Tested (The Life of Uktesh Book 1)

by Aaron Hicks

  The leader nodded, “I am known as Thulmann. What say you?”

  “I would know the home of my foe.”

  Again Thulmann nodded to himself, “I am from Manori, in Sinia. What say you?”

  Uktesh nodded, and still speaking as formal as he knew how to said, “I say you have a bargain made this day, for I would surely have killed you first.”

  Thulmann threw back his head and laughed a heartfelt bellow. Uktesh’s heart beat faster and he noticed that his palms were starting to sweat when he wiped away the sweat flowing down his forehead. He narrowed his eyes, dried his hands on his pants, and set his feet for a fight. If this is my day to die, I will die with honor. He raised his sword off the ground. Thulmann nodded to his men and they backed away, Uktesh didn’t know if they’d change their minds and come back, so before they could Uktesh ran to the tree where he hid his bow. He pulled it out as gently and quickly as he could, strung it, and knocked an arrow in it ready to go. The sound his own sword being sheathed behind his back sounded like thunder to his ears. Uktesh hurried forward towards the village, he slid around branches, avoided stepping on twigs or dried leaves, and moved from shadow to shadow.

  Uktesh by now had realized that someone had set fire to the village, or at least a part of it. He slowed to a walk, then started to crawl as he approached the edge of the tree line of his village. He pushed a branch out of his way to give him a better view of the village.

  Shadowy figures ran through the town, some with weapons, and some without. Here or there he saw pockets of resistance, inn each pocket the invaders were killed three to one or in some places four to one, but the invaders had the numbers to spare. The branch hit his face again, and he pushed it out of the way, as his eyes darted faster and faster to catch a glimpse of his father.

  The branch smacked him in the face again, and brought tears to his eyes. Again he pushed the branch away, this time he noticed that a sword was the cause of the branch hit him. Uktesh rolled onto his back and saw Thulmann standing over him, “I told you not to come back here boy.”

  His heart in his throat, he fought the panic that had begun to set in, “I’m not in the village,” his voice cracked and ruined his defiance.

  “Close enough boy. You make this hard on me. I have a daughter your age and wouldn’t I beg for mercy for her? She’s too young to be killed. Her whole life ahead of her. And you! You! You’re barely past her age? What did you think that you could do here, other than die?”

  “My my father,” he tried to continue, but the lump in his throat made it impossible to speak.

  Uktesh saw Thulmann’s shoulders slump, “Boy your father is dead. If not now than in mere minutes. Go away from this place and these people. You don’t have the presence of a killer, and I should know.” He shook his head then sheathed his sword, “I should not do this, but I feel as if you don’t belong here, you’re too happy, the peace of your sword was bright while you were practicing. Go, your father is dead, and if you go in there I will not stop you, but you will be killed as well. The choice, such as it is, is up to you.”

  Uktesh silently nodded, Am I going to live? I need to find my dad. He’ll know what to do. “Thank you,” Uktesh got up and sprinted to the nearest house, and crouched in the shadows. His eyes searched frantically. He could feel the sweat roll down the middle of his back. He froze as a group of invaders ran past, only to be met by a group of Beletarians. They slammed into each other, the invaders had an equal amount of men as the Beletarians.

  Uktesh moved to join his countrymen, but his shirt caught on a broken section of the wall he had been leaning against, it effectively pinned him where he crouched as surely as if his feet were rooted in the ground. By the time he’d freed himself the flurry of fighting was over and his countrymen stood victorious they lost half their numbers though, with the rest taking injuries. Uktesh stood to walk over to them, when a volley of arrows flew in and killed all of them. Except one who was quickly cut down from a casually swung backhand, as an invader ran off into the smoke and fire. Uktesh stood rooted once again, the casualness of the kill, the uncaring swing of the sword, left him only able to stare frozen, at the corpses. Will I become just like them? I’m sure none of the attackers would spare me like Thulmann did. Once he was sure no one was around he sprinted to the next house that was not on fire, and quickly to the next, and on so until he could see the wreckage of his home.

