Wolfuk smoothed his drippy, black hair back. "Her brother, Scientokt, was not happy. They don't get along much anymore — never really did. Gunkoft's son, Spurnoft, who was at their strategy meeting ahead of the big battle, was instrumental in gaining support for Angrokt. He didn't trust Scientokt at all, and told everybody that Angrokt would make a much better ruler."
Curious, Thoruk straightened up. "Well, that's quite a twist. What's this Angrokt like?"
"She's ruthless like Zolokt was when it comes to creating muclones, but her methods are more advanced after all these years. She's mutating monsters her father never imagined and cloning more of them. Angrokt's much more dangerous! Tropokt heard rumors she'll be releasing some of her latest creatures real soon."
He hung his head. "Another thing, she and Spurnoft have three kids now. Wherever she goes, the oldest, a son of 15 or 16 years, is always by her side. She's teaching him the ropes."
Thoruk rolled up his sleeves. "I just found out about Zo. Caru ran into him a few days ago. He's the one that told her about that muclone you and Fist killed in the Lake of Dreams."
"Did she get hurt? I don't remember you saying anything about it before I left."
"No, not this time. It seems the boy wanted to talk. I'll tell you about it later. For now, I want to hear what you discovered."
With his arms outstretched, Wolfuk arched backward. His green, linen shirt clung to his sweaty chest. "Even though Scientokt rarely talks with his sister, he's advanced his environmental controls as well. I'm not even sure what he's capable of nowadays, but believe me, the storm he created for the battle may be small potatoes compared to what he concocts now."
"You're probably right. I think we've already witnessed one of his latest: the earthquake with a whirlwind Caru and the kids came across a couple of weeks ago — the one that almost killed Wandy."
"That was his doing for sure, and he's probably got worse in store for us."
Leaning forward, the master of arms peered into Thoruk's eyes. "Nowadays, Angrokt and Scientokt are suspicious of spies. They figured Ukkiville was too well prepared ahead of the battle and must have been tipped off from an insider. Tropokt can't get close to them. He's not even sure where they keep their labs. He's got some ideas, but he's not certain."
Thoruk ground his teeth. "That's not good."
"I know, but Tropokt keeps trying, at risk of being discovered and tossed into the tar pits not far from their camp. Even his nephew, who he trusts with his life, is helping him. I met Houndokt during the trip. They call him Hound Dog. He's sharp — has his head screwed on right."
"Good." Thoruk rose. "I'm sure you're starving. Go home, clean up, and get some rest. Stop by my place after lunch tomorrow. We need to deal with those new muclones Angrokt is releasing."
The Next Day ~ 1:30 pm
Sitting on his porch, Thoruk shared ideas with his master of arms about addressing the recurring muclone attacks. He occasionally stole a peek and watched Caru teach the finer points of wielding a sword to Teli.
Even though the twins rarely spent time together, he couldn't help but think there was a tighter bond than he'd ever imagined. During dinner the night before, Teli mentioned that he felt afraid and passed out at Queasy's place at the same time Caru fell from the cliff. My head hurts just thinking about it!
Thoruk enjoyed the glimpses of the twins practicing together and sighed. Maybe Caru is taking our heart-to-heart seriously after all. What did Wolfuk just say?
Realizing his thoughts had wandered, Thoruk moved his chair closer to talk with his friend. "Mercy, Storm, and some of the other leaders will be joining us a little later. But before they arrive, I have some things I want to discuss with you."
He continued speaking while he filled Wolfuk's metal mug with water. "When the others come, we'll talk about setting up scouting parties to search Ukkiville and the surrounding areas. We need to investigate every unusual creature, plant, movement — anything at all that could be a muclone. We'll kill them and bring the remains to Queasy."
The expert tracker petted Chili, lying next to his chair. "Yes, sir. We'll find every last one!"
"Also, we need to keep an eye out for any strange anomalies like that earthquake the kids found."
"Understood." Wolfuk stiffened. "Sir, have you considered my suggestion about weapons last week? I think it's time to break out some of those rifles we recovered from the big battle."
