of the nothingness. It looked as if he had the same type of cloaking the bubble around Heaven's Shelter gave off around his entire body.

"Long enough. You both are getting rather unaware in your old age," said the now visible man. He was obviously a Shininja, clad in the tight garb Gisbo had seen earlier, with his mask over the lower half of his face. The man had black skin with long, dark hair braided into streaming dreadlocks. His eyes were an intense aquamarine color. Two curved daggers were hanging from his sides with yellow orbs at the hilt.

"It seems our premonitions were correct in the matter. The boy was indeed taken. This dilemma has all but proven my theory. There is a traitor among us," Foxblade said matter of factly. Falcon raised his hand, signaling for him to stop.

"We will all discuss this further in private . . . we need not trouble the boys on their first day here." Falcon's tone was final.

Psh, too late for that, Gisbo thought.

"For now, we need to get them to the ceremony. Boys, I would like you to meet the final member of my personal synergy. May I introduce you to Foxblade Dreadka, Renegade, Shininja Class, above and beyond notches," Falcon said. He shot a quick look at Moordin as if to say, 'There, ya happy?' Foxblade put his fist across his chest and gave a short bow without a word.

"Well gang, let's go! I'm starving!" Falcon announced as they all turned and made their way towards a large building. Gisbo bent over to whisper in Rolce's ear as they followed Falcon and his band.

"Can these guys be any more vague?" Gisbo whispered.

"You got me! And here I was thinking every Renegade would be as goofy asFalcon. That Moordin and the Foxblade guy are intense," Rolce whispered back.

"Tell me about it! Felt like they could look right through me or something," Gisbo agreed.

"You didn't have that Moordin guy look you up and down, felt like he was literally

reading my mind or something. His analysis of me wasn't far off either," Rolce admitted rather reluctantly.

"You serious?" Gisbo asked with surprise.

"Dead serious. We better continue this conversation later, they can probably hear

us," Rolce whispered anxiously. It was at that moment Foxblade turned and looked at them both with his frightening eyes. Gisbo could have sworn there was a wicked smirk under his cowl.

Both Rolce and Gisbo gulped simultaneously. They walked no further than ten steps before they were at the entrance of a building. Gisbo and Rolce made their way inside, wondering what awaited them.

_Chapter 6:_ The Ceremony, The Rival, and the... Ugly?

"Whoa . . ." Gisbo and Rolce both said aloud. They couldn't tell by looking at the outside of the building that the inside was this large. The ceilings seemed to stretch to the skies themselves. There were tapestries all over the walls, along with animal skins and various weapons with plaques beside them dedicated to Renegades of old. Gisbo was fascinated. He could have taken it in all day, but it was actually just a large hallway, a bridge over a stream. Their destination lay on the other side of a wide aperture, revealing an open field.

They walked down the steps on the other side of the hallway and out onto the field where all sorts of festivities went on. People were everywhere, all seated at large oaken tables clanging mugs together and laughing in good spirits. Not more than three more steps forward did the smells hit Gisbo's nose, making his mouth water instantly. He watched chefs running to and fro from cooking huts holding skewers of lamb, salmon, chicken, various filets, tenderloin and marinated steak tips. They slid the succulent meats onto the plates of hungry Renegades while others ran with large bowls full of all sorts of vegetables, fruits and assorted sweets. Gisbo had never witnessed such a feast in his life.

Gisbo and Rolce were led to a table front and center where about fourteen other recruits sat, all dressed in ratty clothes like themselves. They seemed completely oblivious when Gisbo and Rolce sat down, too busy surveying the scene with nervous eyes. Falcon and his band gave the boys a quick, wordless salute and made their way towards the head table on the other side of the staging area. Rolce then noticed something and he pointed.

"Look over there, Gisbo. I'll bet you anything that that's the Renegade Chieftain." Gisbo followed Rolce's finger to the table where Falcon and his band sat. There, at the head of the table, seated in what looked like some form of throne, was a man garbed in Berserker attire wearing a new kind of uniform. Instead of the vibrant blue, his entire outfit was the cleanest white Gisbo had ever seen, making it look aglow. Intricate dark and light blue designs graced his ensemble beside the traditional Renegade stripes. His uniform was also clean cut, no tattered edges, and both arms were tattooed instead of just one. His bandana tails were immensely long and flowed over each shoulder like thin capes. There was no mistaking it, this man had to be a descendant of Warlord Vadid. He had the same tough jaw and wild look in his eyes. If he had to guess, Gisbo would have judged him to be about the same age as Falcon, but he had streaks of white in his black hair, beard and mustache, so symmetrical that it almost looked dyed.

Gisbo noticed the Chieftain pause in his conversation with the man next to him. He locked eyes with Gisbo from across the field and knowingly gave a slight smirk. Gisbo thrust his head downward, away from the probing glance. He couldn't believe the sort of senses these men had. It was almost supernatural.

Gisbo quickly forgot the embarrassing incident as food came their way. With a hungry grin, he grabbed every kind of meat he could, sampling everything in sight, while Rolce did the same. They were unable to believe their stroke of fortune and unable to say no to any food offered to them as it built upon their plates like small buildings. The chef stared almost disapprovingly at Gisbo as he cut up all the meats in one big pile and covered it with sauces that shouldn't be mixed and loaded on the salt and pepper. It looked like chopped liver, but the meat just seemed to melt in a symphony of flavor within his mouth.

No wonder they call this place Heaven's Shelter, Gisbo thought, closing his eyes and savoring each chew.

While enjoying his delectable dish, Gisbo noticed some of the boys from the Renegara table looking at them and pointing. Rolce paid no attention to it, but for some reason the blood began to boil in Gisbo's veins. He considered himself a very good judge of character and something about these boys didn't sit right, especially the big boy seated in the middle, obviously the ring leader.

Even here, I'm going to have my work cut out for me. They don't even know my name yet... Gisbo thought. Then, as he expected, the big boy got up from his seat and made his way over.

"I 'onder wat eh 'ants," Rolce said through a mouthful of food, finally noticing the boy, who was now standing right behind them. He slapped both their backs unnecessarily hard, causing Rolce to cough out his food.

"Renega's-to-be, eh? I welcome you both to the fold. The name's Ranto. You'll come to know of me soon enough," Ranto bragged. He had an arrogance about him that may have even surpassed Thomson. The sting in Gisbo's back seemed to hurt worse with every word he spoke.

Ranto was about as tall as Rolce, with dark hair slicked back beneath his bandana. He had handsome features and was quite muscular for a kid his age. His teeth were dangerously white, like a shark's, and his blue eyes were dim. Gisbo noticed three tattooed bands going up his right arm.

"Well, thank you," Rolce beamed, oblivious.

"Hey, no problem, pal. Now, down to business. You guys are new so I figured I would let you know that throughout the term there are fierce challenges between Renega's and Renegara's. Hell, even Renegades get involved from time to time for titles, honor and just straight up respect. Keeps our pride and competition intact, very healthy, and you look like a big enough guy. How would you like to partake in an eating challenge against me?" Ranto said.

"Ummm . . . well, I just ate all of this and," Rolce started to say before Gisbo jumped in.

"I'll do it," Gisbo interrupted, flashing Ranto a wicked stare. Ranto didn't even flinch at Gisbo's boldness, didn't even bat an eyelash.

"Please, a runt like you? I want WORTHY competition. You are in no way worthy," Ranto said, dismissing him in a bored tone of voice.

"Oh, I don't think so, butt hole! I saw you watching Rolce here down about two full plates before you waltzed over. You just wanted to pressure some newbie in an unfair contest, but not someone easy looking. You think we are nothing but scared little newcomers, huh? You didn't even touch your stupid plate, I see right through your crap," Gisbo stated. At this point the other kids at their table looked up. There was no way Ranto could turn down his challenge now. Gisbo knew his type well, pride came before everything . . . well, the same went for Gisbo too.

"You can color me surprised," Ranto said, flashing his pearly whites.

"I'll color you something else if you want," Gisbo sneered. Ranto smiled, then cupped both hands to his mouth and yelled.

"CHALLLLENGGEEE!!!!"

Ranto was so loud that everyone stopped what they were doing. The shout became contagious as everyone else started taking up the chant, yelling, CHALLENGE!!! Before he knew it, everyone was flying from their seats and running toward Gisbo's small table, plates, food and dinner utensils soaring everywhere in the process.

It was now Gisbo's turn to be surprised. Rolce just stared at him, shaking his head, mouth open in shock, mouthing, "Are you stupid?" Renegaras, Renegades, and Renegas alike were now surrounding them, but Ranto was as cool as ever.

"This eager boy wishes to challenge me to an eating contest," Ranto announced. At this, a cheer rang out and, in the midst of the hubbub, somebody shouted something about a champion.

"As the current eating champion, how could I turn down an eager Renega-to-be? It would be unsporting of me. FATHER! DO YOU APPROVE THIS CHALLENGE?" Ranto screamed in the direction of the Renegade Chieftain. The Chieftain sat for but a moment before giving a thumbs up.

Gisbo bit his lip nervously. Now he had really done it. Not only had he challenged the current eating champion, but also the Chieftain's son! Gisbo couldn't help but feel a little stupid. Well, actually, he felt extremely stupid now. All the eyes around him felt like they were burning into his skin. This was just his day for attention, Gisbo guessed, and he wasn't sure he liked it.

Why can I not control myself? Damn it all, Gisbo thought.

"Kid's a natural, never seen anything like it in my lifetime. Fit as a tiger and he can shovel down food like no other. Even Renegade Groggo lost to the boy," said one Renegade to Gisbo's left. Gisbo looked up and noticed a very overweight Renegade frown at the mention of his name.

Marvelous . . . not even that guy can beat him and he's a freakin' moose! Gisbo thought to himself.

It was then he saw Falcon catch his gaze. Gisbo reckoned he was wearing the proudest smile ever seen as he tapped a fellow Renegade and pointed at his new trainee. Gisbo couldn't let Falcon down. Confidence began to swell in his core once more as Ranto took a seat across from Gisbo looking like he'd done this a thousand times. Two plates were placed in front of them and the chef raised his hands for silence.

"Eating challenge: the rules are simple. I keep supplying you with plates containing the same portions of nothing but meat and potatoes, a humble meal. You will receive a point for each plate you finish. The one with the most points wins and should either of you vomit, you are disqualified, unless of course you wish to consume your vomit and continue. As I said, simple enough. You may choose to eat as fast or as slow as you'd like. Are the both of you ready?" the chef asked. Gisbo shot an evil glare over at Ranto, who returned it, still looking unintimidated. Gisbo meant to change that. They both nodded.

"BEGIN!" the chef shouted.

Gisbo didn't really know any strategy to eating, so he figured he would do what he always did, throw himself into it and go as fast as possible. He saw Ranto doing the same as they began to literally shovel food into their mouths. Cheers erupted around them and shouts of, "Go! Go! Go!" were chanted all about.

Gisbo and Ranto kept their eyes on one another without even looking down to shovel the grub into their mouths. They both finished their first plates at the same exact time and new ones appeared in their places. Gisbo didn't care if he had to down the entire kitchen, he would keep eating until Ranto puked. As quick as the first, the second plate was finished and before Gisbo even realized it, they were onto their tenth plates. He could see a lot of the lady Renegades shaking their heads in disgust, mouthing, "Stupid men,"

At their eleventh plate, they were beginning to feel the effects of their extended stomachs, especially Gisbo, who had downed a giant plate of food beforehand. Their determination diminished with every bite from here on out and every chew wore them down. On the contrary, the cheers began to grow louder and louder. To make things worse for Gisbo, his jaw was killing him. Rolce began to chant, "Gisbo! Gisbo! Gisbo!" Now that they knew his name, about half the crowd began cheering for him, while the other half was for Ranto. The effect was like magic. Hearing his own name echo throughout the field made him feel empowered.

Ignoring his painful gut, Gisbo entered into a trance. He tucked his head closer to his plate and dropped his fork and began sliding his food into his mouth as if it were a waste basket. For the first time in their short encounter, he noticed Ranto had a spark of worry in his eyes, very faint, but his cool exterior began to crack. This gave Gisbo all the more reason to go faster, gobbling down the food like a starved animal. Ranto couldn't keep up now and Gisbo finally broke ahead of him, finishing his eleventh plate before the Chieftain's son had even finished half of his own. Gisbo was on to twelve, the tide of the room was now overbearingly screaming his name. He finished twelve. He finished thirteen, he finished fourteen and then the unthinkable happened.

The champion Ranto finished his eleventh plate and the twelfth was plopped in front of him. He stared at it for quite awhile, looking squeamish. He took one bite of a potato, his eyes widened and with a leap he was out of his seat, running with his hands over his mouth as puke sprayed through his fingers.

Gisbo had won.

The entire place went wild as Renegades lifted Gisbo from his chair and passed him along on top of the crowd as if he were a rock star. Feeling weightless, Gisbo managed to catch a glimpse of Falcon clapping and whistling as he was carried aloft. After a few minutes, the crowd put him down and he found himself standing in front of the Renegade Chieftain. The Chieftain rose to his feet, arms folded, looking Gisbo square in the eye.

"The Eating Champion, a most coveted title among the Renegade line for generations. Why? I haven't a clue, but I suppose there are sillier titles out there . . . nonetheless, it is coveted. Many thought when my son won a year ago there was nothing like him. He obliterated the previous record and champion with ease. Now, just one year later, here stands a boy not even properly deemed a Renega yet, who struts into our midst and gives us all a great surprise," The Chieftain said with a generous smile.

"Thank you, sir," Gisbo said, eyes on his feet.

"No thanks required son. It is common belief here that those who can fill out their stomachs greatly, also fill out their dreams greatly." Gisbo smiled at this tongue in cheek comment. "However, it is also said those who fill out their stomachs greatly now will suffer greatly later . . ." There was much laughter and applause at this reminder.

"Now, we can't deem you Eating Champion without first deeming you a proper Renega. So, as a reward, I will initiate you myself, Gisbo. If your Class Master would join me at my side." Falcon reached under his bench, retrieving a folded mass of blue, before making his way forward.

"I present to you the traditional blue uniform of the Renegades. We garb ourselves in the colors of the proud Phoenix as Renegades of old once did. May we never forget where we came from and honor their memory and traditions," Falcon said as he handed the uniform to Gisbo, who gladly accepted. Falcon stepped back to take his place beside the Renegade Chieftain, standing out brilliantly in his pure white uniform.

"Come forward, my boy, and repeat after me," the Chieftain said as Gisbo nodded.

The Chieftain shot his fist outward and Gisbo did the same. "Strength of Body." The Chieftain raised two fingers to his forehead. "Strength of Mind." The Chieftain then moved his arm downward in a bow and quickly brought it back up, stamping it across his chest. "Strength of Heart. May they remain pure, forever leading you true." Gisbo finished, mimicking the chieftain's actions.

"Gisbo, you who has been chosen by the noble order of the Renegade, the elite. You are one who disbands from the wide path, from conformities and party ties, and forges his own path, embracing his own ideals, dreams and way of life. In this, all of us share a common bond, a focus, and a belief in a higher power that granted us his brilliant design and purpose. We embrace each other's dreams and strengths while learning from one another every day. We are not one, we are not all the same and we do not force our lifestyles upon others. It is a choice to live here and in this realization, we have peace. Do you, Gisbo Falcon, solemnly swear to uphold the customs of old and write such teachings across your heart? Is this your wish?" the Chieftain asked. Gisbo answered without a second thought, "Yes, sir."

"You choose in haste, with confidence. It is on this day, in the company of righteous men and woman, that we pass the title of Renega to you and with it, your manhood. You now join the ranks of the brave men and woman before you. It is your time to enter a world of moral decay and indecency, a world that has not proven friendly to those who lead lives of integrity and honor. A time unlike any previous era, in which more fortitude, more integrity and more strength will be needed than ever before. The time draws near where good will be considered evil and everything evil is fast approaching good. A time of testing, learning, companionship and opportunity awaits. A righteous band of warriors we are and a righteous warrior you shall be. To serve, protect and save a world bordering chaos in utter selflessness . . . kneel, to symbolize your servitude to others," said the Renegade Chieftain. Gisbo did as ordered, dropped to one knee, and bowed his head.

"I present your Class Master, Renegade Falcon," the Chieftain stepped aside and Falcon loomed over him with his sword drawn, resting it gently on Gisbo's right shoulder.

"Strength of Body, Strength of Mind, Strength of Heart. It is in these areas I hereby swear to pour myself, fully, for your growth. All that I know and all that I ever will know is yours. Do you accept my name as you accept my offer of self?" Falcon said with a sparkle in his eye. Gisbo looked up to match his gaze. Just looking at his new teacher made him hope that he could be like him one day. He nodded and a selfless desire flooded him. He was feeling something entirely new: reverence.

"Strength, use it for those less fortunate. Wisdom, never withhold it, spread it like good news. Heart, keep it pure, protect it and have the will to follow it. Do you swear to abide by these principles?" Falcon queried. Once again, Gisbo nodded. Falcon tapped his left shoulder, then his right, followed by his forehead, with the tip of his sword and, in one final maneuver, he sliced a clean line on Gisbo's lower cheek, leaving an inch-long cut that bled down his neck.

"This cut will soon be a permanent scar. May it always remind you of what you swore to do this day and that yes, you do have what it takes. I welcome you into the fold and present to you all . . . Renega Gisbo Falcon!" Falcon took off Gisbo's old tattered headband with a flourish and replaced it with the official Renega headgear. With a strong hoisting motion, he lifted Gisbo to his feet, raising his fist to the sky, as they were met with hoots and hollers from the crowd. Gisbo tried to smile, but really couldn't as he found himself jumping from the stage, mouthfuls of puke spraying everywhere. Surprisingly enough, even louder applause and laughter followed this.

Ranto just glared, arms folded with hate in his eyes.

_Chapter 7_ : The New Companion

Gisbo was still hunched over in the bushes trying to calm his self-abused stomach. While he emptied it of his many lunches, the ceremony continued and the others became official Renegas. People were now clearing out and slapped Gisbo on the back as they made their exit in recognition of his triumph . . . if you could call it that. The smacking didn't feel all that great, but indeed helped along the process. Rolce caught up to him just as he finished with what he believed to be his final upchuck. He was afraid his lungs might be ejected too if he continued.

"I'll be honest. I don't really know what to say to you right now, so I'll just stick with the obvious. How you feeling?" asked Rolce with an amused grin.

"Pretty hungry, actually. I think my stomach's empty . . ." Gisbo said as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"Doesn't surprise me. It's a good thing one of us was in there paying attention. Check these babies out, one for each of us!" Rolce said as he tossed Gisbo a golden key. Gisbo stared at it curiously.

"The hell's this for?" Gisbo asked.

"These are our room keys. Me and you are bunking it, buddy. Can you believe this? Our own room!" Rolce exclaimed. For Rolce, having his own room was an amazing concept. All he had had prior to this was a barn floor. Gisbo at least had his own space, even if it was a shack. Even so, looking at Rolce's face made Gisbo excited too. Just by examining the design of the key, Gisbo assumed it was going to be one nice place.

"Well, let's get goin'!" Gisbo shouted excitedly. Rolce opened a small map of Heaven's Shelter that had been given to him by Moordin. In the midst of the trees north of them, a place was marked with a red X.

"This way!" Rolce said as he walked toward the forest. Gisbo followed.

The boys marched beside each other with uneasiness as bears, tigers and other dangerous predators eyed them suspiciously. It was only after taking a wrong turn through thorny underbrush and falling into a disguised swamp that they made it to their new living quarters. Gisbo and Rolce couldn't help but grin from ear to ear as they set eyes on their new home.

"It's perfect!" Rolce exclaimed.

Before them stood a large tree house which seemed to be composed of oak, palm leaves, stones and bamboo. A large set of stairs spiraled around the trunk of the giant oak up to their new front doorway, beckoning them to run up as fast as they could. Rolce reached the top first and stood on the suspended porch where three rocking chairs were placed to the right and left of the doorway. A big stone barbecue grill was built into the edge of the porch along with a small table. A slanted roof with small slits that could be opened or closed to allow sunlight through protected all this.

If the porch was this nice, Gisbo couldn't help but wonder how the inside would appear. He thrust his key into the lock, unlocked it and plunged inside with Rolce following close behind. The first thing they saw when they entered were three comfortable beds set up in a strange configuration like a three-way bunk bed in a V shape. One bed was at the bottom, in the crest of the V, while the two others sat atop each slant to the left and right with two ladders beneath them. From there, the boy's eyes wandered to a large wooden table in the center of the room giving off the clean, comforting scent of cedar. A disengaged fireplace was directly across from the table, ready to burn if it ever got cold.

Gisbo had never known the privilege of using either for such amenities were considered set apart for royalty. Rolce didn't even know what they were and they spent the next several minutes marveling at the convenience of it all. The cleansing room was especially fascinating. Fresh, clean water seemed to magically flow from the ceiling, wash whatever was needed and then instantly suck the water back, drying all it had touched. The waste shoots worked the same way. It beat doing their business in the woods by a long shot.

So many features of their new home amazed Gisbo, who would never take them for granted. It seemed small holes in the roofs would open and close from time to time to filter in fresh smells from outdoors, always keeping their dwelling smelling of fragrant flowers and honeysuckle.

The boys didn't waste any time as they quickly changed out of their ratty clothes into their Berserker and Nazarite attire. After they were fully garbed, Gisbo marveled at how his new suit felt on him. At this stage, he and Rolce looked very similar, sporting the same ponchos with scarves attached, headbands and even the same color schemes. The difference lay underneath their ponchos. Where Gisbo's outfit had baggy pants, heavy boots and various protective additions like knee pads and a thick leather belt, Rolce's looked like a low-hanging robe with various pockets.

"Lookin' good, Rolce Moordin, Renega, Nazarite Class, um . . . no notch," Gisbo said with a sarcastic smile. His imitation of Moordin was nearly perfect. Rolce laughed. Both of them stared into the mirrors at themselves, in awe that just a few hours ago they were going about their pointless lives only to be plucked out of them and thrust into something far bigger than themselves. The feeling was amazing.

Gisbo then noticed something at the far wall that made his heart skip. A rather large bookshelf leaned against the wall, beckoning him. How could he not have noticed it before! He almost knocked Rolce over as he ran for it, running his finger along the spine of each book, reading the titles. Renegades: A History; Renega to Renegara, The Narrow Path; Nazarite Pocket Guide . . .

"Look at all these babies, I'm gonna read 'em all! Well, except for some of these. They look like lousy textbooks. Battles by the Math? Really? Who needs that garbage in a place like this?" Gisbo said, as he tossed the book over his shoulder and let it bounce across the floor. Rolce's eyes lit up at the word "textbooks" however and he rushed to retrieve the tossed book.

"How can you believe for a second the Renegades don't use mathematical theories for battle plans? Not everyone just rushes into things without planning you know. Numbers and calculations are everything!" Rolce refuted as he picked up one of the battle strategy books, flipping through the pages.

"Look at this one! Wow! I used to read this series back at Oak County! I can't believe they have the Man-Angel books here! You ever read these, Rolce?" Gisbo asked as he plucked the book from the shelf.

"Can't say I've enjoyed them. I do love fiction, but not crazy stuff like that. Please, a guy with golden wings in a tight suit who flies around a mystical place called Boston, Massachusetts? Come on. Plus, they have a lot of bad words in them," Rolce stated. Gisbo's face contorted.

"What? Everyone loves Man-Angel! He's the greatest. And the bad guys have powers too, not just him. He's a super hero! And Boston sounds like such a cool place. They got towers there as high as the clouds and all the regular people don't have any powers. I can't even imagine living somewhere like that," Gisbo argued.

"Exactly! It's bogus! The term 'Super hero' sounds so cliché too. What's next? Super villains? Bleh, but you go ahead and have fun," Rolce said, grabbing a few more books.

"Psh, your loss. I better not hear you talk crap about Man-Angel again, Rolce. Don't be jealous that I have a soul and you don't," Gisbo said as he made his way towards the V-bed.

Rolce sighed loudly and followed Gisbo.

"I call top bunk!" Gisbo announced as he hoisted himself up on the top right bed. Rolce shook his head and walked over with a sigh, still flipping through the pages of his book.

"There's two top bunks, dummy. Books like Man-Angel will melt your brain. You should be reading this one," Rolce said, flashing the math book as he climbed into his own bed. Once comfortable however, they couldn't help looking downward at the empty bed. Their happiness suddenly lingered in the air, suspended. They almost felt a little guilty.

"What do you think happened? I mean, there's supposed to be one more with us. I noticed out of all the new Renega synergies we are the only team with one missing," Rolce pointed out, a little disgruntled.

"I don't know. Falcon didn't want us to hear about it, that's for sure. I'm just as lost as you. I did hear him say he was 'intercepted' and that they arrived a week early because of suspicions," Gisbo said, thinking.

"Yeah, he did. He was Foxblade's chosen subordinate too from what I gathered. Chosen . . . so that means that Falcon chose you and Moordin chose me? I mean, I should be kind of upset with a bunch of people messing with my life, but it really didn't even cross my mind until now. Thinking about it, I'm actually pretty thankful. It still hasn't hit me that this wonderful place is our new home," Rolce said.

"Hell, I don't care. I'm just pissed they left us in that hell hole called Oak County. I guess they did that so we would appreciate this place all the more. A guy could get spoiled living in a place like this," Gisbo said, still looking at the empty bed. "To think there's some other poor guy out there, just like us, who could be enjoying all this with us. I wonder what happened."

"From Falcon's reaction earlier, he was deeply upset by it all. Somebody or something took him. I can imagine Foxblade's disappointment; so much planning over fifteen years, only to be snatched away. I wonder if his life was just as lousy as ours? It must have been. It is part of the process after all. Everyone had to go through it, right? Rolce Moordin . . . Renegade born, who woulda thought?" Rolce said with a haphazard smile.

"I don't know about you, but I can't stand the fact there is somebody else out there, not here where he belongs. Makes me sick inside just thinking about it. Whatever took him definitely isn't good news," Gisbo said with a clenched fist.

"I'm with ya, we'll figure this out together and . . . hey, what do you think that is?" Rolce asked, as he pointed to an odd contraption on the large table. They both jumped out of their beds and rushed to it. It certainly was peculiar. It looked like a kind of long steel spike accompanied by a pile of golden disk shapes. Gisbo picked up one and on the surface it read, "Phoenix Force." He looked at Rolce and shrugged. Rolce picked up a few, eyeballing them as well.

"Hmmm . . . look at these names: 'Metallican Sonata,' 'Slay Knot,' 'J-Cashin?' Wonder what they do?" Rolce said, holding the disk up to the light. Gisbo slipped the disk titled "Phoenix Force" onto the needle and watched it slide to the bottom. Suddenly, the disc rose up, spinning fast, and the entire thing glowed a golden yellow, filling the room around them with booming music. To Gisbo it sounded absolutely wonderful; the vocal line was fast and aggressive as the shredding sounds of metal filled the air.

"Wow! I can't believe this! Music concentrated onto a gleaming disk. The yellow is obviously a Sorian's trademark color. I bet they somehow figured out how to record music this way allowing for instant playback. It's like a personal band is in our room. Amazing!" Rolce was highly impressed by the new technology. "However, this stuff sounds crazy. I've never heard anything so fast. I wonder what . . ."

"That, my friend, is called, 'METAL,' Moordin said as the boys turned to find their new Class Masters gazing at them from behind, where the door stood wide open.

"A personal favorite of Moordin's and mine. Looks like the both of you enjoy it as well. That band, Phoenix Force, is a wonder. A Soarian band founded right here in Heaven's Shelter. They come and play live for us every once in a while, glorious stuff! Foxblade, on the other hand, doesn't agree. A serious bloke, into the more depressing varieties," Falcon explained.

Gisbo noticed Moordin was looking a bit embarrassed by his sudden outburst. Never in his life would he have imagined a guy as reserved as Moordin listening to something so crazy.

"Hey, whose Man-Angel books are those on the shelf?" Gisbo asked. Moordin and Falcon looked at each other and smiled.

"Why, both of ours," Falcon said. Gisbo smiled as he spun on Rolce.

"See Rolce! Told you everybody loves Man-Angel!" Gisbo said, thrusting a finger at his face.

"Foxblade doesn't. He loathes anything to do with fiction." Moordin chimed in.

"No, no! I like fiction and stuff like that! I just don't like Man-Angel!" Rolce tried to argue. Moordin shook his head.

"Maybe you aren't my subordinate after all. Are you sure you got the right boy, Falcon?" Moordin asked. Falcon forced back a chuckle at Rolce's white face.

"Please! No! I am a Renegade! Don't take me back!" Rolce pleaded.

"Calm down, son. Please say you at least enjoy metal? We left you some copies of some of our personal favorites," Moordin asked.

"Yes, I really do like metal! It's great, it's perfect! Especially this music player thing! The shape of it, it's . . ." Rolce stammered on until Moordin put up a hand.

"Ok, I suppose you got the right one, Falcon. I'm glad to see you boys are enjoying our Renegade technologies. The outside world can't even dream of some of the things we have come up with, every race working together. Like this music player right here. It's a Sorian invention known as a Breeze Harmonic. Records as well as plays anything you wish, long as you record them on these diskettes," Moordin said, picking one up.

"The sound is trapped within the air by some form of Soarian technique? Amazing . . . But we aren't Soarians. How come we can power up this device?" Rolce asked. Moordin looked pleased this time at his subordinate's curious mind.

"Same way the cleansing room and waste shoots work, an Aquarian creation. You see, mostly everything in here requires some sort of elemental essence to power it. All of this is powered by a central orb located right beneath the floor boards. Ah, here it is," Moordin said, as he bent down where a trap door was camouflaged in the floor. With a quick tug, he revealed a swirling mass inside, constantly spinning like the dwarf suns they had seen earlier, except this kind had all the colors swirling within it. It was captivating to see red, yellow, blue and green swirl about in harmony.

"These handy little creations lie within every building around Heaven's Shelter, giving us easy access to just about everything. We call it an Omni-Orb and thanks to it, we won't need to call a Flarian just to turn on the fireplace. These power sources do have their limitations. They work only in buildings considered places of rest. We make the little necessities of life easy so we can instead spend our time focusing on our training. Don't think for a second we built these devices for a life of luxury, although rest is an important part of training, as you will understand after your first day," Moordin said as he and Falcon both smirked at each other. Gisbo had the funny feeling he was in for a world of pain.

"But for now, you two need to follow us as we . . ." Moordin bellowed before being interrupted by the presence of a woman in the doorway, dressed in Nazarite garb. She looked rather cross as she stormed up to Moordin and Falcon.

"So you thought it rather funny to ditch your share of the cleaning this morning, Moordin?" said the woman. Moordin's stern features cracked as a worried look replaced it.

"But, honey, I . . ." Moordin stammered. The woman then turned her gaze on Falcon, who adapted the same fearful glance.

"This is all YOUR fault! He was doing quite fine this week in your absence and now he's back to his old irresponsible self. You're nothing but a bad influence on him, you know that? Making him believe he's back in his bachelor days, ducking out in the mornings to cause trouble with the likes of you," the woman lectured.

"I . . . um, I don't think I'm the only reason he . . ." Falcon stammered.

"Don't interrupt me! Because of this fool next to you, the house wasn't cleaned in time and I missed the opening ceremonies! I . . ." It was then the woman noticed Gisbo and Rolce standing there. Her angry features vanished immediately as her face flushed and a vivid smile blossomed across it.

"Oh my, are these . . ." she stammered.

"Yup, that's them all right. Meet Gisbo and . . ." Falcon started to say.

"AH! There you go! Interrupting again! You need a woman in your life, Falcon. It would do you well to have some manners," the woman said as Falcon and Moordin stood wearing guilty faces.

"Children, that's all they are!" She turned back to the boys and her smile returned instantly. "We've been waiting for the two of you for quite some time. My name is Martha, the wife of your . . ." Martha turned around to face Moordin, who gave her a weak smile, before turning back to Rolce, " . . . useless Class Master. Should you ever need to know anything about the way of a proper Nazarite, look no further, boys. Now! Before anything else, this room needs to be spic and span. It has been quite some time since anyone's lived here and the dust is horrid! Cleaning supplies are in that cupboard and . . . WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?" Martha shouted to Falcon who was almost out of the doorway. Falcon stopped and turned around with a sheepish grin.

"Get back in here! You can help too! This place needs to be cleaned before any boons are allowed in this home," Martha said as Falcon and Moordin begrudgingly began gathering the cleaning supplies from the cupboard. Gisbo and Rolce did all they could to hide their laughter as they began scrubbing down the place.

"What are boons?" Gisbo asked.

"That's what I was trying to explain. We will . . ." Moordin started.

"We will talk about it AFTER this place is cleaned," Martha said as she shuffled Moordin and Falcon along, handing Gisbo and Rolce cleaning tools as well. The cleaning went by quicker than they figured it would, even though Gisbo thought there had been nothing wrong with it before. He wasn't about to tell Martha that though.

"Good job, all of you. I'm going to add some final touches to the room for the boys, so have fun and good luck with your search!" Martha said with a smile.

"Search?" Gisbo asked as Falcon and Moordin quickly pushed him and Rolce out the door, not wanting to get Martha talking again. When they made their way down the stairs and out of earshot, Falcon laughed.

"Oh, Moordin, that girl's got a chain around you as long as she can reach. You really chickened out back there. You gotta man up sometimes!" he said. Moordin's eyes widened.

"What? Me? I, I CHICKENED OUT!? Well, I didn't see YOU telling her off; you're not even married to her! I don't have a choice!" Moordin argued.

"Hey, I can't insult my best friend's wife! Just be a man and lay down some ground rules," Falcon said.

"What? Lay down ground rules? Ok, well, guess what? I give you full permission to say what you will and get me some of those ground rules. Go on, march up there. She'd love to hear what you have to say. Go ahead, man up!" Moordin challenged. The boys were laughing uncontrollably by this point, as they watched Falcon looking back up at the tree house.

"Alrighty then, the reason we came. I think now is a great time for you both to meet two more members of our Synergy," Falcon said as he and Moordin looked at each other and smiled. They both raised a fist into the air as their rings began to glow, Falcon's red, Moordin's green.

"Akila!" Falcon shouted.

"Norse!" Moordin shouted too.

There was a sudden burst of green and red light and two animals appeared out of nowhere. On Moordin's shoulder sat a great black hawk that screeched loudly and on the ground to Falcon's right sat a powerful tiger that gave a sudden roar.

"It seems they have introduced themselves already. These are me and Falcon's Boons . . . excuse me?" Moordin said, listening as his hawk squawked something. "I'm sorry, Falcon's and my Boons. Norse very much likes to correct bad grammar," Moordin said, as he patted its head.

"Wait, you can talk to it?" Rolce asked. Moordin looked at his personal subordinate with shame.

"Of course! I am Naforian after all, just like yourself! Each race has their own personal quirks and talents. This is just one of a Naforian's, the ability to understand animals. Many people like to say, 'speak' to animals, but they know so little. Animals can already understand what we say to them, however, they communicate through the expression of feelings, motions and sometimes mental telepathy back and forth to each other. Some like to argue that their sense of understanding and communication greatly surpasses us humans, as they do it in a way that is indistinguishable by tone of voice, leaving no room for error or misinterpretation. I have to agree." Norse seemed to nod in agreement.

"Hm," Rolce exclaimed.

"You have not heard an animal speak to you, Rolce? I should think after our careful planning, placing you on a farm, that you would have at least heard one by now? This farm experience should have taught you to be one with the earth, to learn how it works and grows and to communicate with its creatures. This is a Naforian's duty. Not even one voice whatsoever?" Moordin asked, with an air of disappointment.

"I thought I heard voices a few times while I was in the barn, when I felt lonely and was working hard. I thought it was just my imagination," Rolce stammered. Moordin at least felt it was a passing answer.

"They were probably offering you their companionship and help in your chores. I suppose since one now knows the truth, one will keep their ears open, right?" Moordin suggested pointedly. Rolce nodded.

"Now, not every Naforian can understand animals just as some Naforians can only make elemental stones glow and nothing more. It all depends how much of the essence is contained within you. This is why you must be Renegade born and tested at birth to see if you contain the amount of essence required for Renegade training. Not everyone is cut out to be a Renegade. It is the highest of honors to be accepted within our ranks and such is the same for animals who wish to become Boons.

"Also, understand that Boons are not sidekicks, they are not servants, they are not pets. You and your Boon are and will become mutual companions for as long as you both survive on Thera. Every Boon is different, just as every person is different. The Boon is born out of the human's need for inward guidance, just as they need outward direction based on your personalities, gifts and potential. They are a reflection of your inner self just as you are a reflection of their attributes. They are a part of you, destiny chosen, born immediately when you come of age and find yourselves in need of one. Which was a few months ago for the two of you. The forests and jungles of Heaven's Shelter act like a homing beacon to potential Boon animals who travel from all across Thera to come here. Day after day, new animals make their way exactly when they are needed. Do you understand thus far?" Moordin asked. Both boys nodded in agreement.

"Very well, the time is come for you both to journey into the forest and discover for yourself your own personal Boon. They are both out there, waiting for you. What they are I cannot say, but you will recognize them the moment you see them, just as they will recognize you. Once discovered, they will constantly remain by your sides during the term as you raise them personally. Upon your Renegara training and after gaining your Boon's friendship within the first term, we will begin teaching you how to unlock the secrets within them. Rolce should be able to help you get acquainted with yours, Gisbo, should he quit slacking in his Naforian duties and learn to understand his animal friends," said Moordin as he eyed Rolce. The boy gulped a little, trepidation lingering from Moordin's cold gaze. Falcon shook his head and let out a sigh at his friend's seriousness.

"I just can't remember if you were always like this or if it was Martha that quelled the fun in you," Falcon gibed. Moordin shot him a dirty look and then turned back to the boys.

"I wish you both best of luck. The barrier is now active. You will not be able to return to your hut for the night until you find your Boon. Believe me, you will need your rest come the first day of the week," Moordin said, wearing the same smirk as before.

"Barrier? Are you serio . . ." Gisbo couldn't finish the sentence as he walked towards Moordin. He slammed his face against the barrier and the air flashed yellow, emitting a wooing noise. It was then Gisbo saw Foxblade appear out of nothingness in his usual fashion and flash a wink. It was obvious now to Gisbo who had contrived the barrier.

"Don't even think you will be able to sprint parallel to it and escape this barrier. It will constantly lay right here, following your every movement along this invisible plane. Hurry up now. Come nightfall is the animals feeding time and should you not have a Boon to tell them off, they may mistake you for food," Foxblade said in his scary tone.

"What? Oh come on, this is crazy! We just got here and we could be lion food on the first night? Stupid, stupid . . ." Gisbo said, as he kicked the barrier over and over again. Foxblade just shook his head. Falcon gave him a wink and with that the class masters walked away without another word.

"Wait! I . . . I didn't mean that! Come back! What if we don't make it in time?" He turned to Rolce. "Well Nafawhatever boy, looks like you're gonna have to tell off those animals if we don't make it," Gisbo said, rather perturbed.

"Didn't you just hear him? Animals can understand us, Naforian or not. It's just I can understand them and translate, nothing more. I doubt they'd listen to us anyway if they were hungry enough and . . . what are you doing?" Rolce asked, a little annoyed as Gisbo continued to run back and forth along the barrier wall, jumping forward, left and right, trying to escape and constantly slamming himself into the barrier. Gisbo cursed over and over as he kept falling to the ground.

"Did you not just hear Foxblade? He said the barrier will FOLLOW you! Do you know what follow means?" Rolce muttered, as if talking to himself. Sure enough Gisbo continued, now walking very slowly away, then spinning around to jump, as if to catch the barrier by surprise. He only fell to the ground once more with a slew of fresh curses. Rolce walked over and grabbed Gisbo by his scarf to drag him along.

"Come on, stupid, we're wasting time!" Rolce said, sounding a little worried himself as a bear stared at him through some bushes.

"They didn't even give us any weapons! Gah, I really don't like that Foxblade guy." Gisbo sounded irritated as he rubbed his painful forehead. The boys made their way through the woods silently until they came across a small field where cows, bulls and a variety of antelope grazed in peace.

"Man, I sure hope I don't get some lame animal like a cow," Gisbo thought aloud as they kept walking.

"I think it's the perfect choice actually. I read they have seven stomachs, just like you," Rolce smiled, laughing at his own joke.

"My life's complete with that stupid fact. What page was . . ."

"Page 73, paragraph four of Animals and Facts, Volume Six," Rolce interrupted.

"Holy . . ." Gisbo stated, wide-eyed.

"Cow?" Rolce finished with an amused grin.

"I think you should be quiet for a while," Gisbo said as they continued to walk out of the clearing. They made their way towards a swamp in which they saw various alligators sunning themselves while trying to snap at the monkeys swaying above them. Rolce suddenly stopped.

"I swear I just heard that monkey say something. He was making fun of the alligator below him! He said some . . . pretty awful swear words," Rolce said, as he stared at more monkeys swinging back and forth.

"Really? What did he say? Talk to it! Maybe it's your Boon!" Gisbo said with excitement. Rolce cleared his throat.

"Ummm excuse me . . . are, are any of you my Boon?" Rolce asked the monkeys, pointing at them. The primates squeaked and squawked, made some obscene gestures, then swung through the branches and were gone, leaving Rolce looking quite embarrassed.

"Well? What did they say?" Gisbo asked.

"One of those monkeys told me of a certain place I could put my finger if he were my Boon..." Rolce said, a little offended.

Gisbo doubled over in laughter.

"Shut up! Still, wow, my first conversation with an animal," Rolce was so amazed he almost forgot his embarrassment.

"Yeah and he told you off big time!" Gisbo reminded him, laughing once again. Rolce looked unamused.

"Come on, let's keep going, they have to be here somewhere!" Rolce asserted as they continued their walk. They had traveled a good ways ahead when suddenly Rolce froze once more. Gisbo stopped and looked at him with curiosity.

"What's up?" Gisbo asked. Rolce looked at him blankly, constantly turning his head left and right as if looking for something.

"I hear . . . no, I feel something. It's like my stomach has butterflies. I'm getting goose bumps . . . I . . . WAIT! I HEAR IT! I hear her! She's, she's in trouble! She needs my help!" Rolce yelled frantically, running around, shouting, and looking all about.

"Rolce, give it a rest! What do you hear? What is it? I don't hear anything," Gisbo said, looking around as well.

"My Boon, Gisbo! I hear her! She's calling out to me! She's in trouble!" Rolce said. He then gasped, put his hand over his mouth and pointed upward. Before them was a huge oak tree and perched at the top of it was a large nest. A massive snake was spiraling up the trunk with ease, its clear aim the snack within the nest.

"That snake! It's going to the nest! I know my Boon is in there! Come on, Gisbo, you got to help me! Gisbo?" Rolce said, but Gisbo was backing away from the tree with his eyes upon the snake.

"Yeah, you go do that, go help her," Gisbo muttered, his voice trembling. Rolce looked at the snake, then looked back at Gisbo.

"You're afraid of snakes? Oh come on! My Boon's in trouble!" Rolce had rushed over to the tree and was leaping onto the first branch when he suddenly froze, looking pale.

"Well! Go get him, Captain Righteous! You don't need me! He's your stupid Boon! Climb up and get 'em!" Gisbo said, not taking his eyes off the huge snake. Rolce however looked terrified, but not because of the snake.

"Heights . . ." Rolce said shaking, looking upward and gripping the trunk of the tree in a bear hug.

"Oh, this is just fantastic! Snakes and heights! Really, if your Boon is gonna put us into situations like this all the time, I don't want it around!" Gisbo yelled, folding his arms in defiance. Rolce shot a glance up at the nest as the snake was getting nearer, almost halfway. Tears began welling up in the big boy's eyes as he looked at Gisbo.

"You're crying? Damn it all, Rolce. You're not seriously crying!" Gisbo spurned as Rolce still gripped the tree in utter fear. "Freakin' Boon . . . figures, just figures, gotta be yours who decides to pull crap like this. You watch, mine won't be any trouble at all!" Gisbo muttered as he ran to the tree, jumped and climbed to where Rolce sat.

"Come on, water works, just don't look down and you'll be fine. If this is your Boon, we have to get it or we aren't getting back. Come on! Quit your damn sniffling and . . ." It was then the snake hissed above him as the great reptile realized he had company. Gisbo squirmed down the trunk a little bit, unable to finish his sentence. Both sat for a moment, immobile, Gisbo looking down due to fear of the snake, Rolce looking upward for fear of falling.

"Well, this sucks . . ." Gisbo grunted.

"We're getting nowhere fast! It's crying! I can't take it! Gisbo, how is it you do what you do? Tell me!" Rolce asked in panic.

"The hell do you mean?" Gisbo responded, bewildered.

"I mean, how is it you can do all those crazy things? Taking on the entire clash team, challenge Thomson and his gang head on, skeet like it was your job, go up against the Chieftain's son? How do you get the courage to do those things? I need to know now!" Rolce stammered.

"To think I did all those things within a few days, jeesh, I think I'm gonna die young. Well, I think our brains just work differently, Rolce, and mine . . . well, I'm pretty sure it just stopped working at those times, that's all. I get mad, everything goes red and I dive without even really knowing why," Gisbo said.

"Mad! I gotta get angry! I'm too technical, too in control of myself. I need to lose control! I need to let go or I'll never save her. But . . . what makes me angry?" Rolce interrupted, trying to think. Then Gisbo had an idea.

"One plus one is three, right?" Gisbo stated plainly. Rolce looked at him with a rude glance.

"What? Come on, quit being stupid! We don't have time for jokes," Rolce said.

"The sum of twenty is five with a piece of pi," Gisbo said. Rolce looked at him, disgusted.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? You don't even . . . GAH!" Gisbo had cut Rolce short with a quick punch to his face. The punch landed square between his eyes. Gisbo started climbing the tree.

"No, no, get back here!" Rolce yelled, as he abandoned his post and climbed toward Gisbo. They clambered up the tree so fast that Gisbo did not even comprehend how close they were to the slithering snake. Without realizing it, Gisbo planted his hand on its dry, scaly exterior and screamed as the snake came face to face with him. Hissing, its fangs bared, the snake looked ready to strike when a huge hand reached upward.

Rolce grabbed the snake by the head and squeezed with all his might. The snake thrashed wildly, trying to escape from his iron grip, but it was too late. Rolce's freakish strength crushed the snake's head with a loud crack. The reptile draped downward, unraveling from the tree, and fell into a bush below them, dead. Gisbo looked at Rolce in shock.

"Uh, remind me never to tick you off again," Gisbo said. Rolce was breathing hard, staring at the snake blood flowing down his hand in grisly lines.

"I scare myself when I lose control like that. It doesn't happen very often, but when it does . . . bad things tend to happen. Now you know why it is so important for me to keep control. Why I never react in anger," Rolce stammered out, breathing heavily.

"Still, I figured a few wrong math statements would really tick you off . . . and it worked!" Gisbo smiled to himself.

"No, the fact that you were being stupid in a desperate situation ticked me off. Then the whole punching me in the face! You're lucky, I'm telling you that right now," Rolce stated, pointing at Gisbo.

"Now, now, that is such a bad habit of yours, always pointing! I'll have to call that monkey back to give you a finger of his own! Come on, let's go get your Boon! After all that mess, the height can't be so bad, now can it?" Gisbo encouraged. Rolce smiled as they both climbed to the nest and looked down inside it. Tears of joy dripped down Rolce's dirty face at the baby bald eagle nestled all alone in its nest. Upon seeing Rolce, it moved with quick little skips toward him and began nuzzling his face, squawking and cooing.

The first Boon was found.

_Chapter 8:_ Battle for the Boon

With their first Boon recovered, Gisbo and Rolce continued their trek through the woods, heads held high in confidence. Rolce cradled his little eagle in one arm and rocked it back and forth.

"Harpie wants to tell you thanks, Gisbo, she saw the whole thing down there," Rolce said beaming, refusing to tear his eyes away from his little eagle.

"The squirt's already got a name, huh?" Gisbo said.

"Of course it does! She told me her name. And it's not a "squirt." It's my Boon and her name is Harpie!" Rolce retorted.

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time," Gisbo said.

"It's weird . . . I mean, how quickly I picked this skill up. I guess I had it in me all along, I just never even thought it was possible. As soon as I opened my mind to the possibility of it, boom! I can do it no problem now! I think I rather like being a Naforian," Rolce said, rattling on without Gisbo listening.

The boys walked a little ways and came to an abrupt stop. It seemed they had reached the outer bubble for they could see a wintry landscape on the other side of it, as if looking through a fuzzy window. Gisbo stopped for a moment, thinking hard, or at least as hard as he was capable of.

"Rolce, what is it that you felt when you knew that your Boon was close?" Gisbo asked.

"I kinda felt butterflies in my stomach. It was like a pull, something was telling me to go forward, and then I heard little Harpie here calling out for help," Rolce said. Gisbo turned, looked at the barrier in front of them, then back at Rolce.

"Yeah, I'm starting to feel it too. Something feels like I need to keep going, out of the barrier. I think my Boon is out in the snow somewhere. It's more like a gut feeling than anything, it's strange," Gisbo said, lost in thought.

"That's exactly how I felt. If you feel we need to go out there, then let's go," Rolce said. Gisbo nodded and they both made their way out of the barrier with the same familiar WOOP noise as before.

Before them now lay an entire new country, covered in white and extremely cold. They both turned around, only to see more snow-capped trees. It was as if there was no barrier at all. Rolce stretched out his hand where the barrier had been and it instantly disappeared. He pulled his hand back and stared at it in awe.

"Fascinating . . ." Rolce said in wonder.

"Rolce, who the hell says fascinating? Come on, just say it's cool or neat or something. Jeesh, I hate people that try to use complicated words for no reason. Talk normal," Gisbo spouted.

"Hey! That's just how I talk!" Rolce argued.

"Whatever, let's just find my Boon before we both freeze. Open up those ears of yours and listen for anything calling out for help," Gisbo suggested and they set off through the crunchy snow. They saw many woodland animals as they trekked onward: rabbits, foxes and a wide variety of owls and snow birds.

"Any of these feel right to you, Gisbo? They are all very friendly it seems, asking if we are looking for something and if they could be of help," Rolce translated as he shook his head, telling the small animals around them that they were fine on their own.

"Nope, nothing," Gisbo said.

"I was just thinking, Moordin said that the Boon was a reflection of self, a guide for us inwardly as we are a guide for it outwardly. I think the outward part meant the Boons would be in trouble and we needed to save them. Then the next part would possibly be the training. I mean, I haven't a clue how Moordin and Falcon summoned their Boons like they did," Rolce said.

"Reflection of self, huh? Well the eagle makes sense for you, Rolce. Eagles are very smart, very big and very reserved for birds of prey, but they are still hunters. I think that fits you quite nicely if ya ask me," Gisbo spoke in a very encouraging way. Rolce was taken aback by his sudden articulate reasoning.

"Wow, that's impressive. Maybe you're not so dumb after all. You've got a point there. Hmmm . . . well, maybe this notion can help us find what your animal might be. Gonna be kind of hard to find a stupid, crazy, bottomless stomach sort of animal," Rolce said with a grin.

"Screw you, man! This is what I get for throwing out compliments! But you're not really far off. I mean, there are many animals like that. Believe me, I was called some sort of new animal name every day back in Oak County," Gisbo recalled, a little angry toward the end. Just the name Oak County brought up fury inside Gisbo. A similar effect befell Rolce, who tightened his grip on the little eagle, as if making sure it was real.

"Something tells me your animal is going to be not very nice. What kind of fierce animals live in this kind of cold?" Rolce asked, without expecting an answer.

"Wolves . . ." Gisbo stated. It was then Rolce noticed what Gisbo was looking at. All around them yellow eyes were beginning to form out of the bushes and a pack of twelve black wolves had them completely surrounded. Rolce looked beside himself, but Gisbo felt like he had been in this situation before.

"Gisbo, they aren't here for us. They just told me," Rolce said to him as they stood back to back, facing the wolves.

"What are you talking about?" Gisbo asked, but then he noticed something move by his feet and understood immediately why he didn't notice it at first. There, right in front of him, stood a pure white wolf, so white that it blended in with the untarnished snow. Calling it a wolf however may have been giving it too much credit. It was but a pup, only coming up just above Gisbo's knee.

When Gisbo's eyes met the little white wolf, something seemed to click within his very soul, like a metal joint snapping into place. Gisbo felt a sudden rush of warmth within him and around him as a deep connection was forged between himself and the animal before him. The wolf looked up at him with dewy sky blue eyes and gave out a little pleading whine, beckoning to Gisbo.

"The wolves said they are not going to harm us. They said to just back away from the white abomination and let it have its deserved punishment. Gisbo, I'm not one to mess with mother nature, but, man, something doesn't feel right about this," Rolce said.

"Rolce! This is him, this is my Boon! I know it!" Gisbo stated. Rolce looked at him wide eyed.

"This? This is . . . well, it's a she for one thing. She's telling you not to leave her here to die," Rolce said as he shifted his eyes to the pack around them. Gisbo looked at the white wolf cub.

"Tell her not to worry, I won't let 'em hurt her," Gisbo said.

"Remember, she can hear you, Gisbo. I just need to translate for you. You can talk to her, she understands you," Rolce said. Gisbo ran to the wolf cub and dropped to his knees to face her eye to eye.

"What'd you do, girl? How come they wanna hurt you?" Gisbo asked with deep concern, a concern he had never really had for anyone or anything else before. The wolf looked up at Rolce.

"She says she left the pack. These black wolves killed her mother for having outside relations with the pack. For the longest time she was looked upon as an outcast, never really belonging. They were very cruel to her and so she left the pack on her own and has been traveling for weeks, by herself, completely alone. The pack sees her as some sort of disease in need of purification. They've been sending out small groups to do her in and she has fended them off each time, but now the entire pack has arrived. They wish to kill her, Gisbo, as a way of purifying their pack. An honor killing, she calls it," Rolce explained in a shaky voice, sounding appalled. The wolves began circling, growling around them.

It was then Gisbo noticed all the cuts, scratches, and wounds on the white coat of the wolf cub. Gisbo stared for a moment within the cub's, no, his Boon's, eyes. There he saw more than anything, more than anyone could, the same pain he bore. Images began flooding through Gisbo's head, flashbacks of himself as the outcast and the bane of his town.

The growling wolf pack around them turned into the sneering Black Wolf Pack of Oak County, laughing, pointing at him and circling him. Tears of rage began to flow down Gisbo's face. The wolf cub felt it too as it took the place by his side and crouched in a growling stance, ready to pounce. Entranced in each other's memories, the boy and his wolf stood staring at their opposition.

Two lone wolves now formed one, different species cut from the same heart. The boy clenched his fists, the wolf dug its claws into the snow. A calmness enveloped them both as their souls strung together, staring down the impossible situation before them. The boy and his wolf had already made up their mind.

"You wish to fight? You're nuts! Listen, do the math! There are twelve of them! Only four can attack us at any given time, which means we'd have to win three consecutive fights. That won't happen!" Rolce yelled, voice quivering. Gisbo looked down to the ground and picked up a heavy branch. He looked down at the wolf.

"What's your name?" Gisbo asked his Boon. The wolf looked at Rolce once more. The pack still circled.

"She said her name in wolf lore means 'crude or ugly.' She is ashamed of it," Rolce said. Gisbo actually smiled.

"Heh, somebody told me that you should never be ashamed of a name. The difference makes you stronger. They may hunt you for your difference, but even as a cub you have fended them all off. You'll do the same now. Keep your name, make it a strength. Now what is it?" Gisbo asked. The wolf looked at Rolce again.

"She said her name is Fao," Rolce relayed, looking at Gisbo. The wolves snarled and growled as if laughing at her.

"Fao, huh? I think that's a great name," Gisbo said with a smile. He could feel the happiness pulsating from his Boon in appreciation. Gisbo looked at Rolce as they moved back to back once more, branches raised.

"Rolce, you need to book it back to Heaven's Shelter and tell them where I am. If we don't win three fights, then I'm a dead man. If we do, me and Fao won't be in any shape to make it back. This is something I have to do alone. You wouldn't understand," Gisbo stated.

"What? But I . . . Rolce trailed off, confused, sweating in nervousness.

"Do it, Rolce! Go get help! I won't get you mixed up in what I need to do," Gisbo shouted. Gisbo spun and sent a kick to Rolce's behind as the big kid stumbled forward.

"This is my fight. Go. Let him through!" Gisbo yelled at the wolves as he pushed Rolce hard at them. The circle seemed to open up as they allowed Rolce to scramble back out of the circle, clearly uninterested in him. Rolce looked at Gisbo with utter helplessness.

"Quit stalling! I'm gonna need help! Go!" Gisbo commanded as he threw Rolce's stick at him. Rolce caught it and looked at his friend...his only friend.

"You're crazy!!!" Rolce shouted, shaking his head.

"Yup," Gisbo responded with a wicked grin.

"I'll be back. Just stay alive!" Rolce ordered as he spun and ran back as fast as possible. Gisbo saw him disappear as he crossed back into Heaven's Shelter. Gisbo gripped his branch ever so tightly as he looked Fao in the eyes once more.

