The New World: A Step Backward (10 page)

As they headed toward the door, Intellulka pulled Protuk aside.  "We need to discuss the secret and when we should make Thoruk aware of its existence.  Now is not the moment to tell him, but we have to decide what triggers the appropriate timing."

The Master of Arms nodded.  "Yes, I agree.  I'll get back to you after we consider alternatives and recommendations with Thoruk and finalize the plan."

"Good, we should talk about the timing of sending for help from the Texas Freedom Defenders, per our prior agreement.  We can't wait too long — a rider should be sent with the request."

The towering man put his hand on Intellulka's shoulder and peered into his eyes.  "You're right, my friend.  We'll tackle that as well when we meet again.

"This is going to be a real test for Ukkiville and Thoruk.  Many of the same traits Odinuk possessed can be seen in Thoruk.  Let's pray his judgment is as sound as his father's.  We have to make sure he has the best options at his disposal and help him when he needs it."

Putting his hand over Protuk's, Intellulka smiled.  "We will — and Thoruk will be a great leader.  I'm sure of it."

Thoruk chatted with Mercivil at the top of the steps while the others went home.  She grabbed his hand.  "Come eat at my place tonight.  Mom's been cooking, and it should be ready soon.  There is lots of food."

She tugged on his sleeve when he didn't answer.  "Come on, I don't want you to worry about dinner.  Besides, Mom always treats you like family anyway."

Monday
~
August 12, 2075
~
6:30 pm

While Protuk walked home after Wolfuk's scouting report, a fist-sized knot mushroomed in his rigid belly. 
How did I overlook Zolokt's madness and let him introduce more muclones?

The tortured ache worsened as memories of the murder of Odinuk's wife haunted his thoughts. 
Fortokt thrusting his sword in her heart — Odinuk's rage — Fortokt's severed head rolling across the mud, squirting blood in a spiraling whirl.  I should have prevented her death.

Bent over with sorrow and regret, he groaned.  A twinge in his heart stung as he recalled Wolfuk's earlier words about the assassination of Odinuk.  As if hammered from the inside, his head throbbed. 
My best friend — I couldn't even save him
.  Collapsing to his knees, Protuk's eyes flooded.

He drew three extended breaths, and the grief eased a bit.  After willing weakened legs to slowly lift his large frame, pressing matters gushed to mind. 
Skalags — focus on strategy.

As he clomped up the steps to his log cabin and entered, a blast of heat smacked him in the face.  He left the door ajar and trudged across the living room to open a window, hoping a slight breeze would clear the stuffiness.

He shuffled through the icebox and grabbed a small plate of leftover roast, potatoes, and onions.  A glass of fresh milk would help soothe the stomach.  Looking about the dingy cabin, he took his tasty fare on the porch to settle his nerves before doing anything else.

The chirp of a lone cricket pierced the night's silence when the floorboards creaked under Protuk's weight.  As he sat down to enjoy the evening's fresh air, an enchanting serenade of a whip-poor-will calmed the tension; his breathing slowed.  He leaned back in the pine chair and concentrated on the upcoming battle plans.

As dusk faded into the dark a crescent moon glided above the horizon and a chorus of gray wolves distracted his thoughts.  Echoing among the canyons, the distant howls jolted his soul, and he shuddered.  The same eerie sound heard the night his closest friend was killed uprooted horrid memories of the dreadful eve — four years earlier.

Autumn ~ 2071 ~ Evening

Relaxed in the confines of Odinuk's home, Protuk reminisced with his trusted ruler as he often did.  Since they planned to chat on the porch later and enjoy the crisp air, Protuk posted three sentries outside the cabin, two on each side and one in the rear.

He pulled up a chair and sat across from Odinuk to eat the thick, juicy, venison steaks he grilled for dinner. 
Mmm, that smells great.

He gripped his knife and vigorously cut into the slightly-charred meat.  While the sizzling slab slid around the plate, savory juices seeped from the medium-rare morsel.

As usual, he talked while he chewed, relishing the delicious meal.  "Did you and Thoruk enjoy yourselves today?"

During the recital of the fun-filled activities shared with his son, his excited friend's eyes twinkled.  "Thoruk and I spent the afternoon under the large willow by the Lake of Dreams.  It was wonderful!  We kept an eye on our bobbers and jabbered more than I can ever remember.  He ended up catching 14 bass while I only caught two.

"It was a welcome reprieve from my usual tasks, you know.  I even told him about our adventures, hunting Resourcelands and fishing the large lakes north of Old Winnipeg.  Remember that time you got seasick?"  Excitement swelled with each word.

Not caring that he heard the same stories hundreds of times, Protuk delighted in seeing his best buddy's face brighten during any occasion.  "That can't be all you talked about.  You were there a good part of the day."