  Uktesh ran hardly able to see where he was going, blinded as he was by tears. I will not panic, I will find my father and together we will leave this place, or fight side by side until we win or die. “Well what do we have here?” a guttural voice said behind Uktesh.

  He turned to see a group of four invaders each wore a sneer directed at him, their eyes hard and unforgiving. Uktesh didn’t know whether to try to run, fight with his sword, or try to kill all four of them with his bow. He tried to affect the same calm he had when he had spoken with Thulmann. He barked, “What you have before you, is your death,” he slid his hand to his sword hilt, and set his feet to attack. He crouched low, nearly bent in half, he slid his right foot even more behind his body and into a further open stance. There he froze and glared at the invaders. His only hope was that they could not hear his heart as it hammered in his chest, or see the panic in his eyes. Before they could attack a group of Beletarians crashed into them lead by Belial and Belario. Taken by surprise and outnumbered they were quickly dispatched.

  “What kind of stance was that?” asked Belario, “were you bowing to them or fighting with them?”

  Suddenly all the rage, he had been able to hold back every time Belario had hurt a student and made fun of them, all the anger of not being able to find his dad, and the fear of nearly dying, rushed out of Uktesh and still in his half-bow, half-crouch position launched forward. He allowed his sword to move as it willed and it lead the way to instantaneously rest against Belario’s shoulder. The blade drew a small line of blood on his neck. Uktesh looked into his eyes and when he saw fear reflected there, he pulled his sword back, and resheathed it. “Do any of you know where my father is?”

  Belial said, “We saw him fighting over by the forest. He looked like he was searching for something.” His all too knowing eyes showed that he knew exactly what Ekir had been desperate to find.

  “Then that is where I must go. Thank you for your timely aid. May your blade sing true.”

  Uktesh ran off towards the woods, and heard Belario mutter, “Did he just attack me in perfect?”

  Then he heard Belial’s answer, “Can’t be. It’s impossible, even for a grandmaster, to attack from perfect without moving from balanced, to imperfect, to perfect.” As he again dashed from one shadow to the next, he heard Belarios’ unconvinced grunt. He ran until he was once again at the forests’ edge. Once in the forest he paused and listened for any sounds of fighting near him, and heard some deeper in the forest. He ran to where he practiced and saw his father in the middle of a fight with four invaders. His father was only armed with two hunting knives, but he was still able to hold his own in a one on two fight with a hulk of a man, who must have stood seven feet tall, and a rapier thin man, who was barely taller than Uktesh. When Ekir saw Uktesh he yelled, “Uktesh, my sword! Throw me my sword.”

  As Uktesh unlimbered the sword and made to throw it, it suddenly felt as if it weighed twice its weight. He saw the two men who weren’t active in the fight each throw a knife into his father. Then the giant invader cut through his jerkin and into his back. Ekir hit the ground and didn’t move.

  Manori: A Simple Village

  “No!” Uktesh woke up with a shout. It had been three days since that day in the woods. After he had witnessed his fathers’ death he had fled from the village and ran as fast and as hard as he could, for as long as he could. At first the men who’d killed his father had chased him, but he quickly left them behind. Finally, exhausted, he dropped to the ground and cried, what am I going to do? What can I do? Without Dad I can’t go back to my people. As he thought
to himself, he remembered his dream, and wished it to be just a dream. Why was it different this time? Why was a man named Thulmann in it? Maybe I’ll go to Manori, in Sinai. Maybe that’s the meaning behind that dream. Maybe it’s a sign from Belesh or Uketar that I’m not fit to be a warrior. His dream had mirrored the reality of that night, but he hadn’t had any encounter with Thulmann during the actual attack.

  Uktesh stood back up and made his way towards the country of Sinai in the south. The day quickly started to progress into night and his stomach started to inform him that he needed food soon. He strung his bow again and started to search for some small animal to kill and eat. By the end of the day he wasn’t able to find anything and as he searched for a comfortable place to sleep, he wished he’d thought to bring food with him, and a blanket.