"Let's show these weak groupies what a lone wolf is capable of . . . the pack has leered at us long enough, let's beat 'em this time," Gisbo said as another smile spread across his face. The wolves pounced.

Gisbo let out a furious yell as he cracked a wolf skull with his branch. The stick didn't break, but the wolf hit the snow, out cold or dead, Gisbo couldn't tell, nor did he care. He then swung to his right, hitting another wolf who was just inches from tearing the flesh of his arm. It too fell into the snow unconscious. Meanwhile, Fao wrestled a wolf to the ground, holding it off long enough for Gisbo to whack it hard across its skull. With a whimper, the wolf collapsed. Without wasting any time, Fao reared around and threw herself at another charging wolf.

Gisbo continued to swing wildly and managed to land a lucky strike on a wolf leaping toward his waist. Three wolves down.

It was then a wolf pounced onto Gisbo's back, tackling him into the snow. Gisbo felt the beast's hot breath across his neck as it tore at his hair, seeking to get through it to the back of his neck, but before it could, Fao was on it as she slammed into the beast's side hard enough to knock the wolf away. Gisbo pulled his face from the cold, wet snow and before he could react, another wolf jumped onto his chest, pinning him on his back. Gisbo managed to reach up and grab the wolf's mane. With a strained yank, he managed to pull its snapping jaws away from his throat. Gisbo quickly let go of the wolf's mane and thrust one hand under its jaw and hoisted it up while he punched and clawed at the wolf's windpipe over and over again with his other hand until he pierced it with a spray of red. The wolf leapt off him and spun about in a coughing frenzy before collapsing to the ground.

With bated breath, Gisbo managed to rise to his feet and reached down, grabbed the collapsed wolf by its tail, swung it round and round and hurled it into two charging wolves who toppled to the ground in a spray of snow. One, however, recovered in a quick roll and pounced upon Gisbo and dug its teeth into his shoulder. Gisbo felt hot pain explode down his back and, out of instinct, he grabbed the wolf by its jaw with both hands, pried its mouth open and slammed the beast to the ground and repeatedly hopped atop the wolf's head with his heavy boots until it lay still.

Gisbo felt lightheaded as he saw his whole shirt now drenched with blood from his torn shoulder. It was then he noticed Fao on her back, writhing, as two large wolves snapped at her. Gisbo ran and threw his whole body hard into one of them, toppling them both like dominos, and freeing his Boon. Gisbo then heard a snarl behind him and he spun around just in time to see another wolf flying in his direction. Before he could react, Fao dove over his head, slamming herself into the beast in midair, and they both fell into the snow, a storm of slashing teeth and claws.

Breathing hard, Gisbo tried to rise to his feet, but it was no use. Two wolves intercepted his efforts and plunged him back down into the snow, trying for his throat. Gisbo pushed his head backward, deep into the rigid snow, trying to keep his distance as he managed to kick one of the wolves hard below the jaw as he held the other wolf at bay with both arms.

The wolf who got kicked quickly rebounded upon him and bit into his forearm. Gisbo screamed in pain as he felt the teeth pierce his skin and grind against the bone. No matter how much Gisbo struggled, the wolf would not release its grip as it shook its head back and forth, rending his arm further. Gisbo felt hot tears touch the corner of his eyes as he fought the pain. If he let go, the current wolf he was holding would certainly charge downward and rip out his throat. He was trapped and suddenly felt immensely woozy. He saw red and then everything went black.

_Chapter 9:_ Opening Day

When Gisbo awoke, it was nightfall. He looked up from his comfortable new V-bed and saw the stars through the skylight, along with a glowing full moon. It took Gisbo a few moments to realize where he was and he was trying to remember what had happened when a young white wolf hopped from the bed next to him and began lapping his dirty face in excitement.

Gisbo rubbed at the back of his Boon's neck and suddenly smelled the tantalizing scent of grilling meat just outside. Gisbo quickly grabbed Fao in his arms, jumped from the bed, and ran to the porch. There he found Rolce sitting in a rocker with Harpie and talking to Falcon, who was hunched over the grill stirring something that smelled glorious, while smoke filtered off into the night air.

"Of all things, it's the smell of food that wakes him," Falcon said with a grin, as he flipped over what looked like a few steaks, flames rising with each turn as the grease and juices ignited.

"How long was I out for? What happened?" Gisbo asked, rubbing his eyes.

"I'd like to ask you that last question." Rolce said. Gisbo gave him a curious look and then held Fao out in front of him. Fao stared at him a moment and then lapped at his face once more. Laughing, Gisbo took a seat.

"So we finally got both our Boons! But, jeesh, I must have got hit on the head or something. I don't remember a damn thing. What happened?" Gisbo asked.

"Well, I got Falcon and we both made it back to you. When we got there you were collapsed with Fao, surrounded by dead wolves, and not a scratch on you!" Rolce said. Gisbo's eyes went wide and he desperately tried to remember what happened. He remembered the wolves now, he remembered they were fighting and then . . .

A quick burst of fire lit eyes flashed across his mind. Gisbo shuddered and then it was forgotten as white space replaced it.

"I . . . I don't really know what happened, to be honest . . . everything's a blank to me," Gisbo said in a distant voice, trying to piece together the images that flashed through his head. Rolce frowned.

"So you don't remember how you and a pup defeated a pack of savage wolves without a scratch? Did you ask them politely to leave you alone and kindly drop dead all around you? I'm slightly offended you think me so stupid," Rolce said, crossing his arms. Harpie seemed to give Gisbo a nasty look too.

"I remember fighting the wolves with Fao here. We were doing all right, then things started to turn in their favor. I remembered seeing Fao, hurting, as two wolves were snapping at her . . . then everything went black, then it was red . . . I really don't know what to tell you, ugh, everything is a literal blank in here. Don't worry, Rolce, you'll get used to it hanging around me. I'm lucky if I remember to put on my pants in the morning," Gisbo said. Falcon only looked over his shoulder with a curious glance and then kept on cooking.

"Hmph," Rolce said, folding his arms and squinting at him.

"Don't look at me like that! I really don't remember anything and AND YOU!" Gisbo said, pointing at Falcon. Falcon turned and placed a hand over his chest.

"Me?" Falcon asked.

"Yeah you! Seriously! If you weren't making that food right now, I'd wallop you! Do you even realize what me and Rolce had to go through to get these Boons?!" Gisbo blurted out as he held Fao up. Fao just yawned and began panting.

"Yup," Falcon said as he turned back to his cooking.

"Yup? That's all you can say? We nearly died!" Gisbo protested, raising his voice.

"Correction, YOU nearly died," Falcon said as he shook an accusatory grilling fork at him. "That was . . . unexpected . . ." he added and, with a shrug, he went back to cooking.

"Unexpected? You sound as if you knew what was going to happen," Rolce stated, as he stroked Harpie's head slowly and the little bird cooed.

"That is not entirely false. However, it is not beneficial knowledge for you as of yet. There are more pressing matters ahead for conversation, so let's do it over dinner, shall we?" Falcon said, as he slapped various meats and grilled vegetables onto three plates, passing them out to Gisbo and Rolce, keeping one for himself.

"Oh yeah? Well, what was all that talk before then about not holding anything back from us?!" Gisbo asked. Falcon looked a bit pained as they began walking inside and setting their table for dinner.

"Boys, it's not that I don't WANT to tell you, it's just that it is top secret, Renegade classified. That's the honest truth." Gisbo and Rolce looked quite disappointed, but also intrigued. Things brightened quickly enough with their first bites of food. It tasted even better then their previous meal, if that could be possible.

"Falcon! This tastes amazing! What do you do differently than the Renegade chefs?" Rolce wondered with a mouthful of food. Falcon smiled at his compliment.

"Well, it's not that I don't WANT to tell you, it's just that it is Falcon Vadid classified. Those chefs have been trying to pry my marinade recipe from me for years. Maybe one day I'll pass it on to someone, when the time is right," Falcon said with another amused grin. Gisbo and Rolce weren't disappointed as they continued to scarf down the delicious meats and vegetables before them.

"Now then, down to business. Your official first day as Renegas begins on the morrow. The training will prove . . . adequate. The term is split up to focus on one notch of study at a time rather then having all three to deal with at once. Each of these courses, upon completion, will earn you your initial bands and should you finish notch three, you will graduate to Renegara status. From there, you will begin your training with your Class Masters after a short break for summer. Now Gisbo, if you would please stand up," Falcon requested.

"Why?" Gisbo asked.

"Just stand your ass up," Falcon muttered. Gisbo did. Falcon pointed his ring finger forward and, with a glow, a red beam of fire stretched forth, hitting Gisbo's leather belt. It stayed concentrated for a moment and the smell of burning leather hit his nostrils and then it was done. Gisbo looked down at his belt and saw the symbol of a fork burned there, pulsating with a red glow every few seconds.

"If you recall seeing all those relics and plaquards throughout the hallway we walked down earlier today, then you should know those are the titles one can win for oneself, forever engraving one's name in Renegade history. Quite the honor, the silver fork already has your name engraved upon the plaque and now you display the fork on your belt for all to see. If you notice, it will pulsate with a red glow from time to time, showing all that you are the current eating champion. Should you lose your title, the engraving will remain, but it will cease to pulsate. I doubt anybody will challenge you anytime soon, what with your display of fortitude today," Falcon added with an air of pride. Gisbo beamed.

"You will meet in the Courtyard of Strength on the morrow at exactly six in the morning. Don't be late, the instructor is in quite the foul mood that early in the morning and you shouldn't try their patience," Falcon stated.

"That early? Every day?!" Gisbo moaned.

"Not every day, five days a week. You get the weekends off at least, which comes down to our next state of affairs . . . tarries," Falcon stated with a smile.

"Money?" Rolce and Gisbo said, almost in unison.

"Yes, money. You have been given about one hundred tarries apiece in your bank accounts. That should be enough to last you until you find yourselves a means of work. You are able young men and the time for handouts was over when those one hundred tarries were deposited. If you wish to buy food for yourselves, books, supplies, etc. you will need to find a means of work throughout Heaven's Shelter to support yourselves. I suggest you two look as soon as possible after your course tomorrow, before the good jobs are taken. I believe that's it for now, so pleasant night to you, boys! I'll be seeing you!" Falcon said as he unsheathed his sword and made his way to the end of the deck. With a quick leap, Falcon activated his essence and was skeeting away into the night sky, leaving a fiery red tail behind him.

"Man, I can't wait for the day I can do that!" Gisbo said, watching the red trail glimmer in the night sky before dissipating.

"He could have at least helped us clean up," Rolce complained, as he began picking up the plates. Gisbo and Rolce then took turns jumping into the cleansing room and were off to their beds. Fao slept at the base of the ladder of Gisbo's bed and Harpie perched on the bed post of Rolce's.

"I better not find any surprises behind my bed in the morning. You and Fao can take your business outside! You understand?" Rolce said, laying down the law. Harpie puffed out her feathers in retort. "So you really don't remember what happened, Gisbo? The place was an absolute mess. There was even a shattered oak tree and, when I say shattered, I'm not at all exaggerating." Rolce said, turning to Gisbo, who only sighed.

"If I knew what had happened, I'd tell you, Rolce. It's bothering me too. I felt death's grip on me and then I wake up here in my bed, safe and sound," Gisbo stated.

"It is a miracle you're alive, you know that," Rolce said.

"Yup," Gisbo said. Rolce shook his head.

"You and your, 'yups,'" Rolce said.

"I find it stranger that Falcon supposedly knew how everything was going to play out, but then my actions surprised him. Something happened out there that wasn't supposed to happen and I haven't got a clue why," Gisbo said distantly, his mind deep in thought.

"This whole day has felt like that, like we are on some trail we can't break from. I feel that IAM has great plans for us," Rolce said with a touch of seriousness.

"How does a guy as smart as you believe in something you can't even see? Do you really buy into all those ideas of an afterlife? Hate to break it to ya, pal, but this is all we got." Gisbo looked up again at the full moon through the skylight. Rolce sat up in his bed to answer.

"I refuse to accept that life is a meaningless accident. It is a comfort to dwell on the possibility that there is a life beyond this one," Rolce answered, staring at the stars above. Gisbo looked from the window to Rolce with curiosity.

"Still, you just don't know; you can't prove it. Why limit yourself to some higher power's rules, doing things against your own nature, when you can make the rules and do what makes you happy?" Gisbo asked.

"You could be entirely right. I believe though that what you said about following rules and doing what makes you happy is intertwined. I think whatever it is up there, IAM? Something else? I dunno for sure, but I feel each of us have been given talents to use that will make us happy and as long as we stick with what we love, that's what we are meant to do," Rolce stated plainly. Quiet enveloped the room as both boys pondered the words.

"Hm, you know what, buddy, I can get behind something like that. Night, pal," Gisbo said as he turned over to sleep.

"Night, man, pleasant dreams," Rolce said. Gisbo sighed loudly.

"Rolce, a man does not wish another man pleasant dreams," Gisbo said.

"What? I was just being . . ." Rolce started.

"Night, pansie," Gisbo said.

"Shut up," Rolce answered.

"GISBO!!!" Rolce's voice boomed through Gisbo's eardrums. Gisbo sat up, yelling curses in protest of the rude awakening until he saw Rolce's accusing index finger pointed not at him, but at the clock on the Breeze Harmonic. Pulsating in thick golden numerals it read 5:55 a.m. Gisbo jumped from his bed, forgetting that he had a top bunk, and hit the ground with a thud that shook the floor. Rolce struggled to get his uniform on as Gisbo frantically began retrieving his articles of clothing one at a time from where they were strewn across the room. In a matter of minutes, they were out the door with Rolce shouting "We'll be back soon!" to Harpie and Fao who were still sleeping soundly.

After taking only one wrong turn past the swamp they had fallen in the day before, they were finally at the common, with the giant golden statue of Vadid the Valiant staring down at them. They ran past the statue, through some shops and various food suppliers to the wide open circular field that held the cookout earlier. Huffing and puffing, they joined a group of boys and girls standing erect in a line with an instructor pacing back and forth. When they barged in on the group, the instructor stopped talking. A painful silence ensued as the boys quickly caught their breath and stood up straight to match their classmates. The instructor walked right up to Gisbo and stood with her arms folded, glaring up at him.

The instructor was nearly a foot shorter than Gisbo and two feet shorter than Rolce. She was dressed in Shininja attire, with blond hair and intense hazel eyes. She looked quite attractive for her age as well, which Gisbo guessed was just a little younger than Falcon. The awkward silence, along with the petite woman in front of them doing her best to look intimidating, was just about as much as Gisbo could take. A small chuckle escaped his lips, followed by a sheepish grin.

Rolce went white upon Gisbo's insolence. The petite woman simply smiled back and motioned for Gisbo to follow her with a delicate wave.

"Hah! Here we were getting all worked up at Falcon's warning of some big tough Renegade who was going to put us through total hell . . . she's just some little old lady," Gisbo whispered to Rolce in a tone just above a whisper before he followed the woman to stand in front of the Renegas. Rolce looked like he was about to have a panic attack as the other kids were staring at him with looks that said, You're friends with that idiot?

"Falcon's boy, why am I not surprised?" the woman said, as she sized him up. "For our time together, would you and Moordin's boy kindly be punctual? It would be MOST appreciated." Her voice was sweet, almost too sweet. Gisbo was a bit taken aback as he nodded, not knowing what else to do.

"Good! Now off you go," the woman said in an uppity tone as she raised her hand, beckoning for Gisbo to return to the line. Gisbo shrugged and turned to walk away when he heard a rush of air behind him. Before he knew it, the instructor was standing right in front of him. Gisbo froze as he looked backward, wondering how she had gotten there so fast. The faces of the students were shocked.

"We will be learning much in this three month term, my students. By the end of it, your bodies will be in peak shape, able to attack and defend yourselves accordingly," she asserted. In an instant Gisbo felt pains all across his body as the instructor went wild with an array of punches and kicks, returning to her erect ready stance in seconds. How many hits had landed, Gisbo didn't know. He was only aware that his entire body ached as if his whole body was just attacked by a hive of wasps.

"The main point of this course is to strengthen your body well enough to be able to bear elemental essence within it," continued the petite Shininja woman, swinging her right arm, slamming Gisbo in the stomach and retracting in one fluid flash of movement. Gisbo coughed in pain as he tried to reclaim the wind knocked from his gut. Unable to, he dropped to his knees and crouched over.

"And also be ready to wield weapons accordingly upon your third notch of training," the woman finished as she quickly extracted what looked like a dagger. In a flash of steel Gisbo's pants dropped to the ground and he was left on his knees, regretfully showing his underwear to the class. His classmates were too stunned to even laugh at a situation that would have been funny at any other time. The petite instructor dropped down to Gisbo's level and looked him in the eye, dangling her dagger playfully as a cruel smile stretched across her face. This time she truly was scary to Gisbo, which was probably the point of it all.

"For those who didn't hear me the first time, you may call me Renegade Roarie. Does that name suffice to you, pup?" Roarie asked with the sickly sweetness of poison. Despite the pain all over his body, Gisbo he couldn't help but feel angry at her cheap jab at his dog name.

"Thank you for your cooperation, pup. For those who don't know, this is Gisbo Falcon, but you all are to refer to him as 'pup' for the remainder of this week in my presence. Anyone who doesn't...well...I have something of great fun prepared!" Roarie announced gleefully.

"Well, pup, off you go now! Oh, please be on time for our next meeting, will you?" Roarie reiterated as she motioned with her hand to return once more. Gisbo pulled up his pants gratefully and scuffled back next to Rolce.

"Now, I'll be straight-up honest with you. The first few weeks are going to be very intense. Puking, exhaustion, dizziness, extreme muscle aches and short periods of blackout are all completely normal. So if you have complaints in anything other than those areas, I'll be glad to hear them!" Roarie spoke cheerily, as if she was wishing somebody a happy birthday. Soft chattering spread up and down the line of Renegas.

"She's not sane," Rolce muttered under his breath.

"Also, throughout the term while the Renegara's are on their summer break, they will be helping in your training," Roarie explained. Gisbo saw several boys and girls in Renegara attire walking their way.

If Gisbo had thought his day couldn't get worse, he had been wrong. There, at the head of the Renegaras, was none other then Ranto. Gisbo gritted his teeth as Ranto eyeballed him, taking the place next to Roarie with his other Renegara friends. Gisbo noticed a number of pulsating symbols all across Ranto's belt which all glowed except for a fork shaped one. At this, Gisbo smiled a bit to himself.

"For our first exercise, we will work on endurance. Gamba and Tora, if you please," Roarie said.

A boy and girl in Nazarite attire walked to the center of the field and each raised a staff into the air. With a jolt, one ignited in green essence and the other in yellow. With a wave of their arms, the earth shifted and swelled until it formed several large, rather steep hills. Upon completion, a yellow energy field seemed to drop from the sky and formed a dome around them.

"These little molehills will be a part of our training every day throughout the term, so get used to them. It's pretty simple. You will sprint up the hills as fast as you can and then run down the other side, repeating until I allow you to stop. Also, you will become familiar with this special energy field surrounding your training ground. This trick is a particular favorite of mine that I have dubbed The Encourager. Should any of you start slacking, running a little too slowly for my liking, a friendly electric shock will shoot from the barrier and encourage you to move a little quicker. We will do this until I think you've had enough. Now please randomly position yourself outside of your synergies for exercises. The time for teamwork will come later; I want you to get to know your fellow Renegas, so go and get situated," Roarie ordered with a clap. Gisbo split off from Rolce and walked to the farthest hill from him and stood next to two other boys.

One boy had a shaved head, medium build, a friendly smile and sharp green eyes. He wore Shininja gear. The other boy was massive, nearly as wide as he was tall. His Berserker attire was quite filled out, especially toward his stomach area.

"How's it going? You can call me Shaved Head or just Shaved will do," said the boy with the shinija gear. Gisbo accepted his handshake with a wry smile.

"Shaved Head, huh? I'd ask why you're called that, but I think I reached my limit on stupidity for one day," Gisbo joked, but his air of curiosity led the boy to explain anyway.

"Well, my real name is Jag Davison, but as long as I can remember, I've always had a shaved head and, well, I'm not so much a social butterfly and with everyone hardly knowing my name, they just referred to me as the kid with the shaved head. Kinda stuck I guess, but I don't mind," Shaved said with a laugh. He motioned to the boy next to him.

"This is my friend, Grandfield. He was my best bud from my old town and we ended up in the same synergy!" Shaved told him as Gisbo pumped Grandfield's strong yet chubby hand.

"Don't worry, you won't be hearing us call you pup. You . . . are amazing! My class master, Groggo, was quite depressed losing to such a prissy kid like . . ." Grandfield moved in closer to whisper, looking over his head for the person he was about to mention, " . . . Ranto. He was ecstatic to see him get floored by you," Grandfield said, smiling widely as he shook Gisbo's hand up and down repeatedly.

"Eh, I do what I can and you already know my name, so good to meet ya both!" Gisbo said. Upon hearing Roarie's voice, all three of them braced themselves for the order to begin. It was then they noticed Ranto make his way over to stand behind them, grinning.

"Hey, pup, good to see ya again. Me and you are going to spend some quality time together this year. Oh and looks like Davison's and Groggo's boys have joined up as well. Such company always attracts each other it seems," Ranto said. To Gisbo, his words seemed to just fester and boil within his veins. He literally began to shake with fury. Noticing this, Shaved put a hand on Gisbo's shoulder.

"Seriously, don't. He's trying to egg you on. Trust me, I heard Renegade punishments are quite harsh, not like detentions at some grade school and, as of right now, he's our superior. You can't nail a teacher, let alone her assistants. Just try and phase him out," Shaved advised in a calm, comforting tone.

"Good to see there's at least one cool head among you three; smart, too. You'd better heed his warning, pup. Eating is one thing, fighting's a whole other matter. I wouldn't want to embarrass you further today," Ranto said, looking Gisbo straight in the eye, almost purposely flashing his muscled arm with three completed armbands before moving on to observe the other Renegas.

"That guy's gonna get it one of these days. Groggo tells me most of the Renegaras all have that holier than thou attitude about 'em. Buncha jerkwads. They belong in the Strifes if anything," Grandfield said with a snarl. Gisbo was pleased to know he wasn't the only one who wanted to wallop him, even though he had no idea who the Strifes were. Grandfield made them seem worse than Flarians.

"I'm starting to like you guys already," Gisbo said. At that moment, a giant lightning bolt struck the hill in front of them and a loud voice rang out, "Go!" Gisbo, Grandfield, and Shaved all sprinted quickly up the hill with Shaved in the lead, back down the other side, turned around and did it again.

After only a few up and downs, Gisbo and Shaved were doing all right, maintaining a steady speed, but Grandfield was another story. He started to slow a bit as a painful stitch erupted in his side only to quickly forget the pain as a bolt of electricity spanked his rear end. With a yelp and a jump, he began to run much quicker.

"Gah! People of big stature . . . weren't meant . . . for such training. It's so damn hot, I don't think I can . . . YOUCH!" Grandfield shouted in between heavy breaths as he rubbed at his tender behind and picked up the pace.

"Don't give me crap, Grandfield! You are a Berserker! You and your pal, pup, need endurance more than any other class here! Now move it!" Roarie shouted as she paced back and forth at ease and ordered a bolt to crack across Gisbo's backside for no good reason.

"DAMN IT! YOU OLD BI . . ." Gisbo started, only to receive another one. He desperately tried to fire some derogatory name toward Roarie only to be cut off each time by a painful jolt of yellow.

The process continued for a full half hour with only three rests in-between and by the time, it was finished everybody was on the ground wheezing and rubbing their sore behinds. Gisbo had never been more tired in all his life. Aquarians walked around and sprayed water into the Renegas gaping mouths as they gratefully gulped their fill, then plopped back to the ground.

"Hills, the best way to train your endurance. The various machines around here are designed after the human body itself. Many of them run best when run continuously at full speed, not going about a steady pace for long distances. Something the residents outside our great city have not yet discovered and you all, like machines, must run exceptionally well to go about your tasks. Now, on your feet," Roarie stated. With a unison groan, the students struggled to their feet and struggled even more just to stay upon them.

"With your legs and lungs worked out, it's time to focus on the upper body. You may already realize our training methods are quite unorthodox and guess what? They will continue to prove so. We believe in growing muscles, not simply pumping them up only to have them deflate if not regulated properly. You may notice many of the Elekai' Neanderthals in Karm's army were all huge and armor clad; such a waste. With those large pectorals comes slowness, showboating and an utter waste of oxygen. You will be different! Such will not be the case with the Scrappers Supreme! Your bodies will be swift, powerful, natural and adaptable through various exercises, which we will do right now!" Roarie stated with a clap and a smile. Many more groans reverberated throughout the Renegas.

"Ah ah! Did I hear groaning? Who here thinks this is too hard, hm? Does anyone have something to say?" Roarie challenged, somehow maintaining her stomach churning sweetness. Gisbo was about to raise his hand when Grandfield and Shaved grabbed both of his arms and held them down.

"I didn't think so. Now, like our four legged friends of the forest, we will train by using our own body weight against us. Your strength will grow as you do and be one with you. Animals continually do this, hence most can decimate us if we are weaponless. All natural! You must respect your furry friends and train like them if you wish to be true Renegades. Training your bodies with some form of heavy weight to pump yourself up strains you unnaturally and deflates you accordingly. If you are to fight something natural, like another four limbed life-form, you need to train like it. We are made to fight, not lift things. Understand? Those that do will trounce their opponents with ease. So let us begin our exercises. I will demonstrate," Roarie said as she placed her hands on her hips and put her feet together as the class did the same.

"We will first focus on breathing. As any Soarian can tell you, air is a powerful source and you need to be full of it. It will also begin to grow your muscles. We will do this until I feel you have had enough. First, we will breathe in as much air as possible." A host of boys and girls coughed and gagged doing so as their lungs burned. "And now you will breathe out as much as possible while clenching your butt cheeks and your stomach tightly." More coughing and wheezing continued as the Renegas did so. Gisbo felt like his entire torso was constricting itself as his body tingled all over and his sore muscles twanged painfully.

"Good. Again!" Roarie ordered. More wheezing and coughs ensued as they went about the exercise. Grandfield simply collapsed to the ground with a thud.

After a few more breaths, Roarie seemed to agree with Grandfield that they had had enough. The Renegaras continued watering them down, smiling at their pathetic feebleness. Gisbo indeed felt pretty pathetic as he lay down, thinking that he might not be able to get back up.

"Rested? Now? How about now? Ready? Oh good!" Roarie exclaimed.

"No, we're not ready, you crazy . . ." Gisbo started until Granfield rolled on him and covered his mouth.

"Exercise two! Here we go! Drop to the ground like a tiger; it is time to do some push ups! After me!" Roarie demonstrated an odd form of pushup as she stretched her legs apart, bent forward, slid her body forward like a snake, arching her back, then rose to repeat the process. At most, everyone could do about three before they fell face forward in the dirt, which by now was mud. Some Renegaras cleverly foresaw the exercise and they had made sure to drench the ground in neat lines as they supplied water.

The strange workout continued into an odd array of squat thrusts, more breathing, followed by strange sit-ups, until finally it seemed Roarie was ready for the final exercise. Boys and girls quit trying to stand on their feet and resorted to lying on their backs, wracked with pain.

"Good! You may remain in your lying positions for the final exercise of the day, the bridge!" Roarie said. Gisbo thought it sounded good so far as he let out a sigh of relief. Anything that started by lying down couldn't be too bad.

"This exercise will be the final one we do each and every day, increasing the time each day so you will eventually be able to hold this position for hours," Roarie said.

"Lay here for hours? I can do that." Grandfield moaned.

"This is one of the most controversial exercises around and will work EVERY single muscle in your body, but it will supply various benefits including increased metabolism, adrenaline rate, muscle growth, etc. We will hold this for about thirty seconds today. Now do as I do." In a great show of athleticism, Roarie arched her back from the ground in a sort of gymnast stance as she held her belly in the air, arching her entire body into an upside down U with her hands and feet planted on each side to support her. Grandfield shook his head and let his mouth hang open.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?" Grandfield whined loudly. "You kiddin' me?"

A few seconds were what most of the girls could achieve. Their flexible bodies managed to at least hold themselves upward. The boys couldn't even make their backs rise more than a foot from the ground. They fell in pain, slapping their backs against the mud beneath them.

"Well, boys and girls, that does it for day number one! Congrats! You may now return to your housings and I will see you first thing tomorrow!" said Roarie as she turned and walked away with a wave, but nary a glance backward. Her class however did not do so. They all lay on the ground heaving hard, muscles twitching. A snide Renegara Nazarite conjured a large black rain cloud over the group as the older group walked away. Gisbo heard Ranto laughing hysterically.

"I'll kill 'em, I swear I will..." Gisbo stated weakly.

"For once Gisbo, I agree." Rolce said from a few rows down. The rest of the Renegas muttered in agreement through moans. Not one of the boys and girls moved as the rain poured down, washing the sweat and dirt from their weakened bodies. At least day one was over.

_Chapter 10:_ The Sybil

After lying in the drenched field for another ten pain filled minutes, the class managed to vacate the field. Gisbo introduced Rolce to Shaved and Grandfield as they all made their way to the bank and grabbed some tarries for lunch.

"That lady is a bit evil, eh?" Shaved mouthed as he collapsed into a chair outside a food stand that read, "Renegade Joe's Steak Hut."

"A bit? She IS evil! I thought I was going to die and never . . . Ohhhh steak, how I've missed you!" Grandfield crooned as he began digging into his meal without utensils.

"We got about ninety five tarries left now. Do any of you guys have jobs yet?" Rolce asked as he began picking at his food.

"Sure do! I just got Grandfield a job with me. I think I may be able to get you guys jobs too if you want," Shaved offered. Rolce and Gisbo beamed.

"Really? What is it that you do?" Rolce asked.

"Well, to make a long story short, turns out that my dad is a Renegade and he thought it would do me some good to grow up humbly. So, just like you guys, he sent me away from here. It's been quite a shock getting reacquainted with a family I never knew existed, but, at the same time, I've felt like something in me has been filled. I've always felt something has been missing, something was never right. It's been so unsettling, but ever since I came here, it's gone. This was it apparently. I can't wait to see what else is in store, but anyhow, the job. Well, my father, and I use that term loosely, I know him just about as well as you guys do, is a renowned engineer as well as a blacksmith. I've always loved machinery myself and I'm quite the grease monkey. Makes sense really, so I pretty much had a job set for me soon as I got here, but I bet I could convince my Dad to take on a couple more for, you know, cleanin' up around the shop, basic stuff like that," Shaved said as he bit into a crisp apple.

"That sounds great! You really think you can land me and Rolce jobs?" Gisbo asked.

"Oh yeah, shouldn't be a problem, we can all go right after lunch. I'd love to show ya around the shop, but I'm still learning the area myself. Grandfield hasn't even seen it yet, so yeah, guess we'll learn together. And don't worry, it's not a far walk from here," Shaved said with a smile. Grandfield's face lightened up a bit upon this realization.

"Yeah, it turns out Groggo and Shaved's dad, Davison, are great friends. They purposely put us together in the town of Hooksett way out in the east. We became friends on our first day of school without even realizing it was meant to be. Pretty weird, huh?" Grandfield said, chewing. Rolce and Gisbo looked at each other as if remembering Falcon's comments earlier about knowing what was pre-determined for them.

"I grew up beside this kid my whole life and we didn't even talk to each other until yesterday. Weird," Gisbo said, jerking a thumb at Rolce.

"So, where is the third member of your synergy?" Rolce asked. Shaved and Grandfield met each other's gaze with amused smiles before answering.

"Well, he's, ah, a bit of a character. He was totally convinced he was going to nail a lunch date with not one, but a couple of the Renega girls he has been eyeing," Shaved said.

"Jeesh, guy works quick, huh?" Gisbo asked.

"Oh yeah, guy works fast, I'll give him that much. I'll bet you anything though that he'll be joining us in a few minutes," Shaved said with a smirk.

"Alone," Grandfield added in. Sure enough, not even a moment later, up walked a boy in Nazarite attire. He had dirty blonde, thinning hair, with a distinct widow's peak and big green eyes. He sat down at their table with a huff of frustration.

"Right on schedule! I present to you Knob Brawlda. Knob, this is Gisbo Falcon and Rolce Moordin. Heh, so how did your dates go?" Grandfield inquired with a sarcastic air.

"They were all right, both chicks were just out of their mind crazy, not my type, but it's ok because I got like two others lined up for tomorrow," Knob said with an assured smile. Everyone at the table rolled their eyes, unbeknownst to Knob.

"Hey, you're that guy who got torn up by Roarie today! Ain't she something nasty, huh? You got dangles, man! She's quite the babe though, when you look past those wrinkles," Knob started until Grandfield cut him off.

"You'd go after anything that moves! Show some discretion!" Grandfield exclaimed as he scarfed down more food with his hands.

"The day I show discretion is the day you go on a diet, pal. Thera wasn't meant to spin backwards, don't ya know," Knob countered as he attempted to grab a stray chicken wing from Grandfield's plate, only to be attacked by a sharp fork barely missing his hand. It seemed the utensils served as a means of defense only.

"Well, good luck with the uh, ladies, Knob. Fill us in later. I gotta take these guys down to my Dad's shop for a bit," Shaved said as he rose from his seat and the others followed suit.

"Yeah, I'll see ya. Tell your dad I'll show him some of my designs tomorrow," Knob said. "He should be impressed!"

"I'll tell him. Later!" Shaved said. They cleaned up their area and made their way down one of the side streets from the commons.

"Designs?" Rolce asked.

"Yeah. As much as the kid is a goof, he is a real genius when it comes to engineering stuff. He grew up where we were too, but we hardly ever saw the guy. He spent his days cooped up in his room just . . . drawing stuff. Machinery, schematics, you name it," Shaved said.

"Hm," Rolce said. The boys passed shop after shop until they stopped at one labeled, "Ern an' Dave's Mach Shop." They made their way inside and were rewarded with the sight of many kinds of swirling knick knacks, weapons, skeet swords, various breeze harmonics and a host of other odd contraptions that all made sputtering and whirring sounds. Suddenly, a small black cat ran forward and pounced up on Shaved's legs.

"Hey there, Driver, miss me, buddy?" Shaved said as he bent down to pet it. "This is my Boon. He's a baby black panther, pretty cool, huh? I actually found her up in some machinery yesterday. Dad was going to start it up, woulda friggin' fried her if I didn't get to her first. Probably wanted somewhere to stay warm during the night," Shaved explained. "Oh, and Grandfield got a boar! Saved it from the kitchens, pretty weird huh? Out of all the meats, pork is something he's vowed to never touch again," Shaved said as he picked up his furry friend and scratched behind its ears. The cat purred and closed its eyes at Shaved's touch.

"WHAT!? That's so not fair! We nearly died getting our stupid Boons! How did you get yours?" Gisbo asked, looking at Grandfield.

"I tried to sneak in and find some food last night in the kitchens and there he was, all tied down, ready to be slaughtered into meat when I saved the little guy. He's back at our place. So what did you guys get?" Grandfield beamed.

"I got an eagle and Gisbo here got a wolf. Sounds like you guys had a much easier time then we had! It's a long story though," Rolce said.

While Rolce and Shaved chatted, Gisbo began walking around the shop and stopped to admire a large sword that looked a whole lot like Falcon's. It was a big berserker sword.

Gisbo slid his hand along the gleaming front and he heard a voice behind him. He spun around to see a man standing before him in his mid fifties with thick black hair and wearing Berserker attire. His face was a weathered tan with deep wrinkles and his wise green eyes gave the impression of all-knowingness.

"That right there is a Talon Sword, a Dave an' Ern Specialty. Well, mostly an Ernie specialty and . . ." The man stopped as he realized who the boy was in front of him.

"Ah, hey, Dave! Come get your fat butt out here and see who has dropped in!" said the green-eyed man. Upon command, a tall, rather large man, especially around the belly, walked out. His head was bald on top and white hair frizzed out in all directions around the sides and ran down in a thick white beard.

"Ohoho! If it isn't Falcon's boy, Gisbo! And look there, Moordin's boy too! Wadaya know," Dave said. He then whispered something in Ernie's ear as Ernie nodded with a smile, gazing at Gisbo.

"How is it you know my name?" Gisbo asked, a bit surprised.

"Because we're Dave an' Ernie, that's why, my boy! We always get the gossip on the new Renegas each year; plus Moordin and I go way back. So what can we do for you? Little too early to purchase your first weapon, isn't it? I'm sure Roarie would kill me if I let you purchase one so soon. Pretty positive, actually." Dave sounded a little worried, but he chuckled to himself in a deep laugh.

"No, Dad, not anything like that. I was just wondering if you and Ernie could take on a couple more workers for the shop. I mean, it's a lot of work just for me and Grandfield and we thought they'd be perfect!" Shaved pleaded. Dave and Ernie looked at each other and went into a quick huddle. The boys saw them whisper something, then Dave nodded and Ernie shook his head. Dave gave Ernie a whack to the side of the head and a few moments later, they were both nodding.

"We have decided to take on two more workers for the benefit of the Ern an' Dave Mach Shop!" Ernie announced with pride. Gisbo and Rolce both grinned and breathed a sigh of relief. It felt good to know they had a means of supporting themselves now.

"I'll be expecting you both to arrive at the shop four days a week, after you get some rest and food following your morning sessions. Difficult stuff, I know, and I don't need you four slacking off when there's work to do! Much work! Get it? Got it? Good," Ernie said, crossing his arms. All four boys nodded and Dave smiled down at them.

"Take care of yourselves now, we'll be seein' ya!" Dave said with a wave as he and Ernie dropped behind a curtain into the back of the shop.

Gisbo and Rolce said their goodbyes and returned to their tree house for some much needed downtime. Upon their return, both Boons greeted them excitedly. Fao ran around Gisbo's legs while Harpie tweeted and ruffled her feathers, begging Rolce to pick her up.

"I suppose we're all set for a while, huh? Now that we got our jobs," Rolce said with relief as he collapsed into a chair. Gisbo did the same.

"Ugh, letting my muscles relax was a bad idea, pains coming back, ouch, ouch, ouch," Gisbo complained as he slouched lower in his chair with a groan.

"I'll take the pain. Life is pretty grand right now. We both got jobs, we made some friends and we are now official Renegades in training," Rolce said, smiling to himself while gazing towards the ceiling.

"Renegas in training," Gisbo corrected.

"Right, my mistake. I'm gonna go relax and have myself a nap. Wake me up before dusk will ya?" Rolce asked as he rose from his chair, stretched and climbed up to his bunk and instantly started snoring.

Gisbo picked out one of the raw steaks Falcon had left from dinner the night before and tossed it to Fao, who dug into it happily. He pulled out the book on Vadid the Valiant and started reading.

Former Warlord, Vadid the Valiant, arguably one of the most powerful men in Thera's history, was renowned for many things. An avid traveler who strayed from home at a young age, ignoring his social obligations, he shocked his royal parents by marrying a Naforian woman of no status. He won numerous prizefights and titles and was a strong and dedicated warrior, rumored to be trained by the highly secretive Renegades, warrior elite and personal guard for Vadid as Warlord. The Renegades have never offered their protection to the Warlords of old, which means Vadid must have been an extraordinary exception to the rule.

After the tragic death of his father, he united not only his country, but a world torn by prejudice and fear in the fight against Drakearon. After his victory, he went on to rule over planet Thera, ushering in a time of great peace and prosperity.

However, five years later, he vanished without a trace, leaving his two sons in a battle for power. The man who had once united a planet was now shrouded by dark shadows and curious accusations of a double life. It was rumored his power was greater than any mortal man could achieve, but days before his disappearance, many witnessed him talking to himself, pacing in lonely circles and staring into a mirror for hours on end. Did this power come as a cost to his sanity?

Even more curious is that fact that much of Vadid's writings and correspondences disappeared with him. Many believe it to be the work of the mysterious Renegades, who disappeared shortly after Warlord Vadid. Only a few letters remain, the most notable, a letter to an unnamed friend, containing his thoughts on the beginning of the Great Veil War:

I am a believer in democracy; the will of the people, but the veil has become too thick and our people too foolish. They flock to Drakearon's lies of security through him, rather than their own hearts. The people of Thera have failed to see their own digression and rather saw it instead as progression. My people have neglected their responsibilities and taken peace for granted, never realizing from whence it came. In turn, the fires in their hearts are gone, along with the belief in fighting for what is precious. They would instead run towards those who preach comfort if only they offer their souls. This evil, this Drakearon, is like nothing I have ever witnessed . . .

We will pay dearly for this complacency, my dear friend. My heart aches for my people. The war progresses and passive souls have been slaughtered or worse, become slaves. A cancer has filled the land and it spreads and it hungers for everything. But there is hope. In the valleys, to the snow tops, to great oceans and forests, a battlecry is rising. 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 willing to preach. The will to fight is returning once more . . .

Gisbo sat back in his chair, thinking hard on what he had just read. The greatest champion of Thera had disappeared? The very same man who had written his favorite poem had lost his mind? No sooner had he turned the page to find out more when it happened.

Rolce's body began to convulse wildly in his sleep as he shook the wooden bed frame. Gisbo looked up and Harpie started squawking in worry as Rolce yelled out, "No!" and "Don't do it!"

Gisbo dropped the book and bounded across the room and desperately tried to wake his friend. After several shouts and smacks, Rolce awoke, drenched in sweat. He grabbed Gisbo's arm and squeezed it tightly, staring around the room, lost in a daze. Gisbo thought his arm might break in half from Rolce's brute strength when he suddenly eased off and released it, panting like a dog.

"It's him, Gisbo! I saw him! Our missing synergy member! I saw him just as clear as I see you now!" Rolce gasped through heavy breaths.

"Take it easy, pal. Just a little nightmare," Gisbo said.

"NO! I saw . . . killing . . . I saw a boy killed! He was our age! They treated him like, like he was worthless," Rolce said wincing, close to tears.

"Alright, alright, slow down, Rolce. How do you even know it was him?" Gisbo asked.

"Because, he was the spitting image of Foxblade! I know it was him, Gisbo, I just know it," Rolce said, calming himself a little. "I've never seen someone die before. It was like I was right there above them, looking through a skylight window. Like I was a crowd member, a witness to the whole thing," Rolce continued.

"Are you sure it wasn't just a nightmare? I mean, I've had this recurring dream as long as I . . ." Gisbo started

"IT WASN'T A DREAM! I SAW SOMONE DIE TONIGHT!" Rolce interrupted.

"ALRIGHT! Ok, I believe you! Now tell me what the hell happened!" Gisbo said, a little frustrated.

"I saw a group of boys and girls, all our age. Most of them had a distant, quavering look in their eyes, full of fear, as if dead inside. It was then I saw him, the only one whose eyes did not waver like the rest of them. They were full of life; big aquamarine eyes, just like Foxblade, same dreadlocks too," Rolce said. Gisbo's eyes lit up at the description.

"When I saw his eyes, they weren't full of fear, but something else, a dark something, but not evil. No, dark for sure, but not evil and oddly enough I thought of you, Gisbo. He had the same eyes as you that day, the day we met during our final task," Rolce said, voice not quavering now.

"Go on . . ." Gisbo said, brimming with interest.

"The kids stood in a circle, all surrounding another boy, and beside him stood a tall gruff man. The man had a bald head with frizzy black hair that covered the back of it and a giant scraggly beard. His teeth were rotten to the core, like they were just about to fall out, and were almost as black as his hair. He had a frightening voice too, like a bass drum or something. He was so intense, but his eyes were . . . his eyes were the worst." Rolce stopped short as if taking in the image all over again. "They were rimmed with a blackness, almost like eye shadow. He had no pupils, just white eyeless orbs. He pointed to each and every boy and girl in the crowd as he spoke..." Rolce said, zoning out again.

"What did he say, Rolce?" Gisbo asked, worried.

"He said the time for rebirth was near and they would all be tools to bring it about. Apparently, the boy beside him did something wrong, defied him in some way and he was going to be made an example of. The man then drew out a weapon. It was a long pole with a sharp spike on one end. He raised it . . . and . . . and . . ." Rolce stammered, voice quivering again.

"It's all right, you don't have to say it. So that's it then?" Gisbo asked.

"Yeah. That's when I woke up. You should have seen his face, Gisbo. Like, it was terrifying, so twisted. It was as if he let go of everything and allowed his body to be overcome fully by evil. Kids, Gisbo, kids like me and you! This is where our third member is! It could have been either of us in his place! We gotta help him!" Rolce insisted.

Gisbo got up and looked out the window with an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know where this feeling was coming from; he had never quite felt this way before. He was completely self-centered until the day he met Rolce. He felt angrier than he should have been over somebody else's torment. Was this caring? Was it a sense of justice? He didn't know, all he knew was that after the day he somehow survived the wolves, something had changed inside him. Again, he saw a flash of red and then whiteness.

"I know we do. I don't know why we do, but I just . . . what I know is that I believe what you saw, Rolce, and I feel it wasn't an accident. This must be what Falcon was talking about with Foxblade and Moordin earlier," Gisbo said.

"We'd better talk to them about this," Rolce stated.

"Yeah. I think you're right, but there's nothing more we can do about it until we find out where they are! Gah! This is awful! Sickens me to the core. I don't know what that guy is making those kids do, but it can't be anything good. We should go find Falcon and Moordin right now!" Gisbo said. His statement was unnecessary, for there in their doorway stood Falcon, Moordin and even Foxblade, ready for dinner.

"There, you found us, now go set the table while I throw on some food," Falcon said with a smile. Gisbo and Rolce desperately tried to share with them what happened, but Falcon raised a hand upward.

"It can wait. Food first, we are all starving. Plus, we have a limited amount of time. Martha is out with some of her girlfriends tonight and we managed to get Moordin away for a bit," Falcon continued. Moordin's face turned red at his comment.

Rolce and Gisbo both sighed and went about getting the table ready and then began slicing vegetables. They must have been doing it rather slowly because Foxblade made his way over and sliced them in a flurry of his daggers before throwing them in a pot to stew. Moordin summoned Norse to his side as he rocked in his chair, feeding him a few slices of meat and he popped a few to Harpie as well. Finally, the food was cooked and they all sat down to eat. Falcon allowed Rolce and Gisbo to explain what had just happened.

Rolce recounted his dream to the rest of them as the class masters stopped eating and looked at each other in silence for a long moment.

"So. He's got the blood of a Sybil. Interesting," Foxblade muttered in disbelief.

"NO! That is enough! No more on the subject!" Moordin interrupted. Rolce and Gisbo looked utterly confused.

"What's a Sybil?" Rolce asked, wondering why Moordin became so uptight all of a sudden. Moordin looked at Foxblade with a wicked gleam in his eye, but Foxblade took no notice as he dug into his food.

"You shouldn't be so secretive, they will only despise you for it later. I'm sure a boy as smart as Rolce would have figured it out on his own eventually," Foxblade said to Moordin through mouthfuls of food without looking at him.

"Spoken from a true hypocrite! He's MY subordinate, not yours, so kindly restrain your tongue!" Moordin retorted.

"Meh, you all hang onto innocence far too long," Foxblade stated, returning to his meal.

"Well, what's a Sybil?" Gisbo asked this time. Moordin looked at Falcon, rolled his eyes, then spoke.

"Oh very well. A Sybil is a rare individual who can foresee future events and receives invocations to help quell trouble from IAM himself, one of two deities of this planet. A Sybil is a rare individual indeed; one who normally serves as an advisor to a Warlord. Well, that's how it was in days of old. In current times, people don't believe in such things. They find them silly and IAM isn't as active as he was previously." Moordin paused before continuing. "I wouldn't have believed it at first, but you have just described a recent event in detail that you couldn't have possibly known. The last Sybil was, well, given your lineage, it really irks me how I didn't foresee this until now."

"Wait, are you saying the reason that you knew me and Rolce would be all right in the woods is because a Sybil foresaw it?" Gisbo asked.

"Correct. Most of what we Renegades do results directly from the insight of a Sybil. There was thought to be only one Sybil left on Thera and he is a personal advisor to our Renegade Chieftain, Narroway. Sybil Honj is his name and he is a good friend of mine when he is not busy with Renegade affairs," Moordin said. Rolce wore a look of total bafflement as Moordin continued.

"You must understand that none of the information is ever concrete however, but it is better than nothing. What is given is enough to guide us along the path deemed ours by IAM. His ways are mysterious and we know not their purpose; only that they are, indeed, for our benefit and his. It seems IAM has spoken through you tonight, Rolce, and you must keep an open mind. Be ever vigilant, do you understand?" Moordin said seriously. Rolce nodded in response.

"Also, you must keep what you have seen tonight a secret. Do not discuss this matter with anyone else," Moordin repeated and again Rolce nodded in response.

"And the same goes for your idiot apprentice!" he said, shooting a look at Falcon before pointing at Gisbo.

"Hey! So what are we going to do? How are we going to get him back? No kid deserves what has happened to him, he belongs here with us!" said Gisbo.

"YOU aren't going to do anything. Focus on your training. We must be patient in the matter. Much needs to be discussed," Falcon told Gisbo.

"But he could die at any second! We have to help him!" Gisbo insisted until he was cut off.

"There are much bigger things developing right now behind the scenes that you both have no business in. Focus on your training and let us know if you dream anything else, Rolce. Leave this matter to those who CAN do something about it. All will be fine my friend. Trust me," Falcon said with a confident grin.

"But . . . but . . . you make it sound like there are more important things! What could be more important then to save Foxblade's son?" Gisbo blubbered. Foxblade's eyes sparked upon this statement.

"Who told you Jackobi was my son?" Foxblade asked.

"He looked just like you, I only just assumed and told Gisbo," Rolce stammered.

"I know what is best for my boy. Don't fret yourselves. As for this matter, I agree with Falcon: train hard so one day you can help us in such matters." Foxblade said, emotionless.

"So Jackobi is his name, huh? That's so easy for you guys to say! You aren't the ones left in the dark! Who was that evil guy Rolce saw? He's the one who was gathering up all the Renegas-to-be, wasn't he?! Why are you guys shutting us out? You wouldn't have known any of this if we didn't tell you! It's awful what he's doing! Go kick his ass or something!" Gisbo ranted. Falcon got up and walked over to Gisbo to look into his eyes.

"Listen to me, Gisbo. I know this troubles you; you have a good heart and you want to save Jackobi. For that I am proud, but you must be patient. This is only one of many troubling matters that have arisen lately. It is out of your realm of concern. There will be a time for the both of you to battle alongside us, but only when you are properly trained. Stay focused, grow strong and let us do what we must. Pleasant night to the both of you," Falcon finished as he raised himself to full height. With that, the class masters were out the door.

"Well, they were a real help! I don't like this, we're more lost than when we started. Rolce, start talking to whatshisface up in the sky and get us that location!" Gisbo yelled.

"It's not like I'm some kind of freakin' mailbox! I didn't know I could do it before. I'm just as lost as you and, besides, I thought you didn't believe in IAM?" Rolce accused.

"I don't, but we gotta help Jackobi! So come on, start talking to him," Gisbo ranted.

"I hate it when you get like this. You don't believe in him, but you want me to talk to him? You don't make sense!" Rolce rebutted.

"Gahhhh! I can't think good when I'm frustrated!" Gisbo admitted in a growl.

"You can't think WELL, period! Besides, we don't even know how to use Elekai' yet. How do you suppose a couple of Renegas without an ounce of essence are going to go up against a guy like that and save the day? This isn't some schoolyard brawl anymore, Gisbo, this guy is a killer! Falcon's right, we have to prepare. From now on, we really have to focus on our training if we are going to do anything," Rolce said, frustrated as well. Gisbo couldn't come up with anything else.

"I'll take your lack of response as a way of saying I'm right. Let's really work hard tomorrow and the days to come. All right?" Rolce asked politely this time.

"Alright, let's get some sleep then, but first things first," Gisbo said, as he made his way to the cleansing room.

"Oh come on! Let me get in there first before you stink up the place! Gisbo! HEY!" Rolce yelled, but Gisbo had already locked the door.

A little while later, Rolce was snoring peacefully until he was suddenly thrust awake with Gisbo poking him with his foot.

"Have any dreams yet?" Gisbo asked, sitting up.

"How can I have dreams if you KEEP WAKING ME UP? Seriously, how your brain allows your body to function is beyond my intelligence. GOODNIGHT! " Rolce said and he was back asleep in no time, leaving a restless Gisbo to toss and turn in anticipation all throughout the night.

_Chapter 11:_ An Ominous Threat

As summer went by, Gisbo actually began to enjoy his busy schedule. Getting up early was of course a struggle, but once he was up, he enjoyed attending his morning classes and working with his new friends, Grandfield and Shaved. Friendship was something of a luxury before Heaven's Shelter and it still felt a bit odd to him after being alone for so long, but he also realized it was something he could get used to. All the boys had different jobs to do and worked well together. Rolce ended up taking care of the financial end of the store, handling the accounting as well as figuring out clever ways to save the shop money through his various economic and mathematical skills.

Shaved helped Ernie and Dave with the production and engineering side, making his father quite proud of his natural ability for the trade, and even Knob stopped in once in a while to help, offering up several blue-print designs for odd gadgets he was tampering with. Grandfield was also a big help, taking care of the customer service and sales, convincing many purchasers with an unlikely charm he himself didn't realize he had. As for Gisbo, he was not overjoyed with his position, but he didn't mind it either. Unlike his friends, he didn't have the patience for people with stupid questions, nor the patience for craftsmanship and especially he lacked the patience for crunching numbers. The only thing left was all the manual labor, janitorial and gopher work around the shop.

After work, Gisbo and Rolce became accustomed to fishing. This was something Gisbo found he did have the patience for and, oddly enough, it relaxed him immensely just being out in the woods on a warm summer day by the still waters. Falcon and Moordin joined them frequently to take part in the male bonding.

In this fashion, the weeks went by and both boys found themselves holders of new titles engraved proudly across their belts. Rolce was awarded several, including the mark of intellect for reciting an entire chapter of a textbook. He floored his competition by nearly two thousand words and also crushed all competition in non-essence arm wrestling. Symbols in the shape of a question mark and a bicep now pulsated on his belt.

As for Gisbo, he defended his eating championship three times that summer and, due to an unnoticeable low blow, stole the title for non-essence sparring from right under a Renegara's nose and took the symbol of a pulsating fist for his own belt. For Gisbo and Rolce, as far as they knew, this was the best summer was of their lives and their friendship with one another grew to the point that it felt as if they had known each other their whole lives.

Upon summer's completion, the days of autumn grew quickly upon them. Forest leaves began turning various colors, floated to the ground and were swept along on the breeze in a streaming collage. Strangely enough, the tropical trees didn't mind the colder weather at all. They remained just as green and lush as when Gisbo first saw them.

For Gisbo and especially Grandfield, their favorite part of fall in Heaven's Shelter was the tantalizing smells wafting from the commons. Every morning the boys would stroll through on their way to class to be greeted by the aromas of pumpkin and apple pies, pumpkin bread and apple crisp and the sweet smell of hot caramel. These days Grandfield arrived a little later then usual, unable to resist purchasing a candied apple on a stick with coconut topping, a personal favorite. Surprisingly, Roarie did not seem to mind.

In fact, everybody, including Grandfield, was showing magnificent improvement upon their first days and, as the weeks flew by, their teacher went from uptight sociopath to relatively easy going, even friendly. Even Gisbo developed a deep thankfulness for the woman as he completed his exercises with ease now and felt the results of his strength training in everything he did.

Roarie's exercises put him in the kind of shape he had never thought possible. He felt powerful, with a deadly agility to match. He figured that with his luck so far, taking on another wolf pack would be no sweat. Even more incredible however was that, for the first time in his career as a student, Gisbo had not once gotten into trouble! He was even able to shun Ranto's obvious attempts at a fight, not because he had learned patience, Thera wasn't meant to spin backward you know, but because the thought of rescuing Jackobi focused his mind these days. But today was a new day and with it, there was always an opportunity for someone to rub him the wrong way . . .

One breezy morning the boys arrived early to class for a change. The previous day Roarie had told them that she would have an important announcement and everyone waited in anticipation. By now they were used to their routine of daily workouts and this break from convention felt strange. Finally, their instructor arrived on the field with her band of Renegara helpers.

"Good morning, my fighters! As of yesterday, you may have noticed how easy it was for you to complete your exercises. Why, you ask? It's because you have reached the requirements for Renega training and I, as your beautiful instructor, am deeply proud! You have all shown much dedication and improvement and I hope that at least now you understand why I was so hard on you initially. You are warriors and life won't throw you any favors, especially in the middle of a fight. Now, my good boys and girls, you are ready to take the next step in your Renega training," Roarie said, face beaming with satisfaction. With this, she held up several shiny metallic rings which glistened in a rainbow of colors in the morning sunlight.

"These are your first Elekai' rings. You won't see these babies anywhere outside Heaven's Shelter. Many other cultures still hold the stones by hand. Pitiful, I know, but you will be different," Roarie said as she held her own ring up in the light.

