Raiders of Uecketev Part 1

Year 22840

Month of Owah

Durkquire Marks (age 18)

Raiders of Uecketev part 1

Barenges, the product of his family farm and his favorite snack. Durkquire plucked one from the broad leafed tree. He turned the fruit and watched how the purple hue shimmered with deep blues and greens. This one was about as large as they came. His hands cupped the spherical fruit, barely able to touch his fingers around it. The larger the barenge, the sweeter it was.

Durkquire rubbed the end of his shirt over the fruit, wiping off the smudges of pollen and dust, and took a bite. He bent forward as the juice gushed out from the puncture points. A laugh came from behind. It was gentle, yet teasing and feminine.

“I thought I’d find you here.” His mother, Narcella held an empty basket against her hip. “Would you help your father with the equipment? He’s having trouble getting the engine started.”

Durkquire nodded and swallowed the bite of barenge. The sweet tang left a tingling sensation over his tongue.

The orchards of Uecketev were golden with the end of tummimar. He could feel droplets of sweat already building across his back. Durkquire found his father, Diendal, bent over their tractor’s open engine. He slung a tied bunch of colored wire over the edge and huffed.

“Need a mechanic to look at that?” Durkquire leaned on the edge.

“I don’t know if a mechanic can get this old thing running. We need a new plug. This one has been all chewed up by pesky vermin.” Diendal turned around, leaned against the tractor and folded his arms. “We won’t contribute much to this year’s festival if we have to pick by hand.”

Durkquire shook his head. “Hey, do you lack faith in my skills?” He looked closer at the bundle of wires. The protective casing had indeed been chewed away and several cords of the copper wire were nibbled through in multiple places.

It’s not too bad. I can do this.

His father laughed. “What weave will you conjure for this one?” Diendal stepped aside. “Let’s see if you can fix it. Weaving metal is difficult.”

“Oh, I’ll do it. Or, do I need to remind you who’s fixed this old thing five times now?” He smiled and stepped in front of the motor. Durkquire set the mangled wires across the cylinder cover. Everything had a root word. What that root word was, however, was not always known.

The root word for metal was, Lattas. But, in order to mend the wires he would need to group the root word with an action. I could mend, or bind. He thought between the two. Bind. Mend requires all pieces and there are chunks missing here.

He lifted a hand, palm open to the wires. “Saisette Lattas.”

The weave activated and drew from his inner well. It didn’t take much, and he directed his will upon the frayed copper wires. He watched them bend back inside the casing and stretch. The severed ends melded and the casing wrapped back around the wires.

“Try that.” He stepped back and let his father look it over.

“I tell your mother all the time, you can weave anything.” Diendal rested his hands on his hips and shook his head. “I couldn’t get those wires to mend. You chose bind. That was clever. You really should find a teacher. I hear Thyrel has several.”

“I’m fine here. Too many people in those cities.” Durkquire patted the tractor. “Let’s get this harvest done. We can’t disappoint the town.”

Diendal smiled and nodded. “It would be a sad festival without the barenges.”

Durkquire stepped back, giving the tractor plenty of room. Diendal hooked the plug back in and shut the hood. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he turned the key and the engine roared to life. The long arms of the machine branched out with finger-like rakes. They were pliable to allow it to comb through the tree branches as the tractor drove by. It would pull just enough to dislodge the barenges and roll them down into the collection baskets.

The day was still young. Durkquire decided to head into town. Seeing the celebration being set up built a unique kind of anticipation within his chest. He loved the colors displayed across every doorway, sign, post and lantern.

Streamers stretched between buildings with added paper lanterns that would be lit in the evening, creating a touchable heaven.

“Hey, Marks!” the call came from his right. “Think fast!”

Durkquire turned quickly and spotted the pastry mid-toss in the air coming towards him. With the natural fight or flight reaction, his body moved. He caught the pastry and sighed. “What would you have done if I’d missed?”