"I'm not prepared to do that yet. You know our policy. We don't want to escalate the use of more advanced weapons. I never want to witness what happened during the World Annihilation Period. They'll remain locked up until there is a dire emergency."
"But sir, these creatures are extremely dangerous! We don't know what we're going to face."
Thoruk furrowed his brow. "Not yet!"
Wolfuk slumped. "Yes, sir." He scooted to the edge of his seat. "When are we going after Angrokt and her Skalags? Until they're stopped, this will continue, putting more villagers at risk."
"I know, but we're not ready yet. I still remember how many we lost in that last battle — too many friends."
Wolfuk raised his hands. "But if we wait, more could be lost as the Skalags get stronger with more muclones at their disposal!"
"You're right. I'm working on it. We need to send for help from the Texas Freedom Defenders. One thing's for sure; I don't want to wait as long as we did last time. We cut it way too close."
Thoruk bit his lip. "Think about it. I'll talk to Drew and see if he'd like to take a trip back home. He's been complaining about his worn out cowboy boots and hat. Maybe he can pick up some of those chili peppers he's bellyaching about all the time."
Wolfuk chuckled. "Sounds like a perfect match. I'm sure he'll be thrilled — not so sure about Mercy. We'll have to listen to her give us hell over the next few weeks for sending her husband off to Texas."
Thoruk firmly clutched the warrior's shoulder. "When we're ready to go after Angrokt and her clan, you'll be a big part of the planning. Think about what you'd recommend and we'll..."
Hooves thundered from a distance. An unknown rider closed quickly. Thoruk and Wolfuk jumped to their feet as the horse approached within 10 yards and slid to a stop.
Wolfuk glanced at Thoruk. "It's Hound Dog!"
Hopping from his horse, the unexpected rider sprinted toward the master of arms. "Wolfuk, you've got to come fast! They're going to throw Tropokt in the tar pits! Tomorrow!"
Wolfuk scrunched his face. "Why? What's happening?"
"Angrokt found him searching around the labs. She knows he's the spy."
Turning toward Thoruk, Wolfuk clenched his jaw. "We've got to help him! Let me take some men!"
Thoruk started down the steps. "Yes, let's get him, but I'm going with you!"
"No, you're needed here. It's too dangerous where we're going. A smaller group will be better. Go have your talk with Drew."
Staring at his trusted protector, Thoruk gritted his teeth. "You're right. Go! Round up your warriors and include some sharp-shooters! I'll get some rifles and a few sticks of dynamite to take with you. This is an emergency!"
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Grizzle Fizzle
Saturday ~ August 1, 2093 ~ Dusk
A half-hour before sunset and surrounded by Skalags, Tropokt stood with his hands tied behind his back near a vast pit of hot, molten tar. He knew all too well the fate awaiting him.
The clan believed their god resided deep in the earth's core and frequently tossed sacrifices into the steamy, black goo. This they thought, would open the portal to their salvation someday.
Most times, offerings consisted of animals, but on rare occasions, a traitor would be forced to fight to determine his fate. Beyond a doubt, Tropokt understood today's sacrifice: the loser of a battle between him and the Angrokt's fittest warrior.
To Tropokt's rear, a Skalag cut the binds from his wrists. Covered by nothing but a loin cloth and with a rifle aimed at his head, Tropokt slowly climbed a ladder to a wooden platfo
rm, seven feet above.
After reaching the deck, a cold steel barrel nudged him between his shoulder blades. I don't want to do this!
He turned and looked at the ground, but a warrior jabbed the rifle in the small of his back. Tropokt clenched his jaw and gingerly walked onto two long, wobbly pine logs.
Extended from the flooring's ledge to another platform on the other side of the bubbling substance below, the makeshift bridge bowed with each step. A blast of heat almost knocked him off his feet as he stared at his challenger standing midpoint, between him and life on the opposite side.
Suffocating fumes rushed through his lungs. Choking and gagging, Tropokt swallowed the soured puke that found its way up the back of his throat.
Is this it? Will I ever see Hound Dog again?
He looked at the pit below. If Grizzly doesn't kill me, this heat certainly will.
