The New World: A Step Backward

by Skrzynski, Andy

  Dazed, he stared ahead while the wagon rumbled over the planks. The clickety-clack of the hooves echoed in the silence outside the perimeter.

  Once inside the walls, a distant tapping filled the air, but he remained oblivious to its source as the stallion trudged along the road to Intellulka's place. The soft knock ascended to a louder rap, piercing the night with greater emphasis as he neared the slate-stone school building cloaked in ivy.

  Thoruk's head slowly turned toward the activity in the schoolyard, barely noticing a boy holding a bright torch beside a man working feverishly. I should check it out, but I don't care right now — I want to be with Mercy. He snapped the reins. "Let's go." Midnight picked up the pace.

  A little further, Thoruk tugged on the leather straps. "Whoa." He yanked the brake lever and stepped down, extending his hand to his new-found sister. She carefully backed off the buckboard while Thoruk held her waist, guiding her landing. She faced him. "Thank you."

  He nodded, then pivoted, walking up the steps to the door. He knocked. A few seconds later a light flickered from within.

  Intellulka's voice followed. "Who's there at this hour?" He sounded none too happy.

  "It's me, Thoruk — and Mercivil."

  The handle turned, and the door swung open. The old professor, with his hair snarled in a white nest, stood in a blue robe, clasped shut by his trembling hands. Squinting, he leaned forward. "What's wrong? Why are you here so late?"

  "It's a long story. Let us in — I'll explain." Thoruk gently ushered his heartbroken sister into the cabin.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Broken

  Saturday ~ October 5, 2075 ~ 9:50 pm

  Continuing his work from the prior day, Wolfuk feverishly toiled throughout the night to complete a special tribute to Ukkiville's fallen heroes. There's still much to do before the funeral procession tomorrow.

  He struck the handle of a chisel with a small hammer and sternly whispered to his nephew, a fluffy-haired lad standing next to him. "I need more light. Hold the torch closer."

  Voices neared from a distance. A teenage girl with short, strawberry-blond curls walked up to the young helper. "What are you doing?"

  The boy turned a bit. "He's carving a sculpture to honor those who died."

  "That's a great idea!"

  Wolfuk vigorously waved his hand toward himself. "Hey, the light. I can't see."

  Flushed red, the lad swung the flame next to a massive, oak log standing on end while Wolfuk shaped it. "Sorry, is this good?"

  "It'll do, but keep focused. There's a lot to be done."

  The new bystander bent over for a better look. "Can we help?"

  Another girl stepped out of the shadows. The whites of her eyes and long, caramel hair glowed from the flickering fire. "We're hard workers."

  Wolfuk snatched the torch and swung it in front of the willing assistants. "Ah, I remember both of you. Protuk gave you carving lessons a few months back." He smiled. "I could use some experienced hands right now." He extended two chisels and mallets, explaining his creation.

  They glanced at each other and nodded. "We'll start over here."

  The young boy grabbed a second cloth-wrapped stick and lit it with the flame of the first. Lifting his arms high, he provided light for all three laborers. A huge grin stretched across his cheeks as his gaze darted between Wolfuk and the attractive, young ladies. Every time one of the girls looked up, the curious admirer jerked his head away, pretending not to notice.

  As Wolfuk continued to chip a splinter of wood away from the eyes of his creation, he turned his head and cried for a brief moment. I can't believe you're gone, little brother. Though his heart burned, he fought through the pain and continued his efforts through the tears.

  Less than 15 minutes passed when another group of people stopped by the schoolyard. "We heard pounding and wondered what was going on at this hour. Need help?"

  Wolfuk wiped the sweat from his brow. "Are any of you good at sculpting?"

  Two arms shot skyward.

  He motioned toward his carpenter's box. "Grab some tools and begin down here on the base." He described his vision of the lower section. "The rest of you can provide light and maybe water later. Also, we need more chisels and hammers."

  Additional townspeople arrived and the commotion created greater noise, attracting further attention. Young kids and teenagers showed up, offering their gifts as part of the memorial.