His friend, Peelie, shrugged his shoulders. “You never miss.”

“I’m headed down to the coast until the festival. Do you want to come?” He took a bite while he waited for Peelie’s answer.

“Sounds great. Should I go get everyone else?”

Durkquire didn’t need to think on that. He nodded. “I’ll see you all shortly.” He gave a short wave and turned north.

The main road was wide through town and it narrowed to a three way split a quarter mile out of Uecketev. He turned right, taking the mile long path down to the coast. The crashing waves filled his ears and brought a smile to his face. The air was slightly brisk, but nowhere near the chilling temperatures it would be by the end of the month. Durkquire finished the pastry and then sifted through the sand. The grains rubbing against his fingertips left them tingling as he gripped around a palm-sized flat stone. The shape of it was about what he was looking for. However, it would need some smoothing out.

Durkquire whispered the stone morphing weave, “Akemins Morfējemis.”

He brushed his other hand over the stone and willed it into the flat smooth shape he was looking for. Cutting off the weave, Durkquire tossed his smoothed stone and caught it with a smile. He looked out over the waves. The ocean was mellow today. Perfect for ice skipping.

His lungs filled with a deep inhale, which he released slowly. He would be tethering a weave to the stone. Examining his inner well, Durkquire pulled upon it as he spoke, “Syette Ledus Aust Rittiniem.”

The skipping stone crackled and gave off a blue-tinted sheen. It chilled his hand slightly now that the ice weave was tethered to it. He faced the ocean and drew his arm back to throw the stone. His eyes narrowed in on the tips of the incoming waves.

Durkquire threw his stone.

He watched it bounce off the tops of three rolling waves. Each time it hit the water, ice formed beneath it, leaving a small jagged disk carried to shore by the waves. He sighed and lolled his head to each side. Not bad. Could be better. Durkquire stretched out his open hand and shut his eyes as he willed the skipping stone to return.

He listened as the rhythm of the clapping waves was broken with small bursts as his stone flew back through them. A loud slap sounded as it hit his hand. He switched the stone to his other hand and shook out the small ache. Ready to toss it again, he surveyed the waves and repeated his toss.

Durkquire was on his fourth throw when he heard Peelie calling out to him. With his focus split, his toss only skipped two waves. He shook his head and held out his hand as he waited for the stone to return to it.

“What kind of a throw was that?” Cerra laughed and sifted through the sand for a stone of her own.

“The all too talented Durkquire has a chip to his charisma!” Peelie smiled and joined Cerra in finding his own rock.

They tethered their smoothed stones just as Durkquire had, and joined him in skipping their stones across the wave tops.

“I don’t see what you all get out of this.” Kerch inspected a flat stone and dusted the granules of sand from it.

“It’s good competition.” Cerra said as she tossed hers out again.

“Just think about honing your skills as a marksman, and we give our inner wells some good use at the same time!” Peelie tossed his out and they all heard the echoing crack as his hit Cerra’s on the return.

“Watch it!” Cerra grumbled and looked down at her broken skipping stone.

Durkquire laughed and watched Cerra shove Peelie into the water. He shouted out when the incoming wave hit his stomach, drenching him in the cold water. Cerra yelped and rushed out of reach. She bent over in a laughing fit.

“Come on Kerch. Have some fun!” Durkquire waved him over from the raised dune of sand where he stood.

The morning hours came and went. Skipping stones only lasted another hour before they all decided to rest on the beach. Durkquire leaned back and stared up at the clouds. Most were the bubbling white ones with a few stretched out parts, as though a large paintbrush had pulled through the edge, spreading the cloud out across the sky.

“Say, Durkquire?” Cerra sat up, flinging some sand onto Durkquire’s cheek. She continued without a response from him. “I’ll be leaving for schooling in Thyrel next month… Have you thought of going? You’re so naturally talented, and always seem to know how to put the weaves together.”