"These rings are made in the same fashion as all Elekai' weapons. We grind up the stone and bond it with steel, making our essence much more convenient to call upon. These rings will prove to be the conduit for exceptional skills later on, but as of right now, you won't use your essence until prepared," Roarie cautioned as she paced back and forth with her arms behind her back.

"When these rings are placed upon your fingers, they will begin to churn the essence within you, preparing it for the right time when you will finally release it upon training for your third band. Should you fall out of shape, you will quickly feel the consequences. The essence will prepare itself much slower and will cause your body immense pain. Think of a flowing river and then slowly, as your body falls out of shape, a dam grows in the middle of it, stopping it and building up pressure. The river of course doesn't stop. It will always find a way around it. If not through it, it will find another way, like, possibly, bursting right through your very skin," Roarie continued. Grandfield gulped and dropped his caramel coated apple to the ground.

"These rings are NOT coming off, so it is now up to you to keep your bodies in shape to allow the essence to flow peacefully through you and adapt. Think of these rings as little personal Roaries to encourage you every day!" Roarie said in her usual sickening sweetness. They all nodded in silence as Gisbo muttered something under his breath.

"Well, after that, I suppose you lot deserve some good news though, so here it is. You have now completed the first stage of my class," Roarie announced, with a very proud grin on her face.

"Your next instructor will focus on the philosophies that accompany the Elekai' powers and from there your third instructor will teach you to combine all you have learned into unleashing your essence through weapons. You will not use your powers until this third notch of your training. Don't even try it! Your bodies being out of shape is the least of your worries. You don't want to know what happens if you ignite your essence when it is not properly distributed! I can assure you, human bombs do exist." Roarie let her last sentence sit for a bit, enjoying the looks on their faces.

"Alrighty then! Now, if you please, break off into groups according to your race and let's pass out the rings. Orderly fashion now, Flarians to my left, Soarians to my right, Naforians and Aquarians make up the outsides. Come on, come on, don't stand there looking stupid, Grandfield. You're a Flarian, over here," Roarie ordered pointing to her right as the boys and girls began separating.

Gisbo made his way to the Flarian group with Grandfield, along with two girls and one other boy. During training he had only really befriended Shaved and Grandfield. Now he was pleased to have a chance to meet a few other Flarians like himself. Instinctively, he thrust out his hand to the boy Flarian.

"Good to see another Flarian like myself. I'm Gisbo, Gisbo Falcon," said Gisbo with a cheery air that surprised even himself.

The boy stared at his hand. He was dressed in Shininja attire and had long, straightened, amber colored hair swooped down to his chin. A typical Shininja mask covered the lower portion of his face, but his eyes were distant and dark. He was about the same height as Gisbo, but leaner. The boy did not extend his hand to meet Gisbo's. Instead, he glared at it with a hint of disgust, followed by a small chuckle.

"Did I miss something funny?" Gisbo asked the boy sternly. The Flarian boy turned his head in indifference and ran a hand back through his silk like hair.

"What else are fools good for if not laughter? Save it. I have no intention of befriending the likes of you, nor anyone here," the boy said as he turned his back on Gisbo with his arms crossed, suddenly finding the sky quite fascinating.

Gisbo went wide-eyed and Grandfield put a hand on Gisbo's shoulder to prevent him from doing anything rash when one of the girls beside him did it for him.

"Excuse me, but who the hell do you think you are?" demanded the girl, stepping in front of Gisbo. She was short, nearly shorter than Roarie. She was dressed in Berserker attire, had dirty blonde hair tied back in a long braid and had a tone of voice as quick and sharp as razor blade. Gisbo couldn't help it. Instant admiration washed over him as the little girl ripped into the red-headed boy with a viscous verbal assault.

"Listen up, Rake! We left where we were so we Flarians wouldn't have to deal with stupid jerks like you! Show some gratitude for where you are. The guy was only trying to be friendly, jerkwad," the girl snarled. A wicked grin stretched across Gisbo's face. He couldn't have done any better if he tried. The red-headed boy turned around to face her.

"Please, tell me. Why is it that the ones so short of stature always pack the biggest mouths?" Rake wondered aloud. Gisbo was about to hit him until the short girl beat him to the punch, literally. Like a little wolverine, the girl jumped him in a storm of scratches, bites and rabid punches as if it were the fight of her life.

Gisbo didn't even bother to break up the scuffle. He stood with his mouth agape in a smile and watched with glee as others rushed in to separate the two. When they were pulled apart, Roarie, well, roared at the both of them.

"That is enough! Rake and Kinny, you both give the Flarian race a bad name! Punishments for the two of you after this class session is through. Flarians especially need to mind their tempers! You must demonstrate control or you will never become Renegaras! That goes for you three as well, you understand me?" Roarie shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Gisbo, Grandfield and the other Flarian girl.

"Yeah! I understand that this guy Rake is a complete butthole!" Gisbo railed, pointing at the red-haired boy. Roarie reared on him, shoving her face in his, doing a little jump to do so.

"Are you saying you would you like to join your two friends in punishments this afternoon? I dare you to go further, pup! Try me! Just try me!" Roarie challenged, her words dripping with venom. Gisbo flinched a little, but then smiled.

"Hmm . . ." Gisbo said in mock wonder as he shot a look at Rake, then back at Roarie. Rolce eyeballed him, shaking his head slowly as if saying, Don't do it, stupid...

"After careful consideration..." Gisbo trailed off as he reared back mid-sentence with lightning speed and collided his fist with Rake's face. It was a cheap trick. Rake didn't even see it coming and fell backward with a yelp as the other Renegaras caught him. Kinny smiled at Gisbo with silent respect. Roarie looked at the fallen Rake clutching his nose and back at Gisbo, her face of utter shock.

"You . . . you surpass your Class Master's stupidity by a thousand leaps! You will pay for your disobedience by serving your punishment with Renegade Purah himself Right. This. Instant! Fighting is one thing, direct disobedience to your instructor is another matter. Now take your ring!" Roarie said as she grabbed Gisbo's hand, thrust a ring on it and gave a kick to his backside, shuffling him forward. "Gamba, escort this idiot to Purah and explain the situation fully. Go! "

"Your hair color goes well with a bloody nose, jerk," Gisbo said to Rake as the boy wiped away the blood, snarling.

"GO!" Roarie yelled again, pointing in the direction of the tower as she laid a swift backhand to Gisbo's head.

"OUCH! I'm goin'! I'm goin'! JEESH! Crazy old hag . . ." Gisbo said, rubbing his head and muttering more inaudible things under his breath.

As Gisbo walked with Gamba, he realized that he hadn't hit a person like that in quite some time. He told himself whatever the punishment was, it was well worth it. He strutted along beside Gamba, who wore Nazarite attire. The boy was a Renegara and the same one who helped erect the running hills, or molehills, as Roarie liked to call them, on their first day. He had whitish blond hair tied tight in a ponytail and had bright green eyes.

"Don't worry, I saw how the whole thing went down. I would have hit the little snot too," Gamba said with a wink. Gisbo looked a bit taken aback.

"I'll explain everything to Purah. He's quite the reasonable guy, ya know. He's head of the Renegade instructors. He practically planned out the entire Renegade training regime and curriculum all on his own. Very smart guy and unbelievably powerful! I've yet to see anybody best his Berserker skills in a duel and hey! Don't look at me like I'm trying to get on your good side. Not all of us Renegara's are arrogant jerks. Most of us are though, unfortunately," Gamba said with a bemused smile. Gisbo returned his grin with a laugh.

"Well, thanks a lot! I just wasn't sure. You guys seem to all have it out for us. I just don't get some people. There was no reason for that. A guy tries to be nice for a change and look where it gets him," Gisbo said as they neared the common grounds.

" Neither do I, my friend, but Roarie's right though; you gotta control that temper of yours. There was a reason why everybody feared the Flarian race. You lot can prove quite destructive when not in control of yourselves. Just a heads up," Gamba said.

"So everyone keeps reminding me. So why is it, if you don't mind me saying, that all you Renegaras are such buttholes?" Gisbo aked bluntly. Gamba actually laughed out loud before answering.

"You know what, pal, I like you. You just slap the cards right down as you see 'em. We need more people like you, but yeah, I can't deny your question. It's scary to think that after this term's up we're all going to be Renegades. If you ask me, I think it's mainly being inside this sheltered bubble of ours. The Renegades are quite advanced philosophically, physically and technologically. Most of the Renegaras haven't been to the outside world and have sort of adopted an air of superiority. They're told they are great, so they accept themselves as great. If you didn't know, very few of the Renegaras were sent out at birth. It was an ancient Renegade tradition to send kids away. The decision was left to the class master alone and a lot of them chose not to send them away. Most of my group were born and raised right here in Heaven's Shelter," Gamba answered.

"Really? So this whole system is new?" Gisbo asked.

"No, ancient. Weren't you listening? It was just recently brought back, but as to why, it's a mystery, but I think that maybe it was because the elders started seeing a lot of the new generation's attitudes and they didn't approve, so maybe they decided to start sending a lot more of them away to learn humbleness and broaden their views on life, like me. That boy Rake has lived in the bubble, raised here by his parents his whole life, I know that much. Now don't get me wrong, it's only a theory of mine and there are plenty of good-natured Renegaras out there who were raised right here in Heaven's Shelter too. I'm friends with most of them. I guess it all depends on the person," Gamba said with a hint of hopefulness in his voice.

This was news to Gisbo, but it did indeed make sense. Those Renegaras had no idea how lucky they were to live their whole lives in such a great place as Heaven's Shelter. If only they could spend a day in his shoes back at Oak County, maybe they'd be a little more thankful. Perhaps Falcon was right in sending him away, which raised a new question within his mind, a question he mentally slapped himself for not piecing together.

"Gamba, when we were sent away, it was by our class masters right? I mean, they had the final say on what happened right?" Gisbo asked.

"That's correct. Where are you going with this?" Gamba asked.

"Well, why is it out of most of the people I have met their class masters are their fathers or mothers? Everybody keeps telling me how much alike I am to Falcon. Do you know if, well, do you know if he's my . . . father? I mean, do I have a family here? You'd know! You've been here longer than I have!" Gisbo said with excitement at the thought.

"Yeah but not THAT much longer, pal. I know of Falcon, great guy from what I hear. Sorry, can't help you there," Gamba said aloud before turning back to a disappointed Gisbo. "Ah, don't fret though. I'm sure if you asked, he'd tell you."

"Do you know how awkward of a question that would be?" Gisbo asked.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't fret. Just remember though that not all of the Renegas were born from Renegade parents. They have to be deemed worthy and many of them come from common birth, usually as orphans. Our Sybil foresaw their essential potential. Don't mind the rhyme. Whoops, did it again!" Gamba said with a laugh. Gisbo's head sunk a bit more.

"Hey, don't be discouraged now, I was one of those orphans, ya know. That was my lead in to bring it up. I don't have the slightest clue who my parents are or, should I say, were. But I have a feeling if you'd ask Falcon, he would tell you the truth. That is, if you can gather up enough courage to ask him something like that," Gamba said, leaving Gisbo's thoughts racing, something he wasn't at all used to.

"Yah. I've never really thought about who my parents were. Never really wanted to, until I arrived here that is, away from all those bastards from Oak County," Gisbo said, as recollections of Thomson rose and overtook the thoughts of Rake in the front of his mind.

"No kiddin'! You're from Oak County? So was I! Ain't that something. Wait now, that was you? The kid who lived in the shack? Jeesh! Not everybody is named after a dog, seriously, why didn't I put it together before? Good to see not all rumors are true. Parents I knew made you out to be the boogeyman. If only I knew better. Well, I didn't even know myself I was a Renegade back then. I feel so terrible now," Gamba said. Gisbo could tell the boy was sincere, so Gamba's pity didn't bother him at all. It seemed as if his reputation had driven away all the worthwhile people and attracted all the good-for-nothings like Thomson.

"Don't even worry about it. It's not your fault. Not like I gave anybody a fair shot either. I didn't exactly put out a welcome mat. I hated everybody to be perfectly honest, thought everyone was the same 'til I met my buddy Rolce and then Grandfield and Shaved and, man," Gisbo paused and found himself smiling. "I am just so thankful to be here now, everyone here is so great! It's only natural you get the occasional butthole like Ranto and Rake in the mix, keeps things interesting I guess," Gisbo said, actually able to smile now.

Before they knew it, the boys arrived at their destination. Gisbo recognized it immediately. They were standing at the doorway to the large tower set behind the statue of Vadid. The top of the tower glowed with the same fierce blue it had displayed earlier, but now Gisbo noticed hints of translucent white and a lighter blue mixed throughout. Gisbo found it absolutely beautiful to look upon as it emanated raw energy. There was something definitely vast pulsating in there, but at the same time it felt comforting, as if it existed for protection of some sort.

"Hey, Gamba, what's up there?" Gisbo asked. Gamba looked skyward to admire the beautiful glow before shrugging his shoulders.

"Dunno. You will find that, as much as the Renegades are up front with you, they do have their secrets. I absolutely have no idea. People have hunches that it is a new power source they have been working on that can power anything, maybe this whole entire place, but that is just a rumor. Best I can give ya, unfortunately," Gamba said as they walked through the large doorway that slid open for them in a yellow glow.

Gisbo and Gamba stepped inside as the doors slid shut behind them.

"Renegade Purah's domain," Gamba announced. The whole room flashed a variety of colors and, with a lurch, the room felt like it was rising. Then suddenly it lurched right, then left, before zooming upward once more at an incredible rate of speed. Gamba smiled at Gisbo's surprise as the room stopped dead and the doors opened. Before them was a hallway with night black walls and a single white door at the end, glowing brightly in the surrounding blackness.

"Follow me," Gamba said. Gisbo trailed behind him down the hallway and the doors of the moving room closed behind with another flash of yellow. As they made their way closer to the white door, Gisbo heard a rather heated conversation coming from behind it. Gamba looked at Gisbo and put up a finger for silence as they moved closer to the door.

"I'll have my proof. Don't even think you'll be able to just sweep this under the rug and walk away..." said a calm, wise voice.

"Hah! Proof? I'd love to see it, Purah. I told you once before: don't throw your attention where it doesn't belong. Isn't that the kind of advice you would give your beloved students? I would hate for anything more to happen to them, what with such a loss already this year," said a shrill tone, as sharp as jagged glass.

"Tomorrow, Lokin. Upon Chieftain Narroway's return, all will come together. The return seems to be indeed coming ever nearer and Narroway is putting aside his pride to try to warn his incompetent brother Karm of the danger. When our Chieftain returns, justice will be swift, Lokin. I swear it by all I am," Purah said, not once losing his calm tone of voice.

"A pre-school teacher giving threats? Let tomorrow come, Purah. I'd love to see if these threats have backing. In parting, just know, my old friend, you aren't the only one biding your time," Lokin said. Gisbo could have sworn he was smiling with this final statement. They heard footsteps approaching the door. The two boys quickly backed away from it as Gamba raised his fist in the air, pretending he was just about to knock as the door swung open.

Standing before them was a man clad in Shininja attire. Crimson red bangs flowed over his headband like two exotic snakes and at the back flowed a tight ponytail. Lokin's grey eyes looked down upon Gamba and Gisbo for a moment before he rushed through them and down the hallway.

"Oh, hello there, Gamba. Roarie decided to send another my way, has she? Well, go on, bring him in so we can discuss the matter," Purah said in an upbeat, friendly tone. Gisbo and Gamba entered Purah's large room, adorned with finger-paintings from his many preschool admirers.

"Looks like your collection's doubled since the last I've been here, Purah. The kids really do love you," Gamba commented, gazing at the cute illustrations of various pictures of Purah with messy sayings like, "My favorite teacher!" and "My Hero!" The pictures of Purah were actually quite accurate to the real Purah seated at the large wooden desk.

Purah was dressed in Berserker attire and Gisbo could tell he was a tall man just by the way he sat, as if his legs didn't have enough room under the desk. At first glance he would have thought the Renegade instructor to be in his mid thirties if it weren't for the speckles of grey throughout his dark brown hair. His face was smooth with a pronounced, proud chin and rigid jaw which only added to his already handsome face. His eyes were a soft blue that gave off an air of utter humbleness and wisdom.

"Ah yes, may IAM bless those little tikes. If I could teach one class for the rest of my days, it would be finger painting with those kids. Innocence is such a precious thing. It really warms my heart just seeing them go about their carefree days. Keeps an old bugger like me young! But anyhow, what can I do for you boys?" Purah asked. Gamba went about explaining the whole situation to Purah, who kept looking in Gisbo's direction, grinning with amusement.

"So that's it then? Yeah, I prolly would have hit the guy too," Purah said with a wink in Gisbo's direction. Gisbo's eyes lit up in shock.

"I'll let you off this time, Gisbo, but please, for my sake, don't put me through any more trouble. I don't want my instructors feeling as if I'm getting soft in the discipline department; I'll have to punish you next time just to maintain respect for my image. Can you refrain your fists a while for me, son?" Purah asked respectfully. How could Gisbo say no to that? He nodded with a smile.

"Good to hear. Falcon was no different when he was your age, you know. I always enjoyed his company; great bunch, Moordin and Foxblade, too. I must find some free time in my busy schedule to go fish with them by the streams like the old days. Do tell him I said hello, will you?" Purah winked.

"No problem, sir. I'll do my best not to show up here again, that I can promise, but..." Gisbo spoke with utmost respect as he trailed off, thinking of whether to ask Purah if Falcon was his father. He decided against it though. He'd rather ask Falcon face to face.

"Is there something else?" Purah asked.

"No, nothing else," Gisbo replied quickly.

"Good, long as you do your best, it's all I can ask for. Thank you, Gisbo. Oh, and please tell Roarie I put you through immense torture. I'm sure you will be able to think up some kind of a creative story," Purah said. Gisbo laughed at this.

"Oh I think I can pull something out of my...well, you know! Thanks for the break, it won't happen again," Gisbo said as he and Gamba rose from their chairs to leave.

"Don't mention it, and seriously...don't mention it. Take care now! Oh, and do feel free to come see me for any questions you may have throughout your term. Work hard, Gisbo! Great to finally be acquainted, pleasant day to you!" Purah said with a friendly salute as he got back to work at his desk.

Gamba waited till he closed the door and was down the hall before discussing what they had both heard with Gisbo.

"That conversation didn't sound right..." Gamba said vaguely.

"What do you mean? He let me go! That guy rules!" Gisbo said.

"Not that one, dummy. I mean the one we listened in on." Gamba said.

"Oh, right.Well yeah! Of course it didn't sound right. The guy was practically giving death threats to him!" Gisbo said.

"No, that's not what I mean either. Lokin has been Purah's closest friend and is one of the members of Purah's own personal synergy. They always got along great and grew all the more close when their other member passed in a skirmish. Not once did I ever see them bicker. They are normally the friendliest of companions," Gamba stated, deep in thought.

"Really? That Lokin guy seemed like a real jerk. How could such an awesome guy like Purah be friends with such a low-life like Lokin and who would go low enough to want to hurt a guy like that anyhow? He's a pre-school teacher! I wish he were my teacher!" Gisbo said.

"Don't worry, Purah's your instructor for your third band, and I also wouldn't worry about him, Gisbo. In my opinion, it is safe to say that Purah is easily one of the most powerful Renegades we have here, second probably only to Chief Narroway. He is more than capable of taking care of himself, I'm sure of it. Lokin, however, well, I'm sure you noticed the similarity to Rake. How ironic we show up right after you punched out his son," Gamba said with a grin. Gisbo was shocked at this.

"Like father, like son, for sure! Man, no wonder I didn't like that guy," Gisbo asserted.

"Well, we better head back to Roarie and you best come up with a rather good story. We can waste some time by getting an early lunch before we go back, my treat, I work at the sushi hut in the commons. I'm sure I could convince my boss to give us some free eats. Wadaya say?" Gamba asked nicely.

"Raw fish? Seriously?" Gisbo asked.

"It's free. Count your blessings," Gamba replied.

"I think you got yourself a deal!" Gisbo said as both boys rode down the moving room and out of the tower, destined for a tasty lunch. Gisbo tried sushi for the first time dipped in an odd black sauce. Needless to say, it took only one bite to become Gisbo's new favorite meal. At least he could have some variety now between steaks and burgers.

After finishing their lunches, they returned to Roarie and Gisbo quickly made up a story of how Purah made him clean out the main waste shoots of the tower and how the smell alone nearly killed him. Roarie was satisfied with his answer and by the time class ended, Grandfield was already complaining about his ring hurting. They made their way back to the commons as Gisbo joined Rolce, Shaved, Grandfield and Knob for a second lunch, attempting to share with them his new love for sushi.

"This stuff is terrible, tastes like burnt rubber..." Grandfield said through groans.

"Knowing you, you've probably been hungry enough to know what that tastes like," Knob joked.

"Shut it! I'm going to back to Renegade Joe's to get some steak. Excuse me," Grandfield said as he left his seat in a hurry.

"Wow, I've never seen the kid move so fast," Knob said, watching Grandfield practically sprint away.

"KNOB BRAWLDA!" The shrill voice of Kinny boomed across the grounds. Knob's face went white with fear. She arrived at their table with two other girls by her side.

"If I get one more stinkin' rose in my mailbox from you and any more of your stupid poems, I swear to IAM I'll use your rear as a place to store them all! I'll make 'em fit, just try me!" Kinny yelled. The boys, finding the whole situation hilarious, laughed hysterically at Knob's speechless red face. It was then Kinny noticed Gisbo sitting at the table. She smiled and put out her hand.

"I think we should be properly introduced, mister. The name's Kinny Kalloway. Awesome work back there. Kids like that are such a waste of life!" Kinny explained as Gisbo shook her small, yet strong hand with a nod of agreement.

"Hah," Gisbo said.

"Oh, how rude of me, this right here is my friend Niffin," Kinny said, motioning to a girl dressed in Shininja attire with dark hair tied into two cute pigtails on each side of her head. She had soft brown eyes and an air of shyness to her. She only nodded to Gisbo in greeting.

"I'm not usually such a loose cannon, but that little bastard had it coming and anybody who treats my synergy badly gets the same in return and this is my friend Kennis," Kinny said, as Kennis extended her hand with a pretty smile. She was taller then her other synergy members with flowing blonde hair, a curvy figure and bright blue eyes, dressed in Nazarite attire.

The girls slid in beside the boys and they all ate their lunches together. Gisbo noticed that Rolce in particular was acting a little strangely. He seemed a bit, well, goofy as he joked around and did his best to come across as charming every time Kinny looked his way. Gisbo had never seen his friend act this way and he silently laughed to himself at the notion of a guy like Rolce with a girl like Kinny. Thera wasn't meant to spin backwards, ya know.

After finishing lunch, the boys said their goodbyes to their new female friends and made their way to Ern an' Dave's Mach shop for their afternoon work. When they arrived, Ernie seemed to be in a particularly impatient mood. He ordered everyone present to help him needlessly relocate a giant sand pile two feet to the left of its original position.

"Sand, it's good stuff, ya know, good for many, many things, but ya see, all these falling leaves keep landing in the pile! I don't blame them, the leaves just got nowhere else to go, but we can't have that! Come on now, keep those shovels moving..." Ernie said sternly.

"I don't see how two feet is going to make a diff... " Rolce tried to argue until Ernie quickly interrupted him.

"What? Of course it will! You see those leaves just got nowhere to go; I'm giving them a place now. I know such things. I am not called Ernie Knowall for nothing, ya know!" Ernie said, as he moved about observing the process.

"Problem is, that just happened to be the name of his class master, it's not a nickname as he'd like you to assume. He also hasn't touched this stupid pile in years according to my dad," Shaved whispered.

The work continued that day by restoring the chimney on the side of the hut and Rolce accidentally broke a portion of the scaffolding. Gisbo quickly suggested hiding the broken piece in the sand pile, where it was never found again.

After raking up the leaves into a large pile, Ernie allowed them to take their leave early for the day. Gisbo and Rolce returned to their tree house for the night and boy did Gisbo have a few things to share with his synergy mate.

_Chapter 12:_ A History of Lies

The boys arrived back at their tree house, happy to be greeted by their Boons. While they relaxed over some cold drinks, they watched as Harpie took her first attempts at flight. Fao seemed to offer encouragement to her feathered friend and provided her own furry head as a perch for Harpie to spring off of. While the Boons played, Gisbo told Rolce all that he had heard that day and his speculation that Falcon could be his father.

"I could see it, but Falcon said himself he wouldn't hold anything back from you unless it was Renegade classified. Something tells me that kind of info wouldn't be. Besides, I can't imagine Moordin being my father; he looks nothing like me!" Rolce said.

"Hmph . . ." Gisbo muttered.

"I haven't really thought of my lineage either up until now, so don't beat yourself up over it. I mean, we've spent our whole lives on our own for the most part. It's only natural I suppose," Rolce explained, trying to cheer up his friend. "As for the other thing, my reading on Renegade history as of late has been pretty extensive. I know of and admire Renegade Purah fully now, probably above all other Renegades. You wouldn't believe how smart the man is! He set up the entire Renegade curriculum and would have been named the next Renegade Chieftain in Narroway's place, but in the end, he chose against it because he wanted the title to stay within the bloodline, can you believe it? Boy, would I like to be just like him someday!"

"Yeah, that's great and all, but you should meet the guy in person! He's prolly the coolest guy ever!" Gisbo said.

"I would sure love to meet him. Perhaps I'll have to hit Rake tomorrow, the third band is just too far away!" Rolce said.

"Do it, I dare you," Gisbo said.

"I just might!" Rolce replied.

Both boys continued to sit anxiously, waiting for Falcon to arrive for dinner. According to the Breeze Harmonic, that wouldn't be for another two hours, so they resorted to popping in some Phoenix Force while Gisbo read and Rolce made conversation with Fao and Harpie.

However, about fifteen minutes into the boy's downtime, a surprise arrived at the door in the form of none other than Falcon with a special guest . . . Renegade Purah. Rolce immediately went white as a ghost when both men stepped inside, brandishing four fishing rods.

"So, Purah tells me you're startin' fights with Lokin's boy?" Falcon exclaimed, trying not to beam at his subordinate's utter lack of discipline. Purah noticed and he nudged Falcon in the ribs.

"Oof, I . . . well, I mean that was VERY wrong of you, Gisbo, very wrong! I don't want to see that kind of behavior in Roarie's class again, ya hear!" Falcon said as he made a wink that only Gisbo and Rolce could see. Next to him, Purah changed the subject.

"Good to see you again so soon, Gisbo. Your visit to me today encouraged me to take a rest from my busy schedule and visit my old friend. Boy, are we going to show you quite the fishing spot! 'Tis a secret for your eyes only though, understand? We haven't even told Foxblade of it because . . . well, he doesn't throw the fish back as we do," Purah said reluctantly.

"He tends to makes a real mess of things, throwin' his daggers at the water. No class whatsoever," Falcon said as he pounded his chest and unleashed a loud belch. Both boys laughed and Falcon bowed comically. He then looked up and stared at Rolce curiously.

"Rolce? What's the matter with ya, son? You swallow a ghost?" Falcon asked. Rolce's white face quickly turned to bright red.

"Oh, don't mind him, he just has a man crush on Renegade Purah, that's all," Gisbo gibed, leaving Rolce enraged and embarrassed.

"I DO NOT!" Rolce yelled as he ducked away.

"Sorry to disappoint, son, but I don't swing that way," Purah grinned, obviously wanting to take the joke a little further.

"NO! I, well, I just greatly respect you is all. What great things you've done!" Rolce stated, this time with clear admiration. Purah awarded Rolce with a benign grin.

"Well, thank you, but you shouldn't believe everything you read nowadays, especially if it was from Oak County. I think a few of their books are still laying around on these old bookshelves. Karm's city is notorious for brainwashing their younger generations with misconceptions and falsehoods. Silly Freeists. It's awful what they are doing to those young people's minds. The nerve of Warlord Karm, spreading such lies about the Flarian race. His own Father and brother's race!" Purah ranted. For the first time, Gisbo noticed a hint of anger enter the humble man's tone.

"But, yeah, let's go fishing. I need to get my mind off the political crumbling of our world. It's sad, but people believe everything they see in print these days. Well, off we go!" Purah said.

They made their way past the open field the boys had come upon in search of their Boons, then strayed right to follow the rounded edge of the barrier until they came to a small pond. Falcon and Purah smiled as they clearly began remembering what they always referred to as the good old days.

"You see, boys, nobody goes fishing this deep in the woods due to all the local stories around here; tales of the biggest fish being in the sunniest portions near the common grounds. Actually, those stem from a nice little rumor Falcon and I passed around," Purah chuckled, as he and Falcon exchanged gleeful looks.

"All Purah's idea. Here you could cast out a piece of cheese and instantly nail yourself a big one! Reason being, half of this pond is in the warmth of Heaven's Shelter while the other half is nearly frozen outside the barrier. Naturally, all the fish migrated to the warm side and have since had time to grow and multiply, leaving us loyal partakers in the greatest fishing hole Heaven's Shelter has to offer!" Falcon explained, as they cast their rods happily. Purah and Falcon began telling the boys various fishing stories as they waited for their rods to dip. Gisbo wasn't about to believe them when suddenly he felt a huge pull on his line. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rolce was almost tugged right into the pond as his rod bent to take on an upside down U shape. He and Rolce were thrust into the fights of their lives as they lowered their rods to give some slack, then hoisted them up and reeled in like mad. A few tiring minutes later, the boys landed two of the biggest fish they had ever seen.

"Well done, boys! Nearly simultaneous I . . . oop, I GOT ONE!" Purah yelled with glee and a short time later he also landed a fish, nearly as big as Gisbo and Rolce's. They immediately threw them back, only to catch fish after fish until the sun began to set, forcing them to make their way home. On the way back, Gisbo desperately wanted to ask the question that had been haunting him throughout the day. He decided he would wait until they were about to part ways and ask Falcon in private.

"So, Renegade Purah sir, I was just wondering if you could tell us a little more about the false history taught in our books from Oak County. I mean, Gisbo and I practically spent our lives with our noses in the books they offered," Rolce requested with concern.

"Well, all right; a lengthy tale for a lengthy walk I suppose. Flarians, Naforians, Soarians and Aquarians. The four races of Thera each held their own territory at one of the four corners of the world.

"Civilization began with small tribes which eventually lead to many civil wars, but eventually four countries were formed, each bound by race and ruled by their strongest fighter, known as the warlord. In Flaria and Naforia, the descendants of the original warlord remained in control, forming monarchies. In Aquaria, contests of skill were held once every five years or so to elect the strongest fighter to power, but the Soarians, who were renowned for their intelligence, formed the first democracy.

"The Soarians set the standard for the modern world and eventually every country, though different, adapted a civilized society. Even the barbarian –like Flarians, to a point. With the races no longer warring amongst themselves, they naturally began to fear what they did not know of their neighbors. So, it was in this time that Thera's four races continued to grow in isolation and animosity, like water steaming in a kettle." Gisbo and Rolce listened with rapt attention as Purah continued the tale of a history they had never known.

"As you can imagine, the kettle finally reached a steam. Thirty years ago, a great world war began," he paused for a moment to glance at Falcon, who nodded at him to continue, as if seeking permission from him for some odd reason.

"There are those that believe that one man cannot make a difference. I devoutly disregard this opinion. All it takes is a single spark to set the world afire and this spark came in the form of a man. This man, a Flarian, began to promote Soarian democracy, freedom, change and world peace. He was a dangerously charming man who knew how to wrap venomous snakes in candy and force-feed them to his adoring public. People began to literally fancy him a living God upon Thera and, in no time at all, he encouraged his followers to rise up against the Flarian warlord in a violent rebellion."

"Who was he?" Rolce asked. Purah paused before answering.

"Drakearon." Purah said through gritted teeth.

"Drakearon? How come I've never heard of him?" Rolce asked.

"We will get to that later. This is where it gets interesting. If you have wondered why there are not many Flarians left in the world, this is why. Drakearon killed them, his very own brothers, to increase his own power. Nobody knows how he achieved such a power, but when he himself took the life of a Flarian, he realized that he could literally absorb their essence, their memory and their power to increase his own. No one knows where such a power came from, but you must understand that contrary to popular belief, there is a dark power in this universe. A dark power that lies within the hearts of man. It is this darkness that leads to murder, child mutilations, disease, calamity and ever other grisly act you can think of. If you want my opinion, I truly believe this darkness to be an element just like the four of this planet, an element that I believe Drakearon somehow, opened his cold heart to as home owner does for a guest. It was as if evil itself wished to use him as a vessel and he gladly accepted its offer. And from this vessel, he was able to spread this darkness, this power to others. His closest and most devoted followers began to feed off of it and it enhanced their own powers greatly, but at a cost to their own freedom and well being. This substance, this power, later known as the Drakeness acted like a drug. With every use, you would literally get closer and closer to being nothing but a mindless, monstrous slave to Drakearon himself."

"On the cusp of civil war, with Flaria divided and the warlord murdered, the country turned to chaos and Drakearon and his followers quickly gained power over Flaria and turned their sights on bringing the world under one flag to bring the 'peace' he claimed, but that was obviously not the case. Up to this point, the other countries had not been concerned about the blood shed in Flaria until Drakearon arrived on their own front steps," Purah said with a hint of disgust. "And so the Great Veil War began."

"But there is another player the boys should hear about as well," Falcon chimed in. Purah glanced at him questioningly. "The son of the Flarian warlord, Vadid the Valiant!" stated Falcon.

"Ah yes, silly of me to forget the hero of my story," remarked Purah. "Vadid had been abroad when news of his father's death at the hands of Drakearon reached him. He had been something of a rebel, leaving his native Flaria to marry a beautiful Naforian woman. Vadid, as I'm sure you can guess, returned to his people and united them together once again under a common flag, eradicating Drakearon from his country. He won the rank of warlord, not by force, but by gift, for the Flarians had now seen the evil of Drakearon. Vadid was no usual warlord however; he was the first ruler to be trained as a Renegade and many believed he was endowed with special powers from the phoenix of IAM. But better than this, he united the four warlords in a common war against a shared enemy, Drakearon. Upon the last battle, the four warlords did battle with Drakearon personally and all were killed except for Vadid, who managed victory and finally ended the spread of the Drakeness and brought peace to Thera once more. With the other Warlords slain by Drakearon's hands, the world sought leadership and Vadid was elected Supreme Warlord over all of Thera, ushering in a time of prosperity like no other. At the peak of this prosperiety however, the good man . . . vanished. Nobody knows how or even why, but the man was gone without a trace and was never heard from again. What followed was a political battle so to speak, resulting in Warlord Karm's rise to power; a leader who spit on everything Vadid believed in. At the time, the Renegades were personal guard to Warlord Vadid, but in no way would support the son and so Chieftan Narroway and the Renegades came to Heaven's Shelter and we have lived here in peace and secrecy ever since," Purah finished.

"Why would all of those people want to follow Drakearon? And how did Vadid get powers from the Phoenix? How did they defeat..." Rolce fired off questions, trying to piece together the story in his logical mind.

"All good questions, Rolce. In time they will be answered, but I believe we have reached our destination," answered Purah.

They had finally reached Gisbo and Rolce's tree house. With a final wave, Falcon and Purah walked away to return to the common grounds. Gisbo noticed Falcon had been much quieter than his normal self, but as the two old friends made their way out of the clearing he saw Falcon smile and begin to speak with Purah. Gisbo watched them until they were lost in the darkness of the night. He was happy to have caused the events that allowed Purah to catch up with Falcon once again. However, he quickly smacked his forehead and ran his hand down his face in frustration.

"Uh, you all right, bud?" Rolce asked, leading Gisbo to look to the moonlit sky, shaking his head at his lousy memory.

"I totally forgot to ask Falcon the question! I got so caught up in that story it totally slipped my mind!" Gisbo said as he and Rolce turned to walk up their spiral stairs.

"Eh, don't feel so bad. That was quite the story after all. Seriously, I never would have thought Karm would use ignorance as a weapon. I memorized those books only to find out they are utter rubbish, Karm's false delusions. I am so mad right now! Especially at myself. Just think, if I had stayed in Oak County, I would have believed those lies to my dying day! Damn it all!" Rolce said through clenched teeth, as he pounded his fist against the side of the large tree.

"Wow! Look at you, you are really mad at all this. You can take punch after punch without throwing one back, but you get all pissy over a few books with wrong information?" Gisbo said, totally amused and amazed by Rolce's outburst. However, a vivid flashback of Rolce's large hand crushing a snake's skull immediately made him halt the teasing.

Both boys prepared for bed, fed their Boons and were soon off in a dreamless sleep. The hours passed and sunrise was now just a few minutes away from bringing a new day. However, unbeknownst to the slumbering young Renegas, the light of this day would make visible the sins of the night...

At first and to most, it was a normal morning in Heaven's Shelter. Rays of light were slowly shining through the treetops, soon to be followed by the sun's full sphere of immortal light. Shop owners were busy organizing their stores for opening time and the familiar smells of autumn foods drifted throughout the grounds. As usual, Grandfield was the first at Marge's Bakery to grab his caramelized apple for the day, now his only one, due to his recent unavoidable diet. Grandfield realized that for once he was actually earlier than he needed to be and relished in his free moments before class. He leaned against the golden statue of Vadid the Valiant comfortably, watching the morning light fill the commons, and took a deep sigh of comfort, breathing in the foggy, fresh air of the morning.

Grandfield raised his treat for a crisp bite, only to stop as he noticed a red blotch on the top of the apple. He watched with curiosity as the blotch slowly dripped down over the apple's rounded edge. Grandfield rotated his treat, wondering where the red had come from. Looking down, he grimaced when he noticed he was standing in a thick red puddle.

Grandfield turned his head upward, very nervously, praying to IAM that his hunch wasn't correct. He was answered by another drop of red that splashed on his forehead. His eyes turned to saucers, not because of the blood that now dripped down his cheek, but because of what was hanging above him.

In a gargled yell, Granfield dropped his apple and backed away from the statue, his boots leaving a trail of bloody footprints as he desperately shouted for help. Everybody who had heard the scream arrived on the scene of the now fully lit courtyard, staring up at the grisly sight.

There, impaled through his chest by a sword, hovering at least fifteen feet off the ground, pinned to Vadid's golden statue . . . Renegade Purah hung dead. Fresh droplets of blood dripped from his exposed chest into the growing pool of red below.

_Chapter 13:_ Honoring of a Hero

Chieftain Narroway arrived in Heaven's Shelter soon after Purah's body was discovered. The Chieftain's orders were quite clear; arrangements for Renegade Purah's funeral would begin immediately and nothing was to be discussed on the subject of the death itself. Respect for the Chieftain's longtime friend and personal advisor were to be at the forefront until the Renegade instructor was properly put to rest. The Renegades went about their tasks solemnly as they prepared for the funeral.

News spread quickly of Purah's death. Deep sorrow, utter fury and a cold silence enveloped all of Heaven's Shelter. Gisbo and Rolce felt a mix of these feelings when Foxblade told them the news. Moordin and Falcon shoved down their grief by doing all they could to help with the funeral process. Foxblade actually showed signs of emotion when he came to convey the tragedy, embracing them both in a brief hug before leaving. Gisbo and Rolce stood in their pajamas, not looking at each other as they let the news sink in. Gisbo opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came. Shock, pure shock, enveloped him. Fao began to lick Gisbo's leg in sympathy, while Rolce turned and sat at the table, facing the opposite direction, trying to hide tears.

Both boys didn't say much for a while as Gisbo paced around the room, feeling out of himself. It just didn't make sense. They were all fishing just last night, having the time of their lives and exchanging stories, and now, now he was gone. Gisbo constantly wished he had said a more meaningful goodbye instead of a simple wave, but how could he have known? He couldn't imagine how Falcon and Moordin must be feeling now. Why on Thera would anybody want to kill a pre-school teacher? How were his students taking it? Even worse, he would never be able to learn from the renowned instructor upon his third band. Who would teach the class now?

Questions like these plagued both boys as they brooded, together in the room, yet alone in their heads. Finally, Gisbo couldn't take it anymore. He abruptly left the treehouse without a look back, Fao following him. Gisbo didn't really know where he was going or why, he just needed to walk. He headed to the forest, instantly remembering many a bad day back in Oak County. Walking through the silence of the trees always raised his spirits a bit.

Fao trotted alongside him, constantly turning her ice-blue eyes up at Gisbo, who could only manage a weak smile in return as he rubbed her white velvety head. He didn't realize it, but subconsciously his feet were taking him back to the pond where they had fished the night before. Upon arrival, Gisbo saw that there was already somebody seated on the small shore with a large tiger seated beside him. Both man and beast were gazing out across the waters, lost within their own minds.

Falcon didn't notice Gisbo at first as he methodically scratched the tiger behind the ears. The large cat purred with delight and laid down. Gisbo sat down beside his class master, whose eyes were red and puffy.

For a moment they both said nothing as they stared into the pond. A fish broke the surface in a small splash and the ripple danced across the pond like the memories resonating through both Renegade's minds.

"Foxblade told me you and Moordin were helping organize the funeral," Gisbo stated quietly, just to break the silence.

"Do you know me as one to organize anything? Can you even picture me organizing anything?" Falcon asked with a weak smile.

"Not really," Gisbo answered.

"Moordin's taking care of all that. Funny how IAM works sometimes, eh, pal? You got murderers, rapists and downright horrible people that roam this world who live to be fat and old and what does IAM do? He goes an' takes a pre-school teacher way before his time. I'll never understand it," Falcon said, as he wiped his eyes with his forearm before continuing. "Purah, he was the most thoughtful as well as toughest son of a gun I ever knew, besides Vadid himself. I have to thank you, Gisbo, for getting in trouble like ya did; at least I got to fish with him one last time."

"It's no problem," Gisbo answered tonelessly.

"It's funny though, all the accomplishments the man had and never once did you hear him talk of himself. It always of his students, always of others. Hell, even last night, the entire walk back he was gibbering away about you and Rolce, talking about the potential you two had, and especially how similar you were to me growing up. I wasn't always the nicest person back then, ya know. I was always 'found on the wrong side of luck' is what Purah used to say. I . . ." Falcon stopped as if he didn't want to give away too much, almost ashamed. " . . . Well, good ol' Purah never gave up on me, not even when everyone else did. He is the sole reason I am here talking to you today. I'm sorry, Gisbo, I don't mean to drag on like this, I'm just, I dunno, trying to let it all sink in. It still feels like he is here somehow," Falcon blurted out his apology.

"No, I enjoy listening, not a problem at all," Gisbo said with a hearty smile. Falcon patted him on the back and ruffled Fao's fur.

"Thanks, champ, and you too, Fao, for hearing me out. Giz, I hope that you never see a friend come to death. It is unfortunate with the lifestyle we live that death is just so close, always present, skulking in the background; but at the same time, you receive a blessing. It makes you appreciate life all the more. You'll come to my age one day, Gisbo, with a little luck, and I pray every day you won't trod down the same path I did." Falcon paused and ran his hand down the stripes on his tiger's back. "The stripes of your iniquities never really leave you . . ."

Gisbo only sat quietly, speechless as Falcon continued.

" . . . Please, don't take the route I did. Take the route Purah did. Live a blameless life. It is the one thing I want for you, Gisbo, more than anything. You don't need a past to haunt you. Live the right way now, there is a right way, and live it without regrets. Will you do as I say, Gisbo?" Falcon asked with utmost concern written all over his face.

Gisbo had never seen Falcon in this state; so open, so honest, sounding so ashamed with himself. Gisbo had never really asked Falcon about his past before and at this point it only added to the list of questions he wished to bring up, but simply couldn't, not now. Gisbo answered by nodding his assent and Falcon smiled once more as he rose to his feet, stretching.

"Well, let's say we give good ol' Purah a final send off, eh?" Falcon said, his tone instantly changing. The ashamed, rather odd side of him Gisbo had just witnessed was gone, replaced with Falcon's usual upbeat tone and glowing face. He thought about a popular term people usually said to themselves when dealing with a bad habit or addiction: "Fake it till ya make it."

Gisbo didn't notice it before, but beside Falcon was a fishing pole, Renegade Purah's fishing pole to be exact. He bent down, pulled the wooden fishing pole from the ground, stabbed it deep into the wet mud by the pond's bank and began piling stones around the base of it to hold it firm. Class master and student stared longingly at it as Falcon thrust out his fist, raised two fingers to his forehead, lowered his forearm to a bow and brought it back up, stamping a fist across his heart, and finished by lowering his head in a short bow. Gisbo did the same.

"There isn't much I can tell you on the subject, but believe me when I say this. There is a traitor among us and when he is discovered, justice will come swifter then the wind can carry it," Falcon declared, as he clenched his fist, causing his ring to glow brightly.

Gisbo had to step away. The heat pulsating from the ring stung the surface of his skin. If he thought Falcon looked angry at the sight of Cannon and Scarrr, it was nothing compared to his face now. His anger had seemed controlled back then, but now the control seemed to slip for an instant, just long enough for Gisbo to notice before Falcon quickly regained composure. Today Gisbo had discovered two new sides to his Class Master. Frankly, he didn't enjoy either of them. They walked back to the common grounds in silence.

By now everything was arranged. The entire population of Heaven's Shelter came out for Purah. Gisbo and Falcon stood at the back of the enormous crowd, surveying the area. Every one of the Renegades had their blue hoods over their heads, as was customary for a funeral, and Gisbo and Falcon followed in suite. The non-Renegade citizens of Heaven's Shelter all shifted from foot to foot, mixed feelings of rage, sorrow and shock incarnated in their body language. There was a stone podium set up in front of the golden statue of Vadid right next to where the puddle of blood had been. There, behind the podium, stood Chieftain Narroway, with his head held high to the crowd, his face like stone and his thoughts elsewhere as he surveyed the crowd before him.

Everything was silent, all except for the front row where Purah's very own pre-school class was sobbing and squealing with anguish. Their parents held them close, trying to cover their cries with shushes of comfort. Gisbo noticed that the spot where Purah's lifeless body was pinned earlier had now been cleaned and in its place was a plaque that was unreadable from such a distance. Around the plaque lay the multicolored finger paintings that once covered Purah's office and now covered the very spot where he died.

Staring at the paintings while hearing the small artists crying at the loss of their beloved teacher was just too much for Gisbo. Apparently, he wasn't the only one. Soft sniffles resonated throughout the crowd and some got up and left altogether. Finally, a band of musicians brandishing stringed instruments and blowpipes began to play and Narroway raised his voice to speak over the somber music. The effect was indescribable.

"Renegades and Renegades-to-be. We come to this place of mourning with heavy hearts. We gather this day to honor a proud warrior's legacy, as well as the blameless lifestyle he chose to live. Those who knew Purah well knew his life was an inspiration to us all and never once did Purah seek the limelight. Rather, he was comfortable to stay in the background, letting his deeds speak for him. I still remember when he was offered the title of Chieftain after my father's disappearance. He declined it merely because he didn't wish to be the center of attention and he wanted the line of Vadid, my father, to be preserved. In many ways he was MY chieftain, staying by my side and offering his wisdom whenever asked." Narroway paused, allowing his words to sink in before continuing.

"Death is a journey we must all take; it is unavoidable, Renegade or not, but we must not mourn our friend. A confusing place is the world we reside in; filled with pain, cruelty and wickedness, but Purah showed us all another side, a brighter side that we should all aspire to. I know Purah believed in a place beyond death where all is perfect, all is beautiful and all is right. I believe he is up there right now being received by his creator with open arms and will watch over all of us until it is our turn to join him. If one believes in such things, where is death's sting? Gone! Instead, the gap is filled with hope and the excitement of one day seeing our friend again," Narroway said with a smile. Gisbo had never thought of it that way and he smiled as well. Narroway continued.

"I could stand here for another week explaining in detail all of Purah's legacy, but I know he would never allow it. So I will leave you with a few personal recollections from Purah's closest friends, those who knew him best." Narroway said, lowering his head for a moment as if in prayer before speaking again.

"Even in death, Purah has victory and so can all of you. Praise his life; be happy for his next journey as you await your very own. My time now comes to a close. I know you are all curious as to the aspects of his death, but sadly I cannot reveal anything without more evidence at this time. I will however tell you this and this alone. The murderer will be brought to justice and all those connected to his death will feel the wrath of generations of Renegades upon them!" Narroway exclaimed with vigor, pumping his fist in the air as the Renegades followed his lead with a loud yell.

Narroway stepped down from the platform and friends of Purah's came up to share a few memories of their time with the fallen hero, as well as a few funny stories to lighten the mood. All of this was going fine until a man with a red ponytail and long bangs came to the stage. Gisbo's sorrow was quickly flushed away as a deep realization encroached upon him. Lokin surveyed the crowd before speaking.

"Well, it is safe to say Purah's and my synergy suffered a tragic loss when our member Shax died and now my best friend Purah up and leaves me..." Lokin said. Gisbo had heard enough. He grabbed Falcon's shoulder with a strength he didn't know he had.

"Falcon! I need to talk to you right now! In private!" Gisbo ordered. Falcon, registering Gisbo's frantic expression, nodded. They walked a ways away from the crowd and stopped behind one of the closed shops. Gisbo quickly recounted the full story of his misdemeanor and the conversation Lokin and Purah were having before Gamba and he entered the room. Falcon looked very surprised as he peered over at Lokin speaking and his face tightened in a snarl. He abruptly placed both hands on Gisbo's shoulders and looked him right in the eyes.

"Listen to me, Gisbo, I believe your story as well as your accusation. Purah was one of the most powerful warriors I have ever known and the only way he could have died is if he was caught by surprise, a Shininja's specialty. Lokin has been under investigation for quite some time. Your information may be the final key. I want you to go find Moordin, Rolce and Foxblade. Tell them what you just told me. I am going to report this to Narroway immediately. Tell Foxblade and Moordin to head me off while you and Rolce go back to your tree house and stay put! This whole thing is not as it seems; trouble may be about, so take Rolce back to your room and stay there! Now go!" Falcon said as he broke into a fast trot, parting the crowd to get to Narroway. Gisbo spun about as well, pushing through, trying to spot his fellow synergy mate - only to slam into someone rushing in the opposite direction. It was Rolce, followed by both Moordin and Foxblade.

"Rolce! I need to tell you something, I..." Gisbo said, but Rolce quickly cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"I know! I know! I just told Moordin and Foxblade your story, but we need to find Falcon. Where is he?" Rolce asked.

"He just went to tell Narroway!" Gisbo said, pointing. Moordin and Foxblade simultaneously turned to face the boys. Moordin pulled both of them close, staring into their eyes with absolute seriousness.

"I am proud of you boys. Now go back to your dorm this instant, you hear? Much has built up these previous months and it is all about to explode. Don't come out until we come to get you! Move!" Moordin commanded as he and Foxblade pushed through both of them a bit rudely, rushing to get to Falcon and Narroway. Rolce looked at Gisbo, a hint of rebellion in the normally obedient boy's eye.

"You going back to the tree house?" Rolce asked.

"Not a chance," Gisbo replied with a grin.

"Just as I thought. Way to go, Gisbo. You should have seen Moordin's eyes light up when I told him. Apparently, this is just what they needed," Rolce said, returning his grin. They set off to watch what was about to transpire.

Falcon and Moordin reached Narroway, followed closely by Foxblade. Narroway's face grimaced in curiosity only to turn to wide-eyed surprise and recognition, as if he had found the last piece to a puzzle lying on the floor. Falcon pointed toward Lokin, who was still speaking at the podium. From that point, everything happened very quickly. Lokin was still deep in his speech when suddenly, in a flash of green and red, Falcon and Moordin appeared at both sides of the Shininja. Falcon pressed the tip of his blade over Lokin's heart while Moordin threw his pole-arm over the Shininja's throat from behind, locking him in a chokehold. For a moment Lokin looked surprised, then a smile broke across his face.

"So, I assume there is a reason for this outburst?" Lokin said with an eerie calm. Narroway walked up to look Lokin right in the eye. For a moment, Lokin's composure was nearly lost at the sight of Narroway's enraged face.

"You dare to speak of him as a friend, Lokin? You dare stand before us all and spout your lies? I have every reason to slice your tongue off this instant. You best have a good argument prepared, Lokin. You're going to need it," Narroway said, power dripping from his every word, conjuring up memories of his father. For a moment Lokin didn't say anything as he tried to hide from the Chieftain's gaze. After a few long seconds, the Shininja finally mustered enough courage to face his Chieftain.

"I need no argument, not one. I'll tell you the truth right now, that I, Lokin Razgul," Lokin paused, enjoying the crowd hanging on his every word. "Killed Renegade Purah!" Lokin finished.

In a flash, Narroway's Talon Sword was out and had joined Falcon's, looming dangerously over Lokin's adam's apple.

"You admit it? Then . . ." Narroway faltered as if he had forgotten something, suddenly turning around to the crowd behind him, with his head darting back and forth in search of something.

"That's right, you think I'd come alone? Strifes! To action!" Lokin yelled as various people in the crowd threw back their blue hoods to reveal odd green uniforms. The green-clad invaders quickly grabbed whatever Renegade was standing nearest and held them tightly at sword point without releasing their essence. Lokin gawked at Narroway with a snide look.

"You're not as slow as I thought. Slow, sure, but at least you realized it. Unfortunately for you, it's too late. Now, let's pass the authority to me for a bit. You are going to let me walk away from here before you lose some of your precious Renegades to the Strife's blades. Understood, Chief?" Lokin asked confidently, until he saw the smile of superiority on Narroway's face.

"I think you forget the place you have invaded. This is home to the last true remaining warrior culture on Thera. You honestly think they would allow you ground for bartering?" Narroway questioned with glowing pride.

Blades were instantly wrapped around the necks of the Strifes by more Renegades. Suddenly, long ropes of energy in every color extended, attaching themselves to the Strifes' weapons, and they were immediately disarmed. Their lost weapons soared back along the energy ropes and into the open hands of Renegades, leaving a dangerous situation remedied and completely turned about. Lokin's face went white. He wasn't expecting this at all.

"Always, always power up your weapon when in the presence of another Elekai' Warrior, Lokin. You never know when the same race is about you; even the Renegaras around here know the basic rule. You have come ill prepared, a trait that embarrasses your Shininja class. You will die, right here, for the death of one of the most noble men I have ever known," Narroway said as he drew back his fiery sword, ready to sever Lokin's head from his neck. Suddenly, a sharp yell hit the air.

"No! Don't do it! He's my Dad!" screamed Rake, as he ran to the stage and wrapped his arms around his father in attempt to protect him from certain death. Narroway lowered his sword slightly as Rake held his father like a life preserver with tears streaming down his cheeks.

"You can't do it! He's the only family I have left!" Rake screamed, his watery eyes pleading with Narroway. The Chieftain stood staring at the boy as Falcon and Moordin released their grips slightly, enough for Lokin to grab Rake with blinding speed. The traitorous Shininja ignited his blade with his own fiery glow, not about to make the same mistake as the Strifes. He held the dangerous blade over his son's throat.

"Dad? Dad!? What, what are you doing?" Rake stammered. Lokin looked down at his son in his arms as if he was holding a priceless treasure, grinning with a greedy smile.

"Shut it! Well, it seems my son isn't such a failure after all. About time you served me some sort of purpose, eh boy? Now back away, all of you, or I will slice my son's throat open, right here, for all to see!" Lokin said, as he spun to leer at Narroway. "Is that something your conscience can take, Narroway? Well, is it? I never knew if I had the complete loyalty of the Strifes, so one must always have an ace up one's sleeve. I see all of you, even now, thinking how to kill me without hurting the boy. I think it's time I keep your attention elsewhere. Thank IAM for such idiotic subordinates, eh Falcon and Moordin?" Lokin taunted with glee. Suddenly, two green-clad Shininjas dropped out of the trees, trapping Gisbo and Rolce's throats behind their ignited blades.

Panic stretched across Falcon and Moordin's faces as Lokin walked with his son past Narroway, making his way through the crowd. Instantly, those around Lokin ignited their weapons and surrounded him. Lokin simply smiled and stared at Narroway as if to say, 'Well?'

"Let him through," Narroway ordered, causing Lokin to smile even broader. All the weapons disengaged their essence and parted the way for Lokin to pass. Gisbo and Rolce stood looking at each other each saying the same thing with their eyes: "How could we be so stupid?"

"I figured you heard me outside Purah's office, mutt, but it really didn't matter. How ironic that you got sent there for punching out my poor excuse for a son. Oh, don't worry, I could care less. The little weakling probably deserved it. You have incurred my wrath for one thing, though, and that's squealing. Let me show you what happens to squealers where I come from . . ." Lokin said as he made his way closer to Gisbo.

Gisbo squirmed every which way, but it was no use against the essential power of the man holding him. He watched as Lokin reached to his side to pull his other dagger from its sheath, powered it up, and spun it around his fingers playfully. Gisbo winced. Lokin was within striking distance. The Shininja grasped his dagger tightly and reared back for the kill.

Gisbo closed his eyes, bracing for a strike that never came. He opened them only to see Lokin, frozen, focused on something behind him with a look of horror and surprise.