  The summer air was warm, but he didn’t want to have to try to sleep while he fought off all the insects in the area. He slept that night fitfully, and in the night he had to hide from a Wosn, a flying snake that was native to these parts, as it hunted for food, he knew that it could strangle an adult if the adult wasn’t careful, much less a fifteen year old asleep in a tree. After it’d left Uktesh fell asleep again and woke the next morning before the sun and decided to start to look for a lake or river.

  He strung his bow and knocked an arrow as he wandered in a southerly direction. By midday his mouth was so dry, that he felt like he had a mouthful of paste. That was when he saw the deer. He froze, and slowly raised his bow. It was nearly two hundred yards away. This would be an impossible shot to make accurately for most people but, Uktesh thought to himself as he aimed, Most people are not me. He released the arrow and saw it fly true into the deer, just slightly behind the shoulder blade and into its heart.

  Uktesh shouted as he ran forward. He grabbed his skinning knife from his boot. Once he reached the deer and when he pulled the arrow out he saw that it had been a perfect shot. A quick, clean kill. Silently he thanked Uketar and, after he unstrung his bow, he skinned the deer and prepared the meat as well as he could without any salt. As he worked he became thirstier, and thirstier until it was all he could think about.

  He stood up and for the first time he was completely silent as he stretched his back muscles. He took a few deep breathes and then he heard it, the sound of running water! He dropped his weapons and ran towards the sound. He saw that the river had swelled slightly from recent rains. And once he reached its’ edge he skidded to his knees and plunged his head into the water, and drank deeply.

  He drank until he had to come up for air, which he did so with a spray of water that went everywhere. Out of breathe, he had to take several deep breaths before he could breathe again normally. He focused his eyes on what was across the water and saw the ruins of a small village down river. He thought to himself, I might be able to find a blanket, a backpack or something to carry all that meat, and maybe even some fruit.

  Without making a conscious decision, he found himself half way across the river as water splashed around him. As he continued to cross the water to the village, he didn’t think of any of the dangers around him, or that his sword and bow were back with the deer, he simply entered the four homes that were still upright. He found no bodies as he made his way around the village which was strange. The sun was just an orange half circle before Uktesh had finished his search. He had been able to find a partially burnt blanket and a backpack that seemed to have more burn holes than solid fabric, but Uktesh knew it would work well enough.

  He had hoped to find some sort of water skin, but was unable to, so he walked across the river again and started to look for his deer. When he was near where he had left the deer he started to hear sounds of a struggle. He instantly realized he’d left his weapons next to the deer and all he had were is two knives, which he had in both of his hands. He soundlessly crept forward, and used every trick he’d ever been taught to move silently.

  He found the deer being eaten by wolves. His first reaction was anger that these beasts had taken his kill. That thought quickly changed when they noticed him even though he was still crotched in the tall grass near them, and his anger evaporated into fear. He didn’t consciously remember that he had climbed the tree, just that he was suddenly on a branch and able to look down at three wolves who clawed at the trunk. He saw his sword, bow, and arrows lying about ten feet from the tree trunk. Which is probably eight feet too many. These wolves will finish and leave, then I’ll see if anything is salvageable.

  He climbed up higher and wedged himself between two branches. Once he was fairly certain he wasn’t going to fall he wrapped the cover around his torso, to keep his arm from being eaten by mosquitoes, and closed his eyes. He’d only been asleep for a few moments, it seemed when an alien noise awoke him. He looked around and remembered that he was in a tree and why, as he scraped his way from between the two branches. As he climbed down the tree, he felt as if he’d slept on a torture machine, and one that was in use at that.

  He dropped the last few feet to the ground and as he looked up he wondered how he’d made that jump to get away from the wolves. He quickly recovered his weapons and was pleased to see that his bow had survived the night. Uktesh quickly restrung the bow and set it aside, next to his arrows. He checked his sword and found it too, to be completely fine. He strapped it on over his shoulder and glanced quickly at the ruined deer, but saw no salvageable sections. He put the bow back over his shoulder, and gathered his blanket in his pack and continued to walk south after a quick drink from the river.

