Revaramek the Resplendent - Chapter One Hundred Nineteen (Patreon)

As Rain promised, that evening the tribe named Etchka their prime shaper. Over their journey through the desert, he had proven himself to have the strongest shaping among them. Of all of them, Etchka was also the only urd’thin with significant healing abilities. Being prime shaper did not make him the leader of the tribe, at least not yet. For the time being, they decided to elect a small council of elders from their wisest tribe members. None of them were actually much older than the rest of the tribe, but it was title granted by tradition.

It was decided the elders would rule the tribe for now. It was the elders’ job to create and administer tribal laws, and the prime shaper’s job to guide and care for the tribe in other matters. One of the elder’s first decrees was that they should build their village by hand, and not rely upon their shaping any more than was absolutely necessary. When they asked for Etchka’s opinion, he was in agreement. After all, the old stories said that the gods meant them to use their powers for survival, not to make their lives easy.

Rain nudged him, and whispered, that was the other reason he was the prime shaper.

The elders also decreed that he was not use his healing abilities lightly. He was not to mend every little cut or broken limb, because surely the gods wanted them to learn how to deal with such challenges. Again, Etchka agreed with them. They had given him a gift to use in the direst of circumstances, when lives were at stake. Certainly the gods would not wish him to abuse that gift any more than the rest of his shaping. After all, if the gods meant their lives to be easy, would they not choose to walk among them, that their people may ask upon their power?

After their group discussions, the rest of the tribe was as pleased with their choices as the elders. Rain teased him about being awfully wise for a drunkard, and then asked him if he might regale the people with a tale. After all, the prime shaper should also have knowledge of history and culture. Memories fluttered through Etchka’s head. Many were the nights in their difficult journey here that he spun a story for his friends, to take their minds off the hardship of desert travel.

Etchka told his people the story of the First Chief. A great, brave urd’thin who brought another set of scattered tribes together. And when Those Who Came Before returned astride their great scaled beasts, it was the First Chief who stood alone against them, facing down impossible odds. When they struck him down, it inspired the rest of the urd’thin to rise up, just the same. For such was the time when the gods allowed them full use of their powers. In the name of the First Chief, they slew their would-be oppressors, and saved their tribes.

Now, it was in the First Chief’s name that again they wandered. Though a greater tribe existed somewhere, in the desert, many more of their people were scattered across the sands. And somewhere, at the edge of the world, there was a great, dead, nothingness. It was their duty to spread their people further across the desert, to unite with other wandering tribes, and through their shaping, reclaim the world once destroyed.

It took the tribe several months to complete their new village. Everyone pitched in and worked every day. Sometimes they traded off jobs. Those who hunted birds and netted fish one day might spend the next day cutting down trees, and building structures from the wood. Others worked to tan and prepare hides from slain beasts, some to serve as clothing, others to be affixed to wooden lattice to help make walls and roofs. Still other urd’thin worked to transform fibrous reeds and the thick fluff that topped them into fabric and cloth, or to make bricks of clay and wet sand mixed with bits of dry palm frond. Another group of them spent their days making tools and weapons for the rest.

The urd’thin created a variety of buildings, depending on what materials were available that day. When beasts were in plentiful supply, they often made simple yurts, rounded framework with stretched hides across them. Some of them were designed to taken apart and carried across the sand in pieces, so that hunting parties who journeyed to further oases could bring shelters with them. Other buildings were constructed of clay bricks, dug from the shoreline and baked with sun and flame. Plenty more homes were constructed of wattle and daub, the same wet clay mixed with plant materials and daubed across a sturdy latticework.

Day by day, week by week, and month by month, the village grew. By the time they considered the village finished, they had claimed the shoreline around nearly half the oasis. There were homes enough for everyone. Some urd’thin had a home to themselves, others chose to live with friends, or those they had grown especially close too. There were other buildings designated for storage, or the preparation of food. Another was built just for the elders and prime shaper to meet in, to discuss the village’s latest problems and how to solve them.