Foxblade struck quickly, coming out of a stealth position with both daggers glowing a brilliant yellow. He wasted no time plunging his first blade through the Shininja holding Gisbo. The Strife let his weapon drop from Gisbo's throat, roaring from the pain that seared his kidney. Foxblade reared back and plunged the same blade deep into the Shininja's chest, planted his foot beneath the new wound and kicked forward to free his blade once more. The Strife fell backward, dead before he hit the ground. Foxblade wasn't done with his combo quite yet. He swung his other leg in a roundhouse kick, catching the chin of Rolce's capturer who dropped the young Renega.

"Duck," Foxblade ordered Rolce, who obeyed immediately, gaping as Foxblade continued his dance of death. With his other dagger held at the ready, he let loose, slicing the throat of the green-clad Shininija with a back hand while spinning his body for velocity and force. The Shininja grasped his bleeding throat and toppled over, gurgling. Foxblade completed his spin and thrust the same blade upward at Lokin, his aquamarine eyes as like blue fire. Lokin took a step back from Foxblade, clutching Rake even closer to himself like a shield.

"Drop your boy and I'll kill you. Best I can offer," Foxblade stated. Both Renegades locked eyes.

"Back off, you've already spilled Strife blood, Fox of blades. They will come for you especially. I'll be sure of that," Lokin threatened, nervousness crackling in his voice. Foxblade didn't bat an eyelash.

"Let them come. I'll arrange a place of meeting on the morrow and kill them all. My original offer stands," Foxblade said without moving his eyes from Lokin, who took another step of retreat. Foxblade sheathed his other dagger and let that free hand fall into his side pouch, pulling up three razor-sharp throwing discs. Lokin's face crinkled in fear, but his eyes widened.

"You wouldn't. What if you miss? You could kill my boy!" Lokin said, trying to dissuade Foxblade from a reckless decision. Lokin turned with a quick glance at Narroway, Falcon and Moordin's reactions. All radiated confidence.

"I don't miss," Foxblade said and drawing back his arm, he threw an energy-charged disc, aimed directly at Lokin's head. The disc would have hit true if it weren't for the black, slick, oil-like substance that surged up around Lokin. The sludge blocked the shot with a resounding metallic clang and black smoke spiraled in the air upon the point of impact. Foxblade spun around as a newcomer blasted a ball of the same black ooze at him, narrowly missing. The Renegade Shininja leapt into the sky, called upon his innate Soarian power of flight and hovered in the air, watching the ooze hit the ground. Within moments, it had eaten through it like acid, leaving a crater. You couldn't see his face under the mask, but Foxblade's eyes betrayed his surprise. The other Renegades who saw the figure standing before them gasped, especially Rolce, who clutched Gisbo's shoulder with thick stabbing fingers and pointed frantically with his other hand.

"Gisbo! It's him! The man from my dream! The guy who has Jackobi!" Rolce screamed.

_Chapter 14:_ The Drakeness Lives

The large man from Rolce's dream was dressed in Nazarite attire, except all was black. The top of his head was bald and blackened eyelids washed over white pupil-less eyes. A scraggly beard, also black, partially obscured an empty rotten-toothed smile.

Foxblade continued to hover in the air, staring at the new enemy to enter the fray. The man in black met his gaze and stepped forward, speaking in a booming, steely voice."Foxblade! You look surprised to see me and . . . is that Falcon I see? And oh, Moordin? Moordin, Moordin, how are you, my old friend? How long has it been?" The large man said, his cruel tone clashing with the friendly words. Moordin leapt forward with a mix of surprise and fury in his features.

"Shax? You live? It's not possible!" Moordin said, completely beside himself.

"One can live quite well when one never died, friend. Now," Shax started but Moordin cut him off in a flash, a ring of madness to his voice.

"You are no friend of mine!" Moordin bellowed. Shax grinned wider.

"So touchy, you always were. Is that any way to greet an old friend? Your best friend, mind you? I would assume that after all these years away from each other I'd at least get a welcome back? I see you haven't changed a bit since that day. The day you THOUGHT you killed me," Shax said as Martha appeared by her husband's side.

"I don't know how you returned from hell, but I have no problem sending you back myself, demon!" Martha said as she ignited her own Nazarite weapon.

"Ah, still letting wifey fight your battles for you, Moordin? At least something hasn't changed," Shax taunted.

"My husband needs . . . Martha continued until she was interrupted by Moordin.

"MARTHA! Behind me!" Moordin lashed out in a tone so determined, so unlike him, that even the tenacious Martha was startled.

"I, I understand," Martha answered and she actually smiled, glad to retreat. This is the man I married! Do me proud, my Moordin, she thought.

"Ah now this, THIS, is much better. The Moordin I knew of old has finally arrived. It seems old age has not wilted your fighting spirit one bit, why," Shax broke off when his wandering eyes fell on Rolce. Suddenly, his face and tone morphed from feigned surprise to real shock.

"I don't believe my eyes! My boy? All grown up? Rolce?" Shax sputtered as he walked toward Rolce. Moordin jumped between his pupil and archrival in a flash and, with a spin of his staff, blasted the street. Thick stone rubble, now glowing green, flew towards Shax in a rain of death.

Shax, with a wave of his own staff, ignited his weapon. Thick black veins stretched across his body and his weapon smoked and dripped more black sludge. Shax surrounded his body with the stuff like a shield just as Moordin's powerful blast collided with him like fireworks. The force shoved Shax's feet across the ground, nearly toppling the big man over, even in his protected state. Particles of green and black sifted through the air like snowflakes in the aftermath and Shax shot a wicked grin of delight in Moordin's direction.

"Moordin, that was a strike to kill," Shax taunted, only to be interrupted by a frantic Lokin.

"SHAX! ENOUGH! Get me out of here, Narroway is ascending!" Lokin yelled. Shax turned a worried glance to see the powerful Narroway blasting in like a rocket aboard a skeeting sword. Lokin tossed Rake aside, grabbed Shax's arm and in an instant both men were gone in a blast of smoke and sludge, leaving black, vein-like cracks in the ground where they had stood. The splattered sludge evaporated with a sound like crackling fire. Narroway eased up on his flight, disengaged his essence and landed neatly beside Moordin.

"Drakeness. So, the evil still lives on Thera. IAM help us all," Narroway said to himself as the crowd gathered around the smoking remains. Moordin spun around to face his subordinate.

"Rolce, are you all right? You aren't hurt?" Moordin asked with deep concern. Rolce's face was white as a fish belly. He stood for a moment, lip quavering, afraid to ask the question. The color drained from Martha's face too, knowing full well what was on the boy's mind.

"Honey, I," was all Martha could sputter out.

"What did he mean by 'my boy'? Was that man, my . . . " Rolce couldn't even say the word. His eyes pleaded with Moordin to answer no. Moordin turned away for a moment and covered his face with a hand. He then turned back, desolation in his expression. Rolce knew the answer before Moordin had opened his mouth to speak.

"Rolce, I never wanted to tell you; there are some things one just shouldn't need to know. I only kept it from you to protect you from pain . . ." Moordin implored with concern.

"You still haven't answered me. Is Shax my father?" Rolce asked, tone still beseeching.

"Shax Holiner is your father," Moordin admitted, his head sunk low.

Gisbo stared at his friend, stupefied by the answer. Rolce stood with a distant gaze and walked away from the scene with his back turned to everyone, his wide shoulders hunched, then broke into a fast sprint.

"Go talk to him, please," Martha pleaded with Gisbo. Narroway nodded his agreement. Gisbo inclined his head in assent as he turned to pursue his friend.

Gisbo caught up with Rolce in the forest, sitting on the steps to their cabin. By this time, Harpie was nearly full-grown and had learned to fly. She was perched on Rolce's shoulder, head tilted in concern for her companion. Gisbo walked up to them slowly and sat down beside him on the steps. Oddly, Rolce wasn't crying, but staring with empty eyes into the forest.

"Why didn't he tell me? Why didn't anyone tell me, for that matter? They all knew and they all promised no secrets," Rolce said after a few awkward minutes of silence.

"I dunno, man," was all Gisbo could come up with in response.

"He killed a boy, Gisbo, same age as you and me. Killed him and laughed afterwards. It was the most horrible thing I've ever seen," Rolce said, shaking as he said it. Gisbo opened his mouth to say something, but immediately closed it. The words just weren't there. Rolce continued.

"I have never seen true evil before, ever. Sure, I've seen some arrogant people in my lifetime, but when I saw his face, contorted in a smile, it honestly scared me. He looked like he was having the time of his life! I thought about my place as a Renegade, how I was being trained to stop men like him. I was ready to do my part. I wanted to save Jackobi so badly and now all I can think about is what if I become something like that down the line? What if I become my father? Ugh, just saying the word . . ." Rolce whispered as he dropped his face into his hands in shame.

"You aren't your father," Moordin said, suddenly appearing from behind the tree house. He sat beside his student on the steps.

"I'm so very sorry, Rolce, for not telling you. When you laid out the tale for me from your dreams that night, I was absolutely floored that you had inherited your father's Sybil abilities. I didn't quite know how to take it, to be honest with you. I told myself that I would tell you eventually, when I knew how and when I felt you had matured enough to take the news," Moordin began, but Rolce didn't look up at him.

"I realize you're upset, I really do. It was an error on my part as your class master. Foxblade was correct; I should have been straight with you. I just wanted you to enjoy your time at Heaven's Shelter, enjoy your youth, but life just is not that simple, I'm afraid," Moordin said. Rolce finally turned his gaze upward.

"I just don't know what to think anymore. I wish I never knew the truth. He was the most wicked man I have ever seen and who's to say I won't turn out like him in the end," Rolce said.

"Listen, Rolce, we all have the potential within us to go the way your father did. You have to understand that you are you, not your father. Lineage and family mistakes should be none of your concern, for I have seen your heart and it is pure," Moordin said, fully confident in his subordinate.

"Yeah," Rolce said.

"No, really. I knew your father from an early age. We were the best of friends growing up, your dad and me. Both of us were deemed rather brilliant from an early age. We relished lessons, soaked in everything we could like a sponge, clawed at knowledge as if we were starving. We spent many a day indoors locked in philosophical conversations while others were out playing clash or various other things," Moordin smirked a bit, remembering the good times.

"I had never known someone quite like your dad. As smart as he was, he also had a brute strength about him that I had never seen before and then, only to add to his already immense potential, his Sybil abilities began to surface, opening a new gateway for us both to see into and discuss. A Sybil, you see, can interpret otherworldly things and acts almost like a conduit for these messages to pass through from IAM himself, but there is a problem every Sybil must face," Moordin said. Rolce looked up at him with interest.

"What is it?" Rolce asked.

"The problem is that a Sybil hears not only IAM, but things from the other end as well, IAM's opposite. There are many names for him, from many other cultures. He is good at what he does, a little too good. We all hear conflicting voices in our minds, especially when attempting something valiant, the faint whisperings of negativity and disbelief in our own abilities. In our right mind, while attempting something courageous, would we honestly put ourselves down? I think not, but to us regular folk they are mere whispers in our minds and we sometimes mistake them for our own thoughts. To a Sybil, however, it can be as real as the conversation we are having right now; crystal clear, with vivid imagery and, like the weather, you never know when the intimations will hit. These messages, from both sides, are sometimes hard to interpret. You need a powerful mind just to be able to cope, let alone discern between the conflicting voices, especially nowadays with so much knowledge at our disposal; good and evil are no longer clear cut. There are loads and loads of gray.

"You have to understand that as much as there are battles here between good and evil, there is an unseen battle going on, a spiritual battle, right now, between two warring Gods that affects the course of history. The evil is clever at what it does, wrapping itself sometimes in messages of goodwill. Drakearon was a master of such things, but always remember: the pathway to evil is usually paved with good intentions. I've yet to meet somebody who just outright chose to be evil one day. Unless they are psychologically disturbed, most usually start out with good intentions and lose themselves along the way. Your father was no exception. These spiritual battles that I speak of, a Sybil can receive brief glimpses of these battles, messages about things to come, revelations of the past and paths we should take. This was your father's downfall for he had a curiosity for knowledge that rivaled even my own. It is even safe to say, as much as I don't want to admit it, that the synergy he belonged to was the most powerful Heaven's Shelter has ever seen and yet, your father was never complacent. An admirable trait, but this was also his downfall. He wanted to know everything: good, bad and everything in-between. At one time, everyone followed the same rules of what good and evil were, but over time, such beliefs are relative to the person. It's no longer clear cut, as I said earlier, and the Drakeness, what I see as evil, to others, was an opportunity for power. I know not how your father infused himself with the Drakeness, but I will never forget that day," Moordin reflected, trailing off before he began his story.

"You see, when Vadid strangely disappeared from our midst, your mother, Shara, gave birth to you. Your father couldn't have been happier to have himself a family. It was for so long a dream of his that was finally realized. I knew your mother well, Rolce. She was the friendliest and most thoughtful person I know. Both of you share the same heart. IAM knows why she was a Renegade, I couldn't see her hurting any living soul. She was a very beautiful woman; nearly every man desired her, but she had eyes only for your father.

"The wedding was perfect and I was Shax's best man. Life was good then and peace reigned even in Vadid's absense. However, we Renegades remember how easily peace can be taken away if not prepared, so constantly we train, to protect the unprepared. Both of us brought noble ideals to the table and quickly joined with Purah to start the Purist movement against Karm's Freeist party. Seriously, if I could sit and listen to two people talk for the rest of my days, it would be Shax and Purah conversing. It was simply awe inspiring the amount of wisdom these two men had to share," Moordin recounted with a grin. Rolce smiled too, enjoying the fact that his class master admired Purah as much as he did.

"Anyhow, that is when things started to change. I noticed your father began to distance himself from the rest of us. Not abruptly, no, but over time it came to the point where I hardly could speak to him at all. This was something only a best friend could notice, but I was not alone. Shara, his own wife, found that all she could wring out of him were a few grunts and he would be off for the day, only to return to their dwelling for sleep. She was concerned and asked me to see what I could do. I did and discovered him deep within the forest one evening. I sat with him on the ground and we talked just like in the old days of our youth, but there was something not right about him. In this conversation, he mentioned a number of things about how limited the Renegade knowledge was and how much he, as a Sybil, could see compared to the rest of us.

"In the course of our talk, it was then he showed me his ability. He powered up his staff and instead of the usual green, I saw something totally different, totally outlawed, and in that moment, I lost my friend forever. The Drakeness flowed through him. In a voice so unlike him, he offered to share his newfound power with me, to break the barriers and know true understanding. He told me there was another voice besides the one we were told to listen to. He said it was much more vibrant, more revealing, and that it offered so much more than the voice of IAM. He claimed that both powers were equal, one driven by war, the other by peace. I admit, I was tempted for a brief moment, I really was, but I saw through to what that voice was . . . evil. Shax did not take my refusal kindly; took it as a slap in the face, really, and I did nothing to stop him as he disengaged his power and stormed off," Moordin said with sorrow in his voice.

"What did you do afterwards?" Gisbo asked, totally immersed in the story. Moordin lowered his head and, this time, reluctantly continued the tale.

"A few days had gone by and Shax disappeared altogether. I told not a soul of Shax's choice to infuse himself with the Drakness, except his wife. We thought that together we may be able to change him, bring him back and make him see reason. Even to this day I wish I could go back and do things differently. Maybe if we had, then you would have a mother today, Rolce. As I'm sure you can anticipate what happened, Shara and I finally found Shax yet again, hiding in a series of dark caves. We used to play in these caves as kids and it was a popular hangout for us both. I think he was expecting this encounter and went to this obvious place purposefully. However, these caves were forbidden because over the years the ground became unsupportive and could break, sending someone to certain death in pits where you could not see the bottom.

"We found Shax there alone, practicing his newly found Drakeness powers. His face was not even recognizable anymore. It was as if he had flung himself completely into the tantalizing dark power. His eyes were nothing but white shining orbs, his eyelids completely blackened, and his teeth looked rotten to the core. We tried to reason with him, tried to bring him back, but it was no use . . . he attacked us, fiercely. We Renegades, even to this day, lack nearly all knowledge of any sort of Drakeness abilities. We couldn't hope to prepare ourselves for such an enemy, who was also my best friend. I was caught off guard and Shax lashed out in a wild attack. He locked me to the wall, all my limbs encircled by rings of blackness, and forced me to watch as he tested his newfound powers on his own wife, Shara. He laughed wickedly as his wife cried out in pain. Never once did she even try to fight back," Moordin said as a tear trickled down his solemn face. He didn't speak for a good long minute before continuing the tale.

"It was then, I don't really know why, maybe it was the screaming, maybe it was because I finally realized the friend I once knew was never coming back; either way, I broke free of my chains and threw everything I had at my lost friend. Green clashed against black in a fearsome battle, the cave nearly collapsed upon itself. In the end, I don't really know who defeated who. The cave floor couldn't support both of us and it happened in my favor that it disintegrated under Shax's feet and sent him falling to a certain death, or so we thought. I struggled with awkward footing, making my way to your mother. In the midst of the battle, I didn't realized when the yelling stopped; anyway, as I stood over her, I realized I was too late. Shara was dead. I then returned to Heaven's Shelter after giving her a proper burial and adopted you as my own. Martha, my girlfriend at the time, was overjoyed. By the spring, we were married," Moordin finished. He then placed both of his hands on Rolce's shoulders.

"Adopting you was the best decision of my life, Rolce. You have received your father's strength and intelligence, but also your mother's kindness and gentleness. You will be among the elites one day, Rolce, and with your gifts, you will do all things in fairness, all things in moderation and all things with a caring heart. The world needs a person like you more than anything right now," Moordin said as he finished his tale

"You said, you said you buried . . . my mom? Can you take me there?" Rolce asked. Moordin smiled.

"Of course, I think it only right you pay your respects," Moordin said.

Both class master and student were streaming tears at this point as they got up and left Gisbo sitting on the steps, feeling stunned. It made Gisbo start to think about his own origins, but he decided he'd rather not know, for he had a bad feeling. If they never told Rolce about his, then surely Gisbo's could only mean bad news. He promised himself he would keep his curiosity at bay. He would just live in the present and look to the future. There was really no need to know, none at all. He was Gisbo Falcon now and that was just fine by him. Even as he rose to his feet however, his mind betrayed him with a nagging sensation.

As he let his feet carry him, he tried to imagine himself in Rolce's shoes; how he would take it, knowing he was the son of an evil Sybil who had killed his own mother. He figured he would be very upset at first, but later he would be filled with thoughts of revenge. Rolce was different, though. Gisbo knew he would take it differently; how, he didn't know, but Gisbo resolved to help him come to terms with his family's past.

Gisbo subconsciously made his way back to the common grounds, now nearly deserted as people were taking down flowers and other decorations from the funeral. It was then he noticed Rake sitting alone against the side of a hut, his face still wet from tears. Gisbo just shook his head. How could people be so cruel? How could people like Rolce's father and Rake's be so selfish? Gisbo knew what it was like to live alone, knew it well, and seeing other boys going through the exact same thing hurt him deeply. He didn't know why; he never cared for people before coming here. Ever since the incident with the wolves, he just had a strong desire to befriend people and that is the only explanation why he made his way over to Rake and sat down beside the very same boy whom he had hit just the day before. Rake's nose was still bandaged and he didn't look up when Gisbo sat next to him.

"I wanted to apologize to you, Rake, for hitting you yesterday. I think I misjudged you a bit," Gisbo said as he offered the Shininja boy his hand in greeting. Rake turned and looked at the outstretched hand, then up at Gisbo. He rose to his feet, shoved his hands into his pockets and walked away with his head down. Gisbo sat for a moment, not at all hurt by this. He understood where Rake was coming from and knew he would just want to be alone, too. It was then he heard footsteps to his right and, turning, he saw Falcon standing over him. His class master took the seat beside him with a proud smile.

"That was a very noble thing you just did, Gisbo. Believe it or not, Rake knew it too and I am sure he was thankful for it. You both know what it means to be looked down on and feel isolated. I bet with time you can help him see the light just as Purah helped me those many years ago," Falcon suggested with pride.

"These past few days have been unbelievable, haven't they? It's like a whirlwind hit this place," Gisbo said in a distant tone, with a sigh.

"It sure seems like it. But time moves on and with it, all wounds will heal," Falcon said in response.

"I'm just confused by the whole thing! And who were those green guys?" Gisbo asked. Falcon sighed deeply.

"Strifes. They are Renegades of the Renegades, if that makes sense," Falcon said.

"Not really," Gisbo stated.

"Well, us Renegades are an idealistic bunch. We once clung to political party lines back in the days of Oak County, before we realized that true change couldn't be solved through means of democracy and, if anything, it split people in two. We realized people are individuals with individual beliefs that stem only from what they wish to protect. Nowadays, most of the citizens who aren't Renegades in Heaven's Shelter hold to the Purist party. Which is fine, either side, Freeist or Purist. But you must understand there are such things as hardcore Purists and those types can be just as scary as the Drakearon lackeys, no matter how good their intentions. A good half of the people that live within Heaven's Shelter are not Renegades, but hold to the Purist political thought as I said. But back in the day, these hardcore Purists disbanded from us under the leadership of a proud Purist leader named Lamik. He, unlike Narroway, believed that their ways and point of view should be forced on common people and be enforced by the sword, claiming it was for the people's own good. Now calling themselves Strifes, they put themselves on a moral high horse, claiming themselves above reproach and deeming everyone else who didn't follow along their sinful enemies.

"Needless to say, Narroway didn't put up with such nonsense. He saw people for what they were, people, just like you and me. We so few individual thinkers, as well as Renegades, hold the stable ground in a world broken in two by extremes. Both of these sides hold the possibility for wickedness in their shouting for good and it breaks my heart to see," Falcon said. Gisbo nodded in response.

"As I'm sure you've heard before, one cannot look at the world in black and white anymore. There is a sea of gray now and you mustn't put yourself on the edge of either side, but rather pull what's best from both camps and hold them center. You can't agree with everything a Purist has to say, just as you can't agree with everything a Freeist has to say either. You are an individual mind, be who you are and don't dissolve into the masses. This is what it means to be a Renegade. For example, I believe in equality and peace, a Freeist trait, but at the same time I believe in swift justice so as not to give evil breathing room to ruin peaceful lives, a Purist trait. Hence, I did what I did to Cannon and Scarrr and also why we immediately went after Lokin upon your testimony, you see? And believe me, it wasn't a rash decision. You gave us the final clue in our investigation," Falcon explained and Gisbo again nodded.

"This world is a confusing place; just know I'm not preaching to you. I'm showing you the options and who's to say my way is the correct way? I am here to show you the paths and, in the end, you must seek the one you feel is right. Just as long as you don't become a Strife!" Falcon said jokingly before continuing.

"I don't like the color green anyway. So why did they attack us today? At a funeral no less and why the hell did only a few of them come? Even to me, it doesn't make sense!" Gisbo wondered.

"Well, back in the day we were constantly battling it out, green versus blue, until Narroway met with Lamik and organized a peace treaty. Nobody knows what this treaty contained, but I remember his face looking ever so grave after the meeting. Whatever Narroway gave them, it worked and we haven't received trouble from them for years, until now. From what I gather so far, I can offer you this theory on why they attacked today. We know now who was behind the kidnapping of the kids and I believe Lokin and Shax also took some of the Strife children, forcing the small group of Strife fathers to go along with their plans. What those exact plans are I do not know, but you can be sure we will find out. Till then, I want you and Rolce to train as hard as you possibly can. I believe we will be needing the both of you in times ahead, do you understand?" Falcon asked. Gisbo gave Falcon a quick salute and received a smile in return.

"Good. And do try to cheer Rolce up. Tell him he is Rolce Moordin now, not Rolce Shax. He is his own man entitled to his own decisions. If he wants to be one of the good guys, then he will be," Falcon instructed as he patted Gisbo on the back and trekked off towards a destination unknown.

Gisbo sat and smiled to himself. Falcon always had a way of making him feel better, always. If there was one man he wished to be like, it would be Falcon Vadid. Never before was he so proud to have such a great instructor and friend. He couldn't wait to begin training with him one on one and was glad Falcon was back to his old self again. Still, the two sides to him he saw earlier that day haunted him - he was still a Flarian, after all. Gisbo rose to his feet as his stomach growled deeply. He made his way towards Dave an' Ern's Mach Shop to find Shaved, Grandfield and Knob and get some much-wanted food together.

Time passed after Purah's funeral and the air became frigid as the days of fall came to an end. By winter, both Gisbo and Rolce got back into their usual mode of life, although Rolce rarely talked about the things that were troubling him. They trained exceptionally hard for Roarie and had finally arrived at her final class. She stood in front of them, almost on the brink of tears as she addressed her class for the last time as a whole.

"Well, boys and girls, apparently your time has come to an end with me. I am proud to say that all of you have passed. You have prepared your bodies and been given the tools necessary to keep them strong. The rings will encourage you should you fall lazy through the winter months and anytime you feel that sting, think of your pretty little instructor Roarie. Now, before I personally brand your bands on you, I would like to give out two awards for exceeding the call of duty in my class. The first award given is called The Most Improved. This award is bestowed upon the student who got the most out of this class and underwent the most dramatic transformation to reach their current state. They receive a special tattoo from me for their hard work and dedication. Please give a round of applause to the rightful owner of this award, Grandfield Groggo!" Roarie yelled, setting off a wave of energetic clapping.

Grandfield blushed more than would have seemed possible as he stepped forward. Roarie powered up her essence with a ringed finger, held up Grandfield's forearm and began to trace the shape of the tattoo. Grandfield winced in pain slightly as Roarie held his wrist firm and finished. There on Granfield's arm was a jet black tattooed band, extending around his forearm with an added design beneath it, reaching toward his hand. Granfield smiled as he held up his wrist and twirled it around, examining the band before he pumped his newly decorated arm to the sky with a fist, causing the class to break into applause once more. Roarie quieted them before continuing.

"This other award is known as The Instructor Award. It is given to one who went above and beyond the call of duty and encouraged others around them to do the same. This term we have two! Would Rolce Moordin and Gisbo Falcon please step up to me?" Roarie announced as she began to clap again.

Gisbo and Rolce looked at each other as they each broke out into smiles and stepped forward. Roarie gave them both hugs as the applause continued and tattooed Gisbo and Rolce with the same figure as Granfield. All three boys pumped their fists in the air with yells of triumph. When the class was quieting down, Roarie made her way to stand in front of Gisbo.

"I still remember your first day here, you little twerp. I hope by now you think of me a bit differently. Well?" Roarie said with a touch of sternness. Gisbo stood for a minute, looking down at his short instructor.

"Well, you are a lot stronger then I originally thought. I was definitely wrong in that area, by a landslide! For that I'm sorry," Gisbo admitted, surprisingly sincere. Roarie smiled.

"But I'm also sorry that you will always be a little old hag!" Gisbo added as he broke into a run, laughing crazily. A bewildered look flashed across Roarie's face and then she ran after him, causing the class to break into fits of laughter. Roarie pounded her student into the ground for the last time before giving the rest of the class their bands.

_Chapter 15:_ Math... The Bane of Existence

Almost overnight winter had descended upon Heaven's Shelter. The entire place was now blanketed in a white fluffy snow. Following their band ceremony, the Renegas were rewarded a much-deserved week off. Gisbo and Rolce, not about to waste a spare moment of their break, spent the week building snow forts, having snowball fights, and partaking in an activity exclusive to Heaven's Shelter known as ice skeeting. There was also a sport called "hockey" in which several ice skeeters would pass around and whack a rubber disc across the ice with curved sticks.

Ernie Knowall began sharing with everyone purchasing their ice skeets and sticks from the mach shop that it was indeed he who had come up with the idea for hockey until Dave informed the boys that the Soarians had been playing it long before Ernie was even born. It was safe to say that hockey absorbed most of the boys and girls winter break as Renegades, Renegaras and Renegas played it constantly throughout the week. Gisbo found that Falcon was exceptionally good at this sport and he taught Gisbo all the ins and outs of the game. They had a blast in spontaneous pick up matches.

When they weren't playing hockey, everyone enjoyed warm cups of hot cocoa, apple cider and a variety of steaming soups from the various shops. These winter specialties hit the spot after a day out in the cold, especially snow skeeting, an invention of Shaved and Knob's. One winter day when they were bored, the daredevils had attached two long boards to their feet and coasted down the snowy hills outside of Heaven's Shelter. At first people thought they were crazy, but the sport caught on quickly.

Winter break wasn't all fun and games, however. Gisbo, Rolce, Shaved and Grandfield repeatedly shoveled snow in front of the shop and all around it to be rewarded with an early leave from their jobs to enjoy their break. Thanks to Shaved and Knob's invention of snow skeets, the shop had their highest sales yet, causing Ernie to be the friendliest guy in Heaven's Shelter, mostly due to the extra beer at the pubs he could now afford.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. The glorious week finished out and Gisbo and Rolce found themselves trudging to their next class on a cold foggy morning, the frigid air biting at their faces. Gisbo constantly found himself staring at his forearm in deep pride as they walked. Roarie was right: every time he examined his new tattoo, he remembered all the hard work it took to earn it and he especially enjoyed the special design near the bottom of the band, knowing that he, Rolce and Grandfield were the only ones in their class to receive it. Gisbo rubbed at a welt on his head from Roarie's final beating and actually smiled. He was going to miss the old hag.

Gisbo and Rolce finally arrived at their destination outside a building set across from the Courtyard of Strength. Upon seeing the building, Gisbo's heart sank. Rolce's, on the other hand, skipped a beat in excitement. There in front of them stood a schoolhouse and within it, a warm sputtering fire burned in front of neat wooden desks for each and every one of them. Rolce was nearly shaking with excitement as Gisbo shook from pure nausea. He hated school and all that went with it. Homework, raising his hand to speak, homework, trying to stay awake for things he hadn't the slightest interest in, and of course, homework. Didn't they do enough in class as it was? Didn't anyone realize how hard it was just to stay awake? No, of course not, it was never enough; you had to take things home just to keep you busy. How dare you take your mind off math formulas for a single instant of your life! IAM knows you might go do something useful with your life instead! All of these thoughts crossed through Gisbo's mind within seconds and what a few painful seconds they were as they walked inside the schoolhouse.

Rolce strutted into the warmly lit classroom, his face beaming as Gisbo trudged along behind him and took his seat within his prison cell, also known as a desk. It wasn't as bad as Gisbo had initially thought, but he dared not get optimistic, that was what they wanted him to do. There were maps adorning the wooden walls with holly draped over the corners and nearly a dozen or so cedar desks that filled the room with a comforting, woodsy smell.

There was a stamping of boots behind them and Gisbo turned to see Knob, followed by Grandfield and Shaved. They looked just as happy to be there as he did. At least he wasn't the only miserable one. Upon further thought, Gisbo believed Rolce was the only happy student in the room until Kennis took to her seat with an equally oversized grin. Next, Rake came in and made his way to sit in the back corner with his two Synergy teammates, Crass Bastio and Whip Miley, who were grumbling aloud, while Rake simply rolled his eyes and stared off into the distance, indifferent.

Gisbo felt sick to his stomach again seeing Kennis and Rolce smiling in anticipation until he heard a door slam behind them. Gisbo thought he heard a lock snap into place, but he knew he was only imagining it, wasn't he? There was the sound of heavy boots falling swiftly across the floor as the instructor made his way to the front of the class. The man was tall and the small staging which his desk sat upon made him look even taller. He was completely bald except for a ridge of perfectly cut hair that rounded the back of his skull. He was dressed in Nazarite attire, with an arm fully decked out in unique, tattooed bands. It looked as if he must have gotten the top awards for every class he ever took for Gisbo had never seen such exquisite markings. He had dark eyes that almost appeared black and fine wrinkles that made him look wise, not necessarily old - as if they were cut into his face purposefully. For once Gisbo was thankful he and Rolce had arrived on time for this guy was a major leap away in the intimidation factor compared to Roarie...well, at least upon first impression. Gisbo rubbed his welt once more.

When the man spoke, he sounded a bit like Moordin, except that his voice was much deeper. He was much more intense and a tad bit scary, as if everything he was about to say was absolute and could have no counter argument. His tone was emotionless and every sentence was direct and to the point.

"Good to see you all this wintry morning and all on time no less. You may call me Instructor Perry," Perry said, standing straight as he addressed his class, turning slightly as he made eye contact with every one of them giving him absolute attention. Gisbo couldn't have fallen asleep even if he tried; he was too afraid of the ramifications.

"I'd like to offer you congratulations upon receiving your first bands, no easy task. The same will be for this band. You have now strengthened your bodies, strengthened them well, but as everyone knows, it is useless without the mind," Perry said as he tapped the side of his head with two fingers and continued his pacing.

"If Roarie's class put your body into fighting shape, then this class will most certainly thrust your MIND into fighting shape. You will learn mathematical battle strategies, philosophies . . ." The teacher rambled on, but all Gisbo heard was math. His absolute worst subject in the history of his schooling. Why? Why did there have to be math? He groaned under his breath and rolled his eyes, seeing Rolce grin again. How many times must his stomach lurch this morning? Good thing he never ate breakfast, making up for it with huge lunches and dinners, or else Rolce might be wearing it.

The remainder of the day consisted of the usual rules of the road for Perry's class and the handing out of several textbooks, about as thick as a log in some cases. The day finally ended as Gisbo and Rolce gathered all their books and began walking out into a now sunny afternoon, the light glistening on the icicles hanging from the rooftops. Gisbo sighed with relief that the first class was over. It was then Gisbo saw Rake exit the class by himself. He strutted off across the field alone as his two synergy mates came out, stared at him walking away and shook their heads.

"I'll never understand that guy and, ugh, damn it all!" Crass Bastio let out a wail of misery before continuing. "I'll never understand why I need to attend school for the second time! It was bad enough in Candia!" Crass wailed again as he dropped his heavy stack of books into the snow, followed by a string of curses. Gisbo was highly amused by this. FINALLY! Somebody he could complain with! Gisbo dropped down to his knees and helped the boy gather his books.

"Hey, let me help ya with those. Just be thankful you don't have a synergy mate that practically wets himself in excitement at every other word Perry had to say," Gisbo commented, without looking at Rolce. Gisbo expected to hear Rolce's voice in retort, but instead he heard another.

"The quest for knowledge is not something to degrade, Renega Gisbo," said Perry, who stood over him. Gisbo grimaced, afraid to turn around. He didn't have to because Perry walked round to stand before him. Boy, is he tall... was all Gisbo could think while on his knees in the snow.

"Should you continue from this moment with such an attitude, I can promise that no band from me will ever grace your arm. Are we clear, Renega Gisbo?" Perry asked in an emotionless tone.

"Yes, yes, sir." Gisbo stammered.

"And Renega Crass, books belong on a shelf, not in the snow. Do pick them up for, at 100 tarries a book, I'm sure you would not wish to replace them," Perry said.

"Why, yes, yes, sir," Crass stammered as well.

"Great insight today, Rolce, I look forward to spending this semester with you. 'Til the morrow, gentlemen," Perry said as he glided through the snow. Rolce looked at both Gisbo and Crass with a big grin.

"Wipe that smirk off," Gisbo said to Rolce with a snarl.

"Scary guy! As for you, pal, I'd shake your hand, but I don't feel like dropping these books again. One hundred tarries, can you believe that garbage? All for a diced up tree with ink on it! Gisbo, right?" Crass asked.

"Yeah, and this here is my mate Rolce Moordin, the excitable school boy," Gisbo said cocking his neck toward Rolce standing beside him, scowling once more at Gisbo's rude introduction. Crass laughed at this.

"Well, I'm Crass Bastio and this here is Whip Miley," Crass said, also cocking his neck backward to indicate Whip standing behind him. "You're the synergy with the missing member, aren't ya?" Crass said, a bit . . . crass, as they began to walk.

"Yeah, unfortunately. We're working on it though," Rolce said, not really knowing what else to say on the topic.

"Eh, I only ask because you guys aren't the only ones. That little bastard Rake up ahead has barely said two words to me and Whip the entire time we've lived with him. Well, I guess I shouldn't call him a bastard; I feel really bad about what happened with his dad and all, poor guy. Me and Whip actually tried being nice to him for a change," Crass said with a shrug as he nearly toppled his books over once more.

"My class master, Bastio, tells me some pretty bad times are ahead. Lokin's turn was a total shocker, plus Purah's death. He said if Purah could be killed that easily, then nobody's safe. Worst part is, we don't have a stinkin' clue what they are up to. I wish we could help in some way. Hey, random question, you guys into metal?" Crass asked out of the blue. Gisbo and Rolce both smiled at this.

"Um, as in the music?" Gisbo asked.

"Of course as in the music, dummy!" Crass said.

"Oh, well, yeah! Phoenix Force is good stuff," Gisbo said with a grin. Gisbo noticed that Whip grimaced at the name.

"No kiddin'? I like you guys already! Whip hates Phoenix Force unfortunately, says all their rifts sound the same. I say screw you, man! Stuff is fast, fast, fast! Love it! Supposedly they're around touring right now, they're all Renegades, ya know. They actually keep their Renegade outfits on stage when they tour. Everyone thinks it's part of the act, not really knowing they're the real deal. It's pretty awesome! You ever been to their concerts?" Crass asked. Gisbo and Rolce both shook their heads.

"Ah! Just you wait 'til they come back to Heaven's Shelter; I'll show you guys the meaning of head banging and mosh pits. You'll love it! I saw 'em play back in my hometown once," Crass said excitedly.

"You guys have fun with that. If you want REAL metal, listen to Megallalite. Phoenix Force uses too much essential energy to make their music and it always sounds the same. I know my music, trust me, and that stuff is terrible," Whip said in retort. Crass pursed his lips together in a grimace.

"You think just because you got super human hearing and stuff you know sooo much about music! Music all sounds the same to any eardrums, buddy! No matter how it is made!" Crass argued. It was then Gisbo noticed that Whip's headband was not over his forehead, but rather it was over his eyes!

"Hey um, are you, well, I mean, are you . . ." Gisbo stammered.

"Blind? No, I just hate my eye color," Whip said.

"Really?" Gisbo asked.

"You're a little slow on the uptake, eh guy? Yeah, I'm blind alright," Whip said.

"Well, sorry! I just, I dunno, it was an awkward thing to ask," Gisbo said, rubbing the back of his head.

"Don't worry about it, I get it all the time. Your next question was probably how do you fight if you can't see! Blah, blah, blah. Go ahead, take a swing, tough guy, at my face. Go ahead, do it, you won't," Whip said.

"WHAT? I ain't gonna hit a blind kid! Only thing worse is punching a baby or something," Gisbo said. Whip only smiled.

"Just do it, Whip loves this. Trust me, he'll be fine," Crass said.

"You sure? I mean," Gisbo stammered again.

"Just hit me, spazz! Or do you gotta get on all fours to do it? Come on, mutt, throw me one!" Whip goaded. Gisbo had heard enough, he lashed out with a swing that Whip ducked, leaving Gisbo hitting air.

"How'd you do that?" Gisbo asked with surprise.

"I got to admit, your swing is a lot faster than most, but it doesn't matter. As soon as I hear the air current change, I know when to step aside," Whip explained with a big smile.

"Amazing!" Rolce said.

"Quit lookin' at me like that, it's freaky," Whip said to Rolce.

"How do you know I'm . . ." Rolce started, until Gisbo interrupted him.

"Yeah, but how could you attack back?" Gisbo asked.

"Easy! My Boon of course. I call him Stewie. Well, he calls himself Stewie actually. Hey! I know! Don't tell me I didn't hear you right! Psh," Whip scolded the air.

"So you're a Naforian too? I didn't hear your Boon speak," Rolce wondered aloud.

"No, no, I'm an Aquarian. Beach type, water skeeting, all that good stuff. I can just tell when Stewie's giving me an attitude," Whip said as he lifted up the back of his cloak to reveal a sleeping fruit bat, hanging upside down from his uniform.

"But he's sleeping," Rolce argued.

"Bah! He pretends! But yeah, this little guy can fly around and screech in the direction I need to attack, along with a variety of other tricks. I'll show you sometime, so quit looking at me all weird like I'm handicapped. I'm actually better off than you, eyes only deceive you. I used to see once, saw all I needed to see before the accident. Now I can water skeet, or as I call it, skurfing, at night or day, don't matter. I got all the waves I wanted back home, no crowds! Was awesome! I look forward to visiting good old Aquaria again. You should see the ladies there! Boy! At some places, beach clothing is just an option. I remember a time when . . ." Whip continued only to be cut off by Crass.

"You done? Boy, do you just carry on sometimes, jeesh. As I was saying, you'll have to come with me next time Phoenix Force plays," Crass said.

"Sweet! Hey, you guys up for lunch? You ever have sushi?" Gisbo asked hopefully.

"Stuff tastes like watery gum," Crass said.

"Rather take a kick to my nuts," Whip added.

"No, you wouldn't!" Gisbo fired back.

"Try me," Whip said, opening his legs.

"Damn it..." Gisbo replied.

"It's all right, we'll just eat something else. Meet you guys back in the commons, gonna go drop off these stupid books. See you guys in a bit!" Crass said as both he and Whip waved and trekked off in the opposite direction towards their dwelling.

"That Whip guy was incredible, huh? I heard when people lose their sight their other senses strengthen by a huge margin, but I thought it was only a rumor; guess I was wrong. Imagine what he could do if he got those senses backed by elemental essence! Pretty cool guys though. I'm down for some soup, what about you?" Rolce asked as they arrived at their dorm and added their books to their giant shelf.

"I could go for some soup, its freakin' cold as hell outside," Gisbo said as he ruffled Fao behind the ears.

"You do know hell is supposed to be hot, not cold. You really NEED schooling. I don't see how you're gonna pass," Rolce gibed.

"Don't worry about me. I'm just gonna copy off you. It's how I got through school before and it will work again," Gisbo grinned rakishly. Rolce looked appalled by the notion.

"Oh no, you're not! It's completely unethical!" Rolce said with obvious offense.

"Bah! It's not unethical if you don't know what 'unethical' means! I'll revel in my ignorance, thank you very much!" Gisbo fired back.

"You're hopeless and you better be nice to me. I'll gladly help you, but you are doing your own work! Understand?" Rolce said, pointing again.

"Nope and point that thing somewhere else! Always with the pointing!" Gisbo said, whacking Rolce's accusing finger aside as he got a running start and jumped from the porch balcony into the deep snow below with a loud, "WAHOO!" Rolce just sighed as he ran to follow suit, smiling as he landed next to his best friend.

"Well, I know what we are doing when we are done with work today," Rolce beamed happily.

"Hell yeah! Come on, let's grab some food!" Gisbo said, patting his friend on the back as they went to meet Crass and Whip for lunch.

The boys went to Renegade Joe's Steakhouse for a good portion of sausage and spinach soup. It kept their bellies warm for the rest of the day as Gisbo and Rolce chatted with their new friends, then said their goodbyes and went to work at the mach shop. The shop was exceptionally busy today because people wanted the newest model of lightweight snow skeets and poles. Ernie, Dave and Shaved couldn't make them quick enough as Grandfield attended to all the customers needs and Rolce totaled up the orders at a rapid pace. Gisbo just shoveled snow, cleaned and shoveled more snow with grunts of displeasure.

The weeks went by uniformly as Gisbo and Rolce fell into yet another strict schedule of morning class, lunch, work, exercise, homework, then bed, only to get up and do it all over again. Gisbo at least got a break from homework every once in a while as he'd steal and copy Rolce's work when he fell asleep. It wasn't easy to pull off and a few times Harpie squawked in retort to wake Rolce. Only by slipping Harpie a few pieces of Falcon's marinated raw steak did Harpie oblige. Gisbo always ended up leaving a few problems wrong anyways, just to avoid suspicion. There was no way he could pull off perfect scores like Rolce did.

Gisbo found he really only needed to do this for "busy work" and always for math. He actually enjoyed learning about Thera's real history and especially the various views of the ancient philosophers and the authors of stories that they influenced. He was waiting in anticipation for a certain class in which Perry said he would tell of theories of how Thera came to be and before he knew it, there he was, seated in Perry's class as the wise instructor told the tale.

"The mystery of how our planet, as well as the universe, started has been debated for countless centuries with many different theories and beliefs surfacing. None of us know for sure and every man inherently asks himself at least once in his life: where did I come from? What is my purpose? Is there a purpose? Did I arrive here just to work, die and become dirt, or is there something more? Is it wrong to dream of a perfect life after we die? Or right to accept where we are and live for the now, knowing nothing else? Should we simply 'grow up,' disband the fairy tale notions and accept that truth, as harsh as it is? Or, the counter argument goes, shall we 'wake up' and realize there are forces at work beyond our understanding and know this isn't our true home? You have to understand that with philosophy, such questions often lead to more questions that become unanswerable, and there is a fine line between knowledge and insanity. Keep in mind also that the biggest book we as a people could ever write is the book of everything we DO NOT know. That should at least ease your mind," Perry said. Most of the class muttered "not really" in unison. Perry continued.

"Picture with me the sands on the beach. We as humans fully understand just maybe one kernel of sand. What we do not understand is the entire beach. The human brain is a very limited place and has a short time to learn only so much. For example, close your eyes and I will attempt to show you the limit of the mind. I will ask some questions and you will do all that is in your power to think of the answer when suddenly your mind will find it can't go further. Don't beat around the bush, don't answer a question with a question. Try to find a simple answer for a simple question. Now close your eyes and observe," Perry requested. The class did as they were told.

"Colors are a wonderful thing. I can say the word 'red' or 'blue' and you can immediately picture it in your head, the things that concord with it, except, of course, for the blind or colorblind. Anyhow, you all know the color schemes of a rainbow and new colors can be formed by mixing them with other existing colors, so I want you to do this for me: imagine a color, a brand new color, in your mind to add to this rainbow without mixing any of the colors you know, including black and white. Black and white aren't necessarily colors, but can certainly alter colors. I will immediately pass anybody who can," Peary teased with a smile, watching his students struggle to picture something. Gisbo promptly gave up and opened his eyes, for it made his brain hurt. Rolce tried for a bit longer and opened his eyes in surrender as well.

"Now I want you to envision with me what 'nothing' looks like in your brain. Close your eyes and do so, then tell me what you see," Perry said as Kennis raised her hand.

"I see blackness; that's what nothing is," Knob said aloud. Perry smiled.

"Ah, but that cannot be true; blackness is something. But one can also argue that if you give something a name, does it necessarily make it something? If you call it 'nameless,' isn't that still a name? If you picture 'nothing,' are you still picturing something in place of nothing? I could go on and on and you can give up now if you like. I know of a man who caused his brain to erupt, dwelling on such thoughts for days. Well, just kidding, but seriously, he did," Perry said, causing Gisbo to grab his head.

"Oh, don't worry, you'll be fine. What I'm trying to help you understand is that our minds our indeed limited, but why? Our biggest flaw as humans is our desire to become gods without the means to do so. We can imagine a better life, imagine what perfection may be because we make mistakes and therefore know the opposite of a mistake. But alas, we fail, day after day. Is this because a creator purposely made us reach a limit? Or simply that we just haven't evolved fully to our potential yet? Either way, it's time for more questions. For something to appear, does there have to be 'nothing' before it? How did Thera get here? How did we get here as humans? One theory, backed by much scientific research, proposes that the elemental stones contained all the requirements of life and they birthed us into existence from a variety of sources and we evolved from the smallest of microorganisms over billions of years to what we are today. Life is simply a great accident, nothing more and nothing less, and somehow intelligent life came to be spontaneously. It certainly offers much to think about and several recent discoveries add much credibility to such a theory. This is the theory that Karm embraces," Perry stated.

"But a handy question to ask is where did the stones come from? Did proteins and organisms make the stones and if so, where did those come from as well? Where was the start to it all? Things can't be birthed from nothing, there had to be a beginning, a source and center and start to these ingredients. Were atoms, the building blocks of life, always here and one day, on a whim, just decided to form proteins and organisms that would eventually start intelligent life? Not only that, the atom in itself, following scientific law, isn't even supposed to be allowed to exist! Positively charged electrons as well as negatively charged circulate the atom and somehow they do not repel each other. How can this be? What holds the atom, which in turn holds everything together?" Perry asked with a grin, enjoying the stupefied expressions on his student's faces.

"To stretch this a little bit further, ummm, Rolce, why don't you come up to the front of the class for a moment," Perry said, Rolce obeyed as he stood next to his teacher.

"Good, good. Now, I want you to slam your fist, not too hard of course, against my desk," Perry said. Rolce did as he was told and he slammed his fist against the wooden desk, then returned it to his side.

"Very good, now what happened?" Perry asked.

"Not much of anything," Rolce answered.

"Exactly! To our eyes, nothing, but something did indeed happen. Your fist, as your entire body to your bones, to your blood, to your brain tissue, are all made up of atoms. This wooden desk is all made up of atoms as well. Now, when you slammed your atoms against the atoms of the wooden desk somehow, they repelled each other. Fascinating, isn't it? Now, as your brains are thinking, let's think about how your brains are even thinking. Oh, and you may return to your seat, Rolce. Thank you," Perry said. Rolce obeyed once again.

"As I just told Rolce, your very brains are made up of atoms as well. How is it that simple brain tissue can emit a thought? Are the atoms telling you what to think also? If we combined brain tissue with this desk, will it think also? What about your personality? Do atoms make up those as well? Something tells me it can't be possible. So why is it that we can even utter a thought? Is there something else inside us that we cannot see or comprehend that makes us, well, us? Why do we think? Why do we all think differently if we are made up of the same substance at the core? Many nowadays try to answer the question of 'how' something came to be rather than "why" something came to be and to ask such questions of what came before must be done beyond the realms of the scientific method. Which is why, my friends, philosophy is our friend and one of the best tools to find meaning within ourselves and the world around us - as long as we all stay sane and away from extremes, of course, for we cannot possibly know all the answers until it is our turn to die. However, should there be nothing after this life, we won't ever know it," Perry said with a smile, as he paced around the room, taking time to look into the eyes of every student in his class as he spoke.

"Just know that whatever you choose to believe, do not ever break from the quest for truth, no matter how grim it may be. Never stay ignorant for the sake of comfort alone. As a great writer once said, 'If you seek truth, you may find comfort in the end, but should you seek comfort alone, you will find neither truth nor comfort.' So let us return to the debate and the dangers that are fast approaching with it," Perry said as he lifted his head up in a grin, clearly enjoying himself.

"A great danger is approaching at an accelerated rate within Karm's realm and, as I mentioned earlier, Karm is doing all he can to demand that science produce absolute, factual law without philosophy to aid it. Therefore, these extremists still believe in an all-knowing entity; they just call it science instead of a God. On the counter argument, others believe entirely in a God, constantly ignoring the intelligence science has to offer, remaining absolutely ignorant, closed-minded and selfish to the world around them. They would rather force people to believe in IAM than let them decide for themselves. The Strifes stand very firmly in this category. It is pathetic. It does not have to be one or the other, Black or White, Strife or Renegade, God or Science. We as Renegades need to maintain the middle ground, pulling the best things from both sides and discarding the extremes to better ourselves and those around us. Extremes are a very dangerous and unstable position, for opinions need not be on a seesaw. I can attempt to show you what I know, but in the end it is you who will have to decide and who is to say I have it right?" Perry said rather clearly. Gisbo got an odd déjà vu of Falcon's earlier lecture. It seemed to sink in much better hearing it twice.

Maybe it was his authoritative voice or perhaps it was the content; either way Gisbo listened and applied what he learned. He found his brain did not hurt as badly upon this explanation, even though all it did was introduce new questions, as Perry had promised it would.

"I'm sure you all have heard this story as children, but I believe it begs repetition for clarity. As the story goes, there was but one all powerful entity in this universe. No one really knows what this being's name was or even if it was a being at all. It was just there, existing outside of reality itself, which begs the question once again. How could there be something without nothing? Possibly this rule applies only to this universe. If this force or being existed beyond it, the rule wouldn't apply. No one knows for sure. To many, this is just a story, but to many more, it's fact. Anyhow, most speak of this force as the 'Nameless one.' The universe was null and void; absolute nothingness. All that existed was this nameless one who I believed existed outside our very own reality until he created what we know. Because of this, his creations, the two deities, are bound by set laws as well as you will see. The nameless one birthed into existence two dieties known as the brothers, called IAM and Appolyon. It is here that the story is somewhat lost to us, but the nameless one, who the brothers called 'Father,' revealed to his sons that they were each given all the power that he himself had, other than the power to overthrow him or create other dieties. He told his sons he was off to create new realms with new worlds to fill the nothingness with life and beauty. He told his sons that they would be each in charge of a realm all their own and ordered that they should use their power to bring about the gift of life as they were in turn given and that one day he would return to them and reward the one whose creation best reflected beauty. So the brothers parted ways and began to enact their creations. What comes as follows is an account passed down through the generations of the creation of our planet, Thera. We do not understand much of Appolyon's creation in the alternate realm from us as for the sheer fact none of us have ever been to the Reath and those that reside there now, well, we do not wish to hear their opinions. As we know, IAM's first creation was a heavenly host of helpers known as Seraphs, winged spirits and absolute warrior servants. IAM then created the four elemental stars, each glowing their own color. He created water first, which pulsated a translucent blue color. In turn, IAM put forth his power through the star and concentrated water into a gigantic sphere, then filled the waters with every form of aquatic creature imaginable.

"IAM then created the elemental star known as air that glowed a yellow color. IAM put forth his power through the star, creating the substance for all life and sealing the water in a layer of ozone. When water and air combined, they brought forth thunder and lightning to replenish the ozone and formed all flying beasts of the air.

"IAM then created the elemental star known as earth, which pulsated a green color. In turn, IAM put forth his power through the star and formed masses of land to encompass the sphere of water. With this, all the beasts of the land were formed to occupy the landmasses. When earth and water combined, all plant life came to root, covering the brown terrain in a sea of green allowing for the creation of the amphibious creatures. IAM looked on all that he created and saw that it was good.

"IAM then created the final elemental star known as fire and it glowed red. IAM put forth his power into the star and with it the sun and moon were formed, giving birth to night and day; the sun for the day and the moon for the night as Thera rotated on an axis. It was then that two, and only two, creatures of fire were created: a large bird of fire and a scaly winged lizard. Both dwelled in the planet in unknown places, constantly bickering and fighting one another throughout time.

"Lastly, IAM put forth his power into all the elemental stars at once and their powers together created human life in IAM's own image to give reign over the beasts, the skies, the waters, the lands and each other. It was then that IAM advised his Seraphs to look after the humans, giving each human a Seraph to watch over him or her for as long as he or she lived. IAM looked down upon all that he created, saw that it was good and rested.

"It was during this time that Appolyon traveled from his realm over to his brother's to investigate the odd new presence he felt and when he arrived, he witnessed all that his brother had created was far superior to anything of his own. In his rage, Appolyon lashed out upon the elemental stars, destroying them as the remains crashed to the planet Thera below. Appolyon then called to his aid multitudes of his own followers known as Maras, frightening looking creatures, and began to invade upon IAM's unprotected creation.

"It was then IAM awoke and, with his Seraphs, fought his brother to a standstill. In a last ditch effort to protect the creation he loved, IAM put forth all his power to conjure a barrier so powerful it would forever bar his brother from entering Thera again. The barrier indeed worked, but at a price, for IAM's barrier barred himself from the planet as well. To this day, Serephs and Maras fight the brother's unseen war for the souls of humankind and the possession of Thera.

"As you all probably have reasoned, this is where we believe the elemental stones have come from. They are nothing more then broken pieces of the elemental stars of IAM. Your race was determined the day your great-great-great-great-great grandfather or grandmother picked up their first and only stone and absorbed it's power, giving birth to their elemental essence that has been passed down to you generations later. With that said . . . have a nice day!" Perry dismissed the class with a rather friendly smile, but they lingered, grounded for a moment, letting their brains register all that Perry had said before slowly getting up out of their chairs and making their way outside to fresh snowflakes falling from the sky.

"My brain hurts," Gisbo said, rather puzzled by Perry's tale.

"Quite enlightening, nonetheless. I live for such dialogue," Rolce said with a smile.

"You would, but that last story was quite a stretch, don't you think? Seraphs? Maras? Please. At least we can see science. Not believing in a God can be liberating too. So many people do it and find happiness, you know," Gisbo said.

"In a way I can understand what you are getting at, but I still stand by my initial argument long ago when I last talked to you of the subject," Rolce asserted calmly as he and Gisbo walked across the open snowy field.

"Still though, the story is pretty outrageous. It makes life far too simple when it really isn't. I've never been one for reason, ever, but come on, that had to be a total fairy tale and I happen to like them," Gisbo complained rather bleakly.

"Once again, it's all a matter of opinion. Only closed-minded thinkers choose one side while insulting the other. Plus, they really limit themselves on knowledge in general or, if it isn't knowledge, a very fascinating story," Rolce said. Gisbo frowned.

"I knew you'd say something like that. It's still outrageous," Gisbo whined.

"You must understand that to understand a subject as broad as the start to life, one must think outrageously. Maybe all these fairy tales are just an echo of one huge, real story. Now that would be something if not a bit outrageous. Just not as outrageous as the concept of Man-Angel is all," Rolce said with a smile.

"Ok, now you've crossed the line, pal. No more talking for you!" Gisbo muttered.