"True.  I spent hours sharing my thoughts about what it takes to be a strong ruler, respected by the villagers.  I know he's going to be a great leader — better than I.  Thoruk can...."

As his long-winded compatriot rambled, Protuk's thoughts drifted to when the two of them were trained by the Ukeville's Master of Arms, Guarduk.  Back then they were only teenagers and Odinuk, being taller than he initially, inevitably won each of their earlier training skirmishes.

Protuk chuckled to himself. 
I loved the shock on his face the first time I thrashed him after my growth spurt.  From that point he won few one-on-one sessions with me towering above him.

Odinuk's voice disrupted his thought.  "Why are you smiling?"

"Oh, I've been daydreaming about Guarduk's training.  Remember?"

His pal straightened his shoulders.  "Of course I do.  I always beat you until you grew to be an ox.  Then it wasn't fair anymore."  Scooting his chair across the floorboards, he rose.  "Let's go to the porch and enjoy the cool evening."

Protuk wolfed the last forkful on his plate while his buddy left half of his food.  Following his confidant's cue, he shadowed him to the door.  When Protuk stepped out into the autumn breeze, an instant shiver shot through his body.  He closed his mouth, inhaling a lungful of the night's fresh air. 
I love listening to bullfrogs and the howling wolves.

With hands stretched skyward as he arched his back, Odinuk peered at the moon's mesmerizing glow.  "Ahhh, that feels a lot better.  Did you hear it?  My spine really crackled.  I'm getting too old to sit on the ground in one place all afternoon.  But it's been far too long since I had as much...."

Pfffft.

Odinuk groaned, collapsing to the floor.

Protuk grabbed his ruler's arm. "Sir, are you alright?"

Trying to rise, the stricken leader stumbled across a chair.  He tried again, but fell.  "Aaah."  He groped at his chest as blood trickled down his fingers.  He clutched Protuk's leg.

Protuk noticed the shaft of an arrow protruding from the center of his lifelong friend's chest and quickly dragged him into the cabin, slamming the door.  "GUARDS!"

Minutes Later: Autumn ~ 2071

Nausea gnawed at the pit of his stomach as Protuk tried to console Ukkiville's gravely injured ruler while he awaited the guards. 
Lord, please help Odinuk.  Don't let him die.

His confused confidant glanced up at him; his bulging eyes and distant stare reflected fear as he gasped for air.  "Protuk.  What is...?"  With his shaky finger he pointed to the bloody, wooden shaft sticking out of his chest.

"Shhh, you've been hit.  It's a Skalag arrow.  Lay still my friend."

Trying to speak, Odinuk's frightened gaze faded when consciousness slipped away.

Protuk snatched a scarf from the coat closet and pressed it against the wound.  He squeezed his eyelids tight then peered directly at Wolfuk, one of the two lookouts who joined him.  "Hurry, get Thoruk!  He should be home."

"Yes, sir."  He bolted out the back.

Protuk tilted his head in the direction of the other sentry.  "You!  Go now — get Doc!"  He noticed another guard rushing through the rear entrance.  "Here, hold this on the wound."  He yanked the man's hand to the blood-soaked cloth.  "Protect him with your life."

Gulping a quick breath, he sprung to his feet, barred the front door, and shuttered the window.  "I'm going after the archer and any other assassins.  Listen for the doctor!"

Protuk ran out the back door, then sprinted toward the front of the cabin.  He peered beyond the edge of the porch. 
Blazes, where is that savage sack of scum?  Could there be more than one? 
Protuk spotted movement by the trunk of an oak at the edge of the clearing. 
There he is — looks like he's by himself — probably hanging around to make sure Odinuk is dead.

He swung a wide loop beyond the would-be assassin, slowly approaching from behind.  A twig snapped beneath his boot, and as the Skalag turned, Protuk charged, hurdling through the air.  The spindly man's eyes widened as he raised his bow.  Too late.  Before the warrior drew the string back, Protuk's rock-hard chest crashed into the surprised archer, knocking him to the ground in a heap.

Sitting atop the assailant's torso, he pounded the helpless attacker's face with his massive fists and dislodged one of his teeth before restraining another punch. 
I can't kill him now; I've got to interrogate him!

In one motion, with a fire roaring in his heart, Protuk jerked the petrified captive to a sitting position, shook him, and growled.  "Who's with you?  Who gave the orders?"  The stubborn prisoner refused to respond.

Adrenaline gushed through Protuk; his jugular throbbed. 
I don't have time to mess with this scumbag.  I've got to get back to Odinuk!
  Trying to escape, the warrior thrashed and kicked, but Protuk maintained a firm grip.  He quickly dragged him and tied him to the porch with a rope he and Odinuk used when gutting deer.

