Bastial Energy (10 page)

To Zoke’s understanding, Krepps hadn’t changed much throughout the years. Though never skilled builders, their ability to hunt and kill remained unparalleled. Even Zoke, at his lesser height, possessed enough power and skill with his treasured sword to easily slay any other creature known to him. The major difference for present-day Krepps was that all tribes had merged only recently into one army under the leadership of Doe and Haemon—two monstrous Slugari driven by revenge who shared the Krepps’ near fanatical drive to find the hidden underground Slugari colony.

The week was nearly over, so it was time for Zoke to gather the Krepps who’d failed to fulfill their duties to the tribe and bring them to the judgment chambers for punishment. To make his presence known, Zoke clawed loudly at the cloth shielding that hung in the doorway of the first hut.

“Leave us,” a female Krepp snorted in reply from within.

As much as Zoke wanted to, he couldn’t leave them. His task wouldn’t allow it. So Zoke pushed through the hanging door and drew his sword. He found doing so made the process easier. A quick look around the small hut was all he needed to see that no male Krepp was inside.

“Where is husband to you?” Zoke asked in their language of Kreppen.

The mother Krepp was stitching a tear in leather pants not unlike those that Zoke wore. It had a long gash from the thigh to the shin. Her daughter was seated next to her, soaking a leg in a barrel of warm water. Neither would look in Zoke’s direction.

“What do you want with him?” the mother asked, keeping her eyes as low as her tone.

Zoke sheathed his sword. “Your family didn’t complete your weekly tasks. Now the oldest male needs to visit Vithos for judgment.”

The mother lifted her gaze for a long examination of Zoke, clearly thinking of an excuse. “Daughter was cut deeply. She couldn’t pick her share of kupota yesterday. I couldn’t either because I needed to care for her wound. Husband is in the field now, doing what he can.” She spat toward Zoke, then looked back to the pants strewn across her lap. “Not that you care,
gurradu
.”

There was no reason to stay, so Zoke left, but not before turning his head to say, “Endure.” He waited a breath for a reply but received none.

Zoke was used to being addressed as
gurradu
by now. The
real
gurradu
were nose plugs made from oily rags. They were used to punish misbehaving child Krepps. With
gurradu
in, even the most delicious meat would lose its taste. Zoke was born with the rare inability to smell, and the inescapable nickname came soon after.

As instructed, Zoke did find his quarry at the kupota field, and the husband spat at the sight of him. “I’m getting your plants now,” the husband said, lifting a claw to point at the bucket next to him.

Zoke investigated the bucket of hacked and peeled kupota plants and frowned, knowing what could come next after he delivered the bad news. “They should have been delivered last night, and you don’t have enough here. Bring what you have to Vithos. Explain the situation with wife to you. The rest is up to the Elf.” Zoke had never met this Krepp before so he kept his hand ready on the hilt of his sword. He gave the same warning as he did to all first-timers: “Remember not to lie to him. He’ll know.”

“Fine, small g
urradu
.” The Krepp threw down his shovel and, thankfully for Zoke, followed him to the judgment chambers without a fight.

It was the most-fortified building in the encampment, a strong wooden structure that put the huts for each Krepp family to shame. It housed Vithos, an Elf who passed judgment on every deserving Krepp.

On the way there, Zoke received many condescending looks, some from Krepps who knew he would visit them shortly, the rest from others who knew nothing about Zoke except his reputation.

When they reached the judgment chambers, Zoke scratched on the wooden door to make his presence known. It opened from within, and Zoke stepped aside to let the accompanying Krepp through.

“Endure,” Zoke told him.

“Endure,” the Krepp replied with more fear than disdain. The door was shut behind him.

The day was young and Zoke would be escorting many others, so he tightened the lace on his official disciplinary cloak and made his way to the house of the next family on the list. It would have been easier to gather them all at once, but there was too much danger in that. It wasn’t uncommon for Krepps to react aggressively when he tried to bring them to the judgment chambers. If there were more than he can handle, they easily could take control—a dangerous thing to lose.