_Chapter 16:_ The Final Exam

Perry was quite vague about how difficult his class would be...at least Gisbo thought so. If it weren't for Rolce, Gisbo would have never had made it thus far.

There were a few things Gisbo was fine at of course, such as learning the historical records of the ancient Elekai' warriors and writing book reports, but this was all right brain work. The left brain work featuring battle formations, physics and all sorts of other technical things made Gisbo's head spin. He was absolutely hopeless when it came to such things and immensely thankful for Rolce's help, not to mention the homework he was able to copy. But all in all, Perry's class was the only class Gisbo had ever even slightly enjoyed, aside from all the boring facts and figures.

As the end of their time with Perry was approaching, the brilliant teacher began to ask the class if there was anything else they would like to know. For the first time in his life, Gisbo found himself raising his hand.

"What can you tell us about Drakearon?" Gisbo asked the stunned Instructor Perry. Whether it was due to the large amount of subject matter that had to be covered or whether it was simply a touchy subject, Perry had glossed over the Great Veil War and focused more on ancient history. Gisbo and Rolce had been wondering about it ever since their conversation with Falcon and Purah.

"Well . . . " he paused for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. "As I mentioned before, Drakearon started the democratic uprising in Flaria and rose to power. From there, he and his followers continued on to Naforia in the hopes of conquering and uniting the world, but long before he could carry out his plans, Drakearon was defeated by Vadid the Valiant."

"But didn't he have some kind of special power?" Rolce interrupted. Perry had not mentioned it to them in class, so he peered cautiously at Rolce, wondering how much he knew, questioning whether he should answer.

"Yes, he did. It is well known that Drakearon massacred many Flarians who stood in the way of his rise to power, but in doing so he somehow absorbed their powers for himself. Many believe that he made a deal with the Dragon, the other immortal entity opposite the Phoenix, that enabled him to do this. During this same period, Drakearon discovered that he could also . . ." Perry hesitated, with a concerned look. " . . . share his blood with another, giving birth to a new power. Through these transfusions, he created strong, addicted servants and, for the first time on Thera, a new evil, a true evil was born. It became known from that day as the Drakeness."

"But, that sounds awful! Who in their right minds would want to become a slave to Drakearon, let alone anyone? Also, it doesn't fit. Why would Drakeron want help in his quest to topple Vadid if he could do it himself?" Rolce asked.

"A good question and one that is easily answered. You see, his dreams of becoming warlord weren't enough to keep him satisfied and if you would allow me to pause for a moment, I believe I have given you an inaccurate mental image of this wicked man. We call what he was evil nowadays and the wise back then saw him as evil too, but evil, in and of itself, is not stupid. Rarely does it take the form of something hideous or disgusting. On the contrary, evil is usually tantalizing, even beautiful," Perry continued. The class was silent while they pondered this thought.

"You probably visualize Drakearon as some hideously ugly dark king, but your imaginations couldn't be more wrong. I knew him back then. Visualize to yourself what the most beautiful angelic being would look like and you will have a better picture of Drakearon, only it would be diminished by actually seeing the man in person.

"He was well-liked, passionate, gentle, with flowing blonde hair that cascaded down his back and women seemed to flock to his side from his sheer beauty, so much so that the title of 'god' was often dropped about him, and he began to take it to heart. He even began wearing a mask over his face in his later days, not to protect it, no; he was so full of vanity that he felt the mere mortals around him were not privileged enough to gaze upon him. Becoming a god became his obsession and how could one be a god without worshipers? So Drakearon surrounded himself with the weak and easily manipulated. Even I was deceived, until I saw him for what he truly was . . . a tyrant with violence in his heart, using false promises of peace and equality to conquer a foolish world," Perry finished. He peered at the bewildered looks on the young Renegas' faces, realizing he had gotten caught up in his story, a story they were not meant to hear yet.

"Psh, guy sounds like a fairy ass if you ask me," Gisbo said, crossing his arms, and breaking the tension as some of the class erupted into laughter while others shot disapproving looks. Perry sighed.

"And this is why nobody is asking you, Renega Gisbo," Perry said, to which much laughter followed.

Before the Renegas knew it, Perry's final exam was upon them and Gisbo did not know how on Thera he was going to pass it. However, one morning a small glimmer of hope appeared on the horizon, when Perry made a shocking announcement that there may or may not be a final exam.

"Now don't get too excited. 'May' is a very open response. All of you may be taking it and none of you may be taking it. Everything depends on your synergies and your ability to apply all that you have learned from this class in a hands-on situation. I understand completely that there are some who relish in the fact of me blabbing and take notes with fervor. I also understand that there are those hands-on learners who'd rather DO what I say. For you, and you know who you are, now will be your chance. I have arranged a sort of . . . physical test. Should you pass, you will have no need to prove yourself to me on the written exam and you will receive your second notch. The rules are actually quite simple and we will begin momentarily," Perry said with a rare smile.

"As in, right now?" Crass asked.

"Yes, Crass, that is what momentarily means. Now, I wonder if any of you noticed why there were hardly any Renegades attending to their shops this morning on your way here? That is because they too are participating in this little event. Well, to be more honest, they're trying to prevent you from passing!" Perry said, with another smile of anticipation.

"So let's get down to business, shall we? I will give each of your synergies a rolled piece of paper containing a message. Your job will be to escort this message to Cheiftain Narroway himself. Should you deliver it successfully to our chieftain, you will pass," Perry said.

"Yeah right, there's got to be a catch to all this," Knob said to nobody in particular.

"Oh, but of course, Renega Knob. Nearly every Renegade and Renegara have hidden themselves across the grounds of Heaven's Shelter. They will be allowed to use 'full attributes,' meaning they WILL be allowed to use Elekai' on you, as well as any other tactics, to try and stop you from completing your mission." The eyes of every Renega expanded upon hearing full attributes. As Perry continued, they hung on his every word.

"There is one rule to all of this and that is of course, no lethal force. This is, after all, a training exercise. Other than that, anything else is allowed. I am sure there are many Renegaras out there who would love to inflict as much pain as possible on you lot, so I'd especially try not to run into any of them. Should you and your synergy get caught, you will be bound and escorted away until the game comes to an end," Perry said. All Gisbo could picture was Ranto. He and Rolce had the smallest synergy after all and Ranto had a funny way of weighing contests in his favor. No doubt the chieftain's son would come looking for them first.

"Wait now, there is one other thing I forgot to mention, although if you were caught it would be evident. Should any Renegade or Renegara read your message, the game is instantly over for you. You must keep that message safe above all else and deliver it into Narroway's hands; it is destined for his and your eyes only. All the grounds will be open for you to try to transport the message to him and you may use any means necessary to try to make your delivery, whether it be brute force, stealth or pure wit; it is up to you. Narroway will be waiting in his room in the top of the tower behind Vadid's statue. As soon as I distribute these parchments, the game will begin," Perry said. The Renegas thoughts raced, pondering the best course of action.

"Remember, when you walk out that door, you will not be entering Heaven's Shelter. The familiar place you know and love is gone, replaced with an enemy territory. You will work within your synergies only; talking must cease when the parchments are in your hands. Whichever synergies successfully deliver their message will immediately receive their bands and be allowed to skip their finals. Apply ALL that you have learned from me, as well as Roarie. Come and receive your messages and good luck to you all!" Perry exclaimed as one by one, each synergy walked up to receive their scrolls.

Gisbo and Rolce were the last to hold their scroll in their hands, the only synergy left in the room. Gisbo didn't quite know what to do with himself. He wasn't one for planning things out ahead of time. He waited to see what course of action Rolce would take as his friend opened their note, read it to himself and winced in concentration.

"So, what is that genius brain of yours cooking up? Rolce, you realize what this means if we get it to the chieftain right? We don't have to take our stupid exams!" Gisbo yelled, only to cringe as he saw Perry glare at him.

"I was actually looking forward to the exams . . ." Rolce said. Gisbo's face contorted in exasperation as he grabbed Rolce by the collar and pulled his face into his own, whispering so Perry wouldn't hear him.

"Don't say that! Don't say it again. Please, Rolce. You're my only hope of getting this band. If we don't make it to Narroway, I'm a goner. This exam is cumulative! I'd have to remember everything! I'm lucky if I remember to put my pants on in the morning! Damn it, Rolce, how am I supposed to remember everything from an entire term? Do you know what finals stand for, Rolce? Do you?" Gisbo said as he began explaining each letter.

"Freakin A! I Never Actually Learned this Sh..." Gisbo trailed off as he felt Perry's eyes on him. "But yeah, you get the idea. Please Rolce, we have to win, please! Please! Please!" Gisbo begged. Rolce just smiled.

"Hm ok, what's the plan then?" Rolce asked, clearly enjoying Gisbo's torment.

"I say, hmm, oh! I know! We break into a run, as fast as we can, beat up everyone in our path, get to the tower and we win!" Gisbo said with an excited smile.

"That brain of yours is simply amazing, you know that?" Rolce said, shaking his head in disbelief at Gisbo's doltish answer until his pal burst out in a fresh flood of begging, "Please, please, PLEASE" rising in volume until Rolce finally stopped him.

"Ok! Ok! Take it easy! I had no intention of blowing this. I've formulated a plan, but I can't tell you. You just have to do everything I say, all right? I don't want you screwing anything up," Rolce said, pointing his finger at a beaming Gisbo.

"You got it! Anything!" Gisbo said with a toothy grin.

"Good. Now I want you to sit over there and don't do anything for a little while. Can you handle that?" Rolce asked. Gisbo muttered something rude under his breath as he went and sat himself down. Rolce extracted a writing utensil, grabbed another piece of paper, cracked his knuckles and went to work.

Gisbo sat, bored stiff, as he watched Rolce go about his writing. Just when Gisbo was about to nod off, Rolce finished, wearing a confident smile.

"Done, now follow me!" Rolce said as he breezed out of the schoolhouse with Gisbo trotting behind.

Outside, everything seemed ominously quiet. Perry was right, this no longer felt like Heaven's Shelter. Both boys noticed tracks in the thin blanket of snow that went left, right, and straight, showing the different paths each synergy took.

"Okay, there are a couple ways to do this. I would rather go the route of not getting caught; makes it easier, so I say we take the stealth route for now. Also, since we waited for everyone to leave first, we can follow their tracks and take notice of any signs of a scuffle, changing routes at the first sign of danger. If only I could summon Harpie! She could fly overhead and scout the area for us. Ah well," Rolce sighed. "Ready?" Rolce said. Gisbo nodded.

"Good, but first we need to do something," Rolce said as he reached into his pocket for the scroll and quickly tore the message into bits until it wasn't readable anymore. Gisbo's mouth fell open.

"Are you nuts?! What did you do that for?" he demanded. Rolce smiled knowingly.

"Just trust me. Come on, let's go this way. We'll have better luck in the woods," Rolce said as he strode off down the left path to find shelter.

The boys crawled on their bellies, lifting arm over arm and pushing themselves forward with their feet through some thick bushes. They were doing quite well for themselves, following alongside footprints to the left of them, and didn't come across any signs of struggle, until they heard a commotion nearby.

"Let me go! You can't!" Grandfield's voice subsided in muffled grunts as he was gagged. Gisbo and Rolce spread aside the bush and saw Grandfield, Shaved and Knob all tightly bound. Gamba and his synergy stood over them, laughing together at their captives.

"How do they expect us to get this message to Narroway against people using Elekai'? It's impossible!" Knob screamed with rage before he too was gagged by one of Gamba's friends. Gisbo and Rolce looked at each other in the bush.

"One synergy down. Can we help them?" Gisbo asked.

"Unfortunately no. See, Gamba is already holding their message, that's game over for them. Besides, Knob was right. We can't go up against somebody using Elekai'," Rolce said with a smirk that added, "I know something you don't know." Gisbo hated it. The boys watched as Gamba and his crew dragged their captives away and silence fell over the snowy landscape once more.

They continued along their course at a decent pace until both boys were severely drenched and their knees and elbows were beginning to blister from chafing against their wet, icy clothes. They found shelter together in another bush and decided to take a brief break.

"This better be worth it, Rolce, I'm trusting you with my life here," Gisbo said through tired breaths.

"Oh believe me, we are absolutely fine. I've planned for everything," Rolce boasted, only to hear an unexpected voice ring out from above.

"Oh have you now?" Ernie said, as the boys froze at the sight of their bosses sitting in the tree above them, drinking steaming cups of coffee, clearly enjoying themselves. Gisbo and Rolce flashed sheepish grins as Dave and Ernie dropped from their tree. Gisbo couldn't imagine how two old farts like them had even managed to climb up there in the first place.

"Your message, please, we'd hate to stun two of our favorite employees now," Dave said, outstretching a huge hand, beckoning with his fingers. Rolce simply smiled, reached into one of his pockets, and pulled out the other piece of paper he had been writing on in the schoolhouse. He thrust it forward. Ernie and Dave both opened the message and their smiles subsided into frowns.

"What do you call this?" Dave asked, eyeing Rolce suspiciously.

"It is our message of course," Rolce answered. Dave's blue eyes twinkled with pride.

"Well, I'll be a monkey's pappy! Glad to have such a smart employee crunching numbers for us at the shop. Well, since we can't read it, then I guess we never saw it, eh? Well done, boys. Now go get this to Narroway. Renegades will admire your cleverness, but those Renegaras won't. There's a slew of them just up ahead so you better head north, directly toward the tower. Don't worry, the commons are empty. Nobody expected a straight on approach," Dave said. Gisbo sighed.

"See! My idea was great! Can I hold the message?" Gisbo asked.

"No," Rolce ordered. Dave and Ernie gave them both encouraging grins and handed Rolce back the parchment.

Dave and Ernie waved goodbye and proceeded to search for another tree to sit comfortably in. Gisbo was more confused than ever as he raised his voice to ask what had transpired. Rolce only waved his hand and shook his head, motioning for Gisbo to follow him.

The boys managed to snake their way forward through the bushes once again, until they spotted the commons. Rolce grinned in glee to find it deserted, with the front door of the tower in plain view. Gisbo playfully punched Rolce's bicep, he was so pleased at their good fortune.

"You want to make a break for it?" Gisbo asked. Rolce nodded. They were gearing up to sprint when they heard a loud WHOOSH behind them. They spun around in concern, desperately wishing to see anyone but Ranto. Tough luck. His big frame loomed over them, flashing a fist covered in spiked brass knuckles, aglow in fiery red.

"How goes it, kids?" Ranto taunted with an ironic wink.

"Up yours!" Gisbo snarled. In a flash he was on his feet, rearing back for a punch despite Rolce's warning. Gisbo's swing flew true, hitting Ranto right in the face. He thought he might come out on top until something felt terribly wrong. Suddenly, his entire body was wracked with pain and, before he could register what was happening, he shot backward. Gisbo's body hit the snow like a plow, leaving a long trail of green grass in the wake of his painful slide. He grabbed his fist, screeched like a wild animal as his knuckles pulsated, glowing red for a few moments, then quickly turned to four neat bruises. Ranto shook his head in disbelief.

"Idiot! Please explain to him what just happened, Rolce. I don't have the patience for it," Ranto scowled in absolute disgust at Gisbo's stupidity.

"Gisbo, I tried to warn you! Don't you remember what Perry said? If you strike against somebody whose essence is fully powered and yours isn't, the physical damage is instantly rebounded back on you. We won't be able to hurt him as long as his essence is powered up," Rolce admonished with a defeated sigh.

"That's more like it." Ranto said. Gisbo rose to his shaky feet, cracked several joints and dusted himself off.

"Well, good to know I hit pretty hard at least," Gisbo said aloud, not at all phased.

"You're pathetic," Ranto chimed in, rolling his eyes.

"Oh yeah? Well this pathetic guy right here creamed you in the eating contest on his first day here an' embarrassed you in front of all your Renegara buddies! You've been sore ever since!" Gisbo shouted back. Ranto closed his eyes and chuckled before replying.

"Absolutely meaningless, I really don't understand why people get so down about losing in sports or competitions like eating for example. Sure it's fun, sure it feels great to 'taste' victory, but in the end none of those things matter. You face opponents to find out two simple things: your worth and who is better," Ranto said, taking a pause to enjoy Gisbo's growing rage.

"Take clash for instance. I know many who live their lives by it. They call it a passion and for what? Little do they realize that it doesn't matter how many points you score, all it means is you are good at scoring points in a silly game, that is all. When it comes right down to it, the best can only be determined by how well one fights. One body against another, spilling themselves in glorious conflict using Elekai', reflexes, strategy, strength, speed; all that you are against all that somebody else is. A straight-out fight to the point of unconsciousness or death determines outright who is better. Nothing else. You may have beaten me in a silly eating competition, Gizzy, but don't you see now? It doesn't matter! In the grand scheme of things, you are nothing and the day you learn Elekai' you will be just that, nothing. That is why I'm going to let you go win your silly game, for that's all it is. Go ahead, no tricks," Ranto challenged as he pointed to the door. Gisbo stood staring at Ranto with unmitigated hatred.

"Ya? Well in that case, let's cut to the chase. Take those stupid knuckles off and fight like real men do," Gisbo challenged.

"You mean fight like uncivilized, unintelligent people do? Please, I'm practically a Renegade prince. Elekai' is a part of every one us, as close and useful as an arm or a leg. You want me to just throw all that away and come down to the level of brainlessly throwing fists? Come down from the dinner table, get on all fours, and fight the begging mutt? Never! As I said before, Gizzy, I want worthy competition. Now we both know you have no chance of passing Perry's exam, so I want you to go win your contest for one reason," Ranto said, a slight smirk stretching across his face. "When you get your band, I want you to always look down at your arm knowing full well, for the rest of your life, that you wouldn't be a Renegara if it weren't for me,"

Ranto said, his smirk turning into an evil smile. Gisbo shook with utter fury, unable to think of anything to say. Ranto laughed.

"Brain not working again? Such a waste; you want to hit me so badly I can taste your animosity in the air. Don't worry yourself, kid, I may like having worthy foes, but I also love crushing the weak. I'll be back for you, Gisbo. Do train hard . . ." Ranto said with glee as he turned and walked away without looking back.

"Don't listen to him. He may say it didn't matter to him, but you embarrassed him. He's obviously still sore about it," Rolce reasoned, trying to calm his friend.

"He's obviously a giant nut sack that needs kicking . . ." Gisbo said, staring off into the distance.

"Well, maybe a little of that too," Rolce admitted.

"I swear to IAM, as soon as I learn Elekai', I'm gonna' kill that kid. I don't care if he is Narroway's son! Lets see how smooth princey boy talks when he's swallowing his own teeth," Gisbo raged as he punched a nearby tree, not even caring that he split open his damaged knuckles.

"Control yourself, his time will come. Now let's go pass your exams!" Rolce encouraged with a friendly smile. This, at least, caused Gisbo to wipe the scowl off his face. They made their way in a sprint to the tower entrance. Luckily no one else saw them.

"Why so quiet?" Gisbo wondered.

"Nobody expected a Renega to make it this far. Everyone who uses Elekai' is practically invincible to those who can't use it, like us. This is why Perry said we need to use ALL that we learned. Don't worry, I'll explain inside, but what do we do with this door? There's no handle to open it," Rolce asked. Gisbo smiled.

"Well, at least I'm good for something! I've been here before. How funny, with all that planning, Rolce, and in the end you need me to open the door. Why don't you say please, huh?" Gisbo taunted.

"Fine, don't open it. I can pass the exam and get mine later. Your choice, I mean..." Rolce said, folding his arms. Gisbo's eyes turned the size of saucers.

"CHIEFTAIN NARROWAYS DOMAIN!" Gisbo interrupted, cupping both hands to his mouth in a scream. The black doors swung open and Gisbo and Rolce entered the elevator. Just as before, it lurched in every direction and shot much higher than Purah's office. Finally, the doors opened, showing a surprised Chieftain Narroway seated at his desk. The place was absolutely huge, with broad, tinted windows encircling the room, so all of Heaven's Shelter could be viewed. Narroway jumped from his chair as he quickly shuffled the boys out of the elevator.

"Well done, my boys! Welcome! Welcome! Please say you have the message and this isn't just a friendly visit?" Narroway said excitedly. Rolce fished out the message and handed it to Narroway, whose smile increased ten fold before he broke out in a loud guffaw.

"Oh, you two amaze me! Simply brilliant. Come now, sit down, talk me through your procedures and make yourself at home! Don't feel bashful, sit anywhere you wish! My father's office is your office!" Narroway said as Gisbo and Rolce grabbed some chairs by the fireplace.

"This was Vadid's office?" Gisbo asked as he surveyed the room, especially impressed by the view.

"Yup, I left it just as it was from the day he, well, disappeared," Narroway said, a little saddened, but he quickly changed his tone. "Never mind all that! Tell me everything!" Narroway said, looking at Gisbo.

"Well, I knew how the elevator worked. You'll want to talk to this guy," Gisbo said, cocking a thumb in Rolce's direction. Narroway quickly shifted his attention.

"Thanks. All I did was put everything I learned into perspective. First thing I thought of, as I was telling Gisbo earlier, was that there was no way we were going to get past an area filled with people who knew Elekai'. It was literally impossible and that was the point of it all. On top of that, we had to deliver a message that couldn't be read by the enemy. If it were read, we'd be eliminated. The message itself was way too long to be memorized in such a short amount of time, even by me," Rolce said as he paused to take in Narroway's interested, yet proud face.

"Go on, my boy." Narroway said with glee. Rolce, beaming, continued.

"So, the only option would be to encode the message, letter by letter. If we were caught, our captors wouldn't be able to read the message or figure out the coding. If someone caught us, all they would see were a series of numbers and letters that only I knew the meaning to. A total of twenty six, one for each letter of the alphabet, all designed in a way that I could recognize every letter and change it when need be. As an example, for the letter "B" I drew two circles together, horizontally, so they would remind me of binoculars or . . ." Rolce started.

"Boobs?" Gisbo interrupted. Narroway was trying not to chuckle, but Rolce didn't notice, being deep in his explanation.

" . . . an altered form of the letter. No need for memory, just impulse. If this were a real combat mission, they probably could have figured out the coding given enough time as it is quite simple. And if they couldn't, well, I'd probably be tortured to spit out the key. But this was a training exercise and nobody would resort to such cruelty among friends."

"Very good, Rolce." Narroway praised.

"Thank you, sir. I also knew we wouldn't have problems with Renegades finding us, they'd simply laugh and go on to find others; it was the Renegaras that worried me and were the only real threat. Just to spite us, they could have tied us up for the remainder of the time limit, not allowing us to win due to their rivalry with us. The only logical thing to do was encode the original message on new paper, destroy the original, and snake our way through stealthily to our destination, where I would decode the message for you on the spot. Still, it was good that Gisbo knew how to work the elevator. All would have been lost if we couldn't get to your office," Rolce finished, winking at his friend. Narroway stood up and slowly clapped his hands.

"Well done, my boy, Moordin and Falcon will be so proud when they hear the news! I was hoping you'd make it through. Perry informed me that only you two stayed behind and simply assumed what you were up to. He will be quite impressed to know two of his students made it to me. I'll go send for him immediately, but first you need to recite the message to me, Rolce," Narroway said. Rolce proceeded to unravel his message and requested a new sheet of paper, which Narroway gladly provided. In no time at all, it was complete and thrust to Narroway, who read it front and back. When he was satisfied, the chieftain nodded his approval.

"I hope you know the both of you cannot share the secret of what you did to anyone else. Otherwise, how will we be able to have a challenge for next year? I'm sure there are other ways of completing this task, so we will have to see what others come up with in the future! " Narroway said and the boys agreed. It was then Perry arrived on the scene, followed close behind by Falcon and Moordin. They all gathered round to watch as Perry made his way forward, staff in hand, to face his two young students.

"Well done, gentlemen. You should know that in all my years of teaching, I have never once passed anyone early. Using reasoning, judgment of your surroundings, foresight into your enemy, and proper battle formation, you went about your mission brilliantly. In this exercise, you have displayed nearly everything I have taught you and applied it to a real life situation. Times like these truly make an instructor proud. Now put out your arm, Rolce, you have earned one of the instructor's bands and in doing so, have shown yourself to be one of the brightest students I have taught in a long while. You have earned this special mark," Perry said as he powered up his essence and branded Rolce's second band upon his skin across his bicep. Rolce stared at it proudly as Moordin gave him a rare wink. Perry then turned his attention to Gisbo, before turning back to look at Falcon.

"This one belongs to you, I take it?" Perry asked. Falcon chuckled.

"More or less," Falcon answered and Perry diverted his eyes back to Gisbo.

"Something never sat right with me the moment you entered my class, son. I should have known why with this class master over you," Perry said. "I always pondered how your reasonably acceptable homework never bore fruit in class discussions. I could never prove it of course; for that you're lucky. Nonetheless, you have passed my class, if by nothing more than a massive stroke of luck. Looks like none of us will ever really know how you would fare on my exam, but . . ." Perry said, raising a finger to his chin.

"Hey, hey! You promised bands to any synergy that passed this thing! You can't go back on your word!" Gisbo rebutted. A look from Perry was all that was needed to make Gisbo quit while he was ahead.

"I suppose you got your friend through the doorway. No easy feat," Perry chided, then paused to allow Gisbo to squirm a bit longer. "And you are correct, I cannot go back on my word. Many firsts have come to pass today; among them, I find myself passing a boy who most likely never once did his homework on his own. You're a creative one. I'll give you that much. So, if you would hold out your arm," Perry said as he powered up his essence.

For an instant, Gisbo couldn't help but think of Ranto. He was right of course, whenever Gisbo looked at his arm from this point forward, he would feel a mix of pleasure and fury. Perry finished the design of the band, shaking his head. Gisbo would have taken it for disappointment, but even Perry couldn't hide the slight grin lurking at the corner of his mouth.

"I don't want you getting the wrong idea and thinking our work is finished. You will prove yourself to me before you become a Renegara, that much is certain." Perry said as the slight grin stretched into a cryptic smile. Perry ruffled Gisbo's hair, said his goodbyes and was out the door.

"Ugh, what did he mean by that?" Gisbo wondered aloud. Falcon merely shrugged.

"Don't worry about it. Come on, let's go get you and Rolce some dinner to celebrate," Falcon said. On his way out, Falcon paused by a vibrant picture of Vadid on the wall. He smiled at it in admiration.

"You believe he's still out there, don't you? " Falcon asked, turning to Narroway.

"With my father, anything is possible. IAM knows we need him now. It's no secret that I never wanted to lead, nor wear this goofy outfit," Narroway joked, standing beside Falcon to gaze at the painting.

"And that's why you were meant to," Moordin said with an encouraging smile.

"Thanks, old friend. Mind if I join you bunch for dinner?" Narroway asked.

"When I said let's go get some dinner, I meant you too!" Falcon said, slapping Narroway across his back.

"But one question, what did Perry mean, he's not done with me?" Gisbo asked, a little perturbed.

"What does it matter? You just passed! You got your second band!" Rolce said happily. Gisbo looked down at his band and this time all was happiness, there were no thoughts of Ranto.

"Yeah, you're right and, whoa . . . NO MORE SCHOOL!!!" Gisbo yelled as he pumped his fist in the air and ran to the elevator, whooping and jumping with excitement. Then he froze one more time.

"Uh, don't tell Perry you saw that," he said, gulping nervously.

"Glad you volunteered to treat me to dinner then! I knew you were all right, kid!" Narroway said to a grumbling Gisbo.

Chapter 17: The Final Band

Gisbo couldn't remember being happier with his life, ever. He had a nice place to live, he was following his dream, he had friends and best of all, he had no more classrooms in his future! What else could a guy want? He especially enjoyed snickering as he watched Grandfield, Knob, and Crass swimming in a sea of notes and papers, all huddled around Rolce, seeking all the help they could get to pass Perry's infamous exam. Shaved and Whip preferred studying on their own and all the female Renegas sought hope in Kennis' smarts.

Gisbo stretched out onto his bunk, letting out an extra loud sigh of pleasure so his friends would hear him. Fao curled up against him, sleeping soundly with her paws stretched out.

"Would you stop that already? We heard you the first few times! Gah! Damn you, Perry! The guy is out of his mind! This is, like, my entire schooling with all the subjects I ever had to study throughout my entire life jammed into one, then multiplied by like, twelve!" Knob yelled out in frustration.

"Why twelve?" Crass asked. Gisbo laughed obnoxiously from his bunk. "And as for you, yeah you, up there on the bunk. I hate you! I hate you so much and you know what? I hate you too, Rolce! You won't even tell us how you got through that lousy exam!" Crass accused.

"Sorry, that's how it's got to be, I'm afraid, and stop complaining about this test! I wish I could . . ." Rolce started, only to be quickly interrupted.

"Rolce, buddy, if I hear one more time that you wish you could take the exam with us, I just might start crying . . ." Granfield said, shaking his head in dismay. This caused Gisbo to break into fresh fits of laughter.

The boys stayed for about another five hours and all left grumbling. Rolce clambered up on his bunk to join Gisbo, as Harpie fluttered up behind him.

"They'll all pass, I'm sure of it. Knob though, he gets test anxiety. He's just not a good test taker," Rolce said.

"So in other words, he's stupid like me. Jeesh, the thought that it could have been me down there isn't lost to me. I owe you my life, Rolce," Gisbo said with a grin. Oddly, Rolce looked downward, avoiding Gisbo's gaze and his remark.

"You don't owe me . . . anything," Rolce said finally, as he turned over and shut off the light. Gisbo shot up with a puzzled glance. Never had he heard Rolce speak in such an ashamed tone. What had he said? He tried to ask his friend what was wrong, only to be stopped by soft snores.

Gisbo sprawled out on his bed once more. Ever since Rolce found out the truth about Shax being his father Gisbo had noticed that, in moments of leisure, he was sort of distant. Who could blame him? He had seen his own father murder a kid, only to find out that he also murdered the mother he had never known. Gisbo had no idea how much pain Rolce had built up inside him, but nonetheless he felt for his friend, quite possibly best friend, and wished he could help him.

Gisbo was familiar with pain after all, knew it well, but he fought it with rage. Rolce had the opposite reaction; he seemed to delve into his sorrow to the point of drowning within himself. That night, Gisbo found he couldn't sleep at all. Good thing he didn't have to wake up early for exams the next morning! This thought alone sent him off to dreamland with a satisfied smile on his face.

Around noon, nearly on the button, Gisbo rolled out of bed in his traditional fashion and slammed his noggin against the floor. He gave a quick thumbs up to Fao who looked down from the bunk in concern and was off to ready himself for the day. Rolce was already gone, so Gisbo called Fao to him and the two life partners made their way to the commons for some sushi. At least Fao enjoyed sushi; she practically enjoyed eating everything, but no matter.

Gisbo figured the commons would be the best spot to wait for everybody to get out of their exam and see who managed to pass. He was right, for as soon as he sat down to start his meal he noticed everybody pouring out of Perry's little schoolhouse whooping and hollering, holding out their biceps to show their classmates. In no time at all, everybody crowded in around Gisbo's table, pulling up more chairs so they could all sit together.

"It was wonderful! We all passed! Perry graded them right there on the spot with some kind of technique and before we knew it he was passing out the bands!" Kennis said, blue eyes beaming.

"Is there something wrong with you? There was nothing wonderful about that exam at all! I barely made it through! I mean, all these numbers, essays, matching, short answers . . . it was the exam from hell with teeth and claws, claws? Crullers? Donuts! Oh yes, YES! Ugh, excuse me . . ." Grandfield said as he sniffed the air and ran quickly to a stand to grab some of the freshly baked treats.

"I agree with Grandfield. It was a nightmare, but at the same time, it felt like a worthy adversary for everything Perry threw at us. All of the stuff he taught us will help us get our next band," Shaved admitted as he took a bite from his cheeseburger.

"I'm just glad it's over. Tests and I don't mix well. I'll do much better away from a stupid classroom," Kinny announced with a sigh of relief.

"Yeahhh I know exactly how all of you feel!" Gisbo said, as he leaned back to stretch with another annoying sigh and a snicker.

"You are just one lucky bastard! You had Rolce for a teammate!" Kinny yelled accusingly. Gisbo put on a look of pretend hurt.

"Hey now, you had Kennis! She's like the female version of Rolce! Plus you had one more member! It was equally fair," Gisbo retorted.

"Yeah, but Kinny never stole my homework from me! She did it all herself! Pretty pathetic, if you ask me. School is very important!" Kennis scolded. At this, all eyes turned to Gisbo who broke into a huge fit of laughter.

"Oh man, that was priceless. Textbooks won't do a damned thing when you're out fighting, that's for sure. Besides, do you really think you're going to remember everything you learned in that class? I maybe remember two things, no wait . . . ok, never mind. So who got the other Instructor's band?" Gisbo asked. Kennis pointed at her forearm proudly.

"Cripes, I just had to ask . . ." Gisbo said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, but it was a tie again. Rake ended up getting the other one," Kennis said.

"Really?" Gisbo asked.

"Oh yeah, the kid is obsessed with anything to do with improving himself. He's an absolute perfectionist. All the kid does is read and train," Whip piped in.

"Well, why didn't you just go to him for help?" Gisbo asked. Whip frowned.

"Um, have you talked to the kid? Besides, I got my own secret methods for studying, thank you very much!" Whip said.

"Point taken. Well, I've got to head into work for the day, but I'll see you guys at our new class tomorrow! And we get to learn Ele . . ." Gisbo started. He stopped short for a moment, realizing the weight of what he was about to say. He, Gisbo Falcon, was going to learn Elekai' . . . tomorrow! Without a word, Gisbo rushed to work, trying to stop his insides from exploding with excitement.

Work flew by quickly, with thoughts of flying around on a brand new skeeting sword filling his mind. Still, Gisbo couldn't help but feel a little saddened by the thought that Purah would not be his instructor and just who would take his place? Filling Purah's giant shoes would be no easy task, so it must be somebody good, but who? The long day over, thoughts turned to dreams as both Gisbo and Rolce found themselves falling asleep in spite of their anticipation, awaiting the next day.

The morning started in it's usual fashion, with Gisbo falling out of his bunk yet again. He was reaching up to rub his head when he noticed the red ring on his finger. I might be able to get this sucker to glow! Gisbo thought. He giggled to himself in excitement as he shook the legs of Rolce's bunk back and forth to wake him up, chanting "Elekaiiiii'," and soon both boys were dressed and off to face a beautiful spring morning.

Lilacs were beginning to bloom all along the forest pathways, making their brief, splashy spring hello and the outrageous ripening crop of pollen gave Gisbo the gift of sneezes and a stuffy nose. Good to see you, too, Spring! Gisbo thought to himself as he put one finger to a nostril and blew a snot rocket, much to the disgust of Rolce.

Moordin told them to report once again to the Courtyard of Strength and that everything would be held outdoors, much to Gisbo's delight. No more classrooms, as promised. When they arrived, Gisbo couldn't help but smile, seeing the closed schoolhouse in the distance. Never again, never again, Gisbo thought. The boys had arrived a bit earlier than expected; only one synergy, made up of all females, was there before them. They had never gotten a chance to talk to these girls before, so Gisbo, out of dislike for awkward silence, figured now was a good time to do so.

"So, any of you know who the new instructor is?" Gisbo asked, as he stretched with a yawn. The girl who answered was the one Gisbo recognized as the Flarian girl he had stood in line with to get his ring when he punched out Rake. She was standing rather rigid in Nazarite attire with tightly braided red hair and a set of light brown eyes.

"Don't know in the slightest and I don't believe we've properly met. You're the one who made Roarie scold me because of your lack of self-control. My name's Glinda Bicknill," she said without a smile as she thrust a hand forward. Gisbo took it rather reluctantly, with a pained look on his face, forcing a weak smile.

"Yeah, that tends to happen from time to time, um . . ." Gisbo paused, unable to think of anything else to say to her. " . . . well, this is my synergy mate, Rolce!" Gisbo said, putting on a fake smile.

"Oh, the one who passed Perry's test! My, how impressive of you!" Glinda said, clearly more interested this time around as she greeted Rolce with an actual smile.

"Well, I helped too!" Gisbo said.

"I'm sure you did," Glinda said without looking at him. "Well, Rolce, these are my two friends. Meet Ashlin Nora," Glinda motioned to a girl in Berserker attire with big blonde hair, a shapely figure, and a bright face.

"Hi there," Ashlin said with a flirtatious tone and a wink to Rolce, who blushed.

"And this is Anakah Loorin," Glinda finished, as she motioned to a cute girl dressed in Shininja attire with long dark brown hair and deep brown eyes to match. Gisbo was glad to see she didn't wear a facemask and instead wielded a pretty grin. She gave a slight wave, saying "Hello" rather shyly, looking only at Gisbo as pink rose in her cheeks. Seeing this caused Gisbo to flush with color as well. Suddenly both sides couldn't find anything else to say as the dreaded awkward silence entailed in spite of Gisbo's efforts to prevent it. Thank goodness Knob broke the silence by arriving on the scene with Granfield and Shaved by his side.

"Hey there, ladies! So Anakah, you decided where you want to go tonight for our date?" Knob said with a big stupid grin.

"Well I, um . . ." Anakah said in a nervous tone of voice, as if she wanted desperately to refuse him, but was too kind to do it in such a public way. Gisbo didn't know where the feeling came from, but he really, really wanted to slam Knob to the floor. Why he felt so enraged by Knob asking out Anakah he didn't even know. He had witnessed him do it countless other times to girls who laughed as they turned him down. A familiar feeling that he was about to do something stupid washed over him. Before he realized it, words were coming out of his mouth as his mind took a back seat. Gisbo hated when this happened.

"No, she hasn't, because she's going out with me tonight," Gisbo said. What? Rolce's expression said the same thing Gisbo was wondering. Gisbo felt the familiar twinge of déjà vu as countless memories of stupid things flashed through his mind. Knob put on a look of surprise as he took a quick step back.

"Whoa, sorry, bud! I had no idea you already claimed her. No worries, mate! Good for you! It's perfectly fine because I got two or three on the side anyhow, don't even worry about it!" Knob said, as he punched Gisbo's shoulder, buddy-buddy like.

"We didn't know YOU 'claimed' her either," Glinda flashed back as she folded her arms and looked at Anakah. Gisbo met Anakah's eyes for a moment as she looked back and did something that plowed away all his worries and anxiety. She smiled.

"Yup, it's true," Anakah said. If she was faking the grin, it was award-worthy, but Gisbo didn't think so as she looked him right in the eyes.

"I thought you just met him here and now. Why didn't you tell us you've been talking with him, Anah?" Glinda said, sounding a lot like a condescending parent. Anakah just shrugged.

"Well, I stopped by where he worked yesterday to return my rental snow skeets and he asked me out, out of nowhere," Anakah said with another genuine-looking smile. Gisbo could have sworn she winked at him. "We were all sort of excited by today. I just never thought to tell you 'til now is all," Anakah finished. Glinda looked satisfied for the moment, but she still eyed Gisbo and the grin stretching across his face. It looked even more stupid than Knob's.

"Well, he better not get you in trouble. That's all I got to say," Glinda declared. Gisbo was so thankful for Anakah's quick thinking and utter bravery. What a day this was, he was about to learn Elekai' for the first time and now he was going out with a girl for the first time. Privately, Gisbo believed the latter task would be far more difficult.

By now everybody had arrived on schedule as they awaited the arrival of their new instructor, whoever it was. It was then Gisbo spied a familiar bald head glistening in the sunlight from afar.

Oh no . . . Gisbo thought. Instructor Perry seemed to enjoy Gisbo's shocked face as exclamations of dismay replayed in his head. Gisbo couldn't help but gulp now.

"Hello again, gentleman and ladies. It seems you all will have the pleasure of going one more semester with me, what luck for you all," Perry announced with his usual dry tone and slight grin. Gisbo hadn't felt more nervous in his life. It was as if Perry was looking at him the entire time he spoke.

"It is unfortunate you will not be able to have Renegade Purah instructing you in the ways of Elekai' for, I admit, he possessed quite a deep knowledge of the subject and what's more, he could express his knowledge to others brilliantly. You should know that I will still be following along with Purah's original curriculum and will do my utmost to make sure his teachings will be made known throughout this class. On second thought, I wouldn't really describe this as a class at all. The word 'class' makes you think of books, pen, desks and paper. Isn't that right?" Perry asked, and this time he really was staring right at Gisbo. Needless to say, the entire class giggled.

"No, this is something much more involved and hands-on. Elekai' is the art of taking all that you are internally and expressing it outwardly in any situation. It is equal parts inner strength, mental toughness and physical strength. Now is the time to put into practice what you have learned and get dirty. I will not come out and say that Elekai' is a way of life; no, life is for living and you cannot live off Elekai' alone. Elkai' will, in turn, enrich your life, making it more beautiful and more enjoyable to yourselves and those around you. This art form is no laughing matter. It requires much responsibility for it is no child's toy. You will learn passive abilities as well as dangerous ones. Always use caution. Always use discretion and let discipline be your guide," Perry said, refusing to take his eyes off Gisbo to much of the class' amusement.

"Let's recap, if you will, what you have accomplished up to this point. In Roarie's class, you have learned to train your bodies and prepare the essence within you, keeping you strong: Body," Perry said as he thrust a fist outward.

"You then attended my class, where you expanded upon your elementary education and learned the various philosophies, theories and origins of Elekai' as well as life. You learned mathematical battle formations, politics and historical accounts. You cannot fight just for the sake of fighting. There needs to be a reason with everything: Mind," Perry said as he raised two fingers to his forehead.

"Now, I am very thankful to be allowed to finalize the process. With the body and mind prepared, you are ready to find your heart; a true Elekai' warrior finds strength from it and lives by it. Discovering Elekai' is a spiritual journey as well as a physical one. You will learn proficiency in weapons, basic hand-to-hand combat and the importance of your classroom knowledge in battle situations. You will then learn to unleash your essence within those three areas effectively. By doing so, you will find out more about yourself, your talents and how you may use them to help others and discover your passions, which will in turn fuel your strength: Heart," Perry said as he lowered his fingers and stamped a fist across his chest. The class nodded along silently.

"As I said before, this will be a personal journey for each of you to get a glimpse of your purpose before you set out with your class masters and Boons by your side. I am merely a guide for this journey; I take you to the gate, for in the end it is only you who must open it and choose the path most suited for you. Now, I hate to disappoint, but you will not be unleashing your essence today. You must show me your proficiency in the areas of combat and learn control before I dare thrust a weapon in your hand and tell you to ignite. Flarians: I can't stress enough to mind your tempers. You will soon learn what an important role emotions play in the ways of Elekai' and how dangerous you can be if not in total control. You must learn control!" Perry said. It was as if everybody in the class thought of Gisbo as eyes shifted his way once more. Gisbo cocked a perturbed grimace and growled.

"About time we got started. Gentlemen, ladies?" Perry finished. Gisbo hadn't even noticed the bags strewn across the grounds when he arrived. Perry made his way over, opened them, and strewed the contents across the grounds. When he was finished, he stood at ease once more and began speaking.

"As you can see behind me, I have set various weapons across the grounds. These are REAL weapons. Respect them and be careful. All of you today will practice with every one of these weapons to get a feel for them. I have also set up a variety of wooden dummies to practice on. I don't want you to strain yourselves just yet: relax, let the weapon become an extension of self. Some will feel more comfortable then others; I want you to discover which one feels right in your hands. Just like your Boons, a weapon is also a reflection of self. You will know which one is for you the moment you try it, but keep this knowledge to yourself 'til the end. All right! Split up, one at a time, and go try out them out!" Perry said. The Renegas went about their tasks in silence, unable to hide the excitement stamped on their faces. Gisbo decided he would take his time, no rush, and went over to a dummy at the far right.

Leaning against the wooden dummy, that looked very much like a scarecrow carved out of a thick log, was a long whip-like weapon. Gisbo saw a name tag that read, "The Sorwhip." The handle was long and metallic, sporting a thin yet sturdy whip about double the length of Gisbo's body with a small spiked ball at the end. He took a few steps back and decided to give it a crack.

"Hey, Whip! Guess what! There's a whip!" Gisbo yelled over to his friend. Whip shook his head at the asinine comment.

"Oh hey! You're a real funny guy . . . idiot," Whip muttered as he trailed off.

Gisbo laughed to himself as he reared back for a test swing. He soon wished he hadn't as the spiked ball rapidly slammed into his tailbone, sending a shutter through his body. Gisbo gave a yelp of pain and hoped nobody else noticed. Luckily, nobody did. Gisbo decided to be a little more careful with it, made sure the ball was well behind him, and thrust his arm straightforward. The ball struck the dummy right in the chest, dead center. This time somebody was watching; Perry, who nodded with a smile.

"Nicely done, Gisbo, right foot forward and bend the knees a little next time you strike. It helps you to aim a little better," Perry instructed as he walked along to see how others were doing. Falcon always told him that if Perry never gave you any critique it meant he didn't think much of you. In his previous class, Gisbo couldn't recall Perry ever saying a word to him, and now, on the first day no less, he offered Gisbo a compliment as well as a critique. Gisbo smiled as he thrust out his foot and gave the whip another crack. Within a few minutes of practice, Gisbo found he could easily hit any portion of the body on the first try about eighty percent of the time. He simply guessed the statistic, as he had never really understood the logistics of percentages. Just knowing what they were was good enough for him.

The class then split up and Gisbo moved on to something called a "Kai-pull." It was a sort of crossbow that sat atop a glove and had a sharp protrusion towards the top to allow for quick, close quarter fighting when the bow was folded down. The detailed description explained that bursts of Elekai' could be charged, then shot with extreme accuracy. For now, it contained a short arrow. Gisbo found that he didn't have the eyesight required for long range shooting, as the targets blurred with each step back. He found he preferred folding the bow downward and using the sharp end much better, as he hacked away at the dummy, leaving thick scars across its wooden surface.

Everybody regrouped a few more times and Gisbo tried many other weapons, including a pole-arm, which he found he was too clumsy with; various daggers, including the knuck-knives which he fumbled and cut his wrist with; two heavy balls with handles known as "Stugs" that he could barely lift; and the oddest weapon Gisbo had yet seen, known as a "Conundrum," which looked like a giant dinner plate with a toothed edge at the top. You slid your forearm behind the shield in a loose strap and could throw the shield like a Frisbee. It would return to you with Elekai' if thrown or you could hold on to it to block attacks and strike close at hand with the sharp edge.

So far Gisbo enjoyed the Sorwhip, the Conundrum, and another weapon known as "Fisticuffs" that resembled spiked brass knuckles with a protective plate that extended up your forearms to block and parry sharp weapons. He quickly put it down however at the realization that this was also Ranto's preferred weapon. At last he was nearing the end of the morning and he had arrived at the final weapon, the one he was waiting for above all. Gisbo read the nametag entitled "The Talon Sword," rubbed his hands together and picked it up. It felt good, really good. Perry was right. You did know the moment you picked up 'your' weapon. The sword was beautiful; the blade was shaped like the talon of a bird and, despite its size, it wasn't really as heavy as it appeared and only felt weighty when he swung it.

Gisbo quickly began to decimate the wooden dummy with the deepest cuts of all; grasping the talon sword with both hands, he swung it about wildly as the dummy took on the image of Ranto in his mind. He never felt freer than when he swung this weapon, laughing with joy at how good it felt and enjoying the wonderful sounds it made when it broke the air.

Perry finished his rounds and ordered them all to gather. One by one he told them all to rally off what their weapon of choice was.

"The Stugs for sure," Grandfield said alone. "Kai-pull for me," Shaved and Glinda both agreed. "Knuck-knives, hands down," Niffin and Rake said together. "Pole-arm, definitely," Rolce and Crass said. "Sorwhip here," Whip and Kennis said. "Fisticuffs," Anakah said. "Conundrum for us," Kinny and Knob said. "Talon sword!" Gisbo and Ashlin finished. Perry smiled at all these answers and Gisbo couldn't help himself from snickering at Whip's choice of the Sorwhip.

"Funny how all of you picked weapons that pertain to your classes. This only signifies the importance and correctness of your pre-determined paths. Berserkers chose heavy swinging weapons, Shininjas chose precise weapons and Nazarites chose technique intensive weapons. Very good, I am pleased by your results, so now comes the twist," Perry said, causing his class to look at him askance.

"What do you mean 'twist'?" Crass asked aloud.

"Well, it is quite simple. You will NOT pick up these weapons again," Perry said with a cryptic grin.

"Whattttt?" Grandfield moaned.

"No, not again, at least, not until you become proficient in every other weapon here! It is never certain that you will be able to use your preferred weapons, thus you will display proficiency with every other weapon before you master your favorite, especially hand to hand. Those who trust their lives to weapons alone are fools; these are tools and can fail you: remember this lesson above all. We will begin training with one weapon at a time through the remaining weeks, saving hand-to-hand combat for last. Now, to stick with Purah's curriculum, I believe it is right to say I should let you all out early on your first day. So off you go! All of you! 'Til tomorrow!" Perry said with a smile, as the boys and girls began to walk off in groups, chatting about the unexpected turn of events.

"Man, I was horrible with those Knuck-knives! I had no control over them, what if I don't pass? All that studying for nothing if I don't get the third band! I refuse to eat until I master those silly things! You hear?" Kinny shouted.

"Kinny, you can't pull that again, just calm down. You've made it this far and you nearly passed out preparing for Perry's final. I preferred the knuck-knives, remember? I'll help you out," Niffin said as she put her hand on Kinny's shoulder.

"Still, it's nice Perry's sticking to Purah's plans, even letting us go early with no books attached. Color me happy for a change. I can't wait to use that pole-arm again, eh, Rolce?" Crass commented, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

"Well, look at you, Crass! Being positive? I never thought I'd see it," Rolce joked.

"Say what you want; I'm excited. Don't ruin a good thing, Rolce," Crass said.

"Yeah, I loved that pole-arm, felt really good in my hands! You guys feel the same way?" Rolce asked to nobody specific.

"Heh, heh, you just said a pole felt good in your hands . . ." Knob teased.

"Shut up, Knob!" said several female voices together as the boys laughed. Knob cringed at the yelling.

"Never any love for ol' Knob? Screw you guys!" Knob said, shaking his head.

"I felt pretty good when I grabbed the fisticuffs and the conundrum, the whip too, believe it or not, but when I held that talon sword, man, I felt alive," Gisbo said, clenching both fists and smiling.

"See, I knew Glinda was wrong! You're all right in my book. I finally felt like a berserker!" Ashlin agreed, winking at Gisbo.

"Eh, it was all right; the conundrum really did it for this berserker. Soon I'll be able to hit Knob from a distance. It will save me a few steps when he tries to say something stupid or asks me out. Good thing he's got, like, three on the side," Kinny said, imitating Knob's voice to perfection and causing the rest of the Renegas to laugh yet again at Knob's expense.

By now the joyous group had made their way to the commons, said their goodbyes and were off to lunch. Gisbo went to join his usual buddies when a sweet voice spoke from behind him.

"So, where would you like to take me today?" Anakah said, color filling her cheeks. Gisbo spun around as gooseflesh tore across his body, sweat erupted from his pores and his throat throbbed. He had totally forgotten about his outburst and not only that . . . what in Thera was wrong with him? Why did this girl cause this sudden . . .

Disease was the only word that came to his mind. Whatever it was, it stretched across his entire being. Even worse, Anakah seemed to enjoy it, as she giggled.

"Well, what do you like to do?" Anakah asked. Gisbo was amazed at this girl's courage. She seemed so quiet and shy before, but there was definitely more beneath the surface. Even so, this question put Gisbo at ease and caused his throat to loosen a bit, which might have been the purpose the entire time.

"Um, I, I always do fishing . . . haven't done since last fall," Gisbo said. Even his brain had succumbed to the disease. That wasn't even a sentence! Gisbo thought to himself. Even so, Anakah took his quivering hands.

"Sounds perfect, we can go after you're done working for Dave and Ernie. Sound good?" Anakah suggested, very soft, with a smile that caused another symptom: dancing butterflies in Gisbo's stomach...

"Sure, yeah! I mean, yeah, sure! Wait, DAMN IT! Sorry! I didn't mean you, I meant I . . ." Gisbo stalled, feeling stupid. No matter, this only caused Anakah to smile all the more.

"Good! See you around four!" Anakah said as she let go of Gisbo's hands and skipped away, turning once to flash another "Gisbo melt" smile and wave. Gisbo stood where he was, afraid to move.

"Sure, yeah, Gisbo! I do fishing too!" Crass said, as he leaned on Gisbo's left shoulder.

"Yeah, sure, Gisbo! I done fishing yesterday!" Grandfield said, leaning on Gisbo's right shoulder, causing him to almost cave under Grandfield's weight. He didn't even take offense to his friend's teasing for he was still entranced and confused.

"I, what the hell was that? I don't even know what happened! The hell is wrong with me?" Gisbo said as he gripped the hair on his head forcefully, hoping the pain would bring him back down from whatever cloud he had floated off to.

"Awhhh, seems our wittle Gisbo has discovered women; quite a late bloomer at that," Knob said joining Grandfield and Crass. Knob's comment was just what the doctor ordered. It put Gisbo back to his old self at the fastest speed imaginable.

"You! If you weren't such an ass, none of this would've happened!" Gisbo said, taking on Rolce's famous pointing habit, as he broke free.

"Me? I already told you I didn't know she was your . . ." Knob was interrupted.

"Forget it! Moving on! Gah!" Gisbo said with anguish as they all ate a quick lunch and were off to work. For once, he wished work would last all night. Gisbo had fought the Black Wolf Pack, a real wolf pack and been held hostage by a dagger-wielding Strife. Not once did he shake with anything other than excitement, but now he was truly afraid of going on his first date. Gisbo silently promised himself he wouldn't put his foot in his mouth again. Psh, yeah right . . . you idiot. Gisbo thought to himself.

_Chapter 18:_ The First Date

The next few hours at work couldn't have gone faster for Gisbo. Why was time so cruel? Why was it every time he wanted something to arrive quickly it trudged like Grandfield running uphill? And why was it every time he dreaded something, it sprinted like Grandfield to a freshly baked donut? Why was he using Grandfield as a metaphor? Why could he not stop thinking about her? Why was . . . Gisbo didn't have time to think any more as the disease swept over him again. Time was up and Anakah was waiting for him outside the shop with two fishing poles in hand, smiling that smile that made Gisbo's knees wobble. Ernie and Dave only made it worse as they eyed each other sheepishly, then winked at Gisbo. Even modest Shaved helped in the ritual taunting.

"So, ready to go?" Anakah said.

"Oh he's ready, he's been talking about you all day," Ernie joked, elbowing Gisbo in the side. Gisbo gritted his teeth in anger, which subsided when Anakah took him by the hand and led him outside, leaving his friends and bosses snickering behind them as they walked.

"So, you're the professional, you know a good spot to go? I'll be honest, I've never done this before," Anakah admitted as they stopped just before the forest edge.

"I know a pretty good spot," Gisbo found himself saying. A few more responses to Anakah's questions helped along the process and, before he knew it, Gisbo didn't feel quite so nervous anymore. In fact, the disease nearly reversed itself. His gooseflesh turned to pleasant tingles, his throat felt loose and relaxed and he felt all around better than the first day he arrived at Heaven's Shelter. Knowing he had conquered the sickness, Gisbo's confidence returned to him and they arrived at the secret fishing spot. Hopefully Falcon wouldn't be upset, he just wasn't allowed to show Foxblade the location . . . he hoped.

"So you've never been fishing before?" Gisbo asked.

"Nope, never," Anakah said.

"Well, you're one lucky girl because this is the most secret fishing spot around! Here, I'll show you everything," Gisbo said as he explained how the fish only stayed to one side because it was frozen on the other side of the barrier and how to cast and reel in the line. Before they knew it, both of them were casting and catching fish with delight.

"This is so much fun!" Anakah said.

"Told you. Now you got to promise not to show anybody this spot. I could be in trouble already . . ." Gisbo said.

"Oh I'm sorry! Well, don't worry, your secret's safe with me. I wouldn't want to come down here with anyone else, anyhow," Anakah said. Gisbo didn't know whether to take this as a good thing or bad thing. Either way, he felt fire rise in his cheeks.

"So, what made you ask me out like that?" Anakah wondered aloud.

"Um, well, I really don't know," Gisbo said.

"You don't know?" Anakah asked.

"Well, I do know, but," Gisbo stammered.

"But what?" Anakah teased on.

"Alright, fine! I just couldn't see you with that moron Knob and I knew you were uncomfortable and I really don't like to see pretty girls uncomfortable and uh, yeah, that's all," Gisbo answered.

"Oh really? So that's all then?" Anakah probed.

"Yeah, yeah, I guess so," Gisbo replied.

"So you don't really like me, not one little bit? You just did it because you thought Knob was . . . a moron?" Anakah asked.

"Ok, you done with this interrogation yet? I like you, ok! I thought you were pretty and I got a little perturbed when I saw Knob ask you out, ok?" Gisbo admitted. Had he really just said all that? Anakah broke out into a huge grin before responding.

"That's all I wanted to know," she rose to her feet before continuing. "Well, I better get going. Goodbye, Gisbo," Anakah said as she leaned down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Gisbo thought the butterflies in his stomach had just exploded into fire when suddenly Anakah turned and skipped away back towards the commons, humming. Gisbo was confused beyond belief.