Unsheathing his knife, he waved the shiny blade before the warrior's nose and yelled in his ear.  "This is your last chance.  How many are there?  Who ordered the kill?"

No reply.  Protuk yanked the Skalag's pinky, placed the filthy finger flat against the tree, and cleanly sliced it off.  Blood squirted across his and the terrified archer's face — still no answer.  He ripped the screaming assailant's boot and sock off and began slicing into a little toe.  "Ahhh, stop!  I'm alone.  Zolokt gave the ord...!"  His eyes went blank as he passed out.

Stripping the assassin's shirt, Protuk swiftly wrapped the wounds.  He rushed inside the cabin and leaned toward Odinuk to see what Doc was doing.

Within a minute a booming knock startled him.  Thoruk's voice bellowed.  "Let me in!"

Protuk jumped to his feet and unbarred the door.  The young man dashed to Odinuk's side and dropped to his knees, burying his head in his father's thigh, sobbing in agony.

Odinuk pushed the doctor's arm.  "Away!  Let me talk to my son and Protuk.

Moving closer, Thoruk grabbed his palm.  "What is it, Father?"

Odinuk choked and coughed.  "Son, I love you.  You've been the best part of my life — my best friend."

Slowly blinking, he took a deep breath then focused on Thoruk.  "You're ready — to rule Ukkiville now.  Listen to your heart — and...."  His words grew weaker as blood dripped from his nose.  "Don't forget what we spoke of today — the wall.  Trust Protuk — your adviser — protector.  Now go, let me talk to Protuk."

Thoruk held his hand tightly, but his father pried his fingers away.  "Go, son — with my love."

Clasping his own chest, teardrops cascaded down Thoruk's cheeks.  "I love you, Father." He struggled to stand and stumbled to the door.

Protuk knelt by Odinuk's side, his vision blurred.  "What, my friend?"  He placed his palm on the cold, clammy forehead of his compatriot, who was clinging to life by a thread.

Odinuk pulled him closer, but Protuk barely heard the forced words.  "The secrets — keep to yourself until Thoruk's ready."  Blood streamed from his mouth as he gurgled.  "Gracivil and Intellulka — remind them.  Protect my son as you...."  Odinuk's hand collapsed to the floor.  Life left his eyes.

Protuk whirled toward the door.  "THORUK!"

Monday
~
August 12, 2075
~
8:10 pm

Following Wolfuk's Skalag report and a wonderful meal at Mercivil's cabin, Thoruk leaned back in his chair.  "That venison roast of yours was delicious, Miss Gracivil.  And the raspberry cobbler — fantastic!"

Mercivil's mom smiled.  "Don't be bashful.  There's plenty more left; go ahead, help yourself.  How about a half a glass of wine?"

"Thank you, but no, I couldn't eat or drink another thing.  Besides, I wouldn't be able to get up out of my seat."

Pushing himself away from the table, Thoruk gathered some of the dirty dishes.

The grateful cook tapped him on the shoulder.  "Come, I'll take care of those.  Why don't you and Mercy enjoy yourselves on the porch swing?  The night is too lovely to be cooped up in here.  Now go on, both of you."

Thoruk pursed his lips and looked at Mercivil.  "I don't know, we should help with the dishes."

Obviously eager to be alone with Thoruk, she took his hand and gently pulled him toward the porch.  "Come on, Mom's fine; she likes keeping busy.  Let's go outside where you can tell me what's going on in that head of yours."

His friend sat on the swing and patted the cushion next to her, motioning him to sit.  "You were pretty angry at the library today.  I can't ever remember seeing you so upset.  I understand, given what Zolokt's been doing and what the Skalags did to your parents.  I just haven't seen that side of you before."

"Oh, ever since we found those muclones, I've been worried about the villagers.  Then, the news we heard today and the painful memories — kind of pushed me over the edge.  I shouldn't have blown up in front of everybody, but I couldn't help it."

"Hey, don't worry.  There's nothing wrong with showing your feelings among friends.  Emotions show that you care!  Everybody wants to be confident their leader will act against threats.  That's all you did, we understand."

Softly squeezing his arm, his lovely companion gazed at him.  "Don't be so hard on yourself."  She brushed part of his hair to the side with her finger.

He felt his heart pounding. 
She sure looks beautiful tonight.  Whoa, I must have had too much wine.
  He took a deep breath.  "You're the only one who really knows me and makes the most sense when I get angry."  He softly grabbed her hand, and warmth spread up his neck and across his cheeks.

Mercivil's mom nonchalantly stepped onto the porch.  "Isn't it beautiful this evening?  Listen to those frogs sing."  She sat in the chair by the door and rocked.

Somewhat grateful for the distraction, he recognized the detailed wildlife design etched into the chair.  "Is that Protuk's handiwork?"

