Derick Calderra was a normal sixteen year old. Well, a weird normal sixteen year old that gets sucked into a world of magic and finds out something dear. Something that he has been lied about his whole life.
Derick thought his life was normal in Kirsten Valley. Nothing seemed out of place; magic was unreal, there were no dragons or phoenixes. Everything was normal.
Well, not exactly normal.
Derick had a passion for medieval times. He collected poet's shirts and breeches, as well as riding boots. Everyone thought him weird, which he very well was. Derick was also known to be the first in a fight.
Which was where he was now.
"You're a wimp, Calderra," sneered Jake, mouth up in a smirk. "Your mommy and daddy even know it. That's why the weave you all awone." Jakes gang of four or five laughed.
Derick stood up and wiped his lip, where a bit of blood trickled down. His head was bowed and he was shaking with anger.
"Never," he bit out, "insult my mother and father." Energy radiated off Derick as he swung a fist at Jake. Jake flew three feet in the air before hitting the ground with a sickening thwack.
"Le-Let's get out of here!" screamed one of Jake's gang members. They scattered, leaving Derick alone with the unconscious Jake. Or, seemingly unconscious.
Derick slumped to the ground and sighed, muttering, "This'll be around the school tomorrow. Weird Cauldron Calderra beats school bully with a KO." He closed his eyes and banged his head against the wall. "Why. Can't. I. Just. Be. Normal."
"Because, the norm is underrated." Derick opened his eyes to see Jake staring down at him.
"What do you want?" Derick said icily.
"To congratulate you on yet another successful beating of me," Jake said with sarcasm. Derick snorted. "No, really Calderra, every time I pick a fight with you, you win. The only reason I do so anymore is to actually beat you. You've gained my respect."
"Yea right," Derick muttered, "yours and what school." Jake sat down next to Derick.
"Listen, man, there is no reason in hell kids should treat you this way, but because you different, they only do as they see fit. That's why I fight. I try to make myself known as someone not to be picked on." Derick snorted again.
"You know, Sampson, you have an idiotic way of cheering someone up," Derick said, standing up and brushing himself off.
"At least it works, Calderra," shot back Jake as he stood. Derick turned to look at Jake skeptically.
"If you want a fair fight, Sampson, then don't go fighting me on my birthday," Derick said, and he walked off. Jake stared after him, brow creased in a frown.
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Derick walked slowly, kicking at the rocks on the dirt path towards his families secluded home. He was thinking slowly about the way Jake was treating him, more like an individual than an enemy. But it won't last, things like that never last. He sighed dejectedly.
Derick, for sure, was an oddity, and everyone knew it. It ran in his blood, for all the world knew. His father loved history and could be classified as a Historian if he wasn't already an archeologist. His mother was more into sword fighting of the medieval times, and could run a dojo, except she was gone on archeological digs.
As Derick passed a small pond, nearing his house, he stared at the water and the ducks. His reflection stared back at him. Almost shoulder length black hair, and dark blue eyes, with a few freckles around his nose. His face. He turned away and continued walking up the pathway.
I carry the blue from my mother's eyes and the black from my father's hair. His mother was a redhead, born and true, with the purest of blue eyes anywhere. His father, on the other hand, had dark ebony black hair, muck like Derick's. His father kept it up in a ponytail that went down a little ways past his shoulders.
His father was tall and skinny, you could hardly tell he had any muscles at all, but they certainly existed. His gold, almost red, eyes, hidden behind small wire frame glasses, could pierce right through you if you had done something wrong, or be alight with happiness to make your heart sing.
His mother was stern, and insisted on Derick learning swordplay when she was home. Derick had received his freckles from her side of the family. His mother could also be playful, which was, Derick was sure, the reason they had fallen in love. Both were of kindred spirit, and they expected Derick to follow after them.
Derick stared at the house, so seemingly lonely. I bet they aren't even home yet, and my birthday is in a few weeks time… His eyes grew a saddened tint to them as he walked up towards the large house. How they pay for it goes beyond me.