Once the village was completed, they were able to shift priorities a little bit. With no more construction required, more of them were able to spend their days elsewhere, hunting game, netting fish, preparing food, making clothing, collecting and preparing handfruit to be fermented into kurat, and so on. During the dry season, they ate smaller portions and spent more time in the shade, while the sun was at its zenith. And during the wet season, they ate more food, while also drying and preserving some for the hotter months when game was not as plentiful.

As the first few years spent living in their new home progressed, they developed their own traditions and cultures. Their prime shaper also became their teller of tales. Emblems were carved for him, first from bone, and then from other materials discovered in ruins buried in the sand. The council of elders decided to name one of their members their chief, in order to quell disagreements among their ranks.

Once a week, Etchka gathered up the whole tribe to tell them all a story. Most of them were stories of their people’s history, but a few of them he made up himself. The elders always asked him to make clear which was which, not wanting their people to believe in any falsehoods. Etchka could not help but notice whenever he told a made-up story, Rain hung upon his every word, as if to her, it was far more fascinating to hear what strange tales he might dream up than to hear about history again.

The rains gave way to dry, which gave way again to rains, and on went the years. Some of the urd’thin took to slipping away together at night. Those more daring, or simply less concerned with modesty, did so during the daylight hours. Others spent more effort courting one another, and such was the way Etchka pursued Rain.

Rain had been a friend to him for much of his life, ever since he first left his old tribe to begin his sacred journey. Though Etchka did so enjoy teasing her about bathing together, or rolling about in the sands at night, he respected her more than he thought she’d ever know. There was no female he would rather have as a mate, but he did not wish to do anything to jeopardize their friendship, either.

It began when Rain took to sitting alongside him, whenever he spun his tales. She listened, her ears perked in wonder, absorbing every word. Soon, she sat next to him when they ate, too, or when they simply relaxed in the shade. Sometimes she leaned against him, and sometimes he put an arm around her. They stroked each other’s fur as they talked, or he spun stories for the tribe, a casual sort of growing intimacy.

Etchka carved things for her. Or at least he tried. The first gifts he made for her were clumsy attempts at cutting runes into wood. They were misshapen and lopsided, but she wove them into her fur just the same, and kissed his muzzle in thanks. After that, they were officially courting, at least in Etchka’s mind. Though he suspected the gesture meant as much to her as anything, he wanted to make her something nicer.

Instead of carving, he used his shaping to make her next gift. He took a great piece of bone, from a recently slain rakatch, and shaped it into a broach, she could wear in the fur of her throat, just where it joined her body. It was designed as a cluster of raindrops, each forming another part of a larger, singular rain drop. Rain was named for the world’s most lifegiving resource, and he thought it only fair she bare some beautiful symbol of just that.

When he presented it to her, it took Rain’s breath away. She stared at it with gaping muzzle, flat ears, and wide eyes, as if she could not believe the thing she saw. When her fingers shook too much to weave the brooch into her fur, Etchka wove it in for her. She smiled and hugged him a while. Then she pulled back, kissed his nose, and punched him hard on the shoulder for using his shaping for so trivial a thing. Trivial or not, Rain wore it every day from then on. Oftentimes, when he told the tribe stories and Rain sat against him, she’d rub his arm with one hand, and tease at her brooch with the other.

After that, Rain made him gifts, too. Rain was good with stone work, and she carved him a new knife from sharp, black stone, with a little teardrop symbol in the handle. He used it every chance he got. Next, she made him a crown of bright red feathers to wear atop his head, and another with which to adorn his tail. He wore them every time he told stories to the tribe, all the better to look the part.

Later, she made him a new vest of the softest cloth he’d ever felt, soft enough he suspected she’d used her shaping, just as he had. She presented it to him in the evening, on the other side of the oasis from the village. He put it on immediately, and brushed his fingers over the silvery emblems embossed each side of it. One of them was the rune that proclaimed him the tribe’s teller of tales. The other was a raindrop.

