Renegade Rising (The Renegade Series) (10 page)

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 estactic 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.