  He followed the river south, as he did not want to risk dying of thirst. He knew that he could live for weeks with no food, but without water, he’d be dead in days. Plus, he thought to himself, animals will have to come here to drink too. He travelled most of the day and only stopped once to retrieve his arrow and the body of a bird he’d startled into the air and had killed. That night he ate well, and his hungry stomach was put at rest. He used his pack as a pillow for his head and drifted off to sleep.

  When he woke up, he continued south for many hours, until the sound of steel on steel alerted him that he was not alone. He quickly took the pack from his shoulders and moved towards the sound with an arrow knocked in his bow. He came to a clearing and found that dozens of people were in a fight in front of a farm house.

  He saw that it was about twenty members of a small community that had to fight twice their number of mercenaries, or enemy soldiers, and some of the houses had been lit on fire. This is my chance! My countrymen need me, and if I help them, I’ll be accepted back in as a hero. He edged into the clearing, and froze. His heart beat fast in his chest. He couldn’t move. He could feel a trickle of sweat roll down his temple.

  Right before his eyes the community of fighters continued to fall to the blades of the invaders, but still he was unable to move. His mind flashed back to his village on fire and his fathers’ face.

  A small child, who looked like he was nine summers old, ran out of the house, jumped on the back of one of the mercenaries, and stabbed him with a knife. The blade bounced off some armor, and the man contemptuously threw the boy to the ground and brought an armored boot down on the child’s skull.

  Wails of anger, fear, and sadness came from the house, and then out came the men and women ordinarily too old to fight. Uktesh realized, with a start, that he was halfway out of his hidden spot, sword drawn, before he stopped himself and pulled his bow and set an arrow to the string.

  He set his feet and just as he was about to release the arrow, what looked to be three dozen men on horses crashed out of the trees, and into the clearing. They cut into the townsfolk and before the defenders could respond to the new threat, they were dead. Uktesh fled into the safety of the forest again. He grabbed his pack, ran, and he didn’t stop until he was sure no pursuit would come.

  He pulled his knees into his chest and wrapped his arms around them, as he sat under a tree, his back to the trunk. He couldn’t help but remember the last moments of the brave child who’d done his du
ty and died in the fight, Belesh must be welcoming him into the Halls of the Brave right now. And all those men and women knew what they had to do, and now they’re dead. But I’m still alive. What good would it have done for me to die with them? Would I have died though? Everyone says that when I’m practicing I’m perfect, I even just performed my first Perfect attack! Could they have stood up to a warrior able to attack Perfectly?

  He smiled through the tears, as he envisioned the help he should’ve given and how he would have single handedly turned the tide. He envisioned the attacks his enemies would use and the forms that he would flow into to counter them. Colt springs into the Air would move to an imperfect attack like Lightning Flashes, into a perfect defense Thunder Rolls in the Hills. Uktesh was on his feet now, his sword in hand as he performed the fight as he envisioned it.

  He kicked into the air, Dove on the Winds, met Crane in the Weeds, to Bear Rushes down the Hill. He saw the village elders’ daughter run up to him and throw herself into his arms, as he dropped his sword. “I knew you’d come, just like the heroes in my books.” She raised her chin, her lips invited him in, and as Uktesh moved his head towards hers, he heard several men as they clapped in approval.

  Broken out of his day dream, he saw that like in his nightmare that would not end, he was surrounded. A man stepped forward and said, “Boy you’ve got skills it’s true, but throw down your weapon or we will kill you.”

  Uktesh was too shocked to speak it was Thulmann! He looked just like he’d dreamt. He stood six feet, and three inches tall, with light brown hair, and two sword hilts were visible over his shoulders. The imaginary invader was clearly not so imaginary. “I have with me nine of the most vicious, dangerous and violent-”