"Wait! That's it? You 'got to go' just like that? Are we, are we going to see each other again?" Gisbo yelled. Anaka stopped and looked back with the same melt-your-knees smile.

"I guess that will be up to you, now won't it? Good night, Gisbo, and sweet dreams!" Anakah said as she turned and continued to skip away.

Here she was one second, then gone the next. Wait, she kissed me! Right on the cheek! Man, I never thought she would be so forward and people call me impulsive! Gisbo thought to himself. As confused as he was by her behavior, the thought that she had kissed him, well, not fully, but hey, a peck on the cheek was just fine and made each of his steps home feel as if he were floating.

"All right, let me see if I have it right. You went fishing, she kissed you, then she skipped away?" Rolce asked as he sat at the table in their tree house eating an apple with Harpie on his shoulder.

"Yup, she was humming too," Gisbo said.

"Well, I don't know why you are asking me about it. I mean, I know a lot of stuff, but have you seen me out with girls?" Rolce asked, bemused.

"Nope, but I had to ask somebody and Fao wouldn't answer me," Gisbo said.

"She did actually, she said you're stupid. Girls like to be pursued, she's just playing a little hard-to-get," Rolce said.

"Fao called me stupid?" Gisbo asked.

"No, I added that part in, but it just seems, I don't know. Ever since that incident with the wolves a while back you've just . . . changed. For the better, don't get me wrong, you're just not such the grumpy loner anymore, and now you're pursuing a girl," Rolce said.

"Look, Rolce, I already told you, I have no idea what even happened. Can't we just let it go? I don't really know why I suddenly changed, but I really don't mind not knowing. I can't explain it, but I just get a sudden urge to befriend people when I meet them now. I've played the angry loner card my whole life and now that I got good, decent friends, well, it feels really nice. What's your deal anyway? You jealous or something?" Gisbo asked, getting defensive.

"No, of course I'm not jealous, forget it," Rolce responded as he turned to go slump into his bunk.

"No, Rolce! Not this time! What is your deal lately? I know you've been going through a lot of rough stuff, but I don't understand why lately you've been pulling this mopey dopey, feel-bad-for-me crap! It's got to be something much deeper than what happened with Shax," Gisbo asked with concern.

"It's nothing, just forget about it," Rolce brushed him off as he indeed slumped into his bunk and turned a cold shoulder to Gisbo.

"What are you, a freakin' girl? What is wrong with you, man? Speak up!" Gisbo said. Nothing but silence came from Rolce's bunk.

"Whatever, you're so damn sensitive sometimes," Gisbo protested. He didn't really know why he was angry at Rolce. If anything, he was just frustrated by his friend's inexplicable behavior. He realized this after about fifteen minutes and climbed up on the bunk beside him to talk.

"Look, Rolce, I'm sorry, but I just don't know why you're acting the way you are lately. Tell me what's wrong with you so I can at least help out," Gisbo pleaded. Rolce turned over to look at him.

"There is something that has been bothering me, for a long time, even before we met, but it's nothing about Shax. Sure that bothers me, a lot, but it only adds to something. I'll tell you about it eventually, but I really can't right now. Just forget about it, please? I'll tell you when I'm ready. Ok?" Rolce asked.

"All right, I respect that. Just don't get all mopey-dopey on me. If ignorance doesn't suit me, then being depressed all the time doesn't suit you either. Got it?" Gisbo said.

"Got it," Rolce answered.

"Good, now let's go buy some steaks and grill 'em up, my treat!" Gisbo suggested. Rolce nodded and grinned as they both lowered themselves from their bunks in search of food yet again.

The first week went by quite linearly as each morning the Renegas began their training with weapons, one at a time. This week's assignment was practicing the use of the "Kai-pull" as Perry demonstrated how to correctly use it. They each got their own to practice with and they tried to hit moving targets from a distance with the bow, then properly attack the dummies at close range with the sharp protrusion. After several sessions with different training drills, everybody showed enough mastery for Renega status on that weapon and were allowed to move on to another. This process went on for several weeks while Perry taught each of them various stances, guards and attacks for each weapon. Gisbo only had to miss work two times for extra lessons on using the daggers. The blasted things just didn't feel right in his hands, but after the extra lessons he was using them adequately enough to continue.

Others had to attend extra lessons for various other weapons. Grandfield, like Gisbo, also had an especially hard time with all the Shininja weapons. He looked quite ridiculous wielding such small armaments. They were wildly disproportionate for his large body; Rolce's too, for that matter. During these early weeks of weapons training, Gisbo purposefully tried to avoid Anakah, partially because he couldn't stop thinking about her, but also for a myriad of other reasons he couldn't put his finger on. She wouldn't stop smiling at him from afar, only to grin wider when he broke out in a furious blush.

"So, word is you and Anakah are hitting it off quite well, eh?" Knob said one day as he came up behind him.

"Who the hell told you that?" Gisbo asked. Knob rolled his eyes before answering.

"Uh, just about everyone AND word is you've been too scared to ask her out again, but don't worry! You just come to the Knob, he'll set you true," Knob exclaimed, but Gisbo didn't find it at all funny. He felt the familiar flurry of uncontrollable thoughts and emotions, signifying he was about to do something stupid . . . again.

"Oh, is that what they say? Well, I'm just not interested and I figured she'd take the hint," Gisbo said. Knob was taken aback. Gisbo was also shocked by what had come out of his mouth. I didn't mean that at all! I'm crazy about her! Too crazy apparently, Gisbo thought, but should have said.

"Wait, that didn't come out right, I mean I . . ." Gisbo started.

"I see. Well, can't believe everything you hear, I guess. Good news though!" Knob said as he immediately frolicked over to Anakah with a familiar goofy grin.

"So Anakah, what you doing tonight?" Knob said. Anakah looked up, surprised, as her conversation with Glinda and Ashlin was interrupted.

"Um," Anakah said. Ashlin quickly interrupted her.

"Look, Knob, Anakah isn't interested in hanging out with you! Besides, she's seeing Gisbo," Ashlin said with an assured smile. It was then Knob glanced back at Gisbo with a look that said, "Sorry, buddy, but I'm a guy, too."

"Not what I heard. Giz just told me that he wasn't interested and has been ignoring her, thinking she'd get the point!" Knob said. The words lingered in the air like a storm cloud. For a moment, poor Anakah stood speechless and then she made eye contact with Gisbo. This was the worst part of it. His stomach lurched in the most twisted pang of guilt and stupidity as Anakah looked like she was about to cry. She quickly dropped her head down, allowing her long hair to hide her face. Ashlin and Glinda burned looks of furious disdain towards Gisbo before telling off Knob with a variety of colorful words and trotting away to console their friend. For the first time, Gisbo wondered why he didn't break out in an outburst at a time when one was needed.

"Um, so you never officially told her what you just told me? You were still in the ignoring process?" Knob asked, a bit bewildered. Gisbo didn't say anything. Normally he'd punch Knob on the nose, but it really wasn't the guy's fault. He had just stood there frozen and speechless as Knob told Anakah his very own heinous lie. Gisbo felt horrible and resolved to apologize to her the next day.

When Rolce and Gisbo got home that night Falcon, Moordin and Foxblade were all waiting for them with a fresh meal already prepared. Gisbo had a good hunch as to why they were there together. They must have gotten the official word that it was all right to share what happened on the day of Purah's funeral. Gisbo hoped he was right, anything to take his mind off his stupid deed for the day.

"I know it has been a little while," Falcon started.

"You mean five freakin' months! That's not a little while!" Gisbo interrupted.

"Fair enough, it's been a long while, but my hunches that I shared with you on that day were indeed fairly accurate. Narroway wanted to make a full, precise, investigation. There were a lot of rumors going on already and the Chieftain didn't want to add to them. Everything checks out now and you will be one of the first to know just what went down that morning. So you and Rolce eat your meals and listen. Moordin will take it from here. Being an active participant in the investigation, he can explain it much more clearly than I," Falcon said.

"Or, do you just want to eat and make me do all the talking?" Moordin gibed.

"Well, you do love to talk and I do love to eat," Falcon rebutted. Moordin sighed in defeat.

"Fine, very well. As Falcon has just shared, I have been one of the ones heavily involved with the investigation. The betrayal of Lokin and the return of Shax tied in with Purah's death has startled us all," Moordin said. Rolce looked downward at the mention of his father's name.

"As you know, for two years children have been taken from us before they could become Renegas and be brought to their true home, Heaven's Shelter. For those two years, we have been doing everything in our power to figure out how these children have been abducted and why. The only way someone could intercept the Renegas is if they were within our midst ten years ago when the children were originally sent to their locations. It is startling to realize that such a carefully crafted plan has been put into effect and it shows without a shadow of a doubt that there was a traitor within our midst," Moordin stated in slow, heavy words.

"However, that is only one mystery solved which opened the doors to a variety of other questions. For example, why were the Strifes involved? What are Shax and Lokin's intentions now? What do they need the children for? The answers to such questions were not easy to come by, but over five months of deliberation we have come up with strong theories, as well as a few answers," Moordin said as he guzzled down a cup of water before continuing.

"Took you long enough," Gisbo grumbled. Moordin ignored him.

"So, first question: why were the Strifes involved? It turned out Falcon's hunch was true. The mysterious peace treaty Narroway made with Chief Lamik, leader of the Strifes, was absolute. For the Strifes to be involved with such treason is ridiculous; they would never resort to kidnappings. We respectfully detained them and discussed the matter, then allowed them to return to their homes in a matter of days," Moordin said.

"Wait! Why would you just let them leave like that? They almost killed me and Rolce!" Gisbo protested. Moordin nodded in understanding.

"That is true, but you have to realize this was the act of a few. The Strifes were only acting out of desperation and Foxblade had to do the same to quell the unknown danger at hand. You have to also understand, the Strifes aren't necessarily bad people. They disbanded from the Renegades, taking many of our morals and values for their own, but to an extreme form. They put themselves on a moral high horse, seeing the world only in black and white, while we Renegades see that the world has shades of gray. There was once a time to categorize things in black and white, but that time has passed. When we Renegades look upon people, we see the potential for good, though all of us have the capability to do evil and make mistakes if we want to. The Strifes don't see mankind that way, unfortunately," Moordin explained.

"What do they see?" Rolce asked.

"They look at everyone who refuses their beliefs as the enemy and those who do not have belief in IAM must be purged of their wicked ways and difference. Disgusting logic. This is why Chief Lamik left the Renegades, taking quite a number with him and battled us for years before Narroway's peace treaty," Foxblade said. Moordin nodded in agreement.

"Wouldn't you call that evil?" Rolce asked.

"Yes and no. They mostly keep to themselves and do not attack the innocent. When that changes however, we will have to break our peace treaty," Moordin said.

"So what did Narroway do to stop the fighting between Strifes and Renegades?" Rolce asked. Moordin simply shrugged.

"It is between Narroway and Lamik. Whatever it was was very personal for the two of them. I asked Purah and Sybil Honj the same question years back, only to find that he never shared the answer with them either. The two of them were the closest to Narroway," Moordin answered.

"That sounds fishy." Gisbo said to no one in particular.

"Whatever he did, it quelled much violence and if Narroway does not wish to share, then he does not need to," Foxblade said without even looking up from his plate of food.

"Of course you would agree. One who keeps secrets has no problem with somebody else who keeps secrets, even from their own synergy," Falcon grumbled, glaring over at Foxblade. Finally, Foxblade looked up.

"Where's your secret fishing spot?" Foxblade asked. Falcon grimaced and did not answer. "Well then, my secrets stay with me," Foxblade said as he continued eating.

"Yes. Anyhow, let's get back to the matter at hand. You both now know a little bit about what made it so strange to see the Strifes involved with the kidnappers and now realize they were acting out of desperation. When we rounded them up and discussed the matter, they told us something we were not expecting. Apparently, Lokin and Shax had not only been stealing Renegas, but also Strife children as well. Most of the Strife members involved at Purah's funeral were the fathers and friends of these children, for Strifes also forbid women from carrying weapons and learning Elekai'. Sure, we can all admit that women lack some physical and emotional advantages to become warriors," Moordin said. Gisbo laughed at this.

"Hah! I'd love to hear you tell your wife an' Roarie that!" Gisbo said. Moordin raised a hand.

"Hold on now, let me finish. Not everyone is cut out to be a warrior anyhow, at least physically. What they don't realize is just how much equal footing woman can have and the hidden advantages they possess when channeling their essential energies. Women can harness their feelings and inner strength in ways that overcome mere brute force when using Elekai'. Believe me, you never want to see my wife upset," Moordin said. Gisbo shuddered at that.

"We haven't seen her upset yet?" Gisbo asked.

"Heh, not a chance. Better keep this room clean, I hear she is stopping by to check up on you two tomorrow," Falcon warned. Gisbo and Rolce gulped.

"These Strife fathers were acting outside of Chief Lamik's boundaries set in the peace treaty to save their children. They told us Lokin and Shax contacted them, telling them if they helped in the invasion of Heaven's Shelter, they would receive their children back. This so-called invasion was just too small to have any immediate effect, for the Strifes had no idea how many men they would be joining. Most of them quickly discovered it wouldn't be enough, which is why they purposely did not ignite their weapons when they made their move, allowing us to rapidly diffuse the situation. Some however, driven to the edge of their desperation, ignited their weapons, forcing Foxblade to react as he did," Moordin said. Gisbo looked over at Foxblade eating his meal. He remembered how dangerously swift he had been as he decimated the Strifes holding him and Rolce. It was scary, yet one of the most awesome things Gisbo had ever witnessed.

"Now that you know who the capturers were and why the Strifes were involved in the matter, it leaves one more unanswered question. Why are Shax and Lokin stealing children? What is it that they need children like Foxblade's son Jakobi for? It is here we have only theories and are not totally sure of their motives. We know not where their base of operations is located, either. At this moment, scouts have been sent out to pursue any leads relating to their lair," Moordin said.

"What's the best theory you have?" Rolce asked.

"Well, we believe the main aspect of it all is Shax. He is a Sybil and Sybils have very mysterious powers as it is. We are also very shaky when it comes to knowing Drakeness techniques and it is said that Sybils using Drakeness can employ powers never before heard of. We know that the purity of children are needed for some of the Drakeness's dark rituals and we conclude they need them to somehow do us harm. How such abilities are even being used without the presence of Drakearon in this realm is equally frightening. We are in a dangerous position were the enemy knows much about our abilities and we know only basics of theirs. Rough times are ahead and we believe that we are close to finding the location of Shax and Lokin. Once we do, we can promise that the children will be saved and Shax and Lokin will be eliminated for the murder of Purah and crimes against Renegades, as well as humanity," Moordin assured them. Rolce was shocked by this sudden realization. Moordin noticed this as he placed his hand on Rolce's shoulder.

"I know there is much conflict in your soul right now, Rolce. You don't know what should be done with your father and frankly I don't know what to do either. He was my best friend. I've tried once to bring him back to our side. It helps to see Shax as already gone; there is no helping him. Instead, an evil being resides in your father's body and he must be stopped," Moordin said. Rolce looked up at him.

"I just don't know what to do. When I first saw him kill that child, I thought he was the most evil man I have ever seen, but when he arrived at Heaven's Shelter that day and looked at me, called me his son, I swear I saw something there. He looked ashamed," Rolce said. Every member of Moordin's synergy looked at each other.

"You can't allow such thoughts to go through your head, Rolce. The atrocities he has committed. He killed your mother and nearly killed me," Moordin said.

"I know that," Rolce said.

"Either way, Rolce . . . let's say he did come back to us - we can't let his actions slide. He will be punished, most likely chained for a life sentence. Nobody can escape punishment," Moordin said.

"I know that too, but part of me feels that nobody is totally lost forever," Rolce said, not really sure what else to say.

"You have a great compassionate heart, Rolce. One as young as you doesn't deserve to have such conflicting thoughts to grapple with. This is why I was trying to hide it from you. Even so, know that I am proud of you. There is no need to fret over things beyond our control. When we toss aside such worry, we are at peace. Now, both of you should get some sleep and don't ponder too long on this. We wanted to tell you firsthand so someone else wouldn't misinform you now that the information is out. Focus on your training and do try to have fun," Moordin said with a smile.

"You guys always say that," Gisbo noted.

"Your time to fight beside us will come, Gisbo. Enjoy your youth and get some sleep," Falcon concurred as he rose from his chair.

"You always say that, too!" Gisbo said.

"I know we do, but when you get to my age one day, you will understand. For now, do as we say. Work hard for Perry, especially you, Gisbo. Goodnight, boys!" Falcon said as he winked and the class masters shut the door behind them. Gisbo looked over at Rolce who had hung his head, sulking. Gisbo didn't blame him this time.

"I hate to admit it, but I think Falcon and Moordin are right. We shouldn't worry about things beyond our control. What's the point? We can't fix it anyway. But we can train extra hard to prepare for the time we can. I mean, as soon as we learn Elekai', we will be able to put up a fight at least!" Gisbo said. Rolce looked up.

"You know what, I've had my mind on so many other things I haven't really thought about that at all," Rolce said as he looked at the empty bunk.

"Girlfriends can wait for now. We got work to do. Let's go rest up earlier than usual so we can work extra hard tomorrow," Gisbo said as he made his way back to his bunk.

"Right behind you," Rolce agreed as both boys washed up and were off to bed. Gisbo once again found himself unable to sleep. He hated nights like these when his brain overanalyzed everything. Between what was just laid on him and what had happened with Anakah earlier that day, Gisbo thought he would never get to sleep. He then took his own advice, thrust the thoughts aside, and replaced them with thoughts of rescuing Jackobi. After a few tries, and staring at the empty bunk below him, Gisbo found he could block them out. Within moments, he was fast asleep.

_Chapter 19:_ The Essence Unleashed

Before the Renegas knew it, they had all shown proficiency in every weapon category and just as Gisbo had suspected, the good ol' talon sword remained his favorite. In fact, everybody's initial choice held true, as Perry had said it would. From here, the boys and girls moved on to hand-to-hand combat, sparring with each other for weeks on end. Gisbo felt right at home in this area; he had been fighting with his fists his entire life, after all. Others experienced some difficulties, but after many black eyes and bruises later, everybody showed enough progress for the Renega stage of training.

As long as Gisbo could remember, he had dreamed of being an Elekai' Warrior for one reason: to learn Elekai'. After so many years, the long-awaited day had finally come for to unleash his essence and begin learning the Elekai' skills. Perry arrived early that morning, along with many of the class masters who wished to witness their pupil's special day. Falcon and Moordin gave their trainees encouraging thumbs up as Perry quieted everyone for his lecture.

"This is a big day for each one of us gathered here. You have shown much patience and much dedication. I couldn't be more proud of your progression from a bunch of bumbling children with sharp objects to novice fighters. All of you standing before me have proven yourselves in a wide variety of combat styles on an impressive number of weapons; you are now deemed worthy to put power behind those swings. Since each of you is a unique individual, some will unleash their essence rather quickly while others might take a few tries. If you don't succeed at first, don't fret! Relax; when this day is through, all of you will be able to unleash the power that has been churning within you since your birth. Without further ado, I want all of you to split up and get some distance," Perry instructed. The Renegas did as they were told, everyone spreading out across the Courtyard of Strength. The Flarians stood a few more body lengths apart from their peers, just in case.

"All right, the moment is come. Are all of you ready?" Perry said. Everybody answered with a resounding yes.

"No, no, I said, ARE YOU READY?" Perry yelled with enthusiasm. The class answered again with a louder "yes!" Gisbo thought it was quite neat to see Perry all riled up for a change. His dry tone had finally taken a back seat.

"Excellent! Now, all of you, grip your ring hand into a tight fist. Good. This is where things get interesting. Depending upon your race, you will unleash your essence in different ways. The process is entirely linked to your thoughts, memories and feelings. Use your imagination! Let's start with the Aquarians. You are to think of a memory that is sorrowful; focus on it! It must be a memory that makes you want to rise up from it and compells you to use your power to wash it away! You are the life givers! A caring, thoughtful bunch, able to fit in with just about anyone and masters of adaptation! Use your hearts! Only then will your essence be called forth to aid you!" Perry said with intensity and the Aquarians closed their eyes and began to focus.

"Soarians! You must think of a great achievement! You are a people of swift action, swept up by the thought of new and curious things. Your great intelligence aids you! You are flyers; one with the air! Use your imagination and think of thrilling times in your life or times you helped solve a problem. Call upon your essence to enhance your natural abilities and take flight!" Perry said, pumping his fist in the air as the Soarians closed their eyes and focused on great experiences.

"Now for you, Naforians! With me now! You are constantly striving for improvement and sharing it with others. Just like the earth sprouts new plants that grow and spread their seeds, you are always ready to offer your great strength and wisdom to all who will listen. You are one with the mighty beasts! You are never satisfied, there is never a limit for you, no final destination, always the journey! You must imagine beautiful things to protect! You must imagine yourselves constantly gaining in strength! Shoot for the moon! Nothing is limited! Call upon the earthly essence within you to help you achieve your growth!" Perry said, and with that, Rolce and the other Naforians began reaching for images that would release their essence.

"And finally, you Flarians! You are a beacon of inspiration to us all! Unleash your fiery spirit to aid your fellow races in battle. Think of painful injustices, moments of righteous fury for a cause! Search inside yourselves and call upon the flames within you to quell evil and ignite us all with a burning battle cry!" Perry finished as Gisbo closed his eyes to concentrate. He held his clenched fist in front of his face and focused hard, as images of Thomson came into his mind, followed by the stupid decisions he had made in his former life, followed close behind by the memories of receiving his very first bands in Heaven's Shelter and the look of pride on Falcon's face.

WHOOSH! In a rush of vibrant green energy, Rolce's ring began to glow. His veins also took on the green glow and pulsated, causing everyone around him to break into applause, especially Moordin, who lost his reserved facade for a moment and exploded into hoots and whistles. Rake was a close second igniting in red energy. Gisbo heard the familiar WHOOSH sound behind him, giving the crowd more reason to clap and cheer.

Over the next half hour, everyone except Gisbo and Grandfield had successfully released their essence. Gisbo was immensely frustrated, angry with himself, and embarrassed at this point. He was thinking of the most intense memories he could summon and still absolutely nothing came. All of a sudden, he heard a loud roar followed by a quieter WHOOSH and Grandfield's ring ignited red. It was late, but louder even than anybody else's had been.

"What the hell did you just think of?" Gisbo snapped. Grandfield grinned.

"Well, I didn't eat breakfast this morning so all I could think about was how hungry I was, but the moment I began thinking of my favorite foods: BOOM! It went off! Maybe you should give it a try," Granfield suggested.

Gisbo visualized steak and sushi, wincing to the point where he was letting out audible groans.

Sounds like I'm trying to take a massive dump or something! DAMN IT! Gisbo thought to himself.

By this point everyone was clapping and cheering him on. The thought that he was now the only one left made Gisbo burn with shame, which in turn, enraged him. He tried to gather together all his memories once more and condense them more intensely, but still nothing happened.

Come on, you stupid essence! Gisbo thought with desperation when an idea crossed his mind.

Maybe he was thinking of too much at once. What if he focused on just one thing, one target, and focused? Gisbo knew exactly what to think about: Ranto was the first, most infuriating topic that came to mind, pointing his spiked, brass-knuckled fist at Gisbo on the day of Perry's field exercise. He focused on Ranto's face; his snide smile and deep, derisive laugh when he suddenly he began to feel the warmth of wrath tingle throughout his body. This was it! He was doing it! Gisbo kept on visualizing himself getting knocked clean to the ground, feeling frustrated and helpless. He winced even harder and with a fierce yell he thrust his arm skyward and his ring ignited!

WHISSSSS . . . was the sound that came from his ring. Nobody clapped. Gisbo lowered his ring in front of his face for a closer look. Instead of glowing brightly like everyone else's, it was sparking and dripping with quick pulses of red energy, making a low, weak, hissing noise. Everybody stared on, not quite knowing what to think or how to react, as Gisbo noticed the thin, weakly lit veins running down his arms, barely visible at all. After what seemed like an eternity, Perry approached him.

"What's wrong with my ring?" Gisbo asked Perry.

"There's, there's nothing wrong with your ring, Gisbo," Perry said. Gisbo noticed the restraint in his voice. This was the only time Perry had ever stuttered to get words out. It could not be a good sign.

"Then why isn't my ring glowing like everybody else's? Give me another one! Mine's broken or something!" Gisbo yelled. Perry opened his mouth to say something, seemed to think better of it, and raised his hand as if to say, "Hold on a minute..."

"All right everyone! Congratulations to you all, you may be dismissed early. Go celebrate with your class masters and be here tomorrow at the same time. Off you go now! Move! Move!" Perry urged as he began shuffling the students towards their class masters leaving only Gisbo, Rolce, Falcon and Moordin present.

"Now that everyone's gone can somebody please tell me what's going on?" Gisbo asked. Perry, Falcon and Moordin all looked at each other and finally, Falcon answered.

"Gisbo, here. Try this ring on and ignite it for me," Falcon said, taking off his ring and sliding it on Gisbo's finger. Gisbo did as he was told and focused on the same memory as before, investing all his energy in it. Again, the ring ignited with the same weak hiss.

"I think this one's broken too! What gives?" Gisbo asked.

"Gisbo, I'm afraid the rings aren't broken," Perry uttered the words Gisbo had been dreading.

"Well? What, what the hell is wrong with me then?" Gisbo stammered.

"There is nothing wrong with you, per se. It just seems that your body can't produce enough essence required for combat," Perry said. Gisbo looked, and felt, shocked.

"What? What are you trying to say to me?" Gisbo questioned again, although he knew what the answer was. Falcon bent down, put both hands on his protégé's shoulders, and looked him straight in the eyes, man to man.

"Gisbo, I don't know what's wrong. I mean, you were tested at birth and Honj gave the go ahead that you had the right amount of essence to be an Elekai' warrior, but it seems we may have made a mistake," Falcon said in a kindly voice, barely above a whisper.

"Mistake?" Gisbo asked, dumbfounded.

"Well, not a mistake, exactly. Sometimes, in very rare cases, people can lose their essential energies while they grow up. It is a rare condition called Skarupulous in which the body concentrates its energies and exudes them through the skin, leaving one able to emit only low energy outputs. It is such a rare disease that it was named after the only other man who ever had it. Gisbo, I'm so sorry," Perry explained.

Gisbo took two steps out of the circle where they were all huddled and looked to the sky with his back turned and hands on his waist. Everything he had ever dreamed of, everything, came down to this day. He should feel sorry, he had every right to, but of all the memories he had summoned, one stuck with him and crowded out the others: a memory of a day in the pouring rain, when he had lain beaten and battered in a mud puddle, changed his thought process. He refused to go to that dark, desperate place again. He smiled a weak smile to himself and turned around, startling the others with the positive grin on his face.

"So that's it then? It figures. It just seems to be the way my life goes. I knew this whole thing was too good to be true, but it doesn't matter! I told myself once before that I was done with crying like a little girl because life hit me too hard. I may have this disease, but that doesn't even matter. I mean, I can still emit something, right? A lot of people can't even do that! I don't care, I'm gonna keep going on with the training. I won't give up, ever. If, of course, you'll let me continue, Instructor Perry," Gisbo said with resolve. For the first time, Gisbo saw Perry's hardened exterior melt away completely; so totally bewildered he was by Gisbo's response that he looked as if he may shed a tear.

"Gisbo, in all my years as an instructor I've never seen such fiery will and determination. Never. I would not have expected such a response from a man, let alone a boy. If you are willing to put in the work, then who am I to stop you? Heaven's Shelter is your home now and as far as I am concerned, the heart of a Renegade lies within you even if the power does not, which is far more important. This is not going to be easy for you. You may or may not be able to master even the most minor skills, but I doubt that I can convince you to do otherwise. You've made yourself clear and I am proud of you, as, I'm sure, is your class master," Perry said and, giving Gisbo a rare smile, he embraced him in a rarer hug. Giving him a pat on the back, Perry continued. "Even so, we will check you out with the Medical Department. Can you take him there tomorrow, Falcon?" Perry asked.

"Not a problem, I supposed it's what I signed up for, eh?" Falcon said. Perry nodded and set his gaze on Gisbo once more.

"You are something else, boy, I'll give you that, and as long as you aren't all talk, I will do everything in my power to make you into a fine warrior. Even so, there is still a chance you may not have this disease. I will go schedule an appointment for you right now to clarify. Falcon, Moordin, good day to you both," Perry said with a short wave and went off to the Medical Department.

"You know what, Gisbo? If you have Skarupulous, there have been many people working on a cure for your condition for years in the Medical Department, just in case this rarity shows itself again. I think I'm going to follow Perry and tell them to work a little harder. Just as Perry said, this is your home now and you're not going anywhere," Moordin said with an encouraging grin.

"That's right, Gisbo, just because you can't use Elekai' fully doesn't mean there aren't ways around it. We'll look into it, me and Moordin, but once again, Gisbo, never let that fiery desire of yours dampen. You inspire a lot more people than you realize..." Falcon said as he ruffled Gisbo's hair.

"Falcon and I got some business to attend to also. Don't be late for class tomorrow, you hear?" Moordin said. Gisbo and Rolce both nodded as they said their goodbyes. The boys stood for a moment, watching their class masters fade into the distance.

"It's always got to be you and me, Rolce, eh? Something always has to go wrong," Gisbo said with a sigh.

"I'm sure Jackobi feels the same way. He'll fit right in, soon as we get him back. Now that I can use Elekai', I'm not going to quit studying until he's back," Rolce said as he ignited his green ring.

"You mean now that WE know Elekai'," Gisbo corrected as he ignited his ring in a weak, sparking hiss. Rolce chuckled.

"Of course, now that WE know Elekai'. Trust me, Gisbo, I'm studying every night and practicing every free moment I get. We're going to get him back, I promise," Rolce said. Gisbo nodded.

The next day came in a hurry and Gisbo found himself seated on a cold steel medical table wearing nothing but a white cotton robe.

"Is this stupid thing necessary?" Gisbo grumbled to himself only to shake in surprise when the door opened and somebody answered him.

"Yes, it is. We need to have the lowest amount of germs possible in here and IAM knows a Renega's clothes are covered!" The woman was dressed in a white robe, but still wore her blue Renegade headband. Gisbo noticed she was a Nazarite as he detected the familiar blue robe dangling below her white one.

"Gisbo Falcon, hi! I'm Doctor Kalloway, better known as Kinny's mom," the doctor said as she outstretched a hand.

"Oh! Well, nice to meet you! I never would have guessed you were Kinny's mom, you're just so much taller and, um, nicer," Gisbo said. Doctor Kalloway laughed at this.

"You haven't been the first to say it! Nope, my daughter decided to take after her father, Gilfrid. She got my brain, but her father's mannerisms and test anxiety, I'm afraid. So let's get down to business. I just need to take a little bit of your blood, that's all, and we can run the tests. Is that all right?" the doctor asked with a smile, sitting down while she prepared a needle about the size of a small dagger.

"Uh, what are you doing with that needle?" Gisbo asked.

"I have to sanitize it first, then you're going to turn your head, feel a little pinch in your forearm, and it will be all over! See, if you flex, it's going into that big blue vein running up your arm," Doctor Kalloway explained. Gisbo's face went white.

"Are, are you for real?" Gisbo asked, his face twisted in fear.

"Oh, come on now, you big baby. You are almost going to be a Renegara, don't tell me you're afraid of one little needle?" Doctor Kalloway said.

"Well, I," Gisbo muttered.

"Good to hear! Now roll up your sleeve for me. It will be over before you know it. Relax," Doctor Kalloway said in a no-nonsense tone. Gisbo did as he was told. He felt his sleeve roll up and the doctor grabbed his arm firmly.

"Now look the other way for me, please," Doctor Kallaway instructed. No problems there. He was never afraid of shots before. It wasn't the needle going in that bothered him or something going in. He just didn't enjoy the thought of something coming out. The pinch came quickly and Doctor Kalloway was right, it didn't really hurt. Gisbo breathed a premature sigh of relief and suddenly felt a bit lightheaded and dizzy.

"Done!" Gisbo heard Doctor Kalloway say.

That wasn't so bad, just feel a bit dizzy, that's all, Gisbo thought and smiled.

"So, you want to see your blood?" Doctor Kalloway said as she shook a small clear bottle full of red fluid in his face. Bright specks and sparkles flashed in front of Gisbo's eyes before everything went black. When he awoke, Falcon was standing over him and he was still in the same room, laying down on the metal table top. He rose up to a seated position and the back of his head felt like it weighed ten pounds extra.

"Don't touch it, you got one nasty bump," Falcon said. It took a few moments for Gisbo to get his bearings as he stared dizzily at the closed door in front of him.

"What happened this time?" Gisbo asked.

"Apparently Doctor Kalloway," Falcon said before being interrupted.

"Kalloway! That lady's nuts! She talked about blue veins! Showed me this massive needle thing, then she shook my blood in front of my face! She . . ." Gisbo yelled, trailing off as the door opened again.

"And for that I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget other people aren't as fascinated by the human body as I am. The good news is you were out long enough for the lab results to come in! So let's sit down and go over all this, shall we?" Doctor Kalloway said. Gisbo looked at her with a mistrusting glare.

"No needles, swear to IAM," the doctor vowed, sitting down and opening both her hands for emphasis. "Now, the good news. You don't have Skarupulous," Doctor Kalloway said. Gisbo and Falcon both looked at her in surprise.

"He doesn't? But how can that be? It's the only option. We checked him at birth and he had enough essential energies flowing through him to be full fledged! That sort of essence doesn't just get up and walk away unless he has Skarupulous!" Falcon insisted.

"Yes, that is true and that's the strange part. All of his essence is intact, but it is different from any other essence I have encountered," Doctor Kalloway said.

"Fantastic," Gisbo muttered.

"Essential energy is supposed to be constantly in flux, always moving. Your essence seems to have simply stopped," Kalloway said.

"Wonderful," Gisbo muttered again.

"We did some quick scans on your body while you were unconscious and made some strange discoveries," Doctor Kalloway announced.

"Scans? What?" Gisbo started. This cannot be legit, he thought.

"Hey, would you let her finish please? Go on, Doctor Kalloway," Falcon interrupted.

"As I was explaining, it seems your essence has been building and concentrating to one point near your heart. It is here that it is rotating itself; moving, yes, but it is not traveling throughout your body as it should. When you try to call upon it, all you can muster are trace amounts that have leaked out from the source. It is as if your essence has a mind of its own and is almost hibernating," Doctor Kalloway said.

"And you've never seen this before?" Gisbo asked.

"In all my years as a doctor, never. Neither has anyone else on staff," Doctor Kalloway said. Gisbo shook his head in frustration.

"Great! A brand new disease. They going to call it 'Gisbo' after me, since apparently I'm the only one who's got it? At least I'll be known for something, even if it's nothing but a big disease in the end. I bet everyone in Oak County would love the irony in that," Gisbo said.

"Now don't jump to conclusions. There is just one thing that worries me. We noticed that the essence within you seems to be enlarging as it spins." Kallaway paused a bit before continuing. "Now this behavior worries me because, as your essence expands with the rotations, it is building pressure within your chest. You won't be able to feel it, no, not now. Probably not for some time, but possibly down the line, if this keeps up . . ." Doctor Kallaway trailed off, not wanting to finish. Gisbo got the gist of it either way.

"Even better! So I'm going to explode or something? Is that it? Just like that? One day, BOOM! No more Gisbo?" he shouted.

"Again, don't jump to conclusions. This is only a theory. We are going to work on this and figure out some way to possibly stabilize it. There is nothing wrong, as far as we can tell, with your essence concentrating into one place. It just seems to act out of its own accord, as if it were separate from you. This won't hurt you, you just won't be able to access its power. The problem is the growth of the essence. Essence gets more powerful as it adapts to your growing body, but I have never seen it grow spontaneously. We need to watch this and keep it monitored. I have faith we will come to a solution to stabilize your condition. You have my word, Gisbo," Doctor Kalloway said. Gisbo sighed.

"Why couldn't I just have Skarupulous! Now I got a freakin' bomb in my chest! And quit looking at me like I'm some sort of medical marvel!" Gisbo accused.

"It wasn't my intention, forgive me. We will get to work on solving this problem. I am somewhat excited in a way; this is something new and challenging to tackle when I'm not dealing with nosebleeds and the common cold. Don't worry, Gisbo, you can go about your life normally without fear. We caught whatever this thing is early and time is on our side. Try not to think about it," Doctor Kalloway said.

"Easy for you to say!" Gisbo said.

"Everybody has their issues, Gisbo, everybody. You are no different. Let's go back to your tree house and I'll cook up dinner for you and Rolce and talk everything over. How about it?" Falcon said. Gisbo grunted and they were out the door.

Rolce greeted them with Harpie and Fao flanking him. True to his promise, it looked like he was studying up a storm. Dozens of books were laid out on the kitchen table with various notes scribbled on paper.

"So how'd it go? Oh! I have been learning a bunch of cool techniques I'll have to show you later!" Rolce rambled.

"Well, I don't have Skarupulous. Instead I have an energy bomb in my chest that is gonna blow up and kill everybody one day. Wanna see?" Gisbo said, lifting up his shirt. Rolce looked horrified. Falcon shook his head.

"Excuse me? Gisbo, that is horrible!" Martha exclaimed as she stormed through the door. "I came back from my scouting mission as soon as I received word. Oh, honey, everything is going to be ok," Martha said as she embraced Gisbo in a hug.

"He's just overreacting. It's only a condition they've never heard of before is all. As long as they keep it monitored, he should be fine. How goes the search? Any clues?" Falcon asked Martha. She looked relieved by the news.

"Oh, thank IAM then. I received the message from Norse and returned as soon as I could to make sure you were all right. As for the search, nothing has come up yet. My squad just finished clearing the outskirts of the Soarian territory. No traces of Shax or that snake, Lokin," Martha revealed.

"I'm really sorry, Gisbo, I don't know what to say," Rolce looked as if he was about to cry.

"There's nothing to say. What did I tell you about that mopey dopey crap? I can still function normally, I just wish for once in my life I'd get dealt a good hand or something, but enough, enough complaining! I'm going to sit and eat this meal and enjoy my life and the bomb in my chest!" Gisbo said as he slumped into his chair with finality.

"And a meal you will get! Rolce, clean this mess up! It is filthy in here. And clear the table while I throw on some dinner," Martha ordered. Hearing this, Gisbo perked up.

"I thought Falcon was cooking for us," Gisbo asked. Martha's eyes smoldered at this comment.

"You mean to say you enjoy Falcon's cooking over mine?" Martha asked.

"No, no I didn't mean it like that at all, I," Gisbo stammered.

"Here I come all this way to make you a hot dinner and you refuse? Such ungratefulness!" Martha scolded.

"No, it's not that, it's just Falcon is really good with steaks and that secret marinade he's got," Rolce tried to pitch in and defend his buddy.

"That confounded marinade! Steak is best clean and salted! Why I never!" Martha said, then started to get herself under control. "I'm sorry, dear, I just took that the wrong way. Don't know what came over me," Martha apologized.

"Don't worry, that happens to me all the time," Gisbo smiled. Martha grinned as well as she went about preparing the vegetables. Falcon bent down to whisper in his ear.

"My steak beat hers in a taste contest years ago. She's been sore about it ever since," Falcon whispered with a wink as he fired up the grill. Within a few minutes, all was calm and forgotten as they shared a nice meal and the boys said goodbye to Martha and Falcon for the night.

Later that night when they were in bed, Gisbo found himself laying on his back and staring out at the stars above through his sky window. Why was it him, Rolce and Jackobi that had to deal with so much baggage? Life just wasn't fair. Looking down at the empty bunk only infuriated him more. He supposed there were people worse off in the world, like the kids kidnapped by Shax and Lokin, and he'd heard rumors there were many Flarians clinging to life, hiding out in the deserts of Flaria. He couldn't let himself feel like a victim. He had friends, he had shelter and he had food. Most out there didn't even have that. For a while Gisbo had been pondering the thought of a caring God. Never. We are all on our own, Gisbo thought, before drifting off to sleep.

_Chapter 20:_ The Gift of a Lifetime

The rest of the week flashed by for Gisbo and his classmates as Perry focused on reviewing the material learned to start fresh with Elekai' techniques the following week. This allowed Gisbo to fit in with everyone else, at least for a few more days.

The weekend came and Gisbo loved Saturday mornings, just for the sheer fact he could sleep in as long as he wanted to, sometimes even 'til noon. Rolce was careful not to disturb his friend each morning as he arose with the sun and started his daily routine of studying Elekai' techniques. Rolce had also received a special book on Sybil techniques from Moordin and he constantly searched for any knowledge that might help in discovering Jackobi's location.

This morning was different, however. Gisbo was awoken rather early by an excited Shaved, who normally wasn't all that excitable to begin with. Gisbo wasn't even upset, realizing that if Shaved was excited about something, it was definitely something worthwhile.

"I got a message from Ernie an' Dave. They want you both down at the shop right now," Shaved said with a smile. Gisbo yawned and stretched.

"But it's the weekend! What the hell do they want? Ernie didn't find the broken scaffold in the sand pile, did he?" Gisbo asked. Shaved shook his head, smiling a bit bigger.

"Nah, nothing like that, I'll see you over there. It's sort of a surprise," Shaved admitted and without another word he was out the door. Gisbo looked over at Rolce, who shrugged. They both got cleaned up and made their way over to the shop, where Dave greeted them in his normal friendly fashion.

"Ohohoho! Come to work a few days early, eh?" Dave said.

"What do you mean? You and Ernie wanted to see us," Gisbo said. Dave put on a confused look and turned around to shout to Ernie.

"What? Hey, Ernie! These two guys say we called them over here for something. You know anything about it?" Dave said. Ernie looked up with a grin.

"Nope, sorry, don't know what you're talking about," Ernie answered as he went back to work.

"Great, so I got out of bed on a Saturday for nothing?" Gisbo asked. Dave just laughed.

"Ohhh come on now, only joking with ya, my boy. Step right in!" Dave said, motioning them forward with a big forearm.

"So, you guys all set to use Elekai' now, eh?" Ernie said as he got up from hammering away at a fresh sword. Gisbo turned the other way, a little embarrassed.

"Now now, don't look at me like that. Shaved told me all about it, so don't you fret! Now listen here, you guys have been working for us for nearly a year and I can honestly come right out and say it has been the most productive year our shop has ever seen!" Ernie said proudly, causing the boys to smile too.

"Plus, Dave an' me were equally proud of the success both of you have made in your training. Now that you guys have shown proper knowledge for a Renega, it is time for you two to buy yourselves your very first weapons, which is why I've called you both here," Ernie said, pausing a bit to smile.

"It is quite a shame you won't be able to use natural Elekai', Gisbo, but heed the word 'natural.' Now, this has been something we have been playing with for some time before your little incident and, thanks to much genius work by myself, Knob, Ernie and Shaved here, it's ready. So, if it's all right with you, we have come up with something special for you, Gisbo: Ern an' Dave's engineering at its finest! Go get the package, Shaved." Dave said. Shaved nodded his head and went out back.

"Now previously, you see, this wouldn't have been possible. This technology is rare and designed specifically for someone like you," Ernie said, this time smiling with all his teeth in view.

"So, so what are you trying to tell me?" Gisbo asked, trying not to get his hopes up too fast.

"What we are trying to tell you, Gisbo, is this. Perry told Narroway of your incident and how you reacted. It was a rare instance to begin with, followed by an even rarer response. Narroway was deeply moved by your determination and since he has known of this secret scheme me and Ernie have been working on, he decided that such a rare case deserved a rare reward. You, Gisbo, are going to be able to use Elekai'," Dave said. Gisbo stood for a moment in shock as Shaved returned from the back of the shop holding a package wrapped in brown paper.

"Open it," Shaved said. Gisbo grabbed the long package and unwrapped it; carefully at first, then ripping the paper away all at once. There, in his hands, he held a Talon Sword, his very own Berserker weapon. Gisbo didn't quite know what to say as he stood there, holding the fine weapon with his jaw dropped.

"Now that's not just any old sword you got there. It is also a bit bigger, so it doubles as a skeeting sword, which is why your gonna need one of these to go with it," Ernie said as he tossed him a basic Knuck Knife.

"As you know, when you're up there flying, you need something to parry with should an enemy attack come. The good guys aren't the only ones who know how to Skeet," Ernie said as Gisbo caught it cleanly.

"You'll notice, Gisbo, the handle of your sword is a long cylinder. Normally the steel of an Elekai' weapon is mixed with ground up elemental stones. Yours will work differently. Remember the various power sources found throughout Heaven's Shelter? This right here is a compressed version of that," Ernie explained as he held up a bright red, translucent stone that was perfectly round and had a long, thin red spike at the top that tapered to a point. To Gisbo it looked like a rather large nail topped with a circular orb about the size of a hockey puck; nearly weighed the same too, as Ernie dropped it into Gisbo's hands.

"We have assumed you and Shaved have about the same quantity of elemental essence, as you are about the same age and at same point in your training. We tested it on him and calibrated it to emit the same power level. As Shaved grows in his training, we will hopefully be able to continue the process, as it is still at its experimental stage. Like I said before, this technology is absolutely new and top secret; it's only known to the Renegades. Such power wasn't meant for the average person and you are only receiving this privilege because you have shown yourself to contain enough essence. You just have a problem getting 'er out, that's all! This device was ordered into production by Chief Narroway himself as a precaution, in case evil decides to show its ugly face once more and we need additional fighters. We live in dangerous times and need to prepare ourselves for the worst; even one or two fighters with Skarupulous could tip the scale. Now, enough with all the preliminary crap, I bet you'd like to try it out, eh? Just don't kill yourself," Ernie grinned. Gisbo nodded with excitement.

"But first I gotta give something to your coworker. Don't think we've forgotten about you, Rolce! And don't worry about Grandfield either. We got him early this morning at the Donut Shack. Shaved, go get Rolce his present!" Ernie said. Again, Shaved disappeared to the back of the shop and returned with a very long, thin package wrapped in the same brown paper. Rolce received it gladly as he unwrapped it, already knowing what might be inside. A long, metallic pole-arm that took on a greenish tint if you held it to the light emerged from the brown paper. Rolce adopted a look of overwhelmed gratitude, a smile Gisbo hadn't seen for quite some time dawning across his face.

"That right there was made by your buddy Shaved. It was carved from the trunk of an oak and purified for weeks in a special water mixed with particles of earth stones, then coated in a special steel mixture. Sorry we can't tell you what it is; secret Dave an' Ern recipe. Just know that it is designed especially for our pole-arms, making them lightweight with the wooden base, but plated with a surface hard as diamond to deflect virtually anything thrown your way," Dave said. Rolce couldn't stop grinning.

"Thanks so much. I don't know what to say," Rolce responded.

"Me either, this is amazing . . ." Gisbo said.

"Don't say anything! Go ahead, power those babies up! All you got to do, Gisbo, is insert that power core I gave you into the hilt, needle first, then twist it. It will recognize and attract the spare particles of essence within you and draw the energy to itself rather than putting it out like the Omni-Orbs that power our homes. In a way, the weapon powers you up! So go ahead, start up your first Elekai' weapons!" Ernie said with a fist pump. Gisbo made eye contact with Rolce, as both boys smiled to each other and nodded.

Just when Gisbo thought he'd never be able to use Elekai' again, here he was with the opportunity of a lifetime before him. He was instantly reminded of Falcon explaining that he wasn't dreaming big enough. Just one year ago he had stood in the castle courtyard in Oak County, wanting to become an Elekai' warrior and never believing that it was possible to become a Renegade. Now, even in Heaven's Shelter, he had repeated the mistake of limiting himself, believing he wouldn't be able to use Elekai'. How amazing that he was able to use it normally like everyone else...hopefully this contraption worked. Only one way to find out, Gisbo thought.

"Ready?" Rolce asked Gisbo.

"Ready as ever." Gisbo answered.

WHOOSH! In an instant, Gisbo's blade erupted into reddish orange energy along with Rolce's green pole-arm. Gisbo thought the smile would never wash off his face. His veins didn't pulsate like Rolce's. After all, he was channeling his power with an outside instrument while Rolce's emanated from within and was thrust outward, but he didn't care! He was on top of the world as he swung his ignited blade left and right with both arms, loving the way it left leaping sparks of energy in its trail.

"This is awesome!" Gisbo yelled. Ernie, Dave and Shaved all clapped for him.

"It works!" Dave yelled.

"Sure does! Thank you so much! All of you!" Gisbo answered. The muscles in his cheeks hurt from smiling so intensely.

"Wonderful! Now as I explained earlier, you are able to use essence, but it will work differently and has slight limitations. Nothing is perfect, you know, but at least you can contend with everyone else," Ernie said.

"I don't even care, this is great! I'll be able to Skeet now, right?" Gisbo asked with glee.

"You most certainly will! I suggest you try that later though. That power source within your blade won't last forever. You will need to recharge it after every day of use. Don't forget. You don't want to be up in the air Skeetin' only to discover that you're about to splat to your death. So, you remember that Disc Harmonic in your room, right? All you need to do is drop this baby on it and it will spin and recharge itself from the Omni-Orb in your floor! How long it takes will vary, but you'll know it's done when it stops spinning around and glows brightly. Piece of cake, right?" Ernie said. Gisbo nodded.

"Good! We are gonna have to work on a portable charge for you when you start your Renegara training with Falcon, for you won't always be spending nights in your tree house when you are working with him. We'll get started on that right away, so don't you fret. Knob and Shaved have already begun the blueprints for ya," Ernie said. Gisbo looked at Shaved.

"I can't thank you enough, Shaved, you have no idea what this means to me! I'm so thankful I know at least one grease monkey!" Gisbo said as he charged and gave Shaved a hug.

"No problem at all, you let me know when your ready to start Skeeting. Only us Soarins and Flarians are capable you know, sorry, Rolce," Shaved said. Rolce shook his head.

"The skies aren't meant for me. I'll stick with talking to animals, thank you very much!" Rolce exclaimed.

"Glad you understand. Now, one last thing. You know that essence is naturally produced within us and the stones bring it out. Be wary and don't push yourself too hard because your energy isn't made to last as long as everybody else's. Sure, in a rough battle Elekai' warriors can deplete their essence and will have to sleep to allow the energies within them to regenerate. Your power core, unfortunately, is sort of a prototype model and wasn't created with the idea of drawn out battles in mind. Not that you will be in one, but in times like these I suggest you be careful anyway. Best we can do is supply you with backup charges for you can't be too vigilant. Here are two more; use them only in an emergency," Ernie directed as he thrust them to Gisbo, who took them gladly.

"Alright, alright, enough explanation! We have work to do, so off you go! All I can say is that if you try Skeeting, do it in an open area! Them trees can be hurtful. Thank you boys for everything and, Gisbo, keep us up to date on how our brainchild works out for ya. 'Till Monday!" Ernie said as Gisbo and Rolce said their goodbyes to Ernie, Dave and Shaved, shouting even more thank yous.

Gisbo and Rolce literally ran out of the shop as they made their way back to their tree house, clutching their new presents closely.

"All right, you first, Gisbo, I want to see you take off! Come on, power that thing up!" Rolce said, eyes wide with excitement.

"And here I thought you were all scared of flying," Gisbo commented.

"I am, but it doesn't mean I can't appreciate those who do! Go ahead! Give it a whirl!" Rolce said with a big smile. Gisbo nodded as he threw the Talon sword to the ground, pointed his fist at it, and concentrated. Nothing.

"You're doing it wrong. Here, watch, you got to throw it to the ground and concentrate on the weapon, not your ring. Like this . . ." Rolce said as he tossed his pole to the ground and made a fist. Nearly instantly, a rope-like energy strand was thrust out of the ring, attached itself to the pole-arm and with a quick jerk, it returned to Rolce's open hand.

"You could have just told me! Didn't have to show me! I know you're good at this stuff, you jerk. Now stand back, I'll show ya how it's done," Gisbo said as he tried again.

"Just be careful, yours is sharp, I don't want to lose any body parts," Rolce said.

"Just chill will ya?" Gisbo said as he closed his eyes to concentrate like Rolce instructed. Suddenly he realized what was the matter.

"Duh! I gotta turn the stupid thing on! That's why," Gisbo said as he walked forward, twisted the red orb to the right, walked back and tried again. He thought again of Ranto and visualized a stream coming from the ring to power up his weapon and make it float. Just as he finished the thought, he heard Rolce cheering beside him. As quickly as he envisioned it, his dream became reality as his new sword glowed with bright red essence and hovered about a foot off the ground.

"Stay focused now," Rolce coached on.

"I know, I know, shut up," Gisbo said as he slowly walked forward, one foot in front of the other, and stood in front of the weapon. Gisbo raised one foot in the air and placed it gingerly on top of the blade, only to push it down from his weight. It hit the ground with a thud, but when he lifted his foot again, the sword fluttered upward once more.

"What gives?" Gisbo asked, flustered, as he repeatedly tried to step onto it, causing it to bounce up and down.

"Alright, now that you got the floating part taken care of, you have to envision yourself weightless; only then will it work. Remember, your body has to coincide with it and, oh, wait, no, that's wrong. That's how Soarians have to do it, hold on . . ." Rolce said, thinking hard as Gisbo gave him a look of, How do you know all this stuff?

"I just like to read. A lot, about everything. Even if I don't like skeeting or flying, I'm still interested in the subject. Ok, I remember now. You see, the Flarians weren't able to fly for some time. Soarians have the innate ability for flight and don't require a skeet, which was created just for Flarians to take flight. A lot of Soarians still enjoy skeeting over straight up flying. Through extensive research on fireworks, they tested whether, with enough fire power, they could jettison themselves upward. Thus, the skeet was born. So, I suggest that you hop on it as-is and try to jettison yourself upward with raw power. Go for it," Rolce said, folding his arms and awaiting Gisbo's try.

Gisbo jumped on his blade with both feet and it sank to the ground. He clenched his ring hard. This was it, he thought, time to really cut loose. Gisbo let all sorts of painful memories wash over him as well as exhilarating ones and with a yell and a pump of his fist, he powered up his essence and . . . BOOM! The sword shot out from under his feet, sending Gisbo into an awkward mid-air cartwheel. The sword whizzed right over Rolce's head and struck point first right through the side of their tree house. Gisbo sat rubbing his butt as he and Rolce stared at the protruding sword.

"Um, too much I guess?" Gisbo said with an awkward smile.

"You guess? You guess! You nearly killed me! That thing went right towards my head! And, NO! DON'T DO THAT!" Rolce yelled too late. Gisbo stretched his arm forward, calling upon his essence to retrieve his sword from the house. A quick tug wasn't enough, so Gisbo pulled again, very hard. The second time, a small explosion rocked the house, freeing the blade and leaving a boulder-sized hole in the wall. Singed planks of wood and insulation flew everywhere. Fao and Harpie both appeared at the hole within seconds, looking up and down frantically. Rolce slapped his hand to his face and let it slide down in frustration and disbelief.

"Damn . . ." Gisbo mouthed.

"Why is everything a process and a problem with you? I swear to IAM, you belong in the special needs department!" Rolce exclaimed, shaking his head. Gisbo walked over, picked up his sword, disengaged his essence with a twist of the orb, and looked at his friend.

"Oh I get it, so you're calling my new sword a crutch, huh? A wheelchair? Is that it?" Gisbo asked with a dangerous edge to his voice. Rolce's face flushed.

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that!" Rolce said. Gisbo laughed out loud seeing the dismay on Rolce's face.

"Oh man, you're so sensitive. You think I would get so easily offended? Please, I just needed to lighten the mood before you got all upset," Gisbo said.

"I wouldn't expect much else of you. Well, just when I think I have a whole weekend full of books on Elekai' ahead of me, now I have to add the coveted first edition of What to do when your roommate trashes the side of your dorm with his first attempt at skeeting," Rolce said.

"Whoa, was that a joke or something?" Gisbo replied. He thought for a moment and then continued. "Let's just go talk to Ernie again. I'm sure he has a prepared speech for such a situation as this," Gisbo said as they began walking back to where they came from.

"Just hope we don't need a sand pile or a broken scaffolding, I'd hate to hear that speech," Rolce said with a grin. At this, Gisbo laughed.

"There ya go, you're getting better! Now let's get this little project out of the way so we can enjoy the weekend. Me and you are gonna practice controlling our Elekai' before we completely trash the place!" Gisbo said.

"Me? You mean before YOU trash it," Rolce said.

"Hey, hey, we're a team, bud, everything I do affects you! Now how does that grab ya?" Gisbo said with a snicker.

"Not particulary well," Rolce said as they continued their trek through the woods.

The boys spent the rest of the day and the next morning repairing the side of their dorm with supplies and help from Ernie, all the while listening to stories about building most of Heaven's Shelter by hand back in the day, when Ernie himself was head of the construction team. Gisbo and Rolce were thankful for his help. Everything looked good as new and they had the rest of the afternoon, as well as the following day, to do whatever they wished.