The massive man with the perfect nickname to match his bulging pecs and biceps smiled. Several gaps between his teeth bore witness to previous skirmishes.
Tropokt faced many warriors before, but none as big and ugly as the one that stood between him and freedom. He had seen the brute crush the skulls of many challengers in the past. As he carefully inched forward, the gargantuan Skalag jumped up and down on the rickety bridge.
Losing his balance, Tropokt waved his arms as he teetered on the edge of one log. The inferno below singed the hair on his legs.
Don't look down! Arching back, then bending forward, he finally gained his footing.
The churning furnace shot globs of flaming tar in the air. A superheated bubble popped and sprayed black goo across Tropokt's calf.
"Ahhh!" Dancing and barely maintaining his footing, he wiped the fiery substance from his leg.
His fingers burned from the remains. He quickly wiped them on his loin cloth, then spat and blew on the throbbing hand. The mammoth thug laughed as he advanced toward Tropokt.
Seconds later, a tremendous explosion shook the ground as flames, debris, and billowing smoke shot high into the air. Violent vibrations nearly shook Tropokt from his perch.
After steadying himself, he scanned the area. Wolfuk?
While hordes of Skalags scattered in all directions, Tropokt gingerly pivoted. He started toward the nearest platform, but a firm hand grabbed his shoulder and lifted him off his feet. Grizzly!
Tropokt kicked and swung his arms catching his nemesis in the nose with his elbow. He turned and looked, but Grizzly just smiled and punched him in the face. Searing pain erupted from his jaw and spread to both ears.
Another explosion rocked the area and the brute's grip loosened. Barely conscious, Tropokt fell to his knees and slowly scrambled on all fours toward the deck. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
As his assailant's massive paw clutched his foot, Tropokt heard a familiar voice. "Hey, you!"
Moments later, a groan swelled from behind, and the hold on his ankle relaxed, then let go. Spinning, he watched his would-be killer tumble with an arrow protruding from his side.
The injured warrior hit the black goo with a splat. Flames engulfed the edges of Grizzly's body as his screams of horror softened to muffled gurgles, then silence.
Instantly charring to a crisp crust, his flesh began to separate from the skeleton. Slowly, the partially-buoyant corpse morphed into a glowing, orange mass before being swallowed by the molten pool.
Tropokt glanced to the side of the pit. Hound Dog stood poised with his bow and another arrow pointed at the spot where Grizzly met his fate.
Rifle shots and swooshes of arrows filled the air. Fleeing Skalags stumbled and fell when struck by the projectiles.
"Tropokt!" Rang a yell from his right.
Recognizing the voice, Tropokt turned, and a smile cracked his otherwise hardened face. "Wolfuk! You came!"
"Save that for later! Let's get out of here!" His best friend ran up the ladder and helped him to his feet.
Hound Dog's welcome face popped up over the ledge of the deck as he extended his arm. "Here, let me help you."
Halfway down, Tropokt leaped off the rung and sprinted with his friends into the dark of the forest.
The Following Day ~ 9:30 am
Inside a spacious cavern along the western base of Erik the Red Mountains, Zo cleaned a handful of stainless steel utensils used in his ma's cloning process. The makeshift lab, a hard day's horse ride from Ukkiville, sheltered Angrokt's hotbed for denamod creations.
Still shaken by the Skalag's skirmish with the Ukes the previous evening, he didn't relish spending the day anywhere in the vicinity of his distraught mother. Ma's madder than ever — better keep our distance! While he worked, he kept a watchful eye on his eight-year-old brother, Gno, and six-year-old sister, Vra.
The morning after tossing four sentries into the molten tar pits for allowing the Ukes to rescue Tropokt, Angrokt fumbled through a closet in the far corner. Unable to contain her fury again, she threw a metal tray against the rock wall. The clank reverberated throughout the torch-lit cavern.
Zo glanced at his younger siblings, shaken by the sudden noise. He gathered them to his side and scurried further from his mother's wrath.
A safe distance away, he stooped down to engage the children in a game of rocks his grandpa taught him when Zo was their age. Several minutes later after tensions eased, a putrid stench drifted in from the massive dung piles near the denamod cages.