“You know he doesn’t want to go, Cerra.” Peelie chimed in. “He doesn’t like the crowds.”

“Partly true.” He responded.

“So then, what’s keeping you?” Kerch spoke. He was inquisitive as always. Sitting up while he chipped away at his stone with a flick of his finger and the stone morph weave he’d cast earlier.

“Too much I’d miss here.” Durkquire thought of his family, their neighbors, and his friends. Cerra was leaving, and there would be a void in their group until she returned, but it would take something drastic to get him to leave Uecketev.

“Kerch, you see that up there?” Peelie sat up and pointed at a cluster of moving clouds.

Durkquire stared at it as well. It was moving faster than any of the other clouds and was a fair bit darker. He dropped his gaze to the Zemin sea. A large dark ship was tipping over the crest of a distant wave. It wasn’t a trade week. The ships had just come by the week before. Would they be coming for the festival? He stared at the ship. What he could make out of its shape did not resemble a trade or civilian travel ship in any way. The ship looked like a narrow arrowhead and black as obsidian.

“Hey. Is Uecketev expecting company for the festival?” Durkquire pointed out at the ship.

“Not that I’m aware of.” Peelie shaded his eyes and stared out at it.

“Guys.” Cerra sounded worried and kept her eyes on the sky.

Durkquire looked up and spotted the nauxen. The darkness in the cloud had been the shadow from the massive wingspan of a wind naux. Hidden within its shadow were two other nauxen.

“Those are Verran nauxen!” Kerch jumped to his feet and started running towards town. He paused at the top of the hill and shouted down to them. “Let’s go! We need to warn everyone!”

“How do we know they intend harm?” Peelie gave a vague wave up at the nauxen.

“Because they have riders! They’re trained for combat!” Kerch pleaded for them to run.

The way Kerch had reacted had Durkquire concerned. He looked back up at the Naux to see them diving down towards Kerch. Adrenaline rushed his senses and his feet took flight. Durkquire ran up towards Kerch and frantically tried to recall the weave for a barrier. He wasn’t well trained in creating barriers, but he would put all he could into protecting his friends.

“Kerch! Get out of the way!” He shouted and watched the first of the naux reach Kerch. “Bajerra!” Durkquire stretched out his hand towards Kerch and willed the barrier between him and the naux’s gaping jaw.

He wanted to shut his eyes to the screams that erupted from behind him and from Kerch in front. The barrier did its job. Protecting against puncture wounds as the naux closed its mouth on Kerch, shook and flung him off to its left, towards Durkquire. It all happened faster than Durkquire could respond. He watched Kerch hit the ground, bounce, and hit again. He didn’t move.

Cerra screamed out in anger. Durkquire turned to watch her throw her skipping stone directly into the eye of a stone naux. It roared and reared, lashing out with its claws and tail. Cerra’s yelp cut short as the stone nauxen’s claw ripped into her side. She fell to the ground, motionless.

“Cerra!” Durkquire ran back down the sand, half sliding.

He lifted a hand towards her and called out the next weave that came to mind. “Nevizot Netrimus!” He guided the sand up and around Cerra and drug her down several feet into the ground, leaving an air pocket around her. He moved his hand and twisted to look back at Kerch, repeating the woven action and putting him underground with Cerra. Peelie, where are you? He froze and looked around him at the fire naux that had struck Kerch, and the stone naux that had wounded Cerra.

Wind burst from above and threw the sand at his feet into the air. He steadied himself as the wind threatened to knock him over. The wind naux landed. It was massive in comparison to the other two. Durkquire glanced at the stone nauxen to compare them. The stone naux was a juvenile. Being a juvenile, the wind naux was twice its size. The span of the wind nauxen’s wings easily doubled that of the other two.

“What do we have here?” A voice sounded from atop the wind naux that towered over Durkquire.