Etchka stroked the raindrop with a single finger pad, smiling at Rain. “Does this mean I’m yours, now?”

Rain answered with a deep, passionate kiss, her muzzle locked with his. She encircled her arms around him, twining fingers through his fur. One hand rose and cupped the back of his head, and soon, he did the same to her. Rain pressed her whole body to him, her hands roaming, tongues dancing together. As Etchka’s arousal grew, Rain playfully pushed him down into the sand, and then fell atop him.

That night, when they were spent, they lay together in the sand, watching the stars and talking until slumber took them. Etchka had odd dreams, of gods and stars beyond stars, of immortality and renewal, and when he woke, they were as dew, evaporating beneath the rising sun. He found he slept the whole night out there in the sand. Rain was already awake, and bathing in the oasis a short way off. Forgoing his clothing, he waded naked in the waters to join her. Etchka hugged her from behind, bodies pushed together. She stroked his hand, and as it wandered her body, she turned her head to kiss him once more. They mated again on the shoreline, and only returned to the tribe late in the morning when they were not only spent, but bathed.

There was no more courting, after that, now they were simply mates. In times past, couples who wished to make their mate-ship official would have a ceremony performed by a priestess or priest. As their tribe did not have one, Etchka asked the elders to perform the rite. The ritual was simple but officious. It took place at dawn, so that the sun rising upon a new day would symbolize the dawning of their new lives together. The elders all called for the gods blessing, Etchka and Rain declared their love and exchanged handmade gifts. The tribe howled, and then the day was spent in joy, with feasts and song and dance.

Etchka and Rain decided to build themselves a house. Though each had their own dwelling, they provided only enough space for a single urd’thin. So together, they wove lattice frames, they stretched hides, they thatched reeds, and together, they built a home outside the rest of the village. When it was finished, they moved in together, and left their original domiciles for other tribe members to claim as needed.

They adorned their house with figurines and trophies and art they created together. They bent their shaping to make scuptures from sand, they wove vibrantly died cloth into beautiful tapestries, they carved and shaped stone. They built drums and pipes, and taught themselves to play, and whenever other urd’thin became mates, they played music for the celebration.

The seasons turned endlessly, and the tribe grew. Other mates had pups, and each birth was cause for celebration. Rain and Etchka discussed it, but were in no hurry yet to have a child. Each was kept busy with duties to the tribe, and Etchka feared that as prime shaper, Rain might be left to care for a pup on her own more often than he was comfortable with. But neither did they try to avoid having a child.

It was possible for female urd’thin to become pregnant after any mating, but the chances were much smaller most of the year. Once a season or so, female urd’thin had a heat cycle of sorts in which they were far more receptive than any other time. Mating then was still not guarantee of pregnancy, but it was far more likely. Etchka and Rain mated whenever the moment and desire took them, whether in cycle or not.

By the time many of the other tribes had growing pups, and Etchka and Rain still did not, they began to wonder if perhaps the gods simply did not wish them to conceive. Though they had never specifically attempted it, they had been mates long enough now for it to seem unusual she was not yet with child. Still, Etchka and the elders believed that when the gods were ready for their tribes prime shaper to conceive an heir, it would happen.

Etchka took to training some of the other urd’thin with the strongest shaping. He helped them learn to use their powers to move and shift the earth, to encourage stubborn plants to grow more fruit, to mend damaged structures in times of great need, and so on. Throughout his training sessions, it became increasingly clear that while several others would be perfectly capable of serving as the tribe’s prime shaper, were he not around, none of them even approached his ability.

The same actions that he could do with but a thought and a wave of his hand, the others struggled at. His training made it easier for them, but still it taxed them greatly. It was the same with healing. A few others had some ember of the gods’ healing flame, but it drained them terribly to use it. The elders allowed these urd’thin to heal lesser wounds, in order to help train with their powers. When a pup broke her leg, one of the other urd’thin healed it for her. By the time her bones were knit together again, the poor healer was coughing up blood, and had to rest for a week.

