The blitzing lightning storm picked up its blazing intensity rapidly as arcing tendrils of cyan streaked across the voided Buriti sky. Deafening incendiary cracks of monstrous thunder flood out the cries of the hysterical caravan members scrambling for shelter from the lethal electric onslaught.
As hot plump droplets of downpour turned the surrounding dunes into mucky sinkholes of quicksand, Navah fearlessly helped pull the geriatric Vaygo's flimsy body behind a large shaft resting over a small boulder, one of the few natural protections. I watched as she observed helplessly through the soggy surge with a facade displaying her shock and despair at the gehenna forming before her.
Through huffing breath, I noticed her large brother Beo had been recovering their father's decorated hand-forged axes from their capsized rustic buggy, now sopping wet and annihilated. His brown face was boiling with fury as he scooped the axes by the handle effortlessly while making a brazen dash in my direction. Dark crimson and brown muddy sand spewed with his feet as he approached me.
"I'll flay you...I KNOW YOU DID THIS!" Beo's rage-fueled outcries were hardly audible over the tempest's brutal outrage as he lurked toward me, wielding the glistening chrome axes. My reflexes took over in succinct splashing steps as I weaseled the axe's frenzied chops aimed at my neck and torso.
Beo's lumbering frame and natural strength forced me backward with relentless swings aimed at my soaked temple. "FUCK YOU!" His shouts almost became animal-like as a profound emotional ache flung from his esophagus.
The piercing winds and drowning sheets of rain baffled my senses, overwhelming me to the surroundings for a moment. I only barely noticed as we tipped over a collapsing dune. Displaced from reality by the jarring roll through rough silt, I felt my hand charring with more pain than I considered imaginable. I desperately held in my gasps as I searched for Beo's massive form in my peripheral.
With no alarm, my ears nearly began to bleed before my brain registered the subsequent sound--Calamitous booming clap broke my haunted trance. Mechanical humming and propellers lacerating the atmosphere... Three Buriti War Fleet bombers streaking overhead through the storming black cloudbanks! This single aircraft was close enough for me to glimpse the black Hyena symbols on their red-tipped wings through my darkened vision.
Sweet god...They're pushing to carpet bomb the location thinking it's some sort of Svet attack! I was snagged in typical Vascan military protocol among the sands--'Strike before the adversary understands they've transgressed' would be my fiery destruction...My ear perked to the sound of whipping metal as I sensed hot blood spurt out my right shoulder through wet clothing.
My momentary lapse in the paused but lethal axe fight had left an opening for Beo to hew his rusty blade down at my collar. I scarcely avoided sudden beheading by tumbling on the mud and seizing the axe handle as we tumbled to the earth again. I heard thunder burst deafeningly, corresponding frantic pulsing of my heart...as the acquainted sensation of my life's essence leaking from me sent me into an unmanageable wrath.
Beo attempted to tack me down bloodily, the second axe's blade pressed firmly beneath my chin, stopped only by my hanging steel chains. He lingered while breathing manically, seemingly...To gloat over his perceived victory against his Vascan King. I spat a considerable wad of blood-tasting saliva into his face, yet he was undeterred in his booming remarks that followed.
"I told Pa you we should have left you to die..." He grinned malevolently, rainfall streaming down his face, illuminated by lightning strikes in the surroundings. I felt the searing pain of the axe blade, nearly breaking my collarbone as he held it, violently pinning me to the watery sand.
"Do it...Durik-loving peasa--." my words instantly were swallowed by an earth-shattering mechanical scream from overhead. Another one of the Bomber Fleet planes had flown dangerously low to inspect the freak waterstorm, then spiraled out of control over the campsite with earsplitting velocity.
YOU ARE READING
In Huck's Hands
FantasyIn the war-ravaged nation of Buriti Vasca, anarchic native Buritian insurgents have left the capital in ruins and the political Vascan elite slaughtered. From the ashes of their bombardment, rises HuckleBerry Vasca, exiled and unlikely heir hellbent...