“That wasn’t the kind of greeting we deserved.” This voice sounded from atop the stone naux. “Little brat blinded my naux in one eye.” He complained.

“Dreggar? Aren’t we supposed to wait for the ship?” A third voice called from the fire naux’s back.

Durkquire spotted the men riding the nauxen. Dreggar, seemed to be the one riding the wind nauxen, and a leader of sorts. I could slip away. He looked down at the ground. Cerra and Kerch were still down there. Did Peelie get away? He hadn’t heard him or seen him since the attack started.

“Is this the last ethrea on the coast? No one got away, right?” Dreggar motioned to Durkquire. “It would be a shame to have our surprise visit spoiled.”

Durkquire looked closely at Dreggar. His face was bearded, a tangled mess of unwashed hair with a few messily done braids. His hairline had receded back just past his ears, one of which was half missing. The man had a hard look about his face, one that was numb to the pain he caused to his victims.

“We got two others. I thought there were four of them.” The second spoke.

Durkquire slowly opened his hand to the ground and took a deep breath. He examined his inner well. It was just under halfway full. Do I submerge and try getting Kerch and Cerra to safety? Or do I try to warn everyone, if Peelie isn’t already doing so?

“Herram, go. If there was a forth, we need to get to him before he reaches town.” Dreggar ordered.

The stone nauxen moved into action as Herram spoke to it in a language much like the language of weaves.

I see. The nauxen move on command. Durkquire looked at the remaining two. One will strike, but only after a signal from its rider. His hand clenched shut. If he went under with Cerra and Kerch, the riders would dig him and his friends out or melt the sand down on top of them. For now, they didn’t know where Cerra and Kerch were.

Durkquire let his adrenaline course through his body as he bolted east along the coast. The sand slid underfoot and made it hard for him to gain much speed. He heard Dreggar ordering the other rider after him and something inaudible to his wind nauxen.

The ground shook with each thunderous step the fire naux took. It quickly closed in on him, just what Durkquire had expected. At the last second, Durkquire stopped, turned and jumped underneath the naux. His back slid against the ground as he lifted his hands to brush the nauxen’s belly.

“Zidu Ledus!” He wove the element of ice into floral patterns within the beast.

The naux immediately thrashed and fell over, curling around its stomach and cracking the air with its roars and fire.

It wouldn’t kill the Naux, but it would cripple it. He jumped back up and started running again. Durkquire made a wide circle around the fire nauxen as it thrashed about. The air hit him hard. His footing was lost as he flew upwards several feet. Vision was blurred in the dust and sand that filled the air around him, but a dark shadow moved in quickly from his right. It swung in at him and smashed against Durkquire’s abdomen. It was the wind nauxen’s tail.

The force of the tail hitting him, shot Durkquire out of the dust cloud and into the sand like one of his skipping stones. He felt the burn against his exposed skin each time he hit the sand, leaving part of his skin behind.

His momentum came to a stop and he laid there, his face halfway staring into the ground. He hurt everywhere. Footsteps came from behind Durkquire and he felt a hand on his back.

“Everyone knows. They’re coming.” It was Peelie. “Djili Salabotte!”

A surge of energy rushed through Durkquire’s body, healing at an accelerated rate. He felt the broken bones mend, his torn skin knitting itself back together while pushing the grains of sand out. The moment he had the strength, Durkquire sat up and pulled Peelie’s hand off.

“Don’t go killing yourself.” Durkquire warned.

Peelie nodded. “I’ll be okay. Where is Cerra and Kerch?” There was a great deal of worry carried in his words.

“Submerged in pockets, but they’ll need air soon.” He pointed down where they had all been before the attack. “There, where we were sitting.”

“I’ll get them to safety. Can you hold these guys off?”

Durkquire nodded. “How did you avoid the stone naux?” He thought of the one Dreggar had sent towards town.

“Camouflage is my specialty.” Peelie smiled and placed a hand to his chest while weaving. “Masīems.” He visually vanished before Durkquire’s eyes.