Eventually, the rumblings of his stomach notified him that lunch should be soon. By then, there was only one more family who didn’t meet their quota. But on his way to their hut, someone tugged on his cloak from behind to stop him. “Zeti needs your help,” a soft voice said. Zoke turned to find Grayol, a friend of his sister. Zoke knew him as a boy Krepp who still had several years before the shedding of his birth skin.

“What’s wrong?” Zoke asked earnestly, leaning down to match his eye level with Grayol’s. It was unlike Zeti to need anything from Zoke, so it wouldn’t be wise to ignore the summons.

“She can barely stand. She says her whole body aches.” Grayol was careful to speak quietly, as if he was afraid to hear himself say the words.

The beginning signs of her shedding,
Zoke thought, straightening his back.
Nothing to worry about.
“She is twelve—
pra durren
.” Zoke kept his voice calm to help ease Grayol’s worry. “Twelve years she’s been alive without shedding. The time fits. Tell sister to me she’ll finally be a woman soon. It’s a slow process that’s very painful, but I’ll come by soon and prepare janjin plants for the pain.”

Grayol’s face remained pinched with panic. “She says it really hurts, and she’s much stronger than I am.”

“It will hurt even more later, but she needs her new skin to continue getting stronger as an adult.” Zoke thought that would be it, so he continued forward, but Grayol kept pace with him.

“Will the same happen to me?”
the young Krepp asked with a wince of fear in his bright yellow eyes. His long mouth was curled down at the edges.

“How old are you, nine—
pra durren
?” Zoke guessed.

Grayol nodded.

“Then you have two or three years before the shedding of your birth skin, but don’t be frightened of it because you’re not a man until your
pra durren
is completed. Krepps don’t show fear, we endure.”

Grayol stood up straight and pushed out his chest. “Endure,” he squeaked out.

Zoke heard the sound of another Krepp spitting toward him and felt hot saliva land on the top of his bare foot. “Grayol, don’t listen to this g
urradu.
He’s small and weak.” Zoke lowered his shoulders in disappointment when he saw it was Dentar, an associate of his father. “Father to Zoke tells me his weak son is
pra durren
—four, but look at him.” Dentar lazily waved a claw at Zoke. “He’s still the size of a boy because he doesn’t enjoy meat like a true Krepp.”

“I don’t have time for you,” Zoke said. “Grayol, you shouldn’t waste your time with him either. Go to sister to me.”

Grayol ran off without a look back.

“Always busy with the work of the Elf. No time for your own race,” Dentar said with a false smile, letting his sharp teeth catch the sunlight.

“We all serve Doe and Haemon, and the Elf serves them. If you don’t agree with their rules, then you can leave the tribe. Leave me no matter, though.” Zoke drew his sword and pointed it at Dentar.

“You kill a couple Krepps with that thing and think no one will stand up to you?”

“Yes.” Zoke held his weapon still, hoping Dentar would draw his. His father’s associate was a head taller, but Zoke knew Dentar’s skill did not match his own.

Dentar checked to see if other Krepps were watching and found no audience. He forced a wider smile and grunted as he left.

I hope I find your name on this list someday
, Zoke thought, sheathing his weapon. Delivering Dentar to the judgment chambers to watch him try to talk his way out of a burning would be like finally scratching an itch that had been impossible to reach.

By the time Zoke delivered the last Krepp to Vithos for judgment, he was ready for his usual meal of starchy, bland kupota. He picked up enough for him and his sister, Zeti, from the resource center, along with some janjin plants to help with her
pra
durren.
Normally he liked to watch the proceedings of judgment day, but first he would see to Zeti in the hut they shared.

Chapter 12: Must Endure

ZOKE

Zoke’s sister was lying in bed but tried to get up when he entered.

