Revaramek the Resplendent - Chapter One Hundred Thirty Three (Patreon)

After Rain’s death, the tribe built a pyre for her. While it was being assembled, the midwives took Vakaal to bathe him, and give him another examination. They were overjoyed to find that the pup now seemed in perfect health. But with his mother gone, they needed a wet nurse willing to feed him until he was old enough to eat meat, and fruit. Etchka was very grateful that a mother with a young pup of her own swiftly volunteered.

By the time the pyre was prepared, dawn had cast its purple fire across the far horizon. The whole tribe gathered to witness Rain’s funeral. Etchka cradled Vakaal against his chest, crying into the pup’s fur as the flames consumed his lost love. Yet the pup did not cry, not even when the whole tribe howled their grief. Instead, Vakaal snuggled into his father’s arms, attention fixate don the fire. Flames danced in the little pup’s dark eyes, a burning reflection of his mother’s end.

As the flames burned, members of the tribe took turns eulogizing Rain. Every speaker shared happy memories of her, times of laughter and job, and of good deeds and kindnesses done for the tribe. Etchka, though, had nothing to say. How could he possibly put lifetimes of memories into words, when the agony of her loss was still an open wound? Etchka thanked each and every urd’thin who offered condolences, who spoke kind words, who hugged him and touched his fur, or brushed their muzzles to his. He was deeply grateful for all of them. But when silence fell across the crowd, when they looked expectantly at their chief, there were no memories he wished to share, no happy stories that would ease his burden.

So, Etchka spoke only the simplest, saddest truth. “Rain was my world, and my purpose. And I will alwayslove her.” Then, under his breath, he whispered something darker he dared not share with the tribe. “And I will always curse the stars who stole our life together. They will not be forgiven.”

When the fires died away to cold ash, the Life Chief scooped up a handful of it. She approached Etchka, for the funeral ceremony’s traditional end. Etchka bowed his head for her. The Life Chief dabbed her fingers in the ashes, and painted lines across Etchka’s face. Then she traced another down his muzzle.

The Life Chief lowered her head, whispering. “From sand, we are born.” She pressed her muzzle to his in shared sorrow, then cupped her hands, offering him the ashes.

“To sand…” Etchka cradled Vakaal with one arm, and dipped a single finger in Rain’s ashes. “We return.” He streaked the ash down the pup’s tiny, gray furred muzzle.

The pup sneezed, and Etchka could not help but laugh. The Life Chief smiled, and hugged him gently. She offered her support for anything he needed. Etchka thanked her, and then bid her to offer the ashes to anyone else who wished to complete the ceremony in the same way.

As the Life Chief walked off, Etchka wished he did not know how true the saying really was. He wondered what the tribe would think, if they ever discovered they truly were born from sand? Etchka’s eyes drifted down to his pup, and he hugged Vakaal close, whispering into the pup’s tiny ear.

“But not us. We’re different.We’re made of stars, not sand.” He kissed the pup’s head, sighing. “I’ll keep you safe, until you’re ready. Then this story will be yours to tell.”

Etchka lifted his head, gazing around. Urd’thin milled about everywhere, many with mates and pups of their own. They feasted on fruit and roasted meats, foods prepared for a celebration, but served at a funeral. Many of Rain’s friends and apprentices were still in tears, hugging each other. His own apprentices were just as heartbroken, offering him tearful comfort. Many urd’thin came to greet the pup, to touch his fur, stroke his tiny ears, or kiss his little paws.

Others whispered amongst each other. They murmured about the chief’s son, wondering if he would one day be as strong as his father. Would he be a healer, like his father? Would he be their next prime shaper? The questions made Etchka bristle. His pup was only just born, Vakaal’s mother only just cremated, and already they were wondering about his power. Etchka wondered if such speculation was just their way of dealing with communal grief, looking for a light in the darkness, or their attempt to offer him some hope for the future.

Memories flickered through Etchka’s mind as he watched the tribe console one another.  He had done all this before, hadn’t he? Usually, though, it was for Vakaal. Etchka swallowed, and looked down at his son. The pup wriggled and babbled, then drooled against Etchka’s chest fur. Smiling, Etchka wiped his son’s muzzle with his fingers.

