Renegade Rising (The Renegade Series) (32 page)

“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 Fifteen:
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 rewared 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.