A gust of wind hit Durkquire as the wind naux took to the sky. He lay back down on the ground and tried to look dead. He wasn’t sure if he could fool the naux, but he only needed Dreggar disinterested long enough to get a weave in at him.

He was thankful that wind nauxen had no elemental fire. It would have to land and physically attack him. The wind increased as the naux lowered to land. His nerves were firing off and building the nauseating fears within him. It could all go wrong with one action. Durkquire looked up to the Naux and his eyes met with Dreggar’s.

This was the only moment he would get. Durkquire jumped to his feet and raised a hand to weave at the rider. He thought of the way he had pulled Cerra and Kerch underground. His eyes narrowed in the second it took to think through his next move.

“Nevizot Netrimus!”

Dreggar’s gaze shifted and his expression remained calm. The sand was lifting with Durkquire’s will, and he followed Dreggar’s gaze. The fire naux! Panic filled his chest, adrenaline filled his veins and he started to run. Looking back to Dreggar, the sand was wrapping around him. However, before he could drag him off the wind naux, Durkquire’s raised left arm exploded in pain and pressure. The nauxen’s daggered teeth clamped down.

He cried out and lifted his other arm, taking hold of the nauxen’s nostril to keep it from ripping his arm off.

“Durkquire!” He heard his parents shout in a panic.

Dreggar looked to the crowd of Uecketev’s citizens rushing their way. They held a variety of weapons and farming tools.

“Now what fun is a spoiled surprise?” Dreggar glared down at Durkquire.

Durkquire knew that most ethrea in Uecketev could do basic weaving and would use it, but no one here was a soldier or trained as such. He grimaced as another wave of pain rushed his senses at the pull of the fire naux. His footing barely kept up with the naux. It pulled him back behind the wind naux and Dreggar, out of direct sight of the coming crowd.

This is bad.

Dreggar addressed Durkquire’s parents and motioned to him. “This your boy?”

“What do you want?” Narcella spoke with angered fixation.

“Ah. A diplomat.” Dreggar laughed.

A nauxen roar filled the air. Durkquire looked up to see the stone nauxen with Herram, its rider, circling above.

“Who are you?” Diendall sounded suspicious.

“Where is my Cerra?” A frantic cry came from the crowd. Durkquire recognized it as Cerra’s mother.

The shouts increased in anger and they began to close in on Dreggar and his men. In reaction, Dreggar gave a command to his naux. The massive wings of the creature spread out and it took a defending stance between the people and Durkquire.

“Bring us all the garrens, clovands and runds you possess. Then we can talk about this boy’s return.” Dreggar demanded.

“They’re raiders! Pirates of Verra!” the people shouted out. “Don’t give them a single rund!”

“Herram, Serrath? Did I not state my terms?” Dreggar sat up a little taller.

The stone naux landed and Herram looked down at Durkquire. Herram was thick built, bald, and boasted a golden ring at the end of his nose.

“Don’t see why we don’t just take it all, kill those in the way.” Serrath spoke with a heavy slurr on his ‘s’. His hair was jaw length, wavy, and thick with oil and dirt. His face held a curved nose, prominent cheekbones and thick eyebrows that hid half his eyes. Anything else defining of Serrath was hard for Durkquire to see from his pinned position.

I’ve got to get my arm free.

His mind reeled through every weave he knew, how it might help or hurt his situation. He needed something that would pry open the fire nauxen’s mouth and push it away at the same time. He recalled the weave for camouflage that Peelie used.

It could provide a cleaner get away. I know what to do.

Durkquire examined his well. The time spent with his arm mangled, had allowed his well to refill some.

I’ve got one shot at this.

He glanced about at the three men and their naux. It was going to be painfully tight to pull off. He had to be ready for a reaction from any of the men or their naux. The shouts from his neighbors and friends increased, as did the grumbling of Dreggar.