  With a heavy heart, Wolfuk and the throng of neighbors labored diligently through the morning's wee hours until they completed the tribute ahead of dawn's awakening. He moved back for a final look. Though he took several glances earlier, a tear crept to the corner of his eye with each glimpse. I miss you so much already.

  After he and three villagers carefully covered the sculpture with a large, white sheet, he slowly turned. "I'd like everybody to keep this secret until the unveiling before the procession later today." They all nodded.

  Wolfuk waved at the two archers who had joined the crowd. "I have to help Bartuk and Tradulka this morning after church. Would you stand guard by the memorial while I'm gone? Don't let anybody see it."

  The taller of the men cocked his head. "Not anybody? What about Thoruk?"

  "No one — including Thoruk. I want this to be a surprise."

  Later That Morning ~ 5:30 am

  Thoruk fidgeted, trying to grasp a sliver of sleep in the uncomfortable confines of a rocker on Intellulka's porch. Blazes, I don't think I slept 10 minutes, if that. Ears tuned for any sounds, he glanced at the window now and then for a light or sign of movement in the cabin.

  The previous schoolyard noise tugged at his curiosity; but he ignored it, hoping to sneak a wink or two before the professor and Mercivil awoke to travel to Texas with Howard and Amelia's belongings. Who am I kidding? I'm not going to get any rest. I'll be dead tired when I meet those delegations.

  At dawn's cusp, chirps of the surrounding birds broke his daze. He squirmed in the chair; his ribs and back ached from the awkward positions through the night.

  Voices in the cabin floated outside. He knocked and slowly opened the door. "Hello, anybody up?"

  Intellulka poked his head around the kitchen corner. "Yes, we're awake. I didn't sleep much — not a great way to start off a long trip. What on earth was that thumping? Were you doing that?"

  "No, it came from the schoolyard. I didn't have the energy to check it out."

  Mercivil trudged down the hall from the bedroom. Red, swollen eyes betrayed her bouts of crying.

  Attempting to suppress the clash of feelings, Thoruk stood silent. What should I do? I don't want to upset her. He remained quiet and offered a thin smile, hoping to receive one in return. Instead, she lowered her gaze and brushed past him. Why is she mad at me?

  Mercivil turned to face him and softly grumbled. "Can you help load my stuff?"

  She pivoted before Thoruk had a chance to respond. "Yes, I'll get the wagon and horses from the stable." He dashed out the door, intending to load things quickly so he could talk with her prior to their departure.

  Taking the luggage from her buckboard, he stacked it alongside Intellulka's supplies in the larger wagon, readied the previous day. After hooking up Midnight next to Angelina to tow the wagon, he drove it to the front of the cabin and hopped off. Mercivil and Intellulka stepped onto the porch.

  Thoruk met them and peered into Mercivil's eyes, bluer than he ever remembered but bloodshot around the edges. "I hate that you're leaving. Ukkiville — my life — they won't be the same." He grabbed her hand. "Don't go. I'm sure there are others who'd like to help the professor and visit Texas."

  She turned away as tears dripped down her cheeks. "I have no choice. I can't be around Mom right now. And, given the circumstances, it's hard being near you." Her breath hitched twice as she blinked uncontrollably, "It just — hurts too much."

  She sighed and stood tall. Head held high, she marched to the wagon. When Thoruk caught up, she whirled, pecked him on the cheek,
then squeezed him tight. "I do love you and, I'm going to miss you terribly." She turned, and he helped her aboard.

  With a lurch in his gut, Thoruk closed his eyes, wishing to escape the horrible nightmare. He pivoted to Intellulka and hugged him. "I'm going to miss you, Old Man. Take care of Mercy and make sure she returns home." Tears blurred his vision.

  Intellulka smiled. "Come on, stop all this sadness. You've got so much to be grateful for. Peace will reign over Ukkiville for awhile. You made that happen. There are a lot of people who love you and are thankful you're their leader. I'll take care of Mercy — don't worry. Tell Pastor we're sorry we'll miss his service this morning."