“Your mother…” He sighed, hugging Vakaal. “She would have said, we’d never made it this far, before.” Etchka walked away from the others, keeping his voice soft. “She and I had, but never with you. That’s what started all this. Losing you, for the first time.” Etchka swallowed as more memories flashed through his mind. Swaths of the earth rising towards the heavens, pieces of the sky itself crashing to the ground. “The whole world torn apart and started anew, all because I could not accept that you were never meant to live.”

Etchka wandered the shore of the oasis, out of earshot from the others. “But everyone else here, had lives too. Families they loved, hopes and dreams, births and deaths. How many times did I take all that away from them? How many times did I end it all, just to start things over? How much did I take from them, just to tell the story in which you lived?”

The little pup grasped at Etchka’s fur, idly tugging gray strands. Etchka smiled, and nuzzled him. Vakaal wriggled and burbled laughter, clutching at his father’s nose. Etchka gently stroked his tiny ears. “I always thought your mother would be here, too. I wish you could have her.” He paused, staring across the oasis. The waters glowed molten beneath the rising sun. “I suppose you did, if only in her dreams. I wonder…” He peered down at his pup again. “If that was truly you? If it was, I hope you’ll remember those dreams, someday.”

With a whimper, Etchka nudged at a stone embedded in the muddy shoreline. A glint of light flashed off a piece of mica, buried in the stone. “A flash of light in my desert…” Flickers of his old life cascaded through his mind, of joy and heartache, of lessons learned and lessons ignored. “I remember her…”

When the day comes, when you find love, when you know love, you cherish it! And don’t ever let it go.

He smiled at his pup, bumping his muzzle against Vakaal’s tiny one. “A long, long time ago, someone named Mica told me something very important. And I loved, and cherished your mother for as long as the stars allowed it. But she made her choice, and I had to accept that. And now?” He stroked Vakaal’s head again, sniffling. “Now I have you. I promise you, little Vakaal. I will love you, and cherish you, for all of our days together.”

“Aahhbuubububub.” The pup grabbed at Etchka’s nose again.

Etchka laughed, and gave his tiny hand a gentle lick. “I don’t think I want to forget who I am, anymore. And…I don’t know if this is the right place for you.” Etchka’s gaze swept across the tribe. “For all I’ve taken from them, they deserve a chance to live their own lives, without the grief of gods getting in their way. So maybe, when you’re old enough? Maybe we’ll go start a new tribe, somewhere across the desert. Where the story can be yours.”

*****

The pup grew swiftly. It was not long before the gray-furred child was toddling everywhere alongside his father. Etchka had to keep a close eye on him, for like all children, he had a mischievous streak. Etchka had but to look away for a moment, and Vakaal was already climbing into the pile of freshly peeled fruit set aside for the tribe’s lunch. Other times Etchka took him to bathe him in the oasis. A glance in the wrong direction, and Vakaal was stumbling into water over his head, or rolling around on the muddy bank.

As Vakaal grew, his shaping manifested in unusual ways. Most urd’thin pups came into their shaping slowly, like a muscle they had to learn to flex. But for Vakaal, everything was different. Hand fruit plucked itself from trees and floated to him, peeling itself in the air. One day it rained, and Vakaal didn’t want to get wet, so the rain all fell around him. Another pup he was playing with fell out of a tree and shattered his arm. As the other child squealed and cried, Vakaal touched him, and he was whole again.

By the time Vakaal could talk, the whole tribe whispered about him. How strong was he? What couldn’the do? Etchka grew to fear such questions. He did not want his son to live his whole life, bound to the tribe’s needs. Nor did he want the tribe to become beholden to Vakaal, unable to protect themselves, or unwilling to admit, that sometimes lives had to end.

Far too soon, Vakaal was old enough to understand things. One day, while playing in the sand, building little villages with his shaping, Vakaal peered up at his father. “Why don’t I have a momma?”

Etchka froze. He swallowed hard, his blood running cold. He settled down into the sand alongside his son. “What do you mean?”

Vakaal scrunched his tiny muzzle. “Other pups have mommas. Beva’s momma is fat!” He giggled to himself.

“That’s not very nice to say, Vakaal.”

Vakaal’s ears drooped a little. “Why don’t I have one?”

Etchka took a deep breath, deciding to be honest with his son. “You do have a mother, Vakaal. She’s just…gone. But she loved you, very much.”

The pup tilted his head. “Where’d she go?”

“No, Vakaal, she…she died, when you were the tiniest little babe.”