He’s wearing thin on patience. I’ve got to do it now.

The air that passed through Durkquire’s lips, filled his lungs to capacity. He held it, forcing his heart rate to slow. He released his hold upon the fire nauxen’s nostril and lowered it to its clamped lips around his arm.

The weave left his lips. “Sierri Ledus Veis.”

The air around him condensed at the palm of his open hand. It held the chill of ice as it swirled against his skin. Durkquire didn’t wait. He shoved it in under the nauxen’s lips. His body shook with the jerking pull of the naux as the condensed sphere burst.

Durkquire pulled his arm free with a shout. His whole frame trembled, his arm felt as though it were on fire. He heard Serrath reacting to the nauxen’s sudden jerk.

“Masiems.” Durkquire pressed his right hand to his chest.

He didn’t wait to see if it had worked. Durkquire ran with what energy the adrenaline coursing his body could give him. Ducking under the wind nauxen’s tail was the last obstacle. His gut wrenched when he felt the naux’s tail brush lightly across his back. He dropped to the ground and watched for any reaction. Serrath responded to his disappearance the moment he calmed his naux.

“Dreggar! The boy!” Serrath called.

The following moments were driven by Durkquire’s adrenaline. He rolled under the wind naux, stood and ran. He knew they couldn’t directly see him, but the shifting sand beneath his steps would most certainly give his location away, along with the trail of blood.

“There!” Herram called.

Chaos broke out from the crowd. Durkquire heard weaves being cast, as well as shouts to bolster their courage as they charged against the raiders.

He kept running, holding his mangled arm tightly to his chest. It was numb with a strange kind of ache. The ground leveled out and he kept going. He could feel his inner well running dangerously low as it continued to draw to keep him cloaked. I can’t keep it going. He broke the weave and revealed himself as he pressed on. The ground rumbled behind him. Durkquire didn’t need to look to know what was chasing him down.

The ground shifted and Peelie emerged with Kerch and Cerra. Peelie’s eyes widened with petrifying terror. Kerch was awake, but frozen by fear yet again at the naux charging in. Cerra held her side, still not fully healed, her gaze looked down from the naux to Durkquire.

Their eyes locked.

Durkquire could see her eyes watering. Her face contorting as she began running towards him. Each thundering step of the naux sent a shivering vibration through Durkquire. Shadow encased him in a burning heat. Cerra cried, jumping with her arms out. Her hands gripped around Durkquire’s neck. She dragged him down to the ground as she shouted out a desperate weave.

“Bajerra!” Her voice cracked and her body fell limp.

His emotions broke. Durkquire’s jaw clenched as he pushed up on Cerra, who had collapsed upon him. He rolled over and stared up at the glowing fire beating down against the unseen barrier Cerra had cast. Glancing down he looked at her motionless face upon his chest. The last tears she would ever have rolled from her open eyes down her dirt and bloodied cheeks.

He could hear the screams of Peelie and Kerch mixed in with the shouts of his neighbors, friends, and parents. His body shook with a cold chill. His sight narrowed, the edges faded to black and his mind recoiled from his blood loss and exertion. Sound became muffled. The heat above ceased and the blurring image of the stone naux jerked away out of sight.

Durkquire fought to stay awake. He gripped Cerra’s shoulder and tried pushing. It sent sudden pain shooting up his mangled arm with her shifting weight upon him. His mind yanked back and his hand dropped Cerra back down. Sound was gone now, and his vision was fading. Why? Deep hatred filled his heart. His head tipped up, he spotted Kerch, and Peelie lying upon the sand. The same cold expression Cerra now had covered their faces.

Before his sight and mind shut down, Durkquire spotted the large obsidian ship, they had seen in the distance before the attack, now at the shore. Hollers came from men scaling their way down the sides as they joined the fight upon the beach.

He knew he needed to get out of there, but his mind pulled and won. The realm of unconsciousness took over.