When Derick was little, one of his parents always stayed home. When he reached sixteen, they both went out on digs together. It's what made Derick so sad to live in this house, because he was forever alone in it. He'd rather be somewhere, anywhere… He shook his head and walked up to the door, hand reaching out to open it.
The door flew open and his mother swept him up into a hug.
"Derick! Where were you? School should have gotten out an hour ago!" She laughed and rubbed the top of his head. "Well then, come on in. We have a surprise for you." Derick followed his mother wordlessly into the house, stopping only to take off his shoes.
"Ayanna, is Derick home?" called his father from the kitchen. He poked his head out into the hallway. "Ah, he is!"
"Yes, Conan, he is," Ayanna said with a smile. Conan ducked back into the kitchen before coming out into the hallway.
"Come here, kid," he said, pulling Derick into a hug, "sorry we were gone so long, but we got you a gift." Conan looked to Ayanna and there seemed to be a slight sadness in his eyes. "Come on now," he said, rubbing Derick's head, "it's in the kitchen." All three of them walked into the kitchen, Conan stopping to pull out a cake.
"Hon," Ayanna said, "we're celebrating your birthday early." Conan set the cake on the counter as Derick took a seat wordlessly at it.
"Kiddo, it's not our choice," said Conan slowly, "but Ayanna and I have to go away tomorrow. I know we just got here, but, they called us in. They said it was an emergency."
"It's alright," Derick said, "I've gotten used to it." But not as much as I'd like to. Conan smiled, his eyes lighting up.
"Well then," he said, putting his hands together, "let's get the show on the road!"
They sang happy birthday, and Derick got to open presents, most of which where books or clothes, some for his collection. It was when all presents where unwrapped that Derick prepared to go up to bed, a pile of his new items in his hands.
"Derick," Conan called, "wait a minute. Your mother and I have something we wish to give you, personally." Ayanna moved up next to Conan, a hand on his shoulder.
"It'll be so you feel closer to us when we're away," she added. Derick turned and stared at them softly. Conan walked up to him and displayed the present, a golden chain necklace. Derick stared at it confusedly.
"It's made with real gold and is highly valuable," Conan said, moving to place the necklace on Derick's neck. "It also has silver entwined with the gold. The pendent at the bottom is solid gold and was carved by my forefathers to be passed down from generation to generation."
"It is extremely sacred to the family, Derick, so don't lose it," Ayanna spoke, moving up next to Conan.
"The pendant is worded in Latin," Conan explained. "It reads Reus per Lux lucis quod Putus of Estus, tantum Sanctus vadum gero. In English it reads Bound by Light and Pure of Heart, only the Sacred shall wear."
"And that is what you are, Derick, sacred," Ayanna said with a soft smile. "Bonne nuit, peu une."
"Sleep well, filho." Derick stared at them before heading off to bed.
"Operor vos reputo we're effectus vox res?" Ayanna asked, placing her arms about Conan's neck. Conan buried his face in her hair.
"Is must nunquam teneo, non incultus vicis adveho, carus," Conan muttered. Ayanna stared up at the moon through the sliding glass doors.
"EGO teneo, tamen EGO etiam vereor. I fear for you, my son." She closed her eyes and leaned into Conan. "Nos totus operor." Conan wrapped his about Ayanna's back. "Nos vadum usquequaque vereor, vel ut illic est nusquam vereor."
"Vereor non, carus, vereor non. Totus ero vox in terminus."
"I hope you're right…"
Outside it started to rain.
Listen, everybody, those weird words? It's Latin, and it doesn't translate completely into what I wanted it to, but it's close. There is a bit of French and Portuguese too, but that's about it. The French and Portuguese is when Dericks parents were speaking to him, not about the pendant. The rest is Latin, or, supposed to be Latin... I used a translator, so I'm not entirely sure if it is exactly Latin...
Ah, well, G2G