Vra stood and blew a lock of her wavy, blond hair from her steel-blue eyes. "It stinks in here." With one hand on her hip, she pinched her nostrils with the other.
Zo chuckled at the corny posture of the youngster whose lighter features contrasted with the predominantly dark brown, almost black, hair and eyes of other Skalag females. She'd never look like her ma, who wound her long, black hair in a tight side-knot, snug against her partly-shaved skull.
He held his nose. "You're right, Dearie. It smells horrible."
Angrokt turned toward him. "Maybe it's time to get them some fresh air?"
She peered into his eyes. "Sorry about my temper, but I can't stand incompetence! When you're head of the clan, you'll understand."
"Yes, Ma." He lifted his gaze to hers. "The traitors got what they deserved!"
Scowling, his mother fumed as she often did when thoughts of the man she hated most lingered. "Bad enough they let outsiders into our camp, but the Ukes are the worst."
From her stories of the big battle, Zo knew far too well which man's face she envisioned whenever 'Ukes' escaped her tongue. She despised the warrior she only saw from a distance in the devastating clash: Thoruk, the leader of Ukkiville.
As the tone of her voice intensified, the shadow markings grew more menacing across the furrows of her brow. "Thoruk and his cowardly people are scum! They hid behind their village walls and murdered your grandpa. I will kill them all!"
Faces etched with fear and clutching Zo's torso, the youngsters looked up at him. He stroked their backs and smiled. "Don't worry. Everything's okay."
He peered at his mother. "I'll always be by your side!"
"Of that, I have no doubts." She sighed as her tense muscles relaxed.
His gaze shifted from her to his frightened siblings, then back.
Angrokt rushed to the children and hugged them. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
She kissed each of the youngster's foreheads and squeezed them tighter. "I may rant and rave, but I'm not mad at you. I love you too much."
Rising, she picked up the dented tray and handed it to Zo. "Enough of the angry talk, we've got lots to do today."
His mother turned toward Jrok, one of the few helpers she allowed to care for her loved ones. Dressed in smudged and tattered clothes, the scruffy woman busily washed flasks over a metal sink.
"Jrok, stop what you're doing. Take the youngsters out to play. Later, let them train and work on their eye-hand coordination."
Zo held his siblings' hands. The thought of Gno and Vra wielding wooden weapons often left a knot in hi
s stomach. Even though battle-training began as soon as a toddler could stand and hold anything of substance in this world of constant threats, the notion of his brother and sister fighting for their lives pained him.
The clan's rallying cry during training drifted through his head. Be prepared or die!
Deep down, Zo knew his ma loved him more than her own life and hated including him in her vengeful acts, but she trusted nobody else. Once Angrokt even confided how much her heart burned when taking him on her missions to release the denamods.
He stared into a large, rectangular glass enclosure housing four of his ma's latest DNA concoctions. As he watched the angry sting-suckers take flight and smash into the sides of their prison trying to get at him, Zo recalled his encounter with the young Uke girl.
What if Caru gets in the path of these killers? His heart quickened.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Evil's Hotbed
Sunday ~ August 2, 2093 ~ 10:15 am
After Zo watched Jrok escort the children from the lab, he resumed his work, but it didn't help. His chest pounded harder with lingering thoughts of Caru and the more deadly denamods his ma had in mind. Concerned that Angrokt might sense his feelings, he kept his back to her.
A few minutes later, he turned toward her. "Do we really need to release those denamods you talked about yesterday? The huge and more dangerous ones? How will we control them? What if they turn on us? They might eat Gno and Vra!"
"Whoa. Slow down. Why are you so worked up?"
"I'm worried. I've been reading one of your books about prehistoric creatures. When I walk by their cages, they stare at me as if I'm their snack! They'd love to sink those long teeth and claws into me. They won't be picky about who they eat."
"You worry too much. The children will be miles away when we set them free. The monsters will be starving and determined to eat the closest thing they smell — Ukes!"
The New World: Blue Moon Generatoin Page 10