The New World: A Step Backward (18 page)

Thursday
~
October 3, 2075
~
10:25 am

Howard jerked back.  "Oh, my God!  Amelia!"

Her aircraft silently plummeted toward the earth.  He yanked on the controls, climbing then banking right.  The sudden surge thrust him backwards in his seat.  Against the suppressing g-force, he turned his head to witness her plane strike the ground, exploding into a huge, black plume.

Shaking with gut-wrenching sorrow, a fist-sized knot swelled in his chest.  He lifted his gaze to heaven.  "NO!  This can't be!"  Tears gushed over his cheeks as grief ate at his heart.

He swung the fighter around and dove toward the biggest platoon remaining.  Through clouded vision, he aimed, fired his missiles, and dumped the load of bombs.

He soared higher and banked right, once again.  Twisting, Howard observed that he hit his mark.  There was no joy, only agony.  His eyes flooded, making it difficult to identify the target.  He wiped them with his sleeve but to no avail.  He squinted as more tears ran down his face.

Taking a wider circle, he looped all the way around Ukkiville.  With engines roaring, he approached from the south and swooped lower in line with the enemy flanks.  Uncontrollably sobbing, he blinked to clear the blurred distortions.

The fuselage and wingtips barely cleared the ground while he fired his rounds.  Zeroing in on as many muclones and warriors as possible, he yelled.  "This is for you, my love.  I'll be right there — at the gates of heaven!"

After discharging the last of the ammunition, he guided the jet's nose toward the largest group of attackers and biggest weapons.  "HERE I COME, HONEY!"  As he blew a kiss, the enemy's cannon blasted a shot at the wall.

Sobs turned to anger as he fully opened the throttle.  The plane skimmed across the earth's surface, then exploded into a massive fireball.

A Moment Later

Booming jet-crash explosions deafened Thoruk as the timbers rattled about him.  He shook his head trying to clear the intense pain that rang in his ears.  After several seconds, tinny echoes accompanied every sound, as if sitting in the hollow of a large tank.  He tried to catch his breath while pushing himself up from the platform. 
How could this happen?

Swelling sorrow ripped his heart following Amelia's death, and searing anguish consumed him after witnessing Howard's plane disintegrate as well.  An urge to cry tugged at him, but no tears followed.  He looked up. 
Lord, please accept them in heaven.

Behind him, Mercivil screamed with such force and duration her throat must have been raw.  Sick with despair, she gagged and puked.

Thoruk peered above the wall.  Most of the field, previously occupied by the enemy, lay scorched and strewn with the blackened bodies of warriors and muclones.  Thankfully, the catapult, cannon, and several cages were destroyed.

Billowing smoke from the crashes rose skyward, dividing the menacing storm clouds.  Lightning bolts struck points across the battleground, hitting some of the Skalags and Scargiles before Scientokt's weather phenomenon dispersed.

Thoruk examined the area closely from left to right.  Unfortunately, Zolokt, about a dozen muclones, and a small group of his clansmen survived.  At the location where he last saw the huge elephant-hippo stood a massive, smoldering heap — nothing more.

The Scargile leader, his blue chariot, and many of his combatants were gone.  Charred mounds dotted the field. 
Only a third or less of the enemy survived. 
Apparently scared out of their wits, a few retreated toward the mountains.  A couple of the muclones feasted on the fleeing fighters. 
Easy pickings and good riddance.

Only a flicker of the raging fire remained in the farther of the two trenches.  The stilted legs of the tallest muclone with a giraffe body and leopard head easily stepped over the spiked logs meant to fend off larger monsters.  Seemingly driven by a sense of loyalty and fear of his ruler, the Skalag rider continued to guide the creature past the first two lines of defense.  Within seconds, it towered before the perimeter's edge.

The beast's sight was level with the top of the wall as it roared, frightening the closest archers who shuddered and ducked.  The leopard's head moved back and forth along the sun-faded pines, looking through the cracks between the timbers, seeking its prey.

The muclone's rider pulled on the reins and kicked the creature's ribs.  The bloodthirsty monster reared high on its hind legs and rested its front hooves on the barrier.