“Oh…” Vakaal dragged his fingers back and forth through the sand, his bushy tail twitching. “Like the old rakatch? Cause she was too old?”

Etchka glanced towards the oasis. The alpha female rakatch who almost killed Ibba in another life, had recently died. Her body washed up on show days earlier. “Not exactly. Vakaal, pups start out inside their mothers.”

Vakaal blinked, tilting his head the other way. “How?”

“That’s a different discussion.” A smile twitched across Etchka’s muzzle, but it did not last for long. “Right now, you just need to know pups start inside their mothers. We call it ‘birth’ when they come out, to start their lives.” Knowing Vakaal would doubtless have many follow-up questions, Etchka plowed ahead before the pup could open his muzzle. “Birth is dangerous. Even though the pups are tiny, it’s still difficult to go from inside to outside.”

Vakaal scrunched up his whole face. “But what does-”

“Sometimes…” Etchka’s voice shook. He did not want to lie to his son, but it was not an easy subject, let alone for one so young. “Sometimes bad things happeno reason, and at no one’s fault. When your mother gave birth to you, it…” He swallowed hard. “It made her bleed, and…”

“Why didn’t you heal her?” Vakaal stared up at his father, innocent confusion whirling in his dark eyes.

Etchka worked his jaws a few times, searching in vain for an honest answer. “She forbade me. She made me promise not to, because…” Etchka brushed Vakaal’s ears back with a trembling hand. “She feared to heal her at such a time, would endanger you in her place. And…she died, as you were born.” He regretted his words the moment he spoke them.

Vakaal’s eyes went wide. Tears filled them, and he turned away, whimpering. The pup hunched over, starting to cry. “I’m sorry!”

“Oh, no, Vakaal, I didn’t mean it that way!” Etchka quickly embraced his son. “It was not your fault. Sometimes, bad things just happen. You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

Vakaal leaned his head against Etchka’s chest, whimpering. “But you’re lonely now…”

Etchka stared at him, his ears splayed. “Vakaal-”

“I feel it, sometimes, when you stare at the sky.” Vakaal stood up, tears streaking his fur. “You miss her! I feel it, and I…I just want you to be happy.”

Etchka pulled hugged Vakaal again, rubbing his back. “I amhappy, Vakaal! I’m happy because I have you in my life! And I don’t ever want you to be sorry for what happened to your mother. She and I lived wonderful lives together, for a long time. She used to dream about you, you know.” He pulled back, giving Vakaal’s muzzle a gentle kiss. “Before you ever were before. And all she wanted, in the end, was to give you a chance to live your life, in more than just her dreams. And wherever she is now, I know she’s watching over you, and smiling. Okay?”

Vakaal nodded weakly, still sniffling. He glanced up at his father. “It’s too late to heal her, right?”

“Yes, Vakaal.” Etchka chuckled, and straightened up, hoisting Vakaal up with him. “You know that, don’t you?”

“But I heard some of the adults say I can heal anything.” Vakaal clambered up onto his father’s shoulders.

“You did?” Etchka held onto Vakaal’s legs. “Did they sound scared, or happy?”

“They sounded happy, but they felt scared.”

“You feel those things in others? Loneliness in me, fear in them?”

“Uh huh.” Vakaal scrunched his muzzle, leaning over to peer into his father’s face. “Don’t you?”

“I do.” Etchka made his way towards their house. “But you shouldn’t tell anyone else about it.”

Vakaal bobbled back and forth on his shoulders. “Why not?”

“Because it’s a secret. The tribe isn’t meant to know how strong we really are.”

“Why?” Vakaal tugged on Etchka’s ears.

“Because when they know, they know.”

“What?” Vakaal brushed his father’s shoulders with his tail, confusion roiling in his voice.

Etchka chuckled. For one so perceptive at so young an age, it was nice to see he was still a pup at heart. “It means we’re different from them, Vakaal. Stronger. We can do things that cannot. Once they know you can heal anything, they’ll always want you to do exactly that.”

“Then I’ll help them all!”

“And soon, they’ll come to rely on you. They’ll demand you heal every wound, cure every illness, fix every problem. Until one day, they won’t know how to help themselves, anymore. They’ll forget medicine, forget how to bind their wounds, how to staunch bleeding. When you’re gone? They won’t be able to live without you, anymore. We should always strive to help them, but they can never know how strong we truly are. Only that way, can they be free.”