  Pausing, Intellulka squinted. "By the way, I meant to tell you this earlier, but with everything that's been going on I forgot. Inquisivil will be handling everything here in my absence. He'll help you just as I did. You haven't seen much of him because he's always fixing the windmills, solar panels, pumps, and all my other stuff. But after all the time I've spent with him, he knows as much as I do — and he's probably smarter. Trust him."

  "If you say so, but nobody can replace you."

  The wry professor grinned. "One last thing. Don't forget to ask your maid to clean up my place while I'm gone." He chuckled and patted the back of Thoruk's head.

  While the two of them rode off, Thoruk focused on his sister. Come on, Mercy, turn — look at me — just once. As he watched intently, her blurred figure vanished into the dark. His heart plummeted to the same cold, hopeless prison, where it had sunk the night his father was killed four years earlier.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  The Tribute

  Sunday ~ October 6 ~ 3:45 pm

  Following the funerals of Ukkiville's other fallen heroes, the time of final respects for Protuk had arrived. Thoruk, along with Wolfuk and Stormulka, stood next to the deceased Master of Arms' treasured fishing boat, adorned with colorful roses and mums as a memorial. The famed carpenter's cherished maple box with the engraving 'For the Little Ones' sat snug against his side.

  After Thoruk told tales of adventures shared with the beloved protector, he touched Wolfuk's shoulder and patted the weathered, chalky-white craft. "Thanks for organizing this. It's the perfect Viking farewell for a man who whittled creatures for children, while peeking at a bobber when fishing." The tracker nodded and forced a one-sided smile.

  While his friends continued talking, Thoruk spotted something tall and cloaked in the schoolyard. "Excuse me a second, I'll be right back." He strolled toward the secretive structure blanketed by a ghostly covering. What on earth is this?

  Two archers standing guard, a man and woman with hardened muscles and faces void of expression, stepped forward to halt his approach. Wolfuk hurried to his side. "Sorry, but nobody's allowed to look, sir. There's not much longer to wait."

  Thoruk shook his head. "I can't believe you won't let me see. You know I could simply order you to lift the sheet, right?"

  The stern warrior stood straight with his chest out. "Yes, but you won't, sir." He grinned. "Be patient."

  While Thoruk pondered the likely possibilities, chatter filled the air as villagers gathered between the church and school where the procession was to start. He turned in the direction of the jumbled conversations. Families neared with gifts as several children clung to their own offerings.

  Deciding to begin the ceremony, he waved the crowd toward Protuk's body. "Please, let's join together."

  Once the audience hushed, the pastor lowered his head. "Dear Lord, please bless Protuk and welcome this humble servant to your arms in Heaven. No one has done more to protect your followers in Ukkiville. He was not just our guardian but a man who loved our children and spent his spare time creating gifts from his heart."

  "Amen!" fervently echoed among the throng.

  Thoruk noticed smiles of some little ones not yet grasping the true loss of their friend, the carver. "Please, line up in single file to pay your respects."

  As the families passed alongside the revered guardian, mothers and fathers lifted their smaller offspring to leave presents beside Protuk. A few teenagers tendered wooden animals they carved, demonstrating the training received from the skilled carpenter.

  One of the dads raised his little girl who bent forward and placed her mouth next to Protuk's ear. She tried to whisper, but her loving message drifted through the night's air. "Thank you for the deer you made me. I always keep it by my bed. Please take it to Heaven with you — bye." She kissed the hero's cheek, set the carving on his chest, then waved when her father carried her off. Appreciating the child's admiration, Thoruk smiled.

  After the last of the villagers said their farewells, he walked toward the concealed structure. As he approached, Wolfuk relieved the sentries.

  Facing the crowd, Thoruk pointed at the mystery of the day. "Please, may I have your attention. Wolfuk has a special presentation."

  The townspeople pressed closer for a better view.

  Wolfuk grabbed a corner of the covering. "Throughout last night, several among you helped create a great tribute to the loved ones killed during their fight for us and our way of life. To honor our beloved Protuk and the other fallen heroes, we offer this work of art from the heart of Ukkiville." He gently pulled, and the shroud cascaded to the ground.

  Thoruk slowly surveyed the magnificent, seven-foot sculpture of Protuk standing with his legs apart and his right arm extended to the sky. In the fist was his favorite sword, used to slay many rogue Skalags during several raids and the recent battle.