Rolce did just as he had promised, spending the remainder of the day outside by the picnic table, alternating between sitting with a book and getting up to try out the techniques he learned from them. Gisbo spent the time outside playing fetch with Fao and wrestling with her on the ground, joining Rolce only when he powered his essence. By the end of the day, Gisbo and Rolce were both exhausted and Gisbo had used up all the energy in his first sphere. Rolce believed he had just enough power to try one more technique before dinner.

"I think we made pretty good progress for one day. At least you can maintain a steady stream of power now, Gisbo," Rolce commented.

"Sure can!" Gisbo said as he threw his powered-up weapon into the air and, with one neat tug, returned it, handle first, into his outstretched hand.

"I think I finally got it! Best of all, the cuts stopped bleeding too!" Gisbo displayed his battered forearm, covered in gashes from failed attempts.

"That's . . . yeah," Rolce said, grimacing. "Alright, I want to try one last technique now. This one is different though, it's a Sybil ability," Rolce said.

"Really? I thought they were too advanced to use, even for you," Gisbo asked.

"Yeah, it's true, my body needs to be more powerful to handle them. When my essence nears its power limits, my body will be ready. I do want to be fluent in all the Elekai' abilities available to me first. I just can't help myself from trying this," Rolce said.

"Always the overachiever. All right, shoot with this Sybil thing, I'm getting hungry," Gisbo said.

"Ok, it's sort of an introductory technique that doesn't require much power to use. It's called 'Mind-Link.' Basically, as the name suggests, it allows me to connect with someone's mind and review their thoughts in addition to transferring my thoughts to them. It's an exceptional ability that allows for large amounts of information to be shared between two people almost instantaneously," Rolce said. Gisbo gave him a blank, empty stare of wonder.

"Right, um, for example, I could read you an entire book if I wanted to, if I memorized it, without saying a word. Normally, to read an entire book out loud would take hours, but with mind-link, I skip the process and put that information right into your brain as if you had heard it or read it for yourself. When I use the technique, it puts us both in a quick trance. To us, it will feel like hours have gone by, but in reality only seconds have passed. Pretty awesome, huh?" Rolce said, smiling.

"Ok, so basically you think you can link with my head and share a butt-load of thoughts or information in seconds?" Gisbo asked.

"I guess that's the rough cut," Rolce agreed.

"And, you'll be able to read my thoughts, anybody's thoughts, when you do this?" Gisbo asked.

"According to the book it says I can," Rolce said.

"Then NO WAY! That is freaky stuff, Rolce! You digging into my head like that," Gisbo protested. Rolce shook his head.

"Trust me, it would be no picnic for me either," Rolce said. Then, a new idea dawned in Gisbo's mind.

"Wait, so you could do this to anyone, right? You could touch people and read their thoughts? Anybody? Just like that?" Gisbo asked.

"Well, yeah, apparently the book says once I've mastered this power I wouldn't even need to touch them, it only helps along the process. I'd be able to read minds from anywhere as long as I was in appropriate distance from the target," Rolce said.

"Now that is cool! You could, like, scan any girl's mind to see if they like you! Hell, you could know tons of things! You could, wow, the possibilities are crazy!" Gisbo said.

"Yes, they are. Hence, Sybils must be a holy, principled sort. I'd never let myself be drunk with power and I think IAM knew this and it's why he has blessed me with this. It is said Sybils channel their powers directly from IAM himself and the closer we are to him, the more we can learn and do," Rolce said.

"If that's true, then why would IAM choose somebody like Shax to have such power?" Gisbo quickly caught himself as he saw Rolce's head sink. "Sorry! I didn't mean it like that, only thinking out loud, Rolce," Gisbo apologized. Rolce shook his head.

"Don't worry about it. It is a good question. One I don't know the answer to, but forget it for now. I want to try this thing out and then we can go get some food. Also, please don't spread around that I can do these things. I'd rather people not know," Rolce said.

"Secret's safe with me, bud, don't even worry. So what do I need to do?" Gisbo asked.

"Here. Just stand still, relax, and close your eyes. Try to empty your thoughts. Imagine yourself sinking into absolute blackness. That's it! I will try to reach out, grab your thoughts, and make the connection," Rolce said. Gisbo did as he was told. He stood still and imagined himself falling slowly into a vast blackness. He felt Rolce touch his forearm and continued to concentrate.

At first nothing happened. He felt Rolce squeeze a little harder on his wrist and his hand began to feel very warm, yet soothing. It was then he felt it, saw it, in his mind. He saw Rolce's arm break through the blackness in a ray of golden light. It was beautiful how much the light contrasted with the void of darkness and connected with Gisbo. Upon contact, Gisbo shook as a jolt of energy passed through him, but this was different than the feeling of Elekai'. The warmth that spread from Rolce's touch now filled his entire being. He felt lightheaded and carefree, as all of a sudden moving pictures of Gisbo's memories appeared before them both.

Gisbo tried to lift his eyelids and found he couldn't while the moving pictures of his memories began to play rapidly, going backwards in time, all the way back to the day when they arrived at Heaven's Shelter, and then even further back. Suddenly, the moving picture stopped at the schoolhouse of Oak County. The image immediately fizzled away and a strange feeling passed through Gisbo. He began to feel sick with guilt and embarrassment. His stomach regions felt as if they were doused in acid, the pain of this guilt was nearly overbearing. Gisbo tried to open his eyes once more, but still couldn't while Rolce gripped his wrist. He felt like a prisoner within his own mind and just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, Rolce finally let go.

Gisbo fell to his knees as Rolce dropped beside him, both panting hard.

"Wow, it worked, but what the hell just happened?" Gisbo asked through deep breaths. Rolce took a moment to respond as he too caught his breath.

"I . . . I don't know," Rolce said, his face looking like the embodiment of pain. Gisbo knew Rolce was good at a lot of things, but one thing he couldn't do was lie or hide his feelings. Gisbo knew there was something wrong here and he had a feeling that sudden twinge of guilt and embarrassment had come from Rolce's mind, not his own. He couldn't believe the extreme pain of it. Was this how Rolce felt all the time? How could he even walk and smile? Gisbo figured he would play dumb for now. It was just a theory and at that moment, he didn't want to know if it was true or not. He figured Rolce didn't know that he had felt it. Since Rolce always responded well to positive remarks, Gisbo said, "Well, at least you did it, right? And with more practice, you'll get it down in no time!" Rolce forced a smile and nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right. Still, it takes a lot out of you. Whew, I got to get stronger. At least I know I can do it now," Rolce panted as he breathed out a big sigh.

"Well, I don't know about you, but food is calling me from the commons. I told Crass and Knob I'd eat with them in a bit to show them my new sword! Come on, let's go, Sybil in the making!" Gisbo said.

"Thanks a lot for your help, Gisbo. I think I'm going to practice on Harpie and Fao for a while later. I just wanted to see if it would work on you. I don't want to drain your energy along with mine," Rolce said.

"Anytime, pal, don't worry. Now come on, let's get some grub," Gisbo said as both boys stood up, stretched, and were off once again on the endless cycle of filling their stomachs.

_Chapter 21:_ A Battle to Fight

Ever since Gisbo had connected with Rolce's mind, he looked upon his friend a little differently. He watched him as he trained, ate and even slept.

There was no way somebody felt that awful ALL the time, Gisbo thought. Yet somehow his pal trekked on with a smile. When things troubled him, Gisbo liked to stay busy too, even reading, anything to get his mind off it. He now understood why Rolce was constantly training by the picnic table and how one book soon turned to about six or seven at a time. His dedication was . . . inspiring, to say the least, making Gisbo feel quite guilty about his own mediocre training.

Gisbo had to remind himself a few times why they were both putting in so much extra work. It was all for Jackobi. At least, that's what he was doing it for. He wasn't so sure Rolce was training specifically for that reason alone, but was he any different? That empty bunk caused Gisbo pangs of guilt every time he looked at it. He knew it wasn't his fault, or Rolce's for that matter, but it didn't make him feel any better. Guilt proved quite the motivating factor for them both and if the feeling Rolce had passed to him was truly his emotion at the time, Gisbo knew his friend was going to become one powerful warrior if he kept his pace.

Along with their daily exercises and personal training after work, their mornings were spent with Perry and the rest of the Renegas where they really learned to hone their skills. Word spread quickly of Gisbo's "special" weapon and for good reason. There were a lot of people in Heaven's Shelter who weren't warriors and loved the idea of learning Elekai'. Word also spread about the reason he had been granted this special privilege from Chieftain Narroway. If anything, this was closest to what Gisbo had originally set out to do, to stand out for his accomplishments and not his weird name. He found it especially ironic that his shortcomings ushered in this newfound popularity. Everyone in Heaven's Shelter was indeed proud of their Gisbo Falcon. Well, almost everyone.

Ranto hadn't seen Gisbo since the day he received his second band. Narroway had him training out in the desert wastelands of Flaria and he checked in with him every now and then. Upon Ranto's return, however, the news of Gisbo's unique method of channeling Elekai' with a special device, as if he was using a crutch, caused the towering young man's glee to overflow. He waited in ambush for both Gisbo and Rolce one morning on their way to class. When the boys arrived on the scene, Ranto was leaning against an oak tree chomping on an apple casually. Rolce and Gisbo froze in their tracks.

"Remember what I was telling you, Rolce? About looking out for animal crap on the way to class? That's about the biggest piece of crap I've seen," Gisbo said.

"Gisbo! Rolce! It's been too long. Enjoying those bands I see?" Ranto said as he tossed his apple core over his shoulder and made his way forward.

"And how can we help you, butt-pipe?" Gisbo asked with a snarl.

"Help? Right now all I need is Elekai' and my two big fists," Ranto boasted, flashing a dagger-like smile. It was then Gisbo noticed a huge bruise over Ranto's left eye. Gisbo couldn't help but grin.

"Hey, that's a nice black eye you got there. Were you going down on something and missed?" Gisbo said as he took his sword from its sheath. Ranto rubbed at his black eye and grimaced in anger, cleary embarrassed. Gisbo pushed him on the subject.

"What happened? Someone kick your ass out there in Flaria?" Gisbo asked.

"None of your business," Ranto said, actually appearing to be at a loss for words. Rolce looked back and forth between them.

"Come on, Gisbo, let's just get to class," Rolce wheedled.

"Now, now, Rolce. There is so much more to life than class! I've heard how hard you both have been working, especially you, Gisbo! Why, my own father was so impressed by you he allowed a special crutch for a special boy. You must be so proud," Ranto crooned as he was now towering over Gisbo and standing eye to eye with Rolce.

"Come on, let's, let's just ignore him and go . . ." Rolce stammered. Suddenly Ranto's cool exterior broke. Before Rolce could even hope to counter, he felt Ranto's spiked knuckles dig into his chest with a powerful uppercut that lifted him off his feet and down to the ground hard. Gisbo ran to his friend's aid as Rolce struggled to take in air between thick coughs. Three puncture wounds could be seen on Rolce's chest, blood oozing from each small incision. Gisbo looked up from his kneeling position, eyes full of hatred as he ignited his blade in a blast of red fury.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" Gisbo screamed. However, when he locked eyes with Ranto, he shuddered for just a moment, realizing this was not the same boy he had encountered on his first day in the courtyard of strength. No, the eyes of something sinister had replaced the Renegade prince's haughty glare. He ignored Gisbo, overcome by fits of repressed rage and deep, growling bellows, aimed at Rolce.

"NO! NO YOU'RE NOT! All I hear from you is, 'Ignore him! Ignore him, Gisbo!' Not this time! Look at you! You know what I think? I think you're pathetic! PATHETIC! You should be up on your feet and attacking me, but no . . . it's pathetic, a big kid like you and nothing to show for it. I wanted to take you the moment you walked into this place. Finally, a guy of my stature to contend with, but no, your little pussball friend next to you had to interfere each time. You're a Renegade, so PROVE IT! You're the son of the guy who was arguably the greatest Nazarite and Sybil to walk the face of Thera! Come on, Rolce! Prove me wrong! Get up! FIGHT ME, SON OF SHAX!" Ranto screamed in fury, with wide, bloodshot eyes.

Gisbo looked down at his friend wincing in pain. Rolce's face was fish belly white and his skin was glistening with sweat. His eyes were like white orbs, frozen in fear as he breathed heavily, not from the wind being knocked out of him, but almost like some form of panic attack.

"Come on, Rolce! Get up and hit the kid! What are you doing!?" Gisbo asked. It was then Rolce finally did rise to his feet. Without looking either boy in the eyes, Rolce picked up his pole-arm and, in a flash, ran back to the tree house clutching his chest, tears falling with each retreating step. Gisbo and Ranto both stood on the spot, shocked as they watched Rolce sprint away. Then Gisbo turned to Ranto.

"You really are a bastard, ya know that? You want a fight for the ages, eh? Look no closer, buddy," Gisbo threatened through clenched teeth. Ranto stood watching Rolce climb the stairs to the tree house and slam the door shut. He stood for a moment shaking his head, mouth agape before looking down at Gisbo.

"What is my father thinking? Recruiting one kid who can't use his essence and another kid who runs at the sight of a little blood and the thought of a battle? You both are supposed to be RENEGADES! Do you even understand what that means? The best of the best! I, I can't even ponder this, this weakness!" Ranto said, trailing off in disgust.

Gisbo ran forward and swung his big blade at the Renegara's face. Ranto, with an agility Gisbo had never seen, raised his metal protected forearm and ignited his essence. There was a flash as fire collided with fire. Ranto was pushed back from the force of Gisbo's blow, but only for a moment. He wheeled back around with his free fist and struck Gisbo's stomach in a fierce upper cut. All breath seemed to leave Gisbo as he hunched over, mouth agape. He seemed to be watching in slow motion as Ranto brought his fist back, opened it, and forming a ball of swirling red energy, thrust it forward into Gisbo's stomach once more.

Upon impact, a miniature explosion sent Gisbo flying backward, skipping across the ground like a flat stone across a pond. The pain was enormous. Upon landing, he hacked up a small puddle of blood. Gisbo had felt pain before, but nothing quite like this. It was his insides that were now hurting him. He couldn't help but collapse to the ground as the pain caused everything to go black.

When he awoke next, the pain felt worse at first, then calmed to a more bearable level. Fao was standing over him with a worried glint in her dewy eyes and Gisbo realized he was back in his dorm. He gave his Boon a quick rub behind the ears to show he was all right, then reluctantly looked down at his stomach to see three puncture wounds across it. At least his insides didn't hurt so much now, but he had a throbbing headache. With some effort, Gisbo managed to sit up in his bed.

"Damn it all," Gisbo said, cursing himself for his defeat. It was then he noticed Rolce was seated at the kitchen table with his back turned to him. "So, what the hell was that about, Rolce?"

Silence.

Gisbo got down from his bed and walked over to sit across from Rolce, who turned his seat around, but still refused to make eye contact.

"Rolce, what was all that about?" Gisbo repeated. Rolce shook his head.

"I don't want to talk about it," Rolce said as he got up to leave. Gisbo slammed his fist on the table, startling Rolce.

"Well guess what? You're gonna! Now sit," Gisbo yelled. Rolce did as he was told, remaining silent, staring at the designs on the oak table.

"Well?" Gisbo asked again, folding his arms in impatience.

"I . . . I've never been in a real fight before," Rolce said sheepishly.

"What do you mean? You saved my ass back at those tryouts in Oak County," Gisbo argued.

"No, all I did was prevent the blow. A girl attacked me before that, Gisbo, best I could do was throw up my weapon and block. My, my knees were shaking. I couldn't even fight back!" Rolce exclaimed.

"Well, today was a hell of a time to learn! He walloped you, Rolce, walloped me too, and all you did was sit there, cry and run away! Look at you! All this training, all this Elekai'and plus, you're a big kid! What made you run away?" Gisbo asked.

"I don't know why! All that talk about me being afraid of what I'd do if I were mad was all a lie, a front. The thought of a fight just terrifies me. Ranto was right when he said that when you fight, you pour out all that you are against someone else's all. I just don't know if I have what it takes. This whole time I have just felt, felt like I'm putting on a big show, you know? I'm just acting the part and any day now I could be revealed as nothing more then a weak, frightened child. It's killing me inside!" Rolce said as he sunk his head into his hands.

"Rolce . . ." Gisbo muttered in concern.

"That's why I've been doing so much training and studying, because I want to help Jackobi, don't get me wrong, but mostly . . . for myself. I've just been jealous of you in a way, Gisbo. I'll never understand someone like you. You can just jump right in, fearless as anything, and . . . and how are we even going to get the chance to save Jackobi when you really think about it? I mean, come on, we are two Renegas! The lowest of the lows. Do you think we are just going to march into Lokin and my dad's hiding spot and rescue him? It's suicide, Gisbo! They had no problem killing kids like you and me before! How are we going to even figure out where he is in the first place? We're chasing the moon," Rolce said, sinking his head even lower.

Gisbo had never really thought out how they were going to save Jackobi. He figured Rolce would take care of the logistics and strategy like he had before, in Perry's challenge. Now, here was Rolce pouring out his heart to Gisbo.

"Is this what you didn't want to tell me? Is this what was bothering you before?" Gisbo asked.

"It's part of it, yeah . . ." Rolce said turning his gaze away.

"Part of it? There's more?" Gisbo asked. Rolce didn't answer. They sat there in silence for a minute as Gisbo pondered all that had just happened. He could hardly believe that Rolce, Renegade born, WARRIOR born, could be scared of anything resembling an actual battle. Yet he was the smartest kid Gisbo had ever come across, earning top grades, passing an exam thought to be impossible that granted them both their bands, displaying great control of Elekai' . . . and on top of all that, he was a Sybil! How was this guy jealous of him, Gisbo, the boy who passed the second band by the skin of his teeth, the boy who couldn't use Elekai' correctly? The boy who couldn't do something as simple as controlling his temper? The boy who Oak County thought wouldn't ever amount to anything.

"You aren't the only one who feels that way, Rolce," said Falcon, as both boys noticed him standing in the doorway.

"How long have you been standing out there?" Gisbo asked.

"Oh, long enough to get the general idea of what just happened. What with Ranto returning today, Perry telling me neither of you showed up for class this morning, the small traces of blood, yeah, I put two and two together. So, here comes the part where the wise old Falcon shows up and offers both of his young friends the meaning of life in your failures. You ready?" Falcon said with a familiar goofy grin as he took a seat.

"Now listen and listen good. As I said, you aren't the only one who feels inadequate, Rolce, and don't hesitate or think for a moment that you don't have what it takes," Falcon said.

"Yeah, but I'm just not a fighter," Rolce protested.

"But you want to be?" Falcon asked.

"Well, sure, I mean," Rolce stammered.

"And you're a man, aren't ya?" Falcon asked.

"Well, well, yeah," Rolce said.

"Then you got what it takes. Life has a way of hitting you hard, bringing back all your mistakes to the front of your mind as you forget your triumphs. If you let it, it will keep you down in a dark hole. You just got to search a little harder, reach down and pull up that strength. It is there, Rolce, even now, flickering in those eyes. The fight both begins and ends in here," Falcon said, smiling, pointing to his forehead, then stamping a fist across his heart.

Rolce just forced a weak smile in reply.

"Growing up, especially at your age, is tough and confusing. You should count yourselves very lucky that you have the opportunity of growing up in a warrior culture that will give you room to build confidence, test your strength and experience first hand, above all else, that you most certainly have what it takes," Falcon said, leaning back in his chair comfortably.

"Just think for a moment how many boys your age are brought up in towns like Oak County. How do those boys test their strength? Where is their great adventure? How do they know what their purpose is if they are never even tested?

"Unfortunately, so many people never realize their potential and it saddens my heart. Instead, they believe the lies that Karm feeds, the very ones Drakearon started, and are forced to live by them, for the best of lies branch from truth. Weapons are violent, adventure is dangerous and one's status is judged by how big their dwelling is and how much money resides in their bank vault. Peace and comfort can twist the mind and even now a great evil is building its forces to strike once more." Falcon paused, then leaned forward.

"If you remember nothing else, remember this. All that laziness brings is a comfortable death," Falcon said as he leaned back up and continued.

"Karm, however, refuses to see it. He doesn't realize peace is never free and must be protected. Life should be lived like the warriors live it: sword always at the hip, ready to save yourself and protect others. During times of peace, your sword is sheathed and it's only removed when peace is threatened. Karm and his followers have thrown their swords to the wayside. Don't live such a lifestyle. Don't let peace thrust you into a fluffy bubble, for unfortunately, although you might not believe in violence, you must remember there are always those who do and they are always ready to preach. When standing valiant in a place of opposition, you will realize that strife is unavoidable. Don't waste your life dying in the name of peace without any effort. That's what they want you to do. Give your life fighting for peace. As long as an oppressor rules over the people, true peace, true freedom, will never exist. This is a Renegade's duty, my friends, to rise up and fight for those who won't when peace and freedom is threatened. To do this, we must be strong, must believe in ourselves and most of all believe in each other," Falcon said with a look full of care.

"You talk way too much," Gisbo said.

"I can be quite the chatterbox. Take everything I say with a grain of salt, of course. You are free to make your own decisions. I just can't help it when I see someone in need. I usually talk to Akalia. That tiger has the patience of a Sybil, let me tell you. I can stop if you want," Falcon said.

"We never said it was a bad thing. Keep going," Rolce said, smiling along with Gisbo.

"Hey suit yourselves. If you'll let me, I want to reveal a little something to the both of you, something I can't prove, but that I believe to be true. Will you listen?" Falcon asked and again both boys nodded.

"We already said it's fine, just giving you a hard time. I learn more this way than sitting in a stupid classroom," Gisbo said.

"Hear, hear! Okay then, this is it. I believe there is a reason for everything and never a coincidence under the sun. I believe, for every warrior's path, three things must be aligned and when they are, you will feel an unrivaled sense of accomplishment and happiness. Number one: every man must have a battle to fight. A cause worth dying for. It is what a man was designed to do. You both are Renegades, sworn to fight all forms of evil and to recognize it when you see it, not like the Strifes do. You each have a strong sense of justice about you and remember also why you are fighting. If you fight for the sake of fighting and nothing else, you become a violent, hollow man. It is here I speak of you, Gisbo," Falcon said, pointing comically.

"Hey!" Gisbo argued.

"Control your anger and yourself, lest you become what I mentioned. Every fight must have a reason; remember the desires of your heart and precious things. It is for those that you fight and, of course, a bit of healthy competition," Falcon said as he ruffled Gisbo's hair playfully.

"Second, a man must have an adventure to live. It is this adventure that is the core of your life. Both of you are part of a grand adventure and will serve a great purpose I'm sure; you just don't know it yet. It is here you both must search within yourselves and find the true desires of your heart. I'm not talking about becoming captain of the clash team or the greatest Elekai' warrior either. You must look deeper, to your passions and what makes your soul burst into flames. For everyone it will be different, but always, this desire, whatever it may be, must help and inspire those around you. If it doesn't, then it is worthless and you need to continue looking. It is not just a good idea to seek your passion, it is your life mission! Some will discover it quicker than others, but never give up. I know both of you are talented and will find the true desires of your heart, but be careful and always remember the battle that must be fought as well," Falcon went on.

"Now that I've picked on Gisbo, it's your turn, Rolce. Like it or not, we all follow a path in life and you can trek on through your adventure with your head down and pass over every difficult obstacle. Don't be this way, Rolce," Falcon asked Rolce, who nodded.

"A man must be tested and be well prepared. Confidence walks hand in hand with experience, but with it comes failure. And sometimes the best way to get it right is by getting it wrong. It will come, Rolce, it will come. As long as you always pick yourself up when you fall, you will never truly fail. It's a fact that life will hit you harder than anything else, so you must also make it a fact to always get back up and hit it back harder than before!" Falcon said, as he gave Rolce an encouraging smile and thumbs up.

"Now for number three. THIS is something I am still...um...working on, so it should be encouraging to you both that even I don't have all three yet. The third and final element a man needs is someone to fight for, be it a great friendship or a great love or even better, both. Now, you two may not know the importance of a female companion in your life, but it will literally flip your world upside down when it comes, " Falcon said, as he purposefully looked at Gisbo who looked away at once, thinking of Anakah.

"When I say someone to fight for, I don't necessarily mean swoop in and save the day, I mean, it's most often us guys that screw things up. You have no idea how much a man needs a grounded lady in his life. If it were only men, we would have died out years ago! We'd be too busy killing each other! Both of you, male and female, will become one in spirit, together, the feminine and masculine complementing each other. This results in something so beautiful and mysterious it has been the cause of countless art and expression for the ages. But, with pleasure comes hardship, and you must always remember the enemy."

"The enemy?" Rolce asked.

"Yes. Have either of you ever tried to do something incredible, something exciting, and at first you have total confidence in yourself when all of a sudden you hear a small voice creep into your head, saying, 'You're worthless, you can't do it, you will fail!'" Falcon asked.

"All the time," Rolce said.

"This is also part of the battle. Rolce, you must understand there are forces in this world beyond your sight and they are at battle every single day for your soul. They WANT you to fail. Some call them Maras, some something else; either way we all hear the voice, but there is another. We can do no worse than to listen to the disparaging one. Now, one last thing for you to ponder," Falcon said.

"You get all this out of a book or something? Where does this stuff of yours come from?" Rolce asked.

"I'll never tell, but if I did, I sure hope he doesn't mind me spreading his messages of wisdom," Falcon said.

"Now, Gisbo, as I said, you are a spitfire, always looking for a fight, always striking out at anybody who tells you off and throwing yourself into pointless skirmishes over pride as a way to prove yourself. Sometimes you needed to, I'll say that, but there needs to be a level of control. A control that Rolce has, an ability to brush things off and get your pride under wraps. Which is why you're next, Rolce. If Gisbo is too aggressive, you are far too passive. If one cannot defend even himself, on what ground can he hope to help somebody else? From what I gather, Ranto walloped you and walloped you good. Nobody, and I mean nobody, has the right to hit you. If they do, you have a right to defend yourself, but your brain went into fight or flight mode and you chose wrongly. The most basic of instincts and you let your fear and pain get the better of you," Falcon said before pausing.

"You both know your faults. Nobody's perfect, especially not me, but don't lay down, never accept your limitations, always keep improving. I think IAM put you two together without an extra teammate for a reason. In this time together, your friendliness has already affected Gisbo right from the beginning, Rolce, causing him to make friends for the first time and, up to a point, he has been able to control himself and his Elekai'. I have a feeling the process will work in reverse for you, Rolce, and Gisbo will push you, encourage you to get past your fear and to let loose when the time is right. And like always, just know that I am so proud of you both, I can't say it enough. If the two of you stick together, balance will come and you will be an unbeatable team," Falcon finished. Both boys sat in silence.

"All right, lecture over. I promise. Now, what do I usually do when you guys are feeling down?" Falcon asked as he stood up.

"Cook us the best steak in Heaven's Shelter!" Gisbo said, excited. Falcon gave him a disturbed look.

"What? You're dreaming, come on now, try again," Falcon said.

"You're not going to cook us steak?" Gisbo asked, feeling a bit disappointed.

"No, because you guys don't think it's the PLANET's best steak, only the best in Heaven's Shelter apparently. Psh, my culinary skills aren't worthy of such an audience! Might as well call Martha over if that's the case," Falcon said in mock offense. Gisbo and Rolce both stood up and proclaimed the greatness of Falcon's steak together, fists stamped over their chests.

"BEST! On the PLANET!" they said in unison. At this, Falcon smiled.

"That's what I like to hear! Gisbo, go steam those vegetables and Rolce, set this table, I got grilling to do!" Falcon said as they all went about their tasks awaiting the coveted dinner entree.

The days went by and their training continued as usual. However, now all Gisbo and Rolce could think about were the three things Falcon had mentioned to them that were keys to their masculine soul and happiness: A battle to fight, an adventure to live and someone to fight for. So far, Gisbo had a battle to fight and he was currently caught up in an adventure. Not everybody got to be Renegades after all, but he had never really thought about what made him come alive before or his heart's desires for that matter. It was something to think about for sure.

On top of that, the thought that both of them were thrust together to learn from each other and bring balance was a comforting thought. His absolutely pitiful loss to Ranto really encouraged Gisbo to get his butt into gear. Just the thought of Ranto's ugly mug and the second band on Gisbo's arm and now the three puncture holes on his stomach, sent Gisbo into a flurry of exercises and more training. He had to get stronger to save Jackobi and especially to be able to shove Ranto's face in the dirt once and for all. Ranto never even spoke to anybody of the fight between them and deep down Gisbo wanted him to. This secret they shared was far worse than the shame of the other Renegades knowing for every time he walked by Ranto, every time he saw him from a distance, Ranto would look at him with a smile that made his insides rot with discomfort. He had far surpassed Thomson on Gisbo's register of scumbags by now. Why did a sense of undeserved entitlement make people such jerks? Either way, Gisbo knew that one day, he would settle things for good . . .

_Chapter 22:_ The Battle Approaches

The familiar feeling of summer arrived after a rainy spring in Heaven's Shelter. The sun was shining and the palm trees seemed especially happy to have the snow off of them. Within days, the yells of clash players, the splash of swimmers and the smells of roasting meat on grills filled the air of Heaven's Shelter once again. With summer, the Renegas were near the completion of their final band. They would soon be calling themselves Renegaras, ready to journey out with their class masters and Boons to face the challenges and respectfully become Renegades.

These days it was business as usual for Rolce and Gisbo as they once again got into the routine of Renegade life. It got to the point where even the studious Rolce was quite sick of studying and couldn't wait to have a summer off before they parted ways to train with Falcon and Moordin. Today, however, was different. The luxury of routine would soon be ended and lives forever changed when night fell on Heaven's Shelter. The day of destiny had come and, ready or not, both of them were in for one hell of a night.

The day started off just like any other. Doesn't it always? The boys finished their lessons with Perry, went to work and got home in time for a bright afternoon in front of their tree house and a night of training. They went to bed early, not knowing they would be thankful later that they hadn't overexerted themselves. There was once a time when Gisbo constantly pestered Rolce and looked him over while he slept, ever since he had his very first dream and discovered his Sybil blood. Funny how just when Gisbo had forgotten all about his anticipation something finally happened . . .

Gisbo was thrust awake suddenly as Rolce began convulsing and shouting unrecognizable words. Harpie was squawking and Fao was scratching at the wooden ladder below frantically. Rolce's bunk was shaking from his robust weight and whatever he was saying; it was quite disturbing. Gisbo desperately shook his friend and slapped his face when suddenly everything stopped and Rolce jolted upward.

"Rolce! Rolce! Answer me, man! What's wrong?" Gisbo pleaded. He noticed that Rolce's pupils were flickering white, then back to blue as he spoke.

"Gisbo! I . . . I don't know what's wrong with me I . . . AHHHH!!!" Rolce screamed in pain. A grotesque black symbol appeared on his forehead, looking like three number sixes sharing the same circle. The symbol spun outward like a throwing star and dripped black ooze down his face. Then thick black lines etched across the surface of his arms and his eyes completely glossed over into white orbs. It was as if his arm was moving of its own accord as it outstretched itself, palm upward, and shot a blob of blackness forward. The kickback from the shot was so powerful it caused Rolce to fly from his bunk, slamming into Gisbo in the process.

Both boys toppled to the ground hard, nearly landing on a frantic Fao below. The black energy cluster began to swirl in a dizzying circle. It looked to Gisbo like a thick oil spill that swirled into a vortex in mid-air. Suddenly it stabilized and they could feel the air around them being sucked into it. Posters fluttered off the walls and the sheets on their beds ruffled.

Rolce's eyes returned to baby blue as he stared at his now perfectly fine arm. The symbol on his forehead faded and disappeared without a trace. Gisbo was frantic, shouting curses as he pushed Rolce off of him. He had to raise his voice to compensate for the wooing noise the black whirlpool was emitting.

"Rolce! What the hell did you just do?" Gisbo yelled.

"I don't know; I was having a dream! Wait, that's it! I had a dream, Gisbo! I know where Jackobi is!" Rolce bellowed. Gisbo's eyes went wide.

"You do? Where, Rolce? Where is he? And what is that thing you just made?" Gisbo yelled.

"Don't you recognize it? It's the same thing Shax and Lokin used to escape during Purah's funeral! I think it's some sort of transportation portal!" Rolce yelled.

"But it's all black! Your eyes, they went all white . . . and that symbol! You used the Drakeness, Rolce! How?" Gisbo yelled.

"I . . . I felt my father, in my head. He used the Mind-Link on me! Gisbo, it was so powerful . . . he was channeling the Drakeness through me! He said things like, 'Come to me, come to me!' I . . . " Rolce trailed off, deeply disturbed. Gisbo shook his head.

"The hell with what he said! Are you alright?" Gisbo yelled. Rolce paused for a moment.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Whatever just went through me is gone. There's no trace of it," Rolce said, rubbing his forehead with a wince.

"Good. Now you said you know where Jackobi is! Where, Rolce? Where?" Gisbo yelled. Rolce paused for a moment.

"The cave, Gisbo! The same cave where Moordin and him fought years ago. That's where they all are. We need to go get Falcon and Moordin! We need to..." Suddenly their voices were cut off as the spiraling blackness let out a blood curdling scream. It was so loud and gruesome Gisbo and Rolce had to cover their ears.

"Rolce! Somebody's dying over there!" Gisbo yelled louder over the horrible screaming, standing up and staring into the blackness, trying to see beyond the portal.

"It sounds terrible! Gah! My ears!" Rolce stammered.

"We gotta go help!" Gisbo shouted. Rolce's eyes went wide.

"Gisbo! No! It's a trap! We . . . we can't! It's suicide! They'll kill us! This portal will take us right to them, I'm sure of it!" Rolce answered. Gisbo shook his head once more.

"Good! Trap or no, we don't have time! It's . . . it's too much for me to handle! I'm going in! What have we been doing all this extra training for? Come with me!" Gisbo yelled as he began to throw on his clothes. Rolce stood with the same white face he had before when Ranto hit him.

"No! I . . . I can't! I can't do it, Gisbo! We aren't strong enough! They'll kill us!" Rolce yelled as tears streamed down his face.

"ROLCE! DON'T YOU GET IT? Somebody is going to DIE! I can't stand here and let it happen! I could never live with myself knowing that when the moment came to fight, to help save a life, that I backed down . . . I'd rather die then live with that kinda guilt! I'D NEVER FORGIVE MYSELF!" Gisbo screamed. He ran and grabbed his bandana, tied it to his head, seized his talon sword, and looked down at Fao with a smile. He couldn't believe how much she had grown since he had found her as a puppy nearly a year ago.

"But, but . . . it's not your responsibility! You're crazy! Just wait and we can go get help! Be logical about this!" Rolce argued. Gisbo ignored him, giving Fao a rub behind the ears.

"Logical? You're talking to the wrong guy, buddy. I know what you feel inside, Rolce. I just got a smidge of it with your mind link. I don't want that. I'm going in!" Gisbo yelled, his back to Rolce. He then turned to look at his wolf.

"Come on, girl, I know I'm gonna need all the help I can get over there! Rolce, I've been alone for far too long. I need you, but I can't force you to help. So go ahead, do what you do best and RUN! Come on, Fao, let's go girl!" Gisbo yelled and, with a big leap, the boy and his wolf jumped into the dark portal without a clue what awaited them on the other side.

At first, it took Gisbo a second to open his eyes. He was engulfed in blackness and moving at a tremendous rate of speed. He grasped Fao in a tight hug as they both spiraled like an arrow through darkness as thick as molasses. The rush of wind was enormous and the screams of anguish had been replaced by the monstrous growls and roars of an unearthly presence. Gisbo looked around him, seeing pearl eyes in the darkness and flashes of white fangs. Limbs stretched out to swipe at him and his wolf.

"Don't worry, girl! I got you!" Gisbo yelled, as he pulled Fao away from the reach of some horribly black creature.

"WHERE THE HELL AM I???" Gisbo yelled frantically as he sliced the arm off an invading creature. It screamed horribly and an awful smelling black substance splashed against Gisbo's face, stinging him badly due to their rate of speed.

"Wait, what am I doing?" Gisbo said to himself. He was sick of seeing nothing but blackness and white glints around him. In a flash, he raised his sword and ignited it in a glow of red that illuminated his surroundings. The creatures squealed and shielded their eyes as Gisbo waved the sword back and forth, noticing that the light singed their skin as he flew past them. Just when he thought the horror wouldn't end, he saw it, a light at the end of the tunnel . . . literally. He reached it quicker then he expected to. Suddenly, the rush of air against his face was gone and he lay on a damp, stone floor with Fao still clutched in his arms.

"You all right, girl?" Gisbo asked. Fao licked his face and Gisbo let her down as he stood shakily to his feet. With a few rapid blinks, he realized Rolce had been right. He was most certainly in a cave. Looking behind him, he saw that he was all alone, without a portal. One way ticket . . . Gisbo thought.

He began to walk forward, trying to get used to the constant dripping sounds of moisture from the stalactites and whatever else there was. The spikes all around him gave him quite an uneasy feeling as he made his way through the dark cave, igniting his blade once more and letting Fao lead him forward with her good senses when she suddenly stopped dead. Dead was exactly what Gisbo would have been, for without Fao leading the way, he would have most certainly toppled into the pit before them, layered with all kinds of death bringing spikes. Gisbo gulped at the thought and rubbed Fao behind the ears thankfully as they veered left, around a relatively wide ridge.

In silence, the two companions trekked on, but their journey was soon interrupted by the same earsplitting scream they had heard before, as the cave walls amplified the noise tenfold.

"Come on, let's go!" Gisbo said as they sprinted into the depths of the cave, following the voice until they arrived in a large, open area that appeared to be a dead end. Gisbo flashed his sword around, trying to find a way out. Suddenly, as if by command, several torches lit all at once, bringing every bit of the large circular area into view. When Gisbo's eyes adjusted once more, he saw Jackobi Foxblade for the very first time.

Rolce had been right; he was nearly the spitting image of Foxblade, with the same long dreadlocks and dark skin - but Jackobi wasn't alone. Surrounding him stood at least a few dozen children who looked like they hadn't seen the light of day in years. All of them appeared to be on the brink of starvation and the marks across their bodies showed that they were punished daily. Gisbo could guess who had been there the longest just by the thinness of their limbs and the number of their cuts and bruises. Their eyes, however, were as white as snow and absolutely lifeless.

All the children were standing in a neat line in front of a shrouded doorway through which Shax and Lokin made their entrance. Shax's staff threw shadow the way a torch throws light and he bore the same white eyes as the children before them. Gisbo had seen enough. He screamed with vigor and ran straight for Shax, hoping to at least try and catch him off guard. DING! A clanging noise rang out, reverberating off the sides of the cave as Gisbo and Fao smashed into an invisible wall, tumbling back to the point where they had started.

"Whoa now! Not yet," Shax said as he walked down the steep side of the cave. "You . . . aren't Rolce? Where is my son?" Shax exclaimed. Lokin leaned against the wall, flipping his daggers playfully. Gisbo looked all around at the children before him, too furious to speak.

"Well, I admire your courage, boy, I really do, but all good things must be waited for. My son's synergy mate, am I right? Falcon's boy? My, how the time has flown," Shax remarked.

Gisbo stood to his feet, doing his best to seem unafraid as he looked into Shax's barren eyes. With a wave of his hand, the central line of children parted and Shax's gigantic form stepped through the gap. Like an overbearing shadow of death, he made his way towards Gisbo. His black, almost toothless grin and cool chuckle made Gisbo shiver as Shax circled him in silence.

"So, Falcon's boy, do you have a name? I wasn't there when your good father named his son," Shax said with another black smile. Gisbo's eyes perked up at the mention of the word 'father'.

"Oh now, he never told you, did he? No, I would assume as much. What with a past like your dear father's, why would he want to share? Renegades and their secrets," Shax said as he placed a cold hand on Gisbo's shoulder.

"But that's not what I'm interested in. For you see, you were not expected to come through the hole and yet, here you are anyway. I would have trusted one such as my son, with his Sybil blood as yet untarnished, to jump at the chance of rescuing another. I see I have put far too much faith in his purity and now . . . his friend will die in his place," Shax said to the roomful of children, as if reading a macabre bedtime story. Gisbo jumped back from his grasp and thrust his ignited blade forward as Fao growled.

"You look surprised by this? As I said, all good things come to those who wait. You see, I respect my son all the more now. He has surprised me. He's very different than I was at his age, very different indeed. I was counting on my son's impulse to do what you call good and to jump without hesitation to save another's life. It would seem his soul is already venturing down the path I have journeyed . . . it is in his blood, after all," Shax said with a black smile.

"Take that back, you freak! He'd never follow down your stupid path!" Gisbo shouted. Shax turned to Lokin and they both laughed.

"At least you have something to be proud of in your son," Lokin teased.

"Oh, children! How I HATE their naivete and simple natures. The very reason we needed them . . . but you, you're quite different. Aren't you, boy?" Shax went on, closing his eyes and putting out a hand as if to read Gisbo.

"Such fury, such a strange form of essence pulsating from you. But that's not the only abnormal aspect . . . there's something different . . . deeper . . . No matter; not enough time for curiosity, unfortunately. There's still much to say before we watch you fight for your life," Shax said.

"What do you need the kids for?" Gisbo found himself asking.

"Now, curiosity is something I DO value. I will humor you, Falcon's boy, for a little while longer . . . just a little. Either way, you will be dead soon," Shax announced.

"Would you stop saying that!" Gisbo yelled as Fao barked beside him.

"Oh, you truly are a pleasant surprise! All right, I will explain. What you see before you are the best of what Renegades and Strifes had to offer in the new generation. I tested them myself, years ago, upon their birth, with Sybil Honj – that was right before many of their families became Strifes. All of these children had the highest outputs of energy at the time, the only exception being Narroway's son, Ranto, who was too closely guarded to get near. It is only a slight setback for we have scored the runner-up prize: the son of Chief Lamik, Malik Strife," Shax motioned to a boy a little bit taller then Gisbo, with long hair that was spiked on top and flowed over his shoulders. He looked just as lifeless as everyone else; drool dripped from his open mouth.

"The potential of this group was astounding. Without a female, which surprises me. Usually the girls have the highest outputs of energy. This was the apex of our greatness, the culmination of the Sybil's vision that a new Man-Phoenix would return to us!" Shax bellowed.

"A new Man-Phoenix?" Gisbo questioned. Shax looked affronted.

"What say you, boy? You have not heard of the Man-Phoenix? The Phoenix is the avatar for IAM on this planet! IAM himself speaking to Thera! The Man-Phoenix is one who receives power from the Phoenix and, in turn, from IAM himself. Warlord Vadid was the first and only Man-Phoenix, given powers none of us have ever seen. Powers great enough to rip open time and space to trap our great Diety Drakearon. We need to return to our Deity for we have the last piece of his puzzle: the first ever Sybil aligned with Drakearon. Myself," Shax explained. Gisbo shook his head.

"Are you two crazy!? Or just stupid? Why would anyone follow a whack job like you if the Phoenix already defeated Drakearon and his dragon? And even then it's stupid, because who says the Man-Phoenix would rip open the Reath for you?" Gisbo yelled and Shax laughed aloud.

"Finally some intelligence! You should know that IAM and his phoenix are not all powerful, boy; it was a draw! There were no winners that day, only containment. If IAM were so powerful, why wouldn't he destroy what you call evil? If IAM, who is supposedly completely good, created this universe, then why would he allow his followers to suffer? Why would he even allow this evil to even exist in the first place? As a Sybil, I receive voices and insight from heavenly powers, but not JUST from the Phoenix or IAM - but from Appolyon and his dragon as well! Good and evil are only our mortality's attempt of simplifying life. Sight and reason is all that is needed. For really, who is it that declares good or evil, hmm? Only the powerful, only the rulers! No one else! Give it enough time and constant hammering, anything can be deemed good. Nobody wants to be an outcast from popular opinion. There IS strength in numbers! Your types are so few nowadays. Use reason! The age of the Renegade will soon be dead and with it, only sheep will remain," Shax taunted. Gisbo didn't answer.

"As for your first question, why don't we make the new Man-Phoenix himself reveal why he would open the Reath for us? As I am sure Rolce has told you, there is a Sybil ability known as Mind-link. Once mastered, it is a powerful ability and with the power of the Drakeness flowing through me, it is even more exceptional! These children you see before me are not only connected to my mind, but obedient to every whim I bestow upon them \- and soon, very soon, I will give the order for them to destroy you, make no mistake. You will be sacrificed for the grand cause," Shax revealed, then started pacing.

"The only problem remaining is that we must employ an unnatural process, for this ability requires one of good heart to open the Reath. Therefore, through a Drakeness ritual, we will funnel the purity of these children, their innocence, to counteract our contamination. This will give us enough time to stabilize the opening for Lokin and I to return to our master and provide him with the power of a Sybil! He can't escape without Sybil blood. With him by my side however, I will further my Sybil abilities through his teachings to once again break down the barriers of this realm and bring forth a new age of Warlords!" Shax cried, raising his hands for emphasis.

"You're freakin' crazy! Why would you want to destroy such a great place as Thera and Heaven's Shelter? Why?" Gisbo yelled.

"Destroy? No, silly boy, you have read way too many fantasy novels. Have you not been paying attention? We wish to IMPROVE it with the ideals of Drakearon ushering in a new age. Warlord Karm has already begun our work on the common people, not even realizing it, preparing the way for us. You and all your Renegades are already lost in the minority. You call evil what Drakearon and I call pleasure. Why deny our impulses? The people are beginning to follow in suit as well, especially those not given fantastic powers such as you or myself," Shax said.

Gisbo gritted his teeth.

"It is here our palaver ends, my young friend. You won't live to see the new age unfold, I'm afraid, so it's best not to worry yourself. Right now you have something much more cumbersome to occupy your mind: you will fight for your life. The reason, you ask? Our ritual requires one thing . . . sacrifice of an innocent, at the hands of the innocent." Shax laughed so hard he gurgled on his saliva. Gisbo's eyes went wide.

"You sick bastard! You were going to sacrifice . . . Rolce? Just to open some stupid realm?" Gisbo yelled, appalled by the notion.

"The new age is much more important than a simple blood bond, I'm afraid. He would be sacrificed for its cause! A glorious way to die!" Shax said.

"A STUPID way to die!" Gisbo screamed.

"Such fight in you! I love it! Let's see how you and your little Boon will fare, for if you die, the Reath will open. Fight hard, Gisbo, everything now relies on you. How does it feel?" Shax leered and with another wave of his hand, all the children jerked to life as they pulled up to full height and formed their hands into fists. Gisbo raised his sword to ignite his essence and Fao braced herself.

"Tsk, tsk, you wish to swing your sword? You will kill these defenseless children with just a swing? Alright, then: do it! It is the easiest way to end our mission! If you kill but one of these children, we won't have enough power to stabilize the realm for us to pass through. Will you kill a boy to save the world? Is it worth it?" Shax taunted with a smile.

Gisbo lowered his sword. Shax was right - if he fought with it, he would surely kill someone and Shax wouldn't be able to go through with his mission. Thera would be safe, but for how long? He would just locate another group of kids eventually. Which would lead to more suffering. He, Gisbo Falcon, had to go about this a different way. As long as he held on to his sword, he could use Elekai'!

Gisbo powered up his essence and pointed the sword in the direction of a small boy standing to the far right. If only he could knock this kid unconscious, then maybe Shax couldn't use him. It would at least buy some time. Yes . . . time! If he could hold out long enough, certainly Rolce would get the cavalry to come. The portal was gone, but he held out this desperate hope. He had to try.

"Thinking hard, I see? Weighing the options? I'm curious to find out what you come up with," Shax taunted. Gisbo gripped his sword handle, swung it back and thrust it forward in the direction of the small boy. A swirling ball of red energy soared from the powered blade and struck the boy right in the head, causing him to topple over. Bullseye, Gisbo thought and smiled when the boy didn't get up.

"My, my! You sought to stun the boy! Right in the head even! Why, with just a little more essence, it would have certainly killed him! What recklessness... interesting to say the least. However smart that tactic may have been, it is of no avail. I'm controlling his mind even now. For you to truly knock this boy out of consciousness, you would have to do it through the source . . . me. And we both know you can't do that. Still, if you killed him . . . severed his head from his shoulders . . ." Shax tempted. Gisbo gritted his teeth.

Where was Rolce when you needed him? He always took care of the thinking department! How was Gisbo supposed to get out of this without him? Gisbo looked down at his sword, then over to the children. Kill one to save many? Was this an option? Either way, Shax would repeat the cycle . . . but what if he killed the new Man-Phoenix? Then all would be solved! They wouldn't be able to return and without a Sybil for Drakearon, he wouldn't be able to cross over! But who was this Man-Phoenix? He couldn't just kill all the children! He'd never be able to live with himself...wouldn't be able to live with one innocent death either, but if it was the only way . . .

"Which one is the Man-Phoenix?" Gisbo blurted out.

"Would you really kill one of your own? All are needed, but only one is essential. So, you figure if you're going to kill one, you might as well make it count. Am I right? Oh what fun this is! And about to get better: I will tell you and we shall see what you decide to do. The Man-Phoenix is the boy right in front of you, Jackobi Foxblade!" Shax said, laughing hysterically.

No! Out of all of them, why Jackobi? The very person he wanted to save! Kill the one person that had driven him here in the first place? Gisbo's head began to hurt. This was just too much for anyone to handle. He could kill Jackobi and end it forever . . . could he? Could he really? He could most certainly kill Shax on a whim, but to attempt it would be like a fly attacking a flyswatter. No, he had one more option. He had time on his side. If he kept this going, help would come ... but even then, what would happen? He wasn't sure the portal was open or where the cave was, for they'd have to fly here. Rolce knew where he was and he would tell. Yes, they were coming...if time ran out, then he would have to do the unthinkable, but it hadn't yet. Now was time to do what he was best at: time to fight.

At that moment, with one arm, Gisbo threw his sword like a boomerang so it pierced the side of the cave. Pebbles fell and a small crack formed while the clang of metal on stone echoed across the ceiling and walls.

"So then, you wish to go down fighting? Fine! A Renegade to the end then!" Shax declared and with a wave of his hand, the twenty or so kids broke into a sprint, their sluggish movements a distant memory.

"Why is it always me? Ready, girl? We gotta survive as long as we can . . . help's coming, girl, I know it! Let's go!" Gisbo said, charging forth with a battle cry to meet the first batch of rabid contenders. Just have to survive, Gisbo thought.

The one who reached him first was Chief Lamik's son, Malik. Royalty first, Gisbo thought as he let out a straight right punch that collided with Malik's nose. The boy kept charging as if nothing had happened. His head was still bobbing back from the force of Gisbo's blow as he followed it up with a quick left hook, narrowly missing Gisbo, who managed to duck, then followed with an uppercut that lifted Malik off his feet.

Barely hitting the ground before he was on his feet again, Malik showed no signs of pain. They don't even feel pain? I'm in trouble . . . Gisbo thought. Fao smashed her body into two rushing boys, toppling them to the ground and nimbly leaping out at another one who was closing in on Gisbo's left. She's amazing! Gisbo thought as he watched her dart back and forth, knocking kids to the ground like a white hurricane.

As Malik rose to his feet, he grabbed a sharp stone and thrust it point first, leaving a bleeding gash across Gisbo's face, right next to the scar he had received from Falcon. Blood trickled from the wound and, with a surge of adrenaline, Gisbo grabbed Malik's arm, ripped the stone from his grasp and swiped back, clean across his left eye, leaving a gash that reached from Malik's eyebrow to the side of his nose.

Gisbo grabbed the boy by the throat with his left hand and pummeled him in the face with his right fist over and over again - but still to no avail. Malik took each swing without a problem as he grabbed Gisbo by the throat with his own left hand and returned the favor, pummeling Gisbo with his right fist. At first Gisbo felt dull knocks striking his face because the adrenaline numbed the pain - until he was hit straight on the nose. It broke with a sickening crack and moisture obscured his eyes, blinding him while Malik continued to rain blows upon him. Gisbo felt like his face was shattering and Malik showed no signs of stopping.

In his blurry vision, Gisbo noticed that others were closing in. Fao could only keep so many at bay with her darting and tackling. He released Malik's throat, bent down and wrapped his arms around his mid section, charging forward in a blind spearing tackle. With one swift motion, he picked the Strife prince up off the ground. Using him like a battering ram, Gisbo sprinted forward with a desperate yell as boys were scattered asunder.

The battering ram worked to some degree, until the fallen were back up on their feet with a superhuman agility. They pounced on Gisbo like murderous bunnies. Gisbo couldn't take the weight of the four people now atop his shoulders. His knees buckled and his legs collapsed as he went down, smashing his battered face into the unforgiving stone floor. He tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth as he tried to desperately to struggle free. Suddenly Fao, his last remaining chance for a savior, was slammed down beside him in a whimper of pain. Gisbo's eyes met his wolf's moist baby blues for a moment of comfort before Malik grabbed him by his hair and slammed his face repeatedly into the floor.

The first two hits hurt badly before the numbness activated, preventing Gisbo from suffering from the next three hits and the tufts of hair Malik ripped from his scalp. This is it, he thought. Time was up. He secretly wished to himself that he had killed Jackobi as he laughed in contempt of his own indecision. He knew he wouldn't have been able to do it, he just wished he were different. Drakearon would now return and with him, a new age. At least Gisbo could say he had fought his battle hard, to the end.

He knew not where he was going to go, but he wished it was wherever IAM resided. Funny how he had never cared about any of it before; could joke about the notion of life after death so cockily and mock those 'crazy' people, thinking he had it all together. Death had been so far away then, but now here it came, at the hands of some spoiled Strife prince, smashing his face into stone. Could be worse - could be Thomson or Ranto plowing in my face, Gisbo thought. What were opinions and points of view now? He remembered all the political arguing in his classes at Oak County. What were they now? Nothing . . . absolutely nothing, Gisbo thought. Many conversations he had with Rolce early in the year floated to the top of his mind. For the first time ever, Gisbo Falcon prayed.

A strange feeling washed over him and yet it was somehow familiar, as his mind went black and he felt the sensation of falling into darkness. Suddenly an arm emerged through the obscurity. Great, Gisbo thought, Shax is going to sacrifice me. This is it, he's about to grab me. Contact was made and a flash of blinding light appeared before all went quiet.

Gisbo rubbed his eyes before opening them and was astonished. Oak County? Gisbo thought; he couldn't believe this. He rose to his feet and dusted himself off. He didn't hurt anymore and there was no blood on him whatsoever. He spun warily around and realized he was right in front of his old schoolhouse, standing on the cobblestone road and still dressed in his Renega attire. What the hell is going on? Gisbo thought.

It was then he heard a voice he hadn't heard for nearly a year . . . No way, I'll kill him! he thought, as he ran to the back of the schoolhouse and saw Thomson, along with his wolf pack, surrounding a large boy Gisbo didn't quite recognize. He was a huge kid, hair greasy and dirty, wearing the oldest pair of overalls that were entirely too small for him. He clutched a stack of weathered books to his chest, just below his familiar pale face. Rolce?

"Listen, Ox, I am sick and tired of hearing my parents ask me, 'Why don't you get top grades like that boy Rolce? Why is it always him? You know Rolce comes from nothing. Why aren't you smarter then a farm boy?' It makes my freakin' ears bleed! I'm sick of it! Look Rolce, this is the final exam for this year and you're gonna let me get top scores, understand? I mean, what do you hope to accomplish getting all those perfect scores anyway? You think your gonna get a job at the castle or something? Look at you, you're a scrub! And one more thing . . ." Thomson said in his usual derogatory tone. Gisbo was about to charge when he heard a voice coming from above them all.

"Would you butt holes can it? Somebody's trying to read up here," the voice said. All the boy's eyes wandered up to the tree branch and there, sprawled out along it, leaning against the trunk was ... "That's me! I'm seeing myself! What the hell is going on?" Gisbo said aloud.

"Shut it, spazz, this doesn't concern you," Thomson said.

"Oh the hell it doesn't. I'm trying to read here and you're blabbing away like your mouth has diarrhea," the other Gisbo jeered from his branch.

"Like you would study for the exam anyway," Thomson said.

"I only read what I want to read - you know, entertaining stuff," Gisbo said.

"Ah I see, all your little fairy tales. Still wearing that piece of toilet paper 'round your head too, I see," Thomson retorted.

"You know, you'd look real nice with a broken nose," Gisbo parried.

"Oh would I?" Thomson taunted. Gisbo shut his book and rolled off the branch, falling neatly to his feet, startling Thomson.

"Yeah," Gisbo challenged with a grin, as he grabbed Thomson by the neck. Immediately all the wolf pack gathered around him with fists raised. Gisbo looked at them all, cracked a smile once more, and reeled back his fist to punch.

"That is enough! All of you! Gisbo, back away from Ricard's son now!" Mr. Foogal bellowed.

"Sure, right after I break his nose," Gisbo said.

"You hit him, Gisbo, and I fail you immediately, for the year. You will have to repeat this year over again, do you understand me?" Mr. Foogal threatened. Gisbo looked at Thomson and shoved him aside.

"You'd really put up with me for one more year? I doubt it," Gisbo gibed.