Vakaal leaned over his father’s head. “But…don’t they already know?”

“They’re starting to.” Etchka flattened his ears. “And that’s why we’re going to leave, soon.”

“Where are we going?”

“Into the desert. Our people must spread. We’re going to find you a place, to tell a story of your own.”

“Okay, Father.”

Etchka grinned, walking up the trail to his house. “That’s it? You won’t mind leaving the village?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Vakaal tugged his father’s ears, back and forth. “Because you’ll be there. And as long as I’m with you, I’ll be happy.”

*****

Vakaal’s laughter and mischief kept the house from feeling empty as he grew. Whenever Etchka missed Rain, Vakaal was there to ask him to play, or to giggle like a mad-pup when he chased after flying insects. The many figurines shaped by Etchka in the years before and after his birth became toys for his pup. And like any pup, Vakaal left them lying around everywhere. Etchka often got up out of bed and immediately stepped on a figurine. After hopping around in pain, Etchka always made sure to mend the toy with his shaping.

Etchka was rarely without Vakaal. Despite the light of godhood that gave him life, Vakaal was still as vulnerable and prone to dangerous decisions as any other pup. Memories of Etchka’s earliest mortal days and subsequent repeated deaths proved powerful reminders to help keep Vakaal safe. He forbade the pup from climbing trees for hand fruit without his father waiting to catch him if he fell. Etchka showed Vakaal how to make fire with his hands and tools, rather than his shaping. Furthermore, he forbade Vakaal from doing so unless he was under adult supervision. Nor was Vakaal allowed to swim, or wander the desert on his own.

All the while, Etchka prepared his tribe for their future. He told them of their duties to spread their people across the sands, and bring the world back to life. spread their people across the sands. Etchka trained his top apprentices, helping them learn to expand their powers. Though he did not plan to remain with this tribe much longer, he refused to leave before they were ready to live without him. After all the futures he unknowingly took from them in his pursuit to see Vakaal live, they deserved to thrive in his looming absence.

One day, all too soon, Etchka’s hand was forced.

Deep in the night, Etchka bolted upright in bed, his perception aflame. Something was deeply wrong with the world. The feeling hurt his head, a sense not meant for mortals to know or understand. He clutched his head in his hands, just under his horns, and took a breath, trying to quell the throbbing. Etchka focused on the feeling that something was wrong, trying to discern what it was.

A hole…

In the veil…

From…

Another world…

Etchka understood.

He rose to his feet, and stretched his shaping across the sand.

They were close. Very close. He sifted through his memories, trying to remember how this went before. The last time he saw, they had come to call themselves The Storytellers. That was the day he taught Mica’s people to drive them from their world. The day the First Chief died. But the details from that time felt hazy. The First Chief lived only a single life, while Etchka had lived many. And yet Etchka could not recall facing the same invaders with Rain. He wondered what had changed. Had he-

“What’s wrong, Father?” Vakaal peered up at him from his own nearby bed, blinking sleepily.

Etchka’s blood went cold. He slowly turned towards his son. Was Vakaal why they were back, now? In ages long past, Etchka’s lonely song drew them, like a beacon. His powers opened doorways to their world without ever intending it. Had Vakaal somehow done the same thing? Or had Etchka drawn them in, the day he saved Vakaal’s life? Though that was years ago now, his cosmic energy must have shown like a signal fire, that terrible day. Perhaps they’d been chasing it ever since.

“Father?” Vakaal rubbed his eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“We’re going to leave, Vakaal.” He crouched down and grasped his son’s shoulders. “Right now.”

“Now?” Vakaal gave a little whine. “But it’s nighttime.”

“I know, son. But there are dangerous people coming.” He leaned in and kissed Vakaal’s head, wishing he had time to explain things for him.

“Dangerous people?” Vakaal scrunched his muzzle at the kiss. “Like the bad people in the stories?”

“Yes, Vakaal.” Etchka smoothed down the pup’s fur, then stood. “Exactly like that. Quickly now. Gather up your toys and things.”

While Vakaal wandered around the house, gathering up his meager belongings, Etchka walked outside. The night was cool, and the air still, yet it crackled with unseen electricity. The damaged veil was angry, and the energies required to pierce it were slowly dispersing throughout the world. Etchka took a breath, and then threw back his head and howled. It was a long, low sound, echoing across the village. Such a howl was a warning, and a call to assemble. It was repeated several times throughout the village.

