Renegade Rising (The Renegade Series) (25 page)

Chapter Eleven:
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.