Deep in the night, the piercing screams of a pup awoke Etchka and Rain. They bolted up right from their bed of woven weeds and animal hides, ears swiveling to the sound. Etchka’s heart pounded as he scrambled to pull his breeches on. Rain was just behind him, dressing in a flash, then snatching up their knives. She thrust her blades into the knife straps across her chest, then tossed two more across the room to Etchka. He holstered them, and together they ran out into the darkness.

They followed the screams towards the far end of the oasis. Shouts for help rang out alongside terrified wails. Etchka and Rain ran as fast as they could towards the gathered crowd, only to find a group of urd’thin struggling to fend off a furious female rakatch, with a bloodied pup in her jaws. The pup’s struggles were weak, her cries softer now. Part of her hand lay in the sand. Adults jabbed at the rakatch with spears, stabbed at her with knives, but struggled to pierce her thick hide.

The poor pup was going to die. There was nothing they could do to save her. Terror, horror, and grief all twisted in Etchka’s head. He did not want her to die. He wanted to save her. He wanted to help her. He had to help her. Something cracked, deep in his mind.

All at once, the world was as a dream to Etchka. Everything around him slowed to a crawl. The air shimmered. Somehow, he knew exactly what had happened. The pup’s name was Ibba. A curious, mischievous youngster, she snuck off in the middle of the night to go places she was not allowed to go. There was a spot on the bank, where a rakatch had a nest, and Ibba wanted to see its babies. She found them, picked one up to play with it, and the mother charged from her hidden place in the water to defend her own children.

This was how Ibba was meant to die.

How Etchka knew that for certain, he could not say. It was like an instinct, telling him what the gods held in store. But in that moment, Etchka did not care what the gods had in store. Etchka did not want Ibba to die, not like this.

Thus, would Ibba live.

With the world itself frozen around him, Etchka summoned his shaping, and used it to bend nature to his will. He sprang into the air, propelling himself over the crowd and leaving the sand as cracked, blackened glass in his wake. Etchka landed atop the rakatch, and like everything else around him, its frantic movements now seemed sluggish. He hoisted his daggers in the air, knowing there was no way stone blades could piece through a rakatch’s thick skull. They would have enough trouble with its hide alone. It usually took spears in vital areas to fell such a beast. Though he knew his best bet was to go for the eyes, pain and blindness would only further engage the beast. He had to end it in an instant if he was to have a chance to save Ibba’s life.

Again, Ektcha called upon his shaping, and willed his daggers to be unbreakable, to cut through anything he desired. With a howling cry, Etchka drove both blades down into the rakatch’s head. His stone knives sliced through hide and bone as easily as they cut through soft, ripe fruit. They pieced the creature’s brain deeply, in the places tied to its life functions. The rakatch collapsed in a twitching heap.

Time wound forward at its natural pace again after the creature fell. Leaving his daggers buried, Ethcha scrambled to the beast’s maw. Ibba was still strapped in its jaws, teeth buried in her belly, a limb dangling and barely attached. Blood was everywhere. Around them, other urd’thin scrambled to fetch tools to help pry the creature’s jaws open to free the pup.

Etchka did not wait for their help. Ibba had only minutes left of life, at most, and she would fade from this world before they were able to free her. Etchka shaped strength into himself, then forced his hands into the creature’s blunt muzzle. He gripped it between its teeth, and wrenched its mouth open until bones cracked, and the poor maimed pup toppled to the sand.

Sorrow washed over Etchka like cold water as he scooped Ibba into his arms. She was in worse shape than he thought. Had the rakatch shaken her another time or two, it likely would have shorn the poor girl in half. As it was, her body was barely held together, and bits of her insides were slipping outside. There was nothing any of them could do for her. At least she was unconscious, now, no more to feel the pain of her last moments.

They didn’t have to be her last moments.