"Why, yes it is.  I love my rocker.  He gave it to me as a gift."

Thoruk moved to the edge of his seat.  "Oh, I'm sure a beautiful lady like you must get courted all the time."

Mercivil frowned and punched him in the arm.

Her mother stopped rocking and turned his way.  "Well, young man, as a matter of fact there are a few who have called on me, but they're just wasting their energy.  I will never find a man like Mercy's father.  I haven't considered another...."  Her gaze froze.

Grinning from one side of his mouth, Thoruk's dimple deepened.  "So, who is Mercy's father?"

Staring at the stars, Miss Gracivil sighed.  "Now that's a very long story for a different occasion."  She began rocking again, fast enough the floorboard creaked with each kick.

Mercivil punched him again — much harder.

He glared with his mouth agape. 
Ow, what is wrong with her?  Blazes, I forgot she told me that she's never been told the story of her father and not to ask about it.
  He glanced at her and mouthed.  "I'm sorry."

After a minute the elder woman slowed her pace.  "Protuk has such a talent for wood; he's the greatest carpenter around.  I've never seen such a man who draws the children's attention like he does, aside from Santa.  When he's handing out his intricate carvings, the kids clamor about him, standing in line to get one of his animals."

Mercivil jerked upward and swiveled toward Thoruk.  "That reminds me.  The bonfire is scheduled for this week, but given the latest events, I'm not sure we should have it now.  What do you think?"

"Oooh, I don't know.  There's a lot going on."  His eyes shifted to one side. 
Mercy's mom isn't aware of the details of Wolfuk's discussion. 
He squinted at his friend and tilted his head toward her mother.

She realized what he was trying to signal.  "Hey, Mom, isn't it getting past your bedtime?"

"Okay dear, I recognize a brush off when I hear one.  You guys just want to chat about those secrets I'm not supposed to hear.  I understand."

After walking over to give Mercivil a kiss on the forehead, she turned in his direction and hugged him tight.  "Don't stay up too late.  I'm sure Thoruk has a lot on his plate with all the stories these days.  I love you two.  Good night."

She peered at her daughter.  "Mercy, tomorrow you're explaining all the rumors I've been hearing lately.  You're aware of what's happening, and it's time you fill me in.  By the way, the village kids really are expecting the bonfire."

Rising, Mercivil gave her mother a big hug.  "I love you.  Have sweet dreams."

Thoruk waved.  "Good night and thanks for everything."  Then, mesmerized by the blurred sliver of a moon encircled by a rainbow, he walked to the railing.  "Your mom is right, I should go home.  I've got a lot on my mind."

He gazed into his friend's blue eyes.  "She's also right about the kids.  They would be devastated if we canceled the bonfire.  It's something they look forward to every year.  Besides, this might be the last chance they have for awhile, given the upcoming battle.  Things could be mighty ugly for months.  Let them enjoy their day.  I'll help you and put on the best face I can."

Smiling, his pretty companion grabbed his hand.  "Thank you."  She held both of his palms and fluttered her lashes.  "I wish you wouldn't leave.  The night's still young."

"Yes, but I need to start thinking about the battle and those muclones.  The next few weeks will be tough.  I hope you understand."

She frowned.  "Well, I guess — if you have to.  Hey, in the morning — let's run — it's been too long.  We can discuss your ideas on the trail."

"Mmm — actually, that's a great idea.  I need some exercise but not tomorrow.  Remember, I'll be addressing the villagers at 11:30.  Let's jog the next morning.  I'll have plenty of thoughts to bounce off you by then.  Meet me under the tree at 8:00 on Wednesday."

The Next Day ~ 1:30 pm

Eating lunch in his cabin, Thoruk felt a portion of the weight lift from his shoulders after sharing the news of the dangerous muclones and the looming battle to the villagers in front of the church. 
I'm sure glad that's over.  I didn't expect it to take quite so much out of me.  It seems they heard rumors about the muclones and battle, but they were really shook-up about the Scargiles and firearms.  I didn't think they would ever stop asking questions.

He gulped a spoonful of cottage cheese, tasting and smelling fresh as if the neighbor squeezed it the day before.  He closed his eyes. 
I've got to focus on plans before Protuk shares his in the next couple of days.  I need to be prepared to have a more meaningful discussion and challenge his recommendations if necessary
.

Pushing his plate aside, he took a glass of water and slumped back in his chair to ponder ideas for the difficult challenge ahead. 
This is no ordinary battle.  It will be much bigger, more complex, and full of surprises with Zolokt's experiments and all.  Then there's the other enemy; the one who uses firearms.  Our odds aren't good, unless we offset their advantages.

Imagining a myriad of possibilities and the means to address them triggered memories of two years spent being trained by Protuk.  He sank deeper in his seat as vivid recollections overwhelmed his thoughts.