“Lie down,” he told her. A quick glance was all he needed to see that the young Krepp who looked up to Zeti wasn’t around. “Where is Grayol?” Zoke asked, sitting at their wooden table to begin grinding janjin leaves. As always, the table squeaked with each shift of his weight.

“I made him leave because he was annoying me.” Zeti grunted in pain and rested her head once again.

“He’s concerned.”

“About himself,” Zeti retorted.

“He knows how tough you are, yet he sees you like this, so he gets scared,” Zoke explained.

Zeti moaned and turned on her side to see what Zoke was doing. “How is it you have answers to everything, but you never know where Father is?”

Zoke grunted. “Only those with him know the answer to that.” He poured water into a wooden bowl and sprinkled the ground-up janjin leaves across the top. “Here, for the pain.” He handed her the bowl.

She sat up with a groan but didn’t take it. “All Krepps say this hurts, but I thought they were just weak.”

Zoke moved the bowl closer to her claws. “It’s the worst pain most Krepps ever feel, but you haven’t gotten to the peeling yet.”

“When does that start?” Zeti’s lemon colored eyes lowered to the bowl for a blink, then shifted back to Zoke. Her pride was palpable.

Zoke held the bowl steady. “It will be sometime tomorrow, probably at night. It’s bad. But once it begins, it’s over quickly.”

Zeti moaned, slumping in defeat. “I won’t even sleep tonight.”

Zoke nodded regretfully. “No one does.”

She looked at the janjin leaves drifting across the top of the water, really looked at them for the first time. Her straight mouth relaxed to match the rest of her body. She reached out to accept the bowl. “Should I save this for the peeling?”

“It won’t help. You might as well take it now. I’ll make more before the night is over.”

Zeti took a breath then started gulping. Zoke waited patiently for her to finish every last drop, taking the bowl once she was done and setting it on the table.

“I’ll be back later, sister. Endure.”

“Endure.” Zeti slid back down to lie flat.

When Zoke returned to the judgment chambers, most of the Krepps he’d delivered had already received their verdicts. Just one still waited to make his case, along with one other Krepp who Zoke hadn’t brought in and didn’t recognize.

Zoke figured it would be a strange scene to any Human, but the conversation between a monstrous Slugari, an Elf, and a scared Krepp was common in Doe and Haemon’s encampment. In fact, Zoke often was the scared Krepp, although he never did anything deserving of punishment. Fear was just a natural part of his task to the tribe.

The judgment quarters was stripped of all the wood that possibly could be removed without compromising the structural integrity of the building. Cold dirt was the floor, large rocks were used as seats, and thin sheets of black metal covered the wooden walls so they couldn’t catch fire. Vithos the Elf always sat to discuss the case against each Krepp and stood when it was time to pass judgment. He was seated when Zoke entered.

“What is your age?” Vithos was asking the nervous Krepp before him.

“
Pra durren
—one.”

“So you’re an adult at least, but only by one year. Are you really the oldest male in your family?” Zoke’s heart jumped at hearing the question. If the Krepp wasn’t the oldest male, then he’d brought the wrong one.

“Yes, I am the only member of my family,” the Krepp answered to Zoke’s relief.

“Are the rest dead?” It was a cold question, but Zoke had heard it asked so many times it no longer affected him.

“I believe Mother died when I was very young. Father left the tribe two years ago.”

Vithos nodded. “You tell the truth so far, now for the tougher questions.” He glanced at a scroll in his pale Elf hands. “I see your task is to assist a team of Krepps in searching for the hiding Slugari. Your designated search was to take place in northern Satjen, but your team never made it through Kilmar. The leading Krepp reported that you were to blame. I’ve heard his reasons. Now I wish to hear yours.”

The Krepp shifted uncomfortably, scratching his cheek with a claw. “I ate too much of the meat, and we were unable to find enough through hunting, so we had to return early. My portion was smaller than the rest, and I was hungry.”