Vakaal soon came outside, clutching a hide pack stuffed with toys and clothing to his little frame. The bag was a recent birthday gift, and Vakaal carried it with him everywhere lately. Vakaal walked up alongside his father, and gave his own high-pitched pup-howl. Etchka smiled at him, ruffled the fur between the nubs of his horns, and led him into the village. Already, other urd’thin were gathering in the central plaza.

Etchka’s apprentices were the first to meet him, and he dropped his voice to a soft whisper. “Have everyone gather as much food and water as they can carry, and prepare them for travel. The tribe needs to move.”

“What…now?” One of his best shapers stammered, his ears splayed. “But it’s the middle of the night!”

“I know.” Etchka clapped a hand on the other urd’thin’s shoulder. “But they’re here.”

Etchka paused a moment, then decided to use the same name Mica once wove into the fabric of her people’s history. Etchka had used that same moniker when building his own tribe’s historical memories and beliefs. “Those Who Came Before.”

“Wh-what?” The shaper sucked in a breath, his eyes widening. “How is that-”

“Just prepare everyone.”

“But where are yougoing?”

“To stop them.” Etchka turned away, and lifted his voice, calling out to the gathering crowd before his apprentice could ask any more questions. “My people! We face a dire emergency. I have felt a great power, enough to make the sky tremble. We know from the old tales, that this world once belonged to others! Others, who ruined it with their powers. But they did not all die. Some of them fled this place, and thus the Gods tasked us with bringing it back to life. But now, Those Who Came Before have returned!” Etchka thrust his finger to the west. “To threaten our world again!”

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd. Etchka let that settle in, but before too many people could start asking questions, he continued. “We find ourselves at a tipping point! It is time to fulfil our duty to wander this place, this beautiful desert, and unite with the other tribes. Only united, can we stand against Those Who Came Before. So I ask you all, prepare yourselves and your families. Gather your food, your belongings, whatever you can carry. It is time for our next great journey to begin. It is not as I wished it, but the choice has been made for us. The rains are coming, and you must follow them to the east. By the time the rains begin to abate, you will have reached another tribe.”

Etchka turned his attention directly to his apprentices. “Just as I have trained you, you shall now train the others. Remember. Never grow to rely upon your shaping, but never hesitate to use its full force to defend the tribe.” He put a hand upon the shoulder of his top trainee. “Your shaping is the strongest in the tribe, after mine. You know all the stories, and all you lack is experience. So, from now on?” He squeezed the other urd’thin’s shoulder. “You’re the prime shaper. Lead them east, and keep them safe.”

“My chief…” The Life Chief approached him, scowling. “The way you’re talking, you sound as if-”

“You’re the Chief, now.” Etchka pivoted to her, deadly serious. “You’re our most knowledgeable healer, you’re already used to giving orders, and mostly importantly? You understand the weight of life and death decisions.” Before either could voice their disagreement, Etchka held a hand out to each of them. “You’re two halves of a whole, now. The tribe is in your hands.”

Both urd’thin shared a worried glance, with the Life Chief slowly bowing. “As you wish it, Chief Etchka.”

“What did I just tell you?” Etchka clasped her arm. “You’re the Chief, now.” He smiled at each of them, and then gave a sharp bark. “Well? What are you waiting for? Get everyone ready!”

As the new chief and prime shaper scrambled into action, Etchka turned back to his son. He lowered his voice till the chaotic din smothered it for anyone but Vakaal. “You probably already know, but we’re not going with the tribe. I’m going to stop the bad people, and then you and I are going somewhere new, together.”

Vakaal swallowed and nodded, clutching his bag of toys. “Where my story is?”

“Right.” Etchka hugged him tight. “Where your story is. Don’t tell anyone else. You wait right here until I’m back.” He kissed Vakaal’s head and stood back up, calling over one of his other apprentices. “Stay here with Vakaal until I return.”

“Of course.” He bowed his head, then glanced back up, ears splayed. “What if everyone’s ready to leave, but you’re not back yet? Should we wait here, or go with them?”

“Go with them, and keep hold of Vakaal.” Etchka took a few steps back. “But don’t worry.” He turned away, and called his shaping, bending the world around him. Indigo lightning crackled around his hands, and beneath his feet. The ground compressed and cracked. “This won’t take long.”