Some instinct burning inside Etchka told him he could save her. Never had he used his healing for so grievous a wound, and indeed, the gods surely planned for this girl to die, to have allowed such harm to be inflicted. And yet, where were they while she suffered? Where were they to comfort her family? Her mother and father pushed through the crowd, screaming in horror at the sight of their poor daughter. The mother fell to her knees, wailing, and the father, sobbing, came to take his dying pup back from Etchka. Tears brimmed in Etchka’s eyes as the girl’s blood dribbled over his hands, down his arms, stained his fur.

It wasn’t fair. Did she truly have to die?

No.

Etchka refused. He refused to let this poor pup die like this, and if the gods would punish him for trying to save her, then so be it. Let them take his life, if it meant hers would be restored. He summoned his shaping, and poured it into the poor girl, bidding it to heal her. Save her, whatever it takes. Etchka willed his power to make her whole, and let her live again.

Etchka just wanted her to be whole.

The crack inside his head widened, and thus, was she whole.

The whole tribe gasped as one. Some cursed, others praised the gods, others stumbled back as if more afraid of Ethcka than of the beast that nearly slayed the girl. For a moment, Etchka was confused. Then Ibba stirred in his arms. He glanced down, and sucked in a breath. All Ibba’s wounds had closed, all her missing parts returned. If not for the blood soaking her fur and the ragged remnants of her clothes, it would be as if she was never injured at all.

Etchka was as shocked as everyone else. He half-thought even if he could heal her, the effort would have cost him his own life. Yet he barely even noticed his shaping taking hold in the girl. It was finished before he even realized it had started. He offered Ibba to her father with trembling arms. Her father took her, his dark eyes and swirling with a strange mixture of shock, horror, and relief. As Ibba woke again and burst into tears, her Father hugged her tight, kissed her, and whispered his thanks to Etchka.

Rain was beside him in an instant. “Is she…how did…?

“I…” Etchka held up his hands, staring at them. Ibba’s blood coated his gray fur. “I have no idea…I just…I didn’t want her to die…”

“Come on.” Rain leaned in to kiss his muzzle, but when she took his bloodied hand in hers, she was shaking. “Let’s get you cleaned up at home, so they can…they’ll all want to…talk to you, I think. I knew you were strong, but not like that…”

Etchka kept staring at his other hand. Strange images flashed through his mind. Bloodied urd’thin, healing, sand. “I feel…strange. My head feels…wrong. Like I’ve seen this…donethis…before…”

Rain tugged on his arm. “I think you need to rest, Father.”

The word caught his attention, and when he blinked, it was not his mate holding his arm, but a pup, light gray furred, like him. Only half his size. His pup. The pup tugged his arm, and offered him a sad smile. “It will happen again. It will all happen again. Until one day, you’ll-”

“Etchka!” Rain’s voice snapped him back to reality. Concern edged it, and she cupped his muzzle with a paw. “Etchka, stay with me!”

“What?” Etchka looked around, but there was no sign of the strange pup. “Where did…no, we…we don’t have a child…”

Growing worry sharpened Rain’s voice. “Someone! Help me get Etchka home! Whatever he’s done, it’s left him delirious!”

Etchka tilted his head, peering down at rain, his ears flattened. “You called me…Father.”

“I called you Etchka.” She smiled, but nervous flickered in her eyes. “It’s not my fault your parents named after words in some forgotten tongue. I didn’t even know your name meant Father until you told me.”

“Oh…” Etchka reached up to rub around one of his horns. He stumbled a few paces, and another urd’thin caught his arm, steadying him. As Rain and another helped guide him back to their house, images flickered through his thoughts, like a dozen dreams all occurring at once. A desert like theirs, but not like theirs. A citadel of stone. A world torn asunder. A smiling, dancing pup. The last image made him smile even as he stumbled over his own feet, consciousness fading from him. “We’re gonna have a pup, Rain.”

“Uh huh.” Rain helped him through the doorway. “Easy now, sit down in bed.”

As the others lowered him into their bed, he reached for Rain’s face, beaming at her. She kissed his hand, and as she eased it down to his body, he closed his eyes. Just before consciousness left him, he murmured his last waking thoughts.

“We’re gonna have a pup.”