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!"
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Unknown Origin
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.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Use Your Noggin
July 6 ~ 2066 ~ 7:45 am
Early in the morning Thoruk fidgeted, anxious about facing Ukkiville's Master of Arms for the first time in any kind of formal meeting. Standing with hands behind his back, Thoruk rocked on the balls of his feet as he squished the soggy soil drenched from the previous night's storm.
While waiting for the best weapons specialist his village had to offer, he looked at his two buddies nearby, appearing every bit as nervous as he. "So, we're together again to spend most of our days over the next two years being trained here at Protuk's cabin." He sighed. "Be prepared. My father warned me the Master of Arms is a no-nonsense man — very tough."
Obviously feeling his 16-year-old swagger, Stormulka smirked. "Master, Smaster, I ain't scared of nobody. Can it really be any worse than suffering with The Professor these past three years?"
Thoruk shook his head. "Alright, do as you like."
Protuk, not much for talking except when chatting with Odinuk, approached. Just as Thoruk was about to utter good morning, the herculean warrior bellowed. "Are you ready for your sessions?"
Thoruk stiffened to attention, but before he could get a word out of his mouth, Protuk barked. "ARE YOU READY?"
The response was obvious. "YES, SIR!" Thoruk's legs wobbled as he glanced at his friends. Both stood wide-eyed with their mouths agape. Storm ain't looking so brave now.
The burly trainer thundered. "Now that I have your attention, I want to say a couple of things up front. First of all, I am a man of few words. I expect the same from you. Keep your answers direct and to the point, and we'll get along just fine."
Thoruk snuck another glimpse at his pals, intently fixated on the giant towering over them.
Protuk gawked at him and snarled. "Is there something wrong?"
Thoruk hesitated.
"I said, IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG?"
"NO, SIR!"
"I think you're starting to get the hang of this."
Varying thoughts crashed through Thoruk's mind, but he dared not move his eyes or mouth — he stared straight ahead.
The stoic-faced trainer paced back and forth in front of the stunned students. "I know the three of you want to swing swords and fire arrows. But there's much to learn before you're prepared to use such weapons.
"In the coming weeks, I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen. At least you better, or you might lose your head while going one-on-one with me. UNDERSTOOD?"
"YES, SIR!"
"Good." He continued pacing. "Patience is a valuable attribute most youngsters don't possess. If you don't have some now, you will after I'm done with you. Also, if you don't fully understand what to do on a battlefield, you won't survive the first skirmish with an experienced killer."
He bent down and squinted at Mercivil. "Aren't you pretty scrawny to be a warrior? Are you sure you want to be a fighter?"
"NO, SIR. I mean, YES, SIR — to the fighter part!"
"Umm, I'm not convinced, but you'll get your chance."
Thoruk scrunched his nose with furrowed brow. Who is this man? He's not Father's friend who helped me lace my moccasins when I was little — or the guy who rushed me to Doc's when I fell out of the tree. Something has possessed him. This is NOT Protuk!
The more he thought, the faster his brain worked, spinning in circles. Intellulka told me there would be days I wished I was back in his class. Now I understand what he meant. We've got to spend the next couple of years with this — this — I don't know what he is, but he's not Protuk.
The instructor began pacing again. "The three of you will get plenty of action. Don't worry about that. By the time I'm through, you will experience days when you'll beg to stop and rest. So enjoy listening and learning. If I'm confident you've absorbed enough by day's end, I'll demonstrate a maneuver you've never seen before — one which saved my life."
He walked to a table in the shade by the corner of his cabin. "Come here and take a seat."
Thoruk frowned. I don't like sitting around listening to lectures all day. That's what we did at Intellulka's. I want to fight — feel the adrenaline!
The experienced commander stood before them as they sat erect in their chairs. "Before you go to battle, you must be ready. Without preparation, you won't have a chance. That's what your lesson for today is all about — developing a strategy. So sit still and listen. You will be quizzed, because your life depends on understanding these key points.
"Before we start you should know the village's position regarding offense versus defense. In Ukkiville, our belief is that we go on the offensive and only apply force if we need to apprehend criminals and murderers or to disable a threat which is unquestionably intent on harming our village or its people. But let there be no doubt, we tenaciously defend ourselves if we are in immediate peril or danger of attack!
"When such a situation presents itself, follow these steps before engaging in combat. First and foremost, THINK!" He leaned over and tapped Thoruk's forehead with his index finger. "Use your noggin. Your skull is full of gray matter which controls your functions, holds your memories, and creates your thoughts."
He paused for a moment. "While we are on the subject of noggins, I want to mention bravery. Courage requires a dash of wisdom to avoid a fool's ending. Being brave, without thinking before you act, can lead to a quick death."
Mercivil raised her hand.
Protuk peered at her. "Do you have a question?"
"No, sir. I have a comment."
He crossed his arms. "Well, go on
— spit out the seeds."
Squirming in her seat, she put her elbows on the table. "According to Intellulka, the majority of people only exploit a small fraction of their brain's capacity."
"Thank you for the enlightenment. That makes sense given what I've seen of the dimwits walking the earth most days. But let's return to the lesson.
"When you formulate strategies for a battle plan, use your mind to imagine all the possible approaches, weapons, and techniques your enemy may employ during an attack. Then determine the possible solutions to effectively offset each and every one of their advances. Be aware that your adversary will likely have an idea you never thought of. You must be ready to confront the unknown and the unimaginable."
Thoruk's leg bounced constantly. Well, that's obvious, but I'm a doer, not a thinker. When are we going to get to the action?
Protuk's incessant, baritone voice drummed along. "Next, you should KNOW YOUR ENEMY! Utilize your knowledge of the opponent's strengths and weaknesses from prior combats. Attack weaknesses and prepare to defend yourself against their strengths. You should overcome, not just fight to a draw.
"On the battlefield, as you do while you hunt, IDENTIFY THE MARK; by that I mean the best kill spot to disable and destroy your enemy. If you only wound them, they may get up to slay you or your fellow villager."
Thoruk nodded. That's better. At least he's talking about fighting and killing.
The voice in the background kept plodding forward. "Of course, none of this matters unless you have thorough TRAINING! It is essential that you grasp the finest techniques to defeat any warrior you face. Isn't that why the three of you are here?"
Stormulka's arm shot skyward. "I guess so, but I really want to learn how to use a sword. You know, feel the steel in my hand."
The teacher closed his eyes for a moment and groaned in disbelief. "I see I have my work cut out with you. You need to focus harder on the messages I'm trying to share.
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