"Better than being fired when General Ricard finds out I was unable to stop his son's face from being punched in. Now back away, NOW!" Mr. Foogal yelled.

"Stupid mutt . . ." Thomson taunted.

"The woods, after school. I know you won't come alone 'cause you're a gigantic pussy, so bring all your little gang. I'll kill em' all," Gisbo hissed as he made his way through the crowd and into the schoolhouse. The Black Wolf Pack followed them in, leaving Rolce standing by his lonesome. He leaned against the tree, shaking, and sobbed while punching it. The Gisbo dressed in Renega attire looked on. Now that he thought about it, he had completely forgotten how and why he got into that fight. He had no idea, he was just so angry at the time. He didn't even know Rolce then, only saw his name at the top of the test score chart and assumed he was a goody-goody.

Suddenly, the scene before him melted away and was replaced with an image of the woods. Gisbo stood in the trees, watching himself as the whole starting line of the clash team, the Black Wolf Pack, was staring him down. Now this part Gisbo remembered, only now he noticed that Rolce was standing behind the tree next to him! Rolce was here? Rolce stood and watched me fight ten guys? No way! Gisbo thought.

Gisbo saw himself charge Thomson and begin the process of shoving dirt clods into his mouth. Now that part was fun, Gisbo thought with a private smile. Then things got ugly as the boys overpowered him and kicked and punched him into the ground. Did I really get up after all that? Gisbo wondered. He looked over at Rolce, wincing every time a blow hit Gisbo. Tears, real tears, were streaming down his face. At that moment, Gisbo felt the same painful aching in his stomach as Rolce's feelings were transferred to him. This was what Rolce had been hiding from him, this terrible guilt that almost made him want to throw up. He watched as the younger Gisbo stopped moving. Thomson and his group walked away from the outcast boy's battered body.

It was a feeling of awe-inspiring hope as Gisbo saw himself stand up and watched the Black Wolf Pack's stupid faces as they stared on in shock. Suddenly all the horrid guilt was washed away, as Gisbo felt gooseflesh rip across his skin. Rolce's feelings were being transferred to him once again. Glancing over, he saw a smile stretch across Rolce's face momentarily. Then the Wolf Pack turned to walk away and the injured Gisbo slumped to the ground in misery. The feeling of painful guilt was washing over him when the blackness returned and he heard Rolce's voice. It sounded like a loud echo all around him; Gisbo seemed to be floating in the midst of it.

"Gisbo, I don't know if you've figured it out yet, but I have just established a mind-link to you. We are on a different plane of existence, so time is irrelevant right now. I have been holding this back from you, Gisbo, for so long. I told you the day I met you I was inspired when I heard that some kids saw you stand up to the entire Wolf Pack. It wasn't true - I was the only kid that saw you that day. You may not have remembered why you did it, but you changed me that day. This entire time the guilt has been so painful, mixed with everything else I have been dealing with.

"I've been wanting to share this with you, but couldn't think of a way to do so until now. The time has come for me to stop cowering and running. I have just been so afraid; afraid to fight. I've never been afraid of my strength, just afraid to fail. It is time that I face my fear head on and destroy this guilt that's eating away at me. I would rather die fighting than allow my inner demons to win the battle, torturing my soul like this throughout my life. It's going to kill me from the inside! You're my best friend, Gisbo, and always will be, 'til the end. I wouldn't be where I am today if it weren't for you. Now the time for talking is over. It's about damn time that you sit back for a change, about damn time that you stop protecting me, and it's about damn time that I protect you! Open your eyes, Gisbo!" Rolce's voice commanded and Gisbo obeyed.

The moment he lifted his eyelids, the numbing pain returned. Gisbo saw his own blood on the cave floor. With all his might he struggled to look up and see why Malik had stopped hammering his head into the ground. There, standing tall and proud in Nazarite attire, Rolce stood, pole-arm held ready. Rolce let out with a battle cry for the ages as he ignited his weapon and with it the entire cave shook and glowed green from Rolce's raw power.

_Chapter 23:_ Rolce Reborn

Rolce charged forward as his deep battle cry reverberated off the walls. Malik sprang up, rushing to meet this new adversary, followed by the rest of the small army. Gisbo was able to sit up and watch, through one eye, the magnificence that was Rolce. The Renegade-to-be thrust his pole-arm forward, slamming it into the first boy's stomach as he pushed backward into three more, forcing them to the ground. Rolce jumped over the three fallen boys and let out a fierce kick to another boy's mid-section, following it up with a thrust upward from his pole-arm that struck the boy in the chin. Rolce then spun his pole-arm rapidly in a tight defensive circle. Anybody who tried to take a swipe at him was met with a strike from his spinning pole-arm.

Gisbo saw firsthand the power of a Nazarite in close quarter combat. With his pole-arm, Rolce made the enemy's advantage in numbers turn to nothing. Rolce's pole-arm began to glow even brighter as he held it above his head, spinning it like a green whirlwind.

Boys were thrown left and right from the force of Rolce's weapon, slamming against the cave walls. Like before, the boys were back on their feet in no time and, in a swarm, all of them leapt in the air, seeking to crush Rolce with their weight. Rolce actually smiled! He raised his pole-arm into the air and, with another battle cry, slammed the hilt of it into the cave floor, twisting it as he unleashed a combination of Nazarite abilities Gisbo had never seen.

Hundreds of stalactites and stalagmites broke from the ceiling and floor of the cavern. With another wave of Rolce's pole-arm, they whizzed through the air, about five at a time, making contact with each charging boy in mid-air. All twenty or so of them flew backward, slamming back into the cave wall. This time they weren't coming back. Rolce stretched out his hand, hovering his palm in the direction of each boy, one at a time. The stones and spikes melded together, pinning each boy to the wall with their arms by their sides. Shax's slaves all hung by their mid-sections a few feet off the ground, pinned and struggling to break free of the stone restraints encircling their torsos. Rolce planted his pole-arm straight up in the ground and stood idle, his eyes locked on his father. Gisbo watched as father and son gazed at one another.

"Bravo! Bravo, my boy! Wonderful job! Never have I seen anyone combine such a variety of Naforian techniques like that at your age! Thrusting the stones at the kids without harming a single one, then melding them together to trap them. Wonderful work, my boy, you make a father so proud!" Shax exclaimed, flashing his blackened smile. Even Lokin looked impressed as he surveyed the area in awe.

"Shut up!" Rolce said. Gisbo had never seen his eyes angry like this, even more than when he crushed the snake's head. Shax looked hurt at his remark.

"Get 'em, Rolce! Kick his ass! Fao, to Rolce! Help him!" Gisbo yelled. Fao jumped to Rolce's side as they both broke into a run, headed for Shax. Rolce recoiled his pole-arm and thrust it toward the invisible wall which had stopped Gisbo. Glowing green cracks seemed to appear out of thin air. Rolce recoiled again and held his pole-arm like a bat as he gave a mighty swing, shattering the barrier in a mist of green sparkles. Shax looked alarmed, but Rolce didn't wait as he stormed ahead with Fao by his side, unblinking.

As Rolce suspected, Lokin dove from Shax's right side, but with a quick swipe of his pole-arm, Rolce deflected his daggers and followed it up with a quick a blow to his stomach, literally lifting the man from the ground with freakish strength. Fao leapt behind Shax with great agility and skillfully bit his lower leg, causing him to look back for just a moment as Rolce continued to charge, swinging his steel pole-arm downward upon Shax's head.

With surprising agility for a man of Shax's size, he managed to lean backward, narrowly missing a blow that would have knocked him out - but not quickly enough. The tip of the metallic pole-arm graced his nose, breaking it in a fierce crack. Blood poured down his face. In a yell, Shax swirled about with his own staff, unleashing a burst of darkness that sent Rolce and Fao skidding across the stone floor away from him. Rolce and Fao were on their feet in a hurry as Shax stood, clutching his bleeding nose in disbelief, amazed that Rolce had managed to draw blood from him.

"Such aggression. You definitely didn't inheret this mindlessness from me . . ."

"ENOUGH! Come out! Whoever you are! Let's see the real puppet master!" Rolce interrupted.

"Rolce, what are you talking about?" Gisbo asked, rising to his feet and stumbling to his friend.

"Exactly what I said, Gisbo. Look at his eyes! Look at all these kid's eyes! They're white orbs! The telltale sign mind-link is being performed. Now watch my eyes as I connect with the boy over there. Look at my eyes, Gisbo," Rolce said as he raised his hand to the boy trapped against the wall nearest to him and closed his eyes. Slowly, Rolce lowered his hand and opened his eyes.

"Don't you see, Gisbo! I'm just a beginner Sybil and can only use the mind-link when I close my eyes. A master, however, is a totally different story! A master won't need to raise their hand over people and can leave their eyes open, even carry on conversations while connecting to someone from miles away. It is a powerful ability! Now look, look at my father's eyes, Gisbo! They're white! White as all the kids here! Somebody's controlling him too," Rolce said, pointing at his father. Gisbo finally understood.

"Yeah, but wouldn't Moordin have noticed that? You mean to tell me that your dad has been controlled this entire time?" Gisbo asked aloud.

"Moordin isn't a Sybil, Gisbo. Only someone like Sybil Honj would have noticed such a minor detail and Moordin was the only one who saw him the day he went crazy. It makes perfect sense! Somebody else is here, I know it! Come out!" Rolce yelled.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Lokin said, laughing hysterically, rising to his shaky feet.

"Yes, in fact, we would!" said a voice behind them. Gisbo turned to see Harpie land on Rolce's shoulder, followed by Falcon, Moordin, Foxblade and Narroway himself leading the charge. Seeing them all burst forth like the warriors of old caused gooseflesh to erupt over Gisbo's body.

"Now you'rr gonna get it, you freak!" Gisbo yelled, pointing at Lokin. Everyone stood beside them, weapons raised and fully ignited.

"We got your message from Harpie just in time, Rolce. I rushed here with everyone at my dinner table and made it through the portal before it closed. It seems you both have done quite well for yourselves, Gisbo a little worse for the wear . . . let us take it from here, if you don't mind, boys," Narroway explained as he patted both boys on the shoulder.

"Narroway? Good to see you once more. Oh, and Moordin too! Why, with you, this is quite the reunion! Too bad my lovely wife couldn't be here as well," Shax said, grinning. Moordin's face contorted in fury and disgust.

"Reveal yourself, traitor! I want to kill you myself! One who destroys families and the lives of children deserves the fiery plains of hell!" Moordin yelled.

"So poetic for such an intense situation, Moordin. You will know my identity soon enough - I bet it's killing you. Even now you are praying that it is so, praying you will have your good friend back after all these years. This would have been so much easier for us if your father didn't up and disappear, Narroway – or, as I conclude, run away. Would have saved so much suffering ... but no matter, Jackobi is here and he will open the portal for us. The new Man-Phoenix! The visions of the Sybil are absolute! We know the portal will open for us tonight and we will provide Drakearon with his Sybil, his key to reenter his home realm," Shax said, staring at Narroway. Strangely, Narroway laughed.

"You laugh at this?" Shax asked, his face twisted in confusion.

"Yes, I laugh at this ridiculous plot. If you would come out from the doorway, I would explain to you fully just how flawed your plan really is . . . Purah," Narroway said. All eyes were on Narroway at the mention of Purah's name.

"Purah? Narroway, are you . . ." Falcon began as footsteps echoed from the dark doorway behind Shax. A man stepped forth into the light. It was indeed Purah. Everyone in the room was shocked, especially Falcon.

"Purah! Is . . . is that really you?" Falcon yelled. Purah emerged shakily from the doorway, clutching his head and squinting in pain.

"Falcon! Falcon, is that you? Oh, oh my head . . . the Drakeness is everywhere," Purah mumbled, walking slowly towards them.

"But . . . but how are you alive, my friend? We saw you impaled on Vadid's statue! What happened?" Falcon exclaimed, but Narroway interrupted.

"No, Falcon, I'm sorry to have hidden the truth from you, but that is not the Purah that we know." Narroway said as he held Falcon back from rushing to his friend.

"What? What do you mean?" Falcon asked.

"Just as I said, my friend, the Purah you have known has been nothing more than a façade. He is the man behind all of this; his death was an illusion. There is a Shininja ability that Lokin must have known which gives the illusion of death. The sword, we thought, was driven through his heart - but a Shininja can shift vital organs within their bodies to trick the enemy. Lokin must have done this procedure to Purah and put him in a temporary death-like state using various Shininja herbs and formulas then retrieved him from his grave one of these nights. Purah is a Sybil, perhaps even more powerful then Sybil Honj. The man before you is the mastermind of all you see. The kidnappings, Shax's supposed injection of Drakeness, all of it. Seventeen years in the making. Seventeen years of deception. Purah, was it worth it?" Narroway asked through gritted teeth. Purah dropped his act of dizzied walking, stood to full height and grinned.

"Oh yes, Narroway. It took the patience of a Shininja, certainly, but all the while it was worth it. Even now, my conscience is clean. I will listen, Narroway. Please, tell me why this plan is so flawed?" Purah said, standing beside Shax, who was now drooling and hunched over like the rest of the kids.

"I would love to, but why don't we allow Jackobi to explain it for us instead? Moordin, if you would release him?" Narroway said calmly. With a wave of Moordin's staff, the stone cracked around Jackobi. He landed neatly on his feet, eyes as blue as Foxblade's, and walked silently over to his father, who gave him a great hug.

"A job well done, son, you have made your father so proud," Foxblade said as he released him. Jackobi turned and gave Purah the same murderous, vengeful look Rolce had witnessed in his dream.

"What? What do you mean, a job well done?" Gisbo asked, confused.

"How I've desired to kill you, Purah, for so long. Insisting you would sacrifice Shax's son to further his pain and complete the process of killing his family... it sickened me. The patience I endured to not kill you! Man-Phoenix? Humph, I'm no Man-Phoenix. Rather, I am the new Man-Phoenix's sworn protector, for I alone am immune to the effects of the Drakeness. It has been a fine display of acting, allowing you to think you had overcome me while I called the shots for my own body. My mission is done," Jackobi said, locking stares with Purah.

"We knew, Purah, we knew there were traitors among us. We also knew the new Man-Phoenix would reveal himself within this generation of children. Jackobi's ability to suppress the Drakeness was discovered in secret at a young age; for with every Man-Phoenix, there has been also been a Sentry, just like Vadid's wife Amari long ago. You foolishly assumed that it would be the most powerful of the children, kidnapping the top scorers. Tonight you discovered that Jackobi was the most powerful for his age bracket, as a Sentry usually is. If you had tried tonight to use his supposed hibernating powers, you would have been sorely disappointed, for a Man-Phoenix he is not.

Now, in the name of my father, Renegades and Strifes alike, you will be executed for unforgivable crimes. Renegades! We attack now!" Narroway ordered as the Renegade masters charged forward. Just as when Gisbo had tried, a wall of invisibility blocked their path. Suddenly surges of black tentacles pulsated from the wall, blasting the Renegades. Everyone was thrown backward, slamming hard against the rock floor, some unmoving, others screaming and convulsing in pain. Gisbo, Rolce and Jackobi stared on in horror as their mighty class masters were taken down, unable to rise from their feet after just one blast of the Drakeness.

"What's wrong with them!? What the hell do we do now?" Gisbo cried out.

"Wait," Jackobi breathed as he held his hand up. Falcon stirred from his fallen position and rose to his feet.

"Impossible! Falcon? The pupil of Vadid the Valiant still stands? The Drakeness strike that I hit you all with hurts physically, yes, but the true pain lies within as all the sins and iniquities one has committed in his life are turned back upon the sinner in utmost suffering. You are the most stained among them all! The most tarnished and sinful! You should have lost consciousness from the pain. It is impossible! Even the blameless Narroway cannot stand!" Purah said, eyes registering surprise. What he said was true. Falcon was shaking all over, writhing in pain, as every scar across his body reopened and blood burst all across his flesh. Falcon remained standing nevertheless, grinding his teeth in pain.

"I . . . cannot believe this! You were my friend, Purah! My brother in arms! I . . . AHHHH!!!" Falcon screamed as fresh blood erupted from his wounds. " . . . will is everything. Will . . . to . . . CHANGE! Will to protect . . . my . . . my son!" Falcon said as he looked at Gisbo for the first time, eyes watering. " . . . and . . . WILL to see you PUNISHED! JACKOBI! MAKE YOUR SOARIAN RACE PROUD!" Falcon screamed as he tossed his sword to Foxblade's son. Jackobi caught it neatly and he charged at the blackened wall, covered with twisting energy waves that looked like black tentacles. Jackobi leapt in the air as they sought him, ready to inflict all kinds of suffering, but it was no use - they passed right through his body as if it were smoke. In one more bound, Jackobi cleared the barrier and raised his sword high, aiming for Purah.

Lokin was there in a flash. Deflecting Falcon's sword with his dagger, he dealt a swift spinning kick to Jackobi's jaw, so strong that it propelled the boy through the air and onto the pile of unconscious Renegades.

"Jackobi!" Gisbo and Rolce said in unison.

"Will? WILL!? All will can be broken! Bend before Drakearon once more, Falcon!" Purah yelled as he thrust black lightning, striking Falcon off his feet so that he yelled and screamed in anguish. Purah relinquished his attack and gazed at Falcon who lay motionless.

"You see, Gisbo? POWER breaks will! No one can change who they truly are! They can only act and force their true selves down as I did! Falcon never told you he was your father out of sheer guilt. Did you know he grew up with Drakearon? Falcon here was his best friend and right hand man throughout his entire regime. With my blameless record I made your father the supposed redeemed man he is today! No one else trusted him. It is amazing to see how a man can change his ways all from the hammering of another's empty words and false encouragement. Look at him! A new man because of me! I still cannot see Drakearon's interest in him. He may be strong, but his mind is pathetic and weak. But that's all ancient history now," Purah asserted with a gleeful smile at the shock on Gisbo and Rolce's faces. Gisbo stared at his class master - his father – lying still on the ground. Suddenly Falcon stirred, opened his eyes and rose to his feet. Purah's face froze momentarily.

"I don't believe it," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "What do you think you're trying to prove, Falcon? You can't hope to defeat me in this state! Stand down!" Purah demanded. Falcon shook his head.

"I will always stand...to give an example to my son. To . . . to show him . . ." Falcon cried out in pain. Breathing heavily, he continued, " . . . what, what it means to be a Renegade. What it means to be a man. Will is everything, Gisbo! You have the will of your father . . . flow . . . flowing through you! Never give in! NEVER! REMEMBER, GISBO! REMEMBER EVERYTHING! YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES!" Unbelievably, Falcon's voice gained strength until he was screaming hoarsely. As if a general had given orders, the fallen bodies around him began to rise shakily to their feet, weapons drawn and glowing so brightly that the cavern appeared to be lit from within and the walls were bathed in vibrant red, blue, green and yellow like a cathedral.

Gisbo also stood in disbelief. A familiar feeling washed over him, something indefinable, as his flesh began to heat from within. Before he knew what was happening, his eyes erupted in flames and Gisbo was once again thrust into the darkened forest of his childhood dreams, facing the monster with large, red, fiery eyes.

"Gisbo Falcon, you have done well and pleased me. You have sought the path of friendship and loyalty. You will remember everything for you ARE the new Man-Phoenix! Remember! Remember the day against the wolves!" The voice echoed through his head, and then the giant dark being erupted into bright blue flames! As the light washed over him, Gisbo understood - understood everything. This wasn't a monster at all, it was the phoenix, symbol of the Renegades and avatar to IAM himself! Suddenly, Gisbo's conscious was taken back to the day he battled the wolves to claim Fao for his Boon.

He felt hot pain flood his forearm as a black wolf bit into his flesh. Gisbo couldn't get him off for if he did the wolf he was currently holding would have his throat and then...it would all be over. The pain was excruciating, almost to the point of needing to let go. He was trapped as he saw Fao trying to fight off a wolf of her own. It was then everything went black around him . . . but not for long.

He felt hot pain flood his forearm as a black wolf bit into his flesh. Gisbo couldn't get him off for if he did the wolf he was currently holding would have his throat and then...it would all be over. The pain was excruciating, almost to the point of needing to let go. He was trapped as he saw Fao trying to fight off a wolf of her own. It was then everything went black around him . . . but not for long.

There he was once more, in the forest of his dreams. It was night and there before him was the enflamed eye's that had haunted his nightmares. Gisbo stood before it, facing the one thing that ever truly frightened him.

Gisbo looked down, the wrapping of vines still tied around his foot. He picked up right where he left off in his last dream. This was it, the meaning of this dream... death. He was being pursued by it and now it was here to collect. Cold sweat dripped into Gisbo's eyes, stinging them, as the demon now stood right in front of him. The heat pulsating from the monster made his eyebrows feel as if they were about to singe right off. The fire lit eyes felt as if they were looking through him. It was then it raised its head and let out a deep laughter, sounding totally wild, dangerous and then...it spoke.

_"Why do you run from me boy?"_ The voice asked. Its voice was so deep it provided its own echo, power dripped from every word.

Gisbo was a bit taken aback. Never had the demon actually spoken to him. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came.

_"WHY!!!???"_ The voice bellowed. It took all what Gisbo could muster to answer, not a very good answer at that.

"I, don't know..." Gisbo stammered.

_"Even now, too full of pride to simply admit!!! You fear me, that is why you run."_ The powerful voice boomed and turned its head, uninterested. Gisbo sat awkwardly, shaking from head to toe. The head then turned back around, the eyes roared brighter in fresh flames.

_"Don't you know what I am?"_ The voice boomed, a little quieter this time.

"No . . ." Gisbo answered.

_"I am your courage! Why do you run from me?"_ The voice boomed again. Gisbo looked stunned and confused.

"My, my courage?" Gisbo said a little more in control of himself this time. The eye's roared with fire yet again.

_"Yes! You have run from me long enough! You lack it completely!_ The voice boomed, frustrated.

"I, I have courage! I fear nothing! I . . ." Gisbo stammered out before being cut off by the bellowing voice.

_"You believe to have 'courage' by throwing yourself into battle constantly? You think it' courage' to be problematic? You think it 'courage' to live a loner's life, to do EVERYTHING on your own? You refuse to trust a living soul, are they that beneath you? Is this your idea of 'courage'?"_ The demon accused. Gisbo sat for a moment, pondering these words.

_"This is not courage. It is fear glorified! It is ignorance embraced and above all, it is purposeless!"_ The voice boomed. Gisbo struggled to refute him.

"No! I am confident! I believe in myself!" Gisbo argued.

_"Wrong! Utterly wrong boy! You have nothing more then confidence of self! Not total confidence! You are a frightened child! Fearful! I see it, even now, seeping out of your soul like a disease infecting all that you do! True courage is trusting those around you! True courage is the ability to pour yourself into friendship! True Courage is to pour yourself into a cause! All you do is hold yourself back, afraid it won't work out all because you fear the pain that may come of it! Afraid you may be abandoned once more! Afraid people will see you beneath themselves!"_ The demon bellowed _._ Gisbo looked at the ground, trying to hide from its gaze.

_"It is so easy to live a selfish lifestyle such as yours, easy to dwell in your pain of loneliness, easy, to simply worry about yourself and no one else! Look at your wolf! Look at your friend! Look at your Class Master! You don't trust them . . ."_ The voice boomed with fresh accusations, trailing off disappointed.

"But I do! They are the only living things I have trusted! Why do you think I got where I am today! Because of them!" Gisbo stated, yelling now. The demon reared on him.

_"Exactly! Because of THEM you are here now! They put their trust in you and you refuse to return an equal share. You offer them mere scraps of a dinner while they offer you an entire feast! You send your friend away to fight this lonely battle on your own, for what? Self-justification? Now is when you needed him most! Who starts a battle wanting to prove the strength of being alone? Utter idiocy! Throw yourself instead into the trust of your friends, your Boon, whole-heartedly and victory will be yours! Fail to do so and you will die, both physically and within."_ The voice said. It was then it dawned on Gisbo. Now that the demon spoke in a calmer tone, he recognized the voice.

"Wait! You! You were the one! The one who whispered in my head at the tryouts! You helped me! What are you?" Gisbo asked. The flaming eye's continued to seep into him.

_"You do not yet understand your importance. I will reveal myself in due time, for now, I am your courage, use it. Trust those around you...whole-heartedly! Throw yourself into them like you do everything else and the battle is yours! I cannot lend you my power otherwise. Will you obey?"_ The voice asked. It was then, in the darkness, a circular window of smoke seemed to appear. There he saw Rolce running to get help clutching his eagle close to him, face in despair. He saw Falcon walking about the grounds of Heaven's Shelter, and lastly he saw Fao, about to be overcome by the wolf atop her...

"YES! I will! I trust you! Bring me back! Let us win!" Gisbo yelled.

" _Wisdom has aided you this day. Upon my close you will not recall what has transpired or will transpire. You are not prepared. Your rash stupidity was not taken into account for the current situation, ergo; my presence was required once more for the sake of your very survival. The time will come when your mind is ready and this memory will be retrieved. That time however, is not upon us. Your subconscious however, like a small whispering voice shall remember. Grow strong of body, strong of mind, and strong of heart young Gisbo. The time of testing draws near and you will be tested, by all that you are but fear not, for I will never leave you nor forsake you. Listen for that still, small voice. Now Go!"_ The voice boomed for the final time as the fiery eyes were extinguished.

Upon the final statement the blackness dissolved around him and he was again face to face with the snarling wolf in front of him. The transformation occurred once more as Gisbo's eyes burst into fire. Everything went red like before, he saw his wolf too was washed in a red energy field, eyes afire as well. Power, pain, and fury washed over Gisbo's entire being. A yell pierced the air not entirely human and with immense strength he threw the wolf by its throat into a thick oak tree, shattering the trunk as the wolf died upon impact.

He grabbed the wolf attached to his arm by the head as he ripped the wolves jaws clean from his bleeding wound and threw it as well, like a Frisbee, far out into the distance of the woods, lost to view. Fao joined him by his side as they charged into the onslaught of wolves, fighting as one, wolves thrown asunder both unconscious as well as dead. The last few remaining wolves scattered immediately as they ran, whelping and sprinting away as the boy and his wolf howled together at their victory.

The open wounds across their battered bodies instantly healed themselves, releasing rising strings of steam as the wounds closed over. The boy and his wolf returned back to normal, toppling to the ground unconscious, side by side, victory theirs and together at last.

And now, here the monster stood before him again in the darkened forest, only this time, in its true form, the fiery Phoenix!

"Now listen closely, Gisbo. Extensive training awaits you, but for the moment you must obey. Everyone has a part to play in what is to come, even Purah. You must open the Reath and grant them their wish. Send the dogs to their master!" the Phoenix bellowed. Gisbo shook his head.

"No way! That's exactly what they want! They'll be able to bring Drakearon back! Just let me kill them or something!" Gisbo yelled back with all his might. The Phoenix shook its great head.

"I cannot reveal to you mankind's future on Thera, but I have my orders and a part to play, just like you. You must take up your part immediately! Drakearon's followers will not stop until they reach their master. You must end future suffering. Do it! Open the Reath!" the Phoenix commanded.

"Well then, give me the power to kill them! This makes no sense! I can stop all this from happening right now!" Gisbo answered. The Phoenix shook its head.

"Your body is not ready for such power... yet. You would implode upon yourself like a star. There will come a day, Gisbo, when such abilities will be granted, but that is not this day. Do what IAM wills," the Phoenix bellowed.

"But I . . . fine." Gisbo muttered.

"I am grateful for your obedience. Now go!" The Phoenix screeched.

"But, how do I speak with you again? I am so confused . . . I," Gisbo argued, only to be interrupted.

"I will always be with you," the Phoenix roared for a final time as blue fire erupted all around. When the flames subsided, Gisbo was back in the cave with his eyes red with fire and his body filled with otherworldly power. Around him, the blue aura of Gisbo's blade now surrounded his comrades and healed them from their wounds. Rolce stood up first in utter awe, now realizing how he was healed of his broken knee in the fight with Thomson. The Phoenix's essence through Gisbo, had healed him.

"WHAT? Falcon's boy? The Man-Phoenix? But he's . . . he's . . ." Purah screamed in disbelief.

"Beneath that knucklehead resides a heart of fire," Narroway said, grinning from ear to ear.

"You remember then? You know your purpose?" Falcon asked. Gisbo nodded.

"Yeah, I have to open the Reath," Gisbo said.

"No! You can't! You will be giving Drakearon the keys to return to Thera!" Moordin argued.

"That's what I said! But how the hell am I supposed to say no to a giant blue bird?" Gisbo answered.

"Moordin, we must have faith. Gisbo, do what IAM wills you," Narroway instructed. Gisbo nodded as he walked forward holding his sword. His essence felt different when his weapon unexpectedly erupted into blue flames, matching his uniform. Everyone gazed upon him with awe as their cuts and bruises healed themselves over completely. Gisbo felt a surge like adrenaline as the swelling where his body was bashed and bruised deflated and the gash across his jaw from Malik healed into a neat scar. Gisbo reared back and slashed his blade forward, not really knowing why, only that it felt right.

The air itself seemed to cleave from his cut as a window to another world parted the air like a torn cloth. Gisbo and his company saw the Reath for the very first time. To Gisbo, it looked how he would imagine hell if he truly thought about it. There was nothing but a barren wasteland of sand covered by a sky as red as blood with dark, thunderous clouds overhead. Gisbo cocked his head as if listening to a voice, nodded, then turned to face Purah.

"Go back to your master, you stupid dog!" Gisbo said with a snarl.

"How ironic of you. Just as I said, the portal is open to me tonight. Very well, it seems I cannot hide my Sybil blood anymore. Drakearon was correct in his theory that a Sybil is capable of suppressing the cravings of the dragon's power. It seems, my dear Falcon, that there are now two who have held onto their humanity with such power flowing through them. I believe there is something beyond pure willpower that allows you to resist. What it is I can only ponder at, but I can promise you that I will discover your secret. Even so, I release the children. They are of no more importance," Purah announced and with a wave of his hand, every one of Purah's mind slaves began to awake. Shax nearly toppled over from the shock of being in control of his body for the first time in seventeen years. Tears swam to his eyes when he saw Rolce from across the room.

"Rolce! Rolce, my boy! My boy!" Shax screamed, taking a few more shaky steps, and both father and son broke into a sprint. They fell into an embrace on their knees and as they hugged each other, tears were streaming freely down their faces.

"Oh Rolce, seventeen years of imprisonment! I...I've done horrible things...your mother...oh, your mother, I...I'm so sorry..." Shax wept, but Rolce interrupted.

"Never mind that, Dad, you're back! You're back and that's all that matters now!" Rolce insisted with the first genuine smile Gisbo had seen in a long time. Gisbo turned his gaze upon Purah and Lokin.

"Well? The hell you waiting for? Get your pansy ass out of here!" Gisbo yelled. Purah snickered.

"You truly believe these lies, boy? This self delusion? You call it faith, Narroway? I see blind allegiance. This . . . part to play? I hear the voices too, both sides. IAM is not all-powerful and we proved it yet again tonight. You blindly follow. Open your minds and see the truth! Why would IAM allow Drakearon and his Dragon to live and now return? Why does he allow his people to suffer? Appolyon speaks differently, he promises only love and equality. His powers are equal with IAM and the power I used to decimate your little band was nothing but a fraction of what Appolyon has granted Drakearon. You cannot hope to stand on equal footing, silly boy-phoenix. And Falcon, my old friend, you cannot deny the power of the Drakeness that flows through you. You will use it again and when you do, Drakearon will own, once again, his greatest of warriors," Purah predicted. Falcon shook his head.

"Purah, my old friend, what you have done here is unimaginable. You escape for a little while, friend, but mark my words and mark them well . . . retribution will come, but you need not look for it over your shoulder. I, Falcon Vadid, will come for you, if only to see a sword impaled through you once more," Falcon said.

"I don't know what would excite me more, my dear Falcon. Seeing you obedient to Drakearon once more or awaiting the day you speak of. Time will tell of course. As for the rest of you, continue to revel in your foolishness and ignorance...a Renegade's downfall. Drakearon loathes both. A closed mind is useless," Purah exclaimed.

"Pride and lack of imagination... your downfall. The mind need only be closed to wickedness and evil. Should one not recognize it for what it is, that makes them a fool," Moordin said aloud.

"No matter. Till we meet again. Oh, and boy-phoenix . . . Deity Drakearon tells me he looks forward to an engagement with you," Purah said.

"Well, you tell that sick bastard I ain't interested in marriage proposals and when I see him, I'm gonna . . ." Gisbo screamed as he marched towards Purah. Falcon stepped in.

"Whoa, whoa, take it easy tiger." Falcon said with a wink as he stood beside his son, lancing one final glare at Purah and Lokin.

"Careful, boy-phoenix. As the Renegades say, pride before the fall . . ." Purah said with a final cryptic smile.

"Be seeing you boys!" Lokin said with a haphazard salute.

And with that, both Purah and Lokin passed into the Reath. A flash of light and pulse of energy engulfed them and within an instant, both men and the Reath were gone without a trace.

Gisbo slumped to the ground, nearly blacking out from sheer exhaustion as the flames on his sword returned to normal, Flarian red flames. Oddly enough, as the red essence returned, the handle in his sword cracked, causing the red orb to tumble out. Gisbo's eyes expanded in awe when his essence didn't dissipate. For the first time, he was using Elekai' correctly.

"So, how does it feel to know you aren't going to explode after all?" Narroway said, taking a seat on the floor next to Gisbo.

"I . . . this is all just so . . ." Gisbo muttered, unable to really think of a response.

"Don't worry, son, you've done your part well tonight, although I can guarantee you are confused beyond belief," Narroway said. Gisbo just nodded as he watched the boys around him begin walking around, dazed and confused.

"Before I explain anything else, I think we need to return these children back to their families, get a warm meal in their stomachs AND throw the biggest celebration Heaven's Shelter has ever seen!" Narroway said as he patted Gisbo's back and rose to get the kids in order. Turning his attention to them, Gisbo saw Jackobi sit up, rubbing his chin as he made eye contact with Gisbo sitting across from him.

"So, um," Gisbo stammered.

"Yeah . . ." Jackobi muttered as Rolce came and stood over them both.

"Well, might as well start with introductions, eh? My name's Rolce Moordin," Rolce said as he stuck a hand out to Jackobi.

"And this guy right here is Gisbo Falcon!" Gisbo said as he outstretched a hand too. Jackobi shook both hands with a grin.

"You know my name; I loathe repeating myself. It's good...to finally meet you. Both of you," Jackobi said with a smile as the boys helped him rise to his shaky feet.

"Ok, before anything else, I have a serious question I need to ask you," Gisbo said.

"Yeah?" Jackobi asked, cocking a curious glance toward him.

"You like sushi?" Gisbo asked. At this, Jackobi's face lit up.

"You kiddin'? I love the stuff!" Jackobi said.

"Jackobi my friend, on that assurance, I think it's safe to give you the extra bunk in our dorm. Welcome to the best synergy in Heaven's Shelter!" Gisbo smiled as he pumped his hand once more. The complete synergy all laughed together for the first time.

Gisbo turned to see Falcon leaning against a large stalagmite, arms folded and smiling at their little group. Gisbo left them and walked over to his class master, his father.

"So, what, do I call you 'Dad' or something now?" Gisbo asked. Falcon merely shrugged.

"Long as I can call you meathead," he said with a smile.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Gisbo asked.

"Why didn't you ever ask?" Falcon countered. Gisbo just shrugged.

"I tried . . . HEY! Don't turn this around on me! You're supposed to be the responsible adult!" Gisbo said, pointing at Falcon.

"Do I look like a responsible adult to you?" Falcon said as he stepped forward and placed both hands on his son's shoulders.

"Gisbo, I've wanted to tell you for so long, but really couldn't find a way to do it. With a past like mine, I hope you understand. What Purah told you was indeed true, I was an agent of Drakearon and do have the evil flowing through me." Falcon slowly removed his bandana, revealing the same grotesque symbol that appeared on Rolce's forehead. It started to drip before Falcon wiped it away and tied the bandana back on.

"It has now been over twenty years since I have last released the Drakeness, yet the craving is always there. I am reminded every time I hurt myself, as it heals my wounds for me on its own. The amount of willpower needed to resist during such times is extraordinary," Falcon said.

"So there is no healing technique for Flarians? That time you got your hand nearly melted off by Ricard, the Drakeness healed you?" Gisbo asked.

"I thought when we discussed it that you came out of there unscathed, Falcon . . ." Foxblade chimed in behind him.

"Technically I did . . ." Falcon said, rubbing the back of his head and smiling nervously.

"I see. Secrets, secrets, secrets . . ." Foxblade mumbled.

"But yeah, only a lucky few know of healing abilities, Gisbo. As for the Drakeness, I was one of the rare lucky ones to break my addiction and get it under control. Others weren't so lucky, I'm afraid. Those who get fully consumed by the addiction and surrender themselves to it become monsters. The creatures that you saw as you spiraled through the portal are what is left of Drakearon's most worthy of followers, the ones who provide him power. The more people Drakearon enslaves, the more power he generates and the more power his followers receive in return. I'm sure you can see the danger of something like this spreading. As of now, I am one of the only known people to overcome the addiction. It is a fight every day for me, but as long as I have my will and my friends around me, I will never give in. You know what helped me overcome it the most?" Falcon said. Gisbo shook his head. Falcon smiled before answering.

"It was you, Gisbo. When you were born, I wanted to be the best role model possible. Just seeing your face and thinking of you dulled the cravings and gave me happiness like no other, a sense of purpose. You became my passion. I want to continue to be that example for you, Gisbo. I may have my shortcomings, but as I said before, I will pour all that I am into you to make you the best warrior and the best man you can be. I love you, son," Falcon said in a low voice. By now, both father and son had tears in their eyes as they embraced. Clapping erupted all around them as those closest looked on, watery eyed too.

"Hey! Would you guys quit it!" Gisbo yelled.

"This isn't for your entertainment!" Falcon chimed in.

"It's best to appreciate moments like these in life, my dear friend Falcon. As one who has lost seventeen years of his own, it's safe to say I know what I'm talking about. Please say you still have that secret recipe marinade of yours, old friend. Please say it's true! If you could marinate the entire cow, it couldn't satisfy my appetite!" Shax exclaimed as he put an arm around his son. Falcon nodded.

"For you, Shax, anything. We had assumed the worst about you for so long; good to see the saying about assuming stands true, even after all these years. Welcome home!" Falcon said with a smile.

"Wait, do you mean to say it was your bright idea to name me after a dog? Huh? Not only that, but the Flarian name for dog? That's heaping insult upon injury! Gisbo? Really? Fido would have been easier! What the hell!" Gisbo accused.

"Huh, you think just because I'm your dad I named you Gisbo?" Falcon said with a gleam in his eye.

"Wait, wait one second . . . do you mean, I have a mom?" Gisbo asked.

"Of course you had a mom. Do I need to explain where babies come from?" Falcon teased.

"NO! Of course not! Where is she? Is she . . ." Gisbo asked, only to be cut off by Falcon's shushing.

"That's a story for another day," Falcon said in a quiet tone.

"Well! I don't know about the lot of you, but I believe Heaven's Shelter would be an ideal place to catch up on things rather than doing it here! Let us all leave this place and return home!" Narroway said with gusto.

Everyone agreed and they began their trek out of the cave. To their surprise, the cave's entrance was crowded by armed men clad in green uniforms. At the forefront stood a man of huge stature, with battle scars crisscrossing his proud, bearded face and brandishing a dark green eye patch. On his green uniform were two long ribbons that stretched down each of his shoulder pads, longer than all the other Strifes.

"Narroway . . ." Chieftain Lamik said.

"Lamik . . ." Narroway answered, with a hint of disgust in his voice.

"I trust you dealt with the traitorous bunch without mercy?" Lamik said. Narroway shook his head.

"They are gone for now, suffice it to say, and everyone is unharmed. That should be enough," Narroway said.

"As soft as always. Evil deserves death or suffering or it will continue to thrive," Lamik said.

"Don't speak to me of your twisted justice, Lamik, I know full well of your Glaknabrade prison. This is Renegade business; just be thankful your son is safe and was never in any real danger," Narroway said, eyes full of cool fury.

"To me, Malik," Lamik ordered. Upon command, the boy that Gisbo had pummeled earlier and had been equally pummeled by made his way through the group to stand beside his father. Lamik lifted a hand to the boy's chin, cocking Malik's head upward to examine the massive cut stretching from his eye to his nose.

"A worthy wound. Wear this scar with pride and know one day you will take revenge on the one that gave it to you. A Strife forever!" Lamik said.  
Gisbo placed a hand over the side of his face, fingering the cut that Malik had given him. Lamik figures it was Purah instead of me, doesn't he? Gisbo thought warily. He wondered if Malik knew the true origin of the scar when suddenly, as if reading his mind, Malik turned and gave him a wicked stare, his eye fluttering in pain from the gash across it.

"I look forward to it. A Strife forever!" Malik declared without taking his eyes off Gisbo. There was something about this boy that made Gisbo's skin crawl even more than Ranto, Thomson or Rake - and that was saying a lot. They were just spoiled rotten when all was said and done, but not this boy - not Malik. There was something dangerous behind those eyes, something familiar . . . whatever it was, Gisbo didn't like it.

"Yours is bigger . . ." Gisbo said, mouthing the words so as not to be heard, and making a diagonal cutting motion across his own eye with a finger. Gisbo was used to Thomson's reaction of rage at such disrespect, or Ranto shrugging him off as worthless in a haughty huff, but what Malik did surprised him.

He smiled, deliberately. There was something maniacal behind it.

Who is this kid? Gisbo wondered as he returned the smile with one of his own. It was then Gisbo felt it: the strange sense of destiny overtaking him. He couldn't explain how he knew, only how he felt, and Gisbo realized exactly what he saw in the boy's face. The eyes, and teeth, of a lone wolf.

_Chapter 24:_ A Million Dreams Ahead

Gisbo rolled out of bed the next morning in his usual fashion, slamming hard against the wooden floor. As Fao licked his ears to see if he was all right, the scenes from the night before flashed before his eyes. Rising to his feet, Gisbo began wondering if all of it had really happened, for both Rolce and Jackobi's bunks were empty save for a furry creature snoozing upon the Shininja's bunk.

"What the? What's a fox doing in here? Fao, get him!" Gisbo yelled in dismay.

"He's of no threat to you. Meet Chara, my Boon; just showed up here this morning," Jackobi said. Gisbo turned his head and saw Rolce and Jackobi enjoying two cups of steaming hot tea. Just the sight of Jackobi at the table made Gisbo smile. He hadn't been dreaming after all.

"He's your Boon? Jeesh, Rolce! Wouldn't it have been great if OUR Boons showed up on our pillow one morning? But noooo, instead our Boons almost get us both killed!" Gisbo complained as he looked at Fao shamefully cowering behind his leg.

"Chara told me he's been hanging around Foxblade's for about a year. Foxblade was taking care of him. He ran here this morning when he felt Jackobi's presence. Pretty cool stuff, huh?" Rolce explained.

"So you guys psyched for the celebration today? Narroway told me we are all gonna get our bands from Perry and become official Renegaras! A few special guests are supposed to come too! Wonder who . . . wait . . ." Gisbo said, realization dawning. "Jackobi . . . you missed this whole year! How are you gonna become a Renegara?" Gisbo asked.

"Why don't you explain the situation, Rolce; I hate repeating myself," Jackobi said as he sipped his tea.

"Well, Gisbo, Jackobi is actually almost a year ahead of us in his training. He's already a Renegara, he just doesn't have his bands yet," Rolce said.

"Really? But how?" Gisbo asked.

"Well, Jackobi was sent away just like we were when we were kids. He was given the special assignment of throwing whoever the traitors were off track, as he had the highest outputs of essence at the time. He's kind of a prodigy, if you will. Foxblade has been back and forth, training him in special shininja techniques secretly for his mission to protect you, the real Man-Phoenix," Rolce said.

"Trust me, it's been no picnic! The crap I endured for your sake . . ." Jackobi said, looking in Gisbo's direction. Gisbo remembered it all now: the monstrous voice, the eyes of fire that spoke to him, the order to make friends.

"To think, all this time me and Rolce have been trying to save you when in fact, you've been saving my ass," Gisbo said in a guilty tone.

"No, Gisbo, it was necessary. You're the new Man-Phoenix, the one to replace Vadid the Valiant. You have no idea of your importance and it was equally important that I succeeded in maintaining my facade. I have no regrets and would do it all again. I don't know the full ramifications of your new role, but I do know that as of right now, only the people in this room, our class masters and Narroway know of your identity - and we are to keep it that way," Jackobi said.

"Yeah, yeah - that's fine. This whole thing is just so new to me. I wish I knew more..." Gisbo said.

"And you will, soon as I'm done with ya," Falcon said, standing in the doorway.

"Why do you always do that? Just walk in and tell us you're here! It's really no big deal!" Gisbo said.

"Apologies all around. You and me have got a lot of training to do. If you thought everything you've done so far was tough, you ain't seen nothing yet, mister. It won't be a rare occasion for you to find yourself immobile for a period of days...you should know that," Falcon said, grinning, causing Gisbo to gulp.

"But that comes later. If anybody will be able to explain to you the importance of your new role as Man-Phoenix, it would be me. You remember, I trained under the original wonder himself: Vadid the Valiant, IAM bless his memory," Falcon said.

"Hey, Falcon, I sort of have a question...well, now that my father's back, I would assume he would take over my Renegara training, but Moordin has been there all along and everything . . ." Rolce said, before being interrupted.

"That's nothing to worry about," Moordin said as he appeared on the threshold. Gisbo and company all looked up in surprise at his presence.

"What? Do you guys have an assembly line out there or something? Are Foxblade and Shax behind you?" Gisbo asked. Moordin shook his head.

"I will be covering your Renegara training personally for this year, teaching you the ins and outs of Elekai' in the Naforian tradition. When you are finished with me, Shax will take over and teach you the ways of the Sybil. You have much work ahead of you, young Rolce, and we have much traveling ahead as well after your summer break," Moordin explained with a smile.

"Traveling?" Rolce questioned.

"Oh yes, much traveling - for you too, Gisbo. It is tradition that class masters and their subordinates pilgrimage to their country of origin for Renegara training. There, at the epicenter of their essential energies, they will master much. You will all travel beyond the protection of Heaven's Shelter to distant lands where all sorts of untamed terrors await you! Rest well this summer, boys, for the training of a lifetime awaits you at the end," Moordin said with a deep chuckle, causing both Gisbo and Rolce to gulp.

"All of you are expected to be at the celebration in one hour to receive your bands, so shower and dress accordingly - clean uniforms now! We will both see you there and know we are proud of all three of you!" Falcon said, and with a wave, they were both gone.

"So, where are we going? Do you have any idea, Jackobi?" Gisbo asked as he and Rolce leaned in, interested.

"Please, just call me Jack. Hmph, you both are in for one hell of a year, I can promise you that. You, Rolce, will be traveling to the rainforests of Naforia, where the most ferocious animals reside, none of which you'll find here in Heaven's Shelter. I'm talking animals you've never heard of nor seen before. If you thought the lions, tigers and bears that reside here are scary, they are mere kitties and puppies! As for you, Gisbo, you will be going to the desert plains of Flaria. If the weather alone doesn't kill you, the soldiers of Warlord Karm surely will, as well as the variety of old Flarian hermits living out there. Tough as nails they are and don't forget, of course, about the various monsters lurking over there. You'll have such fun!" Jackobi said with a grin.

"You know, you were quite scary just then. Stupid prodigies," Gisbo said.

"This prodigy saved your ass and will be enjoying his year off with rest and relaxation!" Jackobi said.

"I bet you will! And now that I can use Elekai' as normally as everyone else, I'll return just as good as you! I don't need a protector anyway!" Gisbo said.

"Sentry is the correct term. I'll be resting and relaxing here, that you can be sure of, but I have a special training ahead of me - just cleared from Narroway this morning. You'll be needing me in the future - that you can count on - but for now, I'm gonna take a shower," Jackobi said as he closed the cleansing room door behind him. Gisbo sat across from Rolce and smiled.

"That guy's kinda a jerk . . . I like him." Gisbo said with a smirk, then turned to Rolce.

"Looks like we got quite a year ahead of us, eh buddy?" Gisbo asked.

"Certainly looks that way," Rolce concurred.

"So, how does it feel to know you can officially kick ass now?" Gisbo said. Rolce smiled wide at his remark.

"It feels great, Gisbo, you have no idea. With the guilt and worry gone, along with having my dad back in my life, and Jackobi . . . life is, well, good!" Rolce said.

"Both our dads, technically. Well, let's make these three months the time of our lives. I gotta say, I'll miss you, buddy, when we all disembark for a year," Gisbo said.

"I'm surprised you just used the word 'disembark' in a sentence. Technically, the word means to get out of a vehicle or craft, but I guess it is close enough. Guess we really have rubbed off on each other," Rolce teased and this time Gisbo smiled.

"I guess so. Well, let's go bang on the cleansing room door an' make Jackobi, er, Jack, hurry up. I want to see who these special guests are at the celebration!" Gisbo said.

The boys finished getting cleaned and dressed, then made their way to the common grounds of Heaven's Shelter. At first Gisbo didn't recognize the surroundings because all the shacks were taken down and replaced with a giant staging area, with tables scattered everywhere and fresh smells of meat barbequing wafting through the air.

People were swarming as music played and everyone had food and drink in hand, laughing, conversing and munching on all the delicacies Heaven's Shelter had to offer. Gisbo mingled with his Renega friends and introduced Jackobi to each and every one of them before they all made their way up to the staging area with their class masters. Perry and Narroway both quieted the exceptionally large crowd.

"Greetings! Let's get this ceremony started, eh? Plenty of ribs smoked to perfection await me! Get up here, Instructor Perry!" Narroway shouted. Fresh hoots and hollers erupted as pints of ciders, mead and beer were raised high in the air. Instructor Perry's tall frame approached the staging, his bald head glimmering from the bright sun above.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my privilege, as well as honor, to announce the passing of every one of my students to Renegara status," Perry said as he gave a rare smile and thrust both arms in the air. Fresh hoots and whistles rang out.

"All of them have worked so hard and I am deeply proud of their responsibility and dedication. However, there were a few that really stood out this term and their recognition needs to be made! Every year I give out two bands: Most Improved and Instructor's Award, to two lucky individuals. This year is no different. I would first like to give the Instructor's Award to a young person who has shown absolute dedication in his studies and reaped incredible results for all his work! No surprise here, I would like to have Rolce Moordin join me to receive his band!" Perry said as Rolce joined him by his side. Perry powered up his essence, flipped up Rolce's poncho to reveal his shoulder and completed the final marking on Rolce's upper arm. More cheers erupted and Rolce returned to his spot in line.

"Next up, I would like to grant a Most Improved award to an exceptional young lady who overcame her self doubt and passed with flying colors! Would a Miss Kinny Kalloway join me on the staging?" Perry shouted.

"Holy hell! What?" a red faced Kinny bellowed as she bounded up on the staging and received her band with a brilliant smile. Kennis and Niffin cheered the loudest of all. Kinny then returned to her spot in line.

"Now, there comes a time where tradition must be broken and that time is now for somebody in this class has showed me a reason, after all my long years as an instructor, to give a third award. The boy that I have come across this year that has touched my heart and has showed me the true definition of what it means to put all your heart into a dream. He is . . . an extraordinary boy to say the least. A bit of a meathead as well . . . but either way, he was placed in an extraordinary predicament: a Renegade born who couldn't use his essence. This boy had spent his entire life dreaming of the day he would be able to become an Elekai' Warrior. We all have dreams and all know the disappointment that comes when they aren't achieved or the road along the way is tough and our goal looks like a mirage. We just want to give up and tell ourselves it was impossible anyway. But not this boy . . . this boy gave a response that, I believe, was one in a million and he taught me a lesson I will never forget. Yes, even in my old age, I still have much to learn!" Perry said, causing the crowd to burst into gleeful chuckles.

"That lesson is to not accept your limitations. This boy showed me that through belief in oneself and the stubbornness to defy one's limitations, allowing the strength of one's heart to be the guide, dreams can truly be accomplished no matter the barriers. But enough of this long speech! Please put forth a thunderous applause for none other than Gisbo Falcon, earner of the first Strength of Heart Band!" Perry yelled. The entire crowd did just as Perry ordered while the great instructor turned, looked Gisbo right in the eye and smiled. Gisbo was floored by this surprise as the crowd roared even louder when he stepped onstage to face Perry. The instructor grabbed his arm and planted the first ever Strength of Heart award across his shoulder. Upon finishing, Perry embraced Gisbo in the tightest hug he had ever felt and the crowd boomed and shouted his name.

This moment was something that, until this day, had only been the stuff of dreams. Gisbo had finally done it. He had finally stood out for his accomplishments rather than his name and become an Elekai' Warrior. His dream was fulfilled. Perry released him and lifted his hand to the air before Gisbo returned to his place in line. One by one Perry began to call every Renega. Gisbo cheered for Kennis and Niffin, followed by Crass, Whip and even Rake, who flashed a rare smile. Next came Shaved, Grandfield and Knob, then Glinda, Ashlin and Anakah, who Gisbo didn't make eye contact with, until finally Jackobi received all his bands from Perry in one neat line.

Gisbo stood where he was and looked around at all his new friends, class masters, instructors, Narroway and all the residents of Heaven's Shelter. Confetti flew through the air, prompting more explosive applause. Gisbo did his best to take in this beautiful moment and detail it in his mind the best he could. For once in his life, Gisbo felt like he was home as his eyes rested on Falcon: his father, his family, who gave him his usual wink and thumbs up. Just when Gisbo didn't think he could smile any bigger, Narroway returned to the podium and silenced the crowd once again.

"Now, now, settle down for but one more announcement! I promise you will be cheering again momentarily. As promised, we have one more special guest, or guests rather - to introduce to you, who will truly kick-start this grand occasion! I present to you, arriving here for the final show of their tour, none other than . . . PHOENIX FORCE!!!" Narroway screamed, cupping both hands around his mouth. Suddenly, a large blanket dropped from behind them, revealing the infamous metal band known as Phoenix Force. They immediately started playing their hit song, "A Fire Within." Crass ran over to Gisbo and Rolce, jumping with excitement.

"You guys get ready for the concert of your life! WHOOOOO!!! Come on, you guys! All of you! Into the crowd! Even you, Whip! Go ahead! Tell em' all their songs sound the same now! WHOOOO!" Crass yelled as he leapt from the staging into the crowd below. He drifted away, thrust along by hundreds of raised hands in a crowd surf. Soon all the Renegas joined in on the idea as they too leapt from the staging, class masters, Perry and Narroway included, until only Gisbo, Rolce and Jackobi remained.

"So Gisbo, what are you gonna do now that your dreams have come true?" Rolce yelled over the noise. Gisbo looked down at his feet and the thrashing crowd before them. He thought for a moment, taking in the music of Phoenix Force bellowing behind him. A rainy day earlier that year and a conversation with a man shrouded in white flashed across his memory.

"Well, I'm not a Renegade yet! One dream down, millions more to go!" Gisbo said, and with that, he and his completed synergy dove headlong into the cheering crowd below.

A Note From the Author (If you can call him such)

UPDATED 9/22/14

From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much for reading this thing I call a story. Without you there would be no Gisbo Falcon, and no Renegade Series. I didn't have a dedication in the beginning for a reason. You made it to the end of Renegade Rising so congratulations! The dedication is for you! :)

Now, now. Don't cry! This isn't the end. In fact, it's just the beginning! Continue Gisbo's journey to become the Man-Phoenix with Renegade Reprisal, where Gisbo will be tested like never before. Here's a quick blurb to show just what you're in for . . .

Freshly given his new Renegara title, Gisbo Falcon is back, but for how long? On the desert plains of Flaria, Gisbo continues his training under his Class Master, Falcon, while dodging Spike Slithers, getting reacquainted with a long lost family, and preparing for a tournament to face off against his greatest rival yet, Malik Strife. But that's the easy part.

A fiendish cult known only as The Holy Chosen has recently risen out of the ruins of Cledwyn City, once home to Vadid the Valiant and the Flarian race. Now, a shadow of its former self, the new city seeks to open the sands of Flaria once again to the horrors of war.

A great battle is coming, but Gisbo hasn't been himself lately. A dangerous, repressed memory in the form a door, bolted, and chained on all sides has been rattling within Gisbo's mind, clawing day and night like a caged beast, a beast, if freed, could change our good-hearted hero forever.

This is J.C. Fiske singing off. For your convience, I have provided a link below. If you could leave a review I would be forever in your debt. You honestly don't know the impact one quick review can have for someone like me. And be honest! I only want to get better as a writer, if I'm even worthy of calling myself such. Fire away!

 Leave a review here!

In closing, I wanted to say thank you once again for visiting the world of Thera, and when things go dark, and they will, remember your fairy tales, and remember the words of Vadid the Valiant . . _._

"Destiny calls and win or lose,  
it is not how you fight but how you choose..."

Cheers!

\- J.C. Fiske

_E-mail –_ JCFiske@Gmail.com \- _Twitter -_ @GisboFalcon – Website - www.JCFiske.com

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