Renegade Rising (The Renegade Series) by J.C. Fiske Page A

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