Renegade Rising (The Renegade Series) Read Online Free PDF Page A

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 . . .