  His left arm was wrapped around the likeness of Wolfuk's slain little brother, Foxuk. Across the top half of the circular base, the sculptured faces of the others who died surrounded an inscription, 'Protuk and the Fallen Heroes of Ukkiville.'

  Additionally, 20 small, hollowed shelves lined the lower platform's circumference. Each displayed one of the carvings that Protuk had given to children but were donated to the memorial by the same youngsters.

  Thoruk stood back, amazed at the detail Wolfuk and his volunteer sculptors accomplished with so little time. That's what all that noise was about. A fantastic tribute befitting those who saved Ukkiville!

  Later After Dark

  Nearing the community park, Thoruk and eight volunteers ceremoniously carried the boat cradling Protuk. After reaching the Lake of Dreams and setting the rite-of-passage vessel down, Thoruk watched the lengthy stream of torches held by each villager in the procession toward the shore.

  For a moment, he stared at the fallen Master of Arms' peaceful face. You gave your all for us. I, for one, wouldn't be standing here today, if not for you. Your final journey to heaven will be imprinted on the minds of Ukkiville forever.

  When the last villager arrived, Thoruk and five men grabbed the craft and placed it close to the water's edge as families extended their torches to illuminate the area. He turned to the townspeople. "Let's line up along the shore."

  As everybody settled in their chosen spots, he looked at Tradulka who gripped Red with a long arrow nocked against the bow's string. The fletching's feathers were of an osprey, Protuk's favorite bird of prey.

  While the champion archer awaited a signal, Thoruk and Wolfuk waded into the cold water, slid the boat off the grassy slope, and pushed it toward the heart of the lake.

  After neighbors pulled them up the slippery bank, Bartuk handed Thoruk and Wolfuk their swords. Several warriors, men and women alike, joined together to form a large circle.

  Thoruk unsheathed his blade extending it high toward the center of the group. The others followed his lead. More than 30 swords clanked in unity as he signaled Tradulka and loudly exclaimed, "For Protuk — a man who gave his life for Ukkiville — a man loved by all!"

  The marksman lifted the oil-wrapped arrowhead to the flaming torch Bartuk held in position. Aiming the blazing shaft toward the floating bed of flowers carrying the Master of Arms, the archer let go.

  A fiery arc scored the coal-black sky. The trail of light ended in a cluster of kindling i
n the vessel's stern, setting the pine chips ablaze. Within seconds a massive bonfire illuminated the lake, fulfilling Protuk's request to honorably release his spirit to Heaven — Viking style.

  As Thoruk stood mesmerized by the bright, flickering glow, his eye twitched as a sting of loneliness interrupted the memories of his freed protector. I wish Mercy was here.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Life’s Twists and Turns

  More Than Four Months Later:

  February 16, 2076 ~ 11:30 am

  After chopping wood on a frigid morning, Thoruk sat alone, staring at the flames in the hearth. Rising, he lumbered to the bathroom and peered into the mirror, squinting. He closed his eyes, disgusted with his long, straggly hair and shaggy beard, reflecting months of neglect.

  As he washed himself, he splashed his face and slicked his hair back. The cold droplets streamed down his cheeks and chin. He shivered and shook his head like a wet dog, as water flew in all directions.

  Returning to the main room, he looked around. Dishes, crusted with moldy food particles, lay stacked in the sink and across the counters. Filthy, wrinkled clothes hung from every piece of furniture.

  A fowl but familiar odor struck his nostrils. The place reeked of mildew and dust akin to his old professor's cabin. I hate my life without Mercy. Never see Storm anymore — he's always around his girlfriend — Blessivil.

  Nibbles of loneliness slowly ate at his heart, frosty and aching most days. I miss jogging and sparring with my friends. Haven't seen Mercy's mom in forever — not a decent meal, for months.

  Thoruk clutched his chest. The momentary thought of the unearthed secret still hurt deeply.

  For weeks after Mercivil left for Texas, he wondered how his forlorn sister was doing. A knot swelled in his innards. Got to stop thinking about it!