Searching for a meal, it craned its neck beyond the perimeter.  Spotting a terrified archer, the carnivorous predator opened its jaws wide.  The beast thrust its head downward.  Its ruthless, sharp teeth snatched the unfortunate soul by the neck, lifting him over the wall.  The tormented victim thrashed as screams filled the air.

Bartuk pivoted toward his warriors, many of them crouching behind the pine logs. "Man your posts!  Shoot the rider and the monster!"

Arrows flew, piercing the giraffe-leopard's chest and sides.  The creature roared, straightened skyward on its rear legs, teetered, then tumbled backward, crushing its rider.

The villager fell to earth, lifeless.  Blood seeped from the gashes in the archer's neck, soaking the soil around him.

Thoruk returned his attention to Zolokt, who busily released winged muclones which survived the destruction.  Several Skalags rushed toward the wall between Bartuk and the southwest corner.  Flaming arrows streamed from that portion of the perimeter and landed in the closest thatch-lined trench, temporarily halting the enemy's advance.

With the spyglass, Thoruk surveyed the grounds near the area inside Ukkiville attracting the Skalags.  Mercivil and other villagers sprinted toward the protective barrier. 
There must be a serious problem at that end!
He looked at Bartuk, pointing in the direction of the disruption.  "What happened?"

The commanding archer cupped his hands around his mouth.  "The cannon — it blew out part of the wall!"

Thoruk's pulse raced.  Sweat dripped from his brow into his eyes.  He wiped them with his sleeve and scanned that area again.

Protuk climbed down the ladder at the damaged corner.  Thoruk whirled to his right.  "Wolfuk, I've got to help on the ground.  Take charge of the wall!"

He turned.  "Bartuk!"

When the archer glanced his way, Thoruk motioned that he'd be going below.

Instincts firmly in control, he slid down the ladder's outer edge and raced toward Mercivil.

Thursday
~
October 3, 2075
~
10:58 am

Sprinting toward the damaged wall, the action surrounding Thoruk briefly morphed into a blur. 
Should I use the EMP device?  It would risk too many of our people!
  He focused on the immediate threat — Skalags climbing through the timbers shredded by the cannonball.

In the distance, he spotted a dozen villagers fighting invaders who breached the complex.  A tide of courage and resolve triggered a surge of adrenaline as he raced to their location.

Protuk battled a couple of warriors with his sword and knife.  Further back, Mercivil swiftly released a slew of arrows at marauders charging through the wall.  Seven dead Skalags already lay scattered near the gaping hole.  Close by, Fluf clenched her massive jaws around an intruder's throat as he shrieked with a gurgled cry.

From his periphery, Thoruk noticed a flying muclone, similar to the eagle-bobcat killed a few weeks back, but with a smaller head. 
Maybe a Canadian lynx?
  It dove toward his friends.  He reached for his battle-ax but hesitated; it was too far away.  Talons extended, the creature swooped to strike his dearest buddy from behind.

He sucked a quick breath.  "Mercy, duck!"  She whirled.  His eyes widened.  Suddenly, feathers flew and the freakish being screeched, collapsing in a flopping heap as Fluf roared and crunched it in her jaws.

Thoruk looked at the top of the perimeter by the drawbridge.  There, on the platform, stood Tradulka who must have noticed the winged beast and shot it with one of his treasured, long arrows.  After a quick wave of his hand, Thoruk sprinted toward his lifelong friend.  "Mercy, hold your position and keep firing into that hole.  I've got to help Protuk!"

Whizzing by her, he saw the Master of Arms still fighting two warriors, but another prowled from his rear.  In one sweeping motion, Thoruk grabbed his ax and heaved it, striking the attacker in the chest and knocking him off his feet.

As he rushed by the dying invader, he snatched his battle-ax and tackled one of the assailants fighting Protuk.  He pinned him to the ground and split the pillager's head down the middle with his blade.  A swirl of red and gray brain matter spilled across the soil.

Speeding from the wall, a brown blur tweaked Thoruk's attention.  Before he spun to look, a chilling scream cut the air like a dagger.  He turned.  Mercivil pointed in his direction, her eyes and mouth wide open.

Above Thoruk, a loud clank reverberated through his ears.  He pivoted and glanced up.  Protuk's sword was just over his head blocking the attacker's blade from slaying him.

"Ahhh!"  Protuk grimaced and struggled to grasp at something behind.   The warrior that Protuk was fighting had thrust a sword into his ribcage.

"NO!"  Thoruk swung his ax and slashed the Skalag's throat.  Hot blood splashed across Thoruk's face as he took his protector's sword, whirled, and sliced the neck of the other intruder.  The head flew, slinging a shimmery, scarlet spray as it bounced along the ground.

A dark red stain spread down Protuk's coat.  He stumbled but failed to maintain his balance.  Thoruk caught him as Mercivil ran to his side.  Together, they gently laid him on his back while she held his head, applying pressure to the grave wound with her other palm.

Thoruk's brief fear swelled to anger as he scoured the area, but no imminent threat lurked.  Apparently the archers atop the perimeter gained an advantage over the invaders, who no longer climbed through the shattered wall.

Mercivil tried to catch her breath while she stroked Protuk's hair.  Her fatally injured friend gasped and choked, attempting to speak.  She put her finger to his lips.  "Shhh."  She rocked him.

Thoruk peered into Mercivil's eyes.  She shook her head.  The Master of Arms went limp.  Life left his eyes.  Tears cascaded down her face, tumbling onto her dear friend.  With her fingers, she carefully closed his eyelids.

Thoruk's heart burned as he hunched, then fell to his knees.  After a short pause, a surge of fire shot through his veins as he sprung upward.  "Mercy, stay here!  I'll be back!"  Pivoting, he scanned the area until he spotted Stormulka, then sprinted to the ladder nearest the drawbridge.

Thoruk ran up the rungs and hopped onto the platform, rushing to his buddy's side.  "Protuk is dead.  I've got to find Zolokt, now!"  Nostrils flaring with hatred, he surveyed the fields and located the red chariot.  "There he is!"

Stormulka squinted.  "Yes, I see him.  Let's get him!"

Zolokt barked orders to his men more than 120 yards away — far beyond the normal range of accuracy for most archers.  Brow furrowed, Thoruk found Tradulka who guarded the other edge of the bridge.  "I need your bow!  Hurry, toss Red to me!"

The expert marksman and winner of a recent archery championship leaned over the rail, swung the beautifully-crafted weapon, and released it in Thoruk's direction.

He grabbed it out of the air.

Immediately, Tradulka flung an arrow.

Thoruk snatched it, turned, and stared his gifted confidante in the eye.  "Storm, help me!  We're going to kill Zolokt, now!"

With a nod, Stormulka gritted his teeth.

Thoruk found Zolokt again, nocked the arrow, and drew back as far as the length of the shaft allowed.  Considering the long distance, he lifted the bow higher than usual, aimed, and let the arrow fly.  It rose to the sky.  Stormulka refused to break visual contact with its trajectory, concentrating on the destination.

Tradulka waved his arm.  "It's a tad to the right!"

Stormulka squinted harder.  The arrow began to curve left.  The further it traveled, the more its path bent.  His stare remained riveted while he followed the complete arc.

It struck the target.  Zolokt staggered, clenching the shaft protruding from his chest with both hands.  He collapsed to his knees for a second, then fell backwards, writhing in pain.

Thoruk wasn't done.  "Give me another arrow."

The archer quickly responded.

Immediately swinging the shaft in position against the bow, Thoruk drew back on the string.  Stormulka calmly grabbed the arrow and with the other hand motioned in Zolokt's direction.

Both lion-horses galloped toward the Skalag leader.  Stormulka peered into Thoruk's eyes.  "Let his own monsters take care of him."

As Zolokt flopped over and back on the ground, one of the unearthly predators reared and crashed its front hooves on his chest.  The wounded ruler screamed in horror.

The vicious beast stepped backward, bent its neck forward, and opened its huge jaws.  With a thunderous roar, it exposed its long, ivory teeth before chomping one of Zolokt's legs.  Its twin clone did the same, clamping down on the other.

Both muclones slowly backed away, pulling and spreading Zolokt's lower limbs further apart.  Thrashing in agony, he howled from the torturous retaliation of his own invention as a nauseating crunch reverberated through the air.

Attracted by the commotion, other freakish creations cautiously stalked their tormented master.  Circling above, a flying demon swooped to Zolokt's head and dug its talons into his neck below the ears.

The terrified leader's bloodcurdling scream split the air.  Spooked by the noise, the lion-horses yanked back on his legs, thrashing their heads side to side.

The avian hunter, with an osprey body and gray fox head, opened its jaws wide and chomped Zolokt's face.  Among the grisly cracking and splintering, the tenacious lion-horse monsters ripped the legs from his torso, snapping bones, tendons, and nerves.  A glistening, crimson river of blood trailed the mutilated morsels as the gruesome predators carried them away.

Unable to bear the sight from a distance, Angrokt dropped to her knees and wept.  Much closer, Scientokt enjoyed watching the repulsive feeding frenzy from atop his stallion, pinching his lips in a thin smile.

Thoruk lowered his gaze, scowling at the strewn remains of his nemesis.  Reflections of his own words from the preparations meeting flashed before him. 
We won't stop until our cursed enemy is dismembered limb by limb!
  He whispered.  "Zolokt got what he deserved — being silenced forever by his own wicked experiments.  Rot in Hell!"

Scientokt's grin broadened as he kicked his steed and bolted toward the mountains before the bloodthirsty creatures turned their voracious appetite on him.

Other horrified Skalags fled toward the hills while a handful of starving carnivores finished off Zolokt's remains, fiercely fighting one another for each scrap of the hated torturer's mangled flesh.  Seeing their allies scatter, the Scargiles deserted as well.

Tradulka and Stormulka whooped and cheered as they jumped up and down.  Chants of the villagers along the perimeter joined the celebration.  "Zolokt's dead!"

Off to the side, heartbroken wails from others tending to the fallen heroes mixed with Thoruk's own eerie jumble of emotions.  He surveyed the grounds.  Draped over her daughter's body, Curulka's mom bawled uncontrollably.

Surrounded by shouts of joy and cries of sorrow, Thoruk closed his eyes, and tears spilled down his cheeks.  Unable to speak, and as excruciating pain speared his heart, he fell to his knees and sobbed.  As much as he loathed the maniac, he took no pleasure in the demon's demise at that moment.  The torment of Protuk's death and that of others gripped him.

Stormulka knelt by his side and tightly hugged him.  "You did it, Thoruk.  You killed him.  The devil's finally gone."  He squeezed harder.

After a minute or so, Thoruk lifted his head.  "We need to go to Mercy.  She's with Protuk."  He pointed in the direction he left them.

Stormulka gently urged him to his feet.  "Let's go."

As Thoruk and his buddy reached the bottom of the ladder, Tradulka greeted him.  "That was the greatest shot I've ever seen.  Nobody can shoot an arrow like that!  You killed Zolokt from well over 120 yards away — amazing!"

Burdened with a heavy heart, Thoruk placed Red in the archer's palm and spoke softly.  "That's the most powerful bow I've ever used.  You have quite a gift.  I will look to you for any future needs.  Thank you, I couldn't have done it without your help and Storm's special talent."

He firmly shook Tradulka's hand.  "I must ask another favor — one I wouldn't entrust to just anybody.  Those mutants are feasting on dead bodies.  Now is the best chance to finish them off before they flee.  Go with Bartuk, round up some men, and kill the remaining muclones."

Tradulka stood straight.  "Yes, sir.  I'd be honored to destroy those monsters.  Consider it done.  I would also be thrilled to craft your bows anytime, sir."  Spinning, Tradulka joined Bartuk and informed him of their task.

Thoruk slowly turned toward his buddy.  "Let's see Mercy."