Page 70

“Ah, no, Sandra.” I glare at her as she ogles one of the disgusting creatures. “They’re all slimy and hideous. Just like my ex-boyfriends.”

Sandra snorts. “But look at their shells.” She gestures toward one with her shovel, admiring the creature like it’s the Mona Lisa.

I begrudgingly take a closer look, trying to block out the grossness. Its shell really is something—speckled with glowing hues of blue, purple, and green, like an alien gemstone. I imagine them glowing even brighter under a moonlit sky.

“I mean, if you ignore the actual creature. Yeah... then I guess they’re kind of pretty.” I admit, the most generous compliment I can give.

“Their shells fetch a fine price,” Celutok grunts, moving like a man on a mission, his lifetime of experience showing as he does about ten shovels to our one.

“Ornaments, jewelry, even instruments—they use the shells for all sorts of things. If you get one with a nice spiral pattern and vibrant colors?” He whistles. “Worth a fortune in credits.”

“You don’t say...” I mumble, eyeing the snarlbrocs with newfound appreciation. My fantasy of becoming a rough-and-tumble pioneer woman is quickly solidifying. Yeah, I could totally do this—the rough-and-ready gal with the cowboy hat and the cheeky smile, selling these colorful shells.

Ahh, money... how I miss you.

Distracted by my joyous musings, it takes me an extra second to register the slimy fibrous... thing groping my shoulders and neck.

“Ahh!” I shriek, leaping back as my heart threatens to burst out of my chest, clutching my shovel like a battle axe. “That is so FUCKING DISGUSTING!” I flail, wiping away the disgusting mucus clinging to my skin.

“Aw, look! He likes you,” Sandra howls with laughter.

The blue-dominant-shelled snarlbroc tentacles twitch, languidly grasping the air toward me as if it’s aiming to fondle my breasts.

“Eww, it reminds me of Micheal,” I grumble, my face twisting in disgust, my lovely fantasy fading before my eyes. Sandra only laughs harder.

“Hey, Celutok, is Micheal’s shell worth much?” I ask, backing away from the slimy advances, my eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Micheal?” Celutok echoes with a short laugh, then squints at the snarlbroc, frowning. “Hmm, decent spiral pattern, but with that strong blue... I doubt it’d fetch much.” He shakes his head with finality.

“Of course Micheal would be worthless... he always was.” I mutter with a sigh of disappointment.

“Alright, females!” Celutok booms, tossing another shovel-full of filth into the stone wagon. “A fine job, indeed.” He gestures to encompass the stone pen, now slightly less revolting, with patches of black rocky ground visible beneath the muck.

“I think we probably slowed you down more than helped,” Sandra replies generously, wiping a mix of ash and sweat from her forehead.

Speak for yourself, I was totally bossing this out!

“Nonsense!” Celutok waves a dismissive, muck-covered hand. “Besides, it’s pleasant to have some company. It can get lonely out here on the cliffs of Scarn.” He nods, his smile genuine.

Sandra beams back, “Well, we don’t mind...” Oh no, she’s not going to say it, is she? “Helping out again...” She glances at me. No, no! Don’t look at me! “Right, Lexie?”

Crap!

I glance between the two of them, my mind grasping for an excuse. “Um... maybe... I mean, it depends on the big bore, and, you know... the rituals and stuff...” My sheepish smile only adds to the cringe that’s pulling my stomach down to my poop-covered shoes.

“I see...” Celutok’s gaze flicks between us before he looks downcast. “Well, anytime you’re willing.

I know, me and...” He gestures to the slimy snarlbrocs lumbering around.

“My herd would appreciate your help.” He moves toward a lock, fiddling with it before swinging open a stone gate. “Alright, let’s get this lot fed.”

My heart sinks with disappointment. “There’s more?” I glance at Sandra, who nods with an almost smug smile. Ugh . “Oh... goodie,” I mutter with a sigh.

“Here you go,” Celutok hands me a long stone spear with triple pointy bits.

“Um...” I grimace, taking the weapon. Its weight nearly pulls me off balance. “Oaf... What do we need this for?”

Celutok marches over to Sandra, who looks equally off-kilter as he hands her a similar spear. “To keep them moving.” He pauses, sucking in a massive breath, and I frown, sensing something ominous coming.

Then, at full volume: “GET A MOVE ON, YOU LAZY ZNATS!”

I jump, screaming involuntarily, my spine snapping to attention at the deafening roar. He slams his spear on the ground, making strange, guttural noises as he attempts to herd the snarlbrocs out of the pen.

“Give me a hand?” he asks, as if he didn’t just blow out my eardrums.

Sandra loops around behind the herd, screaming, “AHH!” as she flails her heavy spear in the air. Between her wild shrieking and Celutok’s deep, guttural roars, they both look and sound like two angry gorillas escaping a zoo.

The snarlbrocs creep toward the opening, leaving trails of white mucus in their wake. A few try to peel off, but Celutok’s there in a flash, jabbing them with his spear, bellowing at them to get back in line.

I can’t help it—I burst out laughing. The whole thing looks so ridiculous. Then, to my surprise, I find myself joining the fray.

“RAWR!” I bellow, jabbing my spear at their shells, though the weight of it strains my arms. Sandra erupts into infectious laughter, and soon we’re both doubled over in hysterics, gasping for breath between bouts of screaming obscenities at giant snail monsters in the middle of a black volcanic wasteland.

It’s oddly... cathartic.

Eventually, the snarlbrocs are slithering in a surprisingly neat line, lazily making their way out of the pen. Celutok drives them from behind, every so often patrolling the herd to nudge the more curious ones back into formation.

“Good job! That was fast,” he mutters as he strides past Sandra and me.

“It was fun!” I exclaim, the adrenaline still coursing through me. “Who knew acting like a total maniac could be so exciting?” I grin, still catching my breath.

“Yeah, I told you it would be fun.” Sandra nods with satisfaction.

We fall into a comfortable silence as we walk, enjoying the calm.

The snarlbrocs’ rhythmic, lazy movement is almost hypnotic.

I never would have guessed that I’d find peace in a place so devoid of people. .. and, well, shopping malls.

“So, where are we taking them?” Sandra asks after a while, her gaze fixed on the herd ahead.

Celutok barks at a straggler before turning to answer. “Over the next hill. There’s a volcanic moss field they love to graze on. Keeps them healthy.” He points toward the rocky rise in the distance. “It’s my trade secret, so don’t tell anyone.” He chuckles.

“I doubt anyone would believe us,” I reply. No one back on Earth would believe any of the crazy stuff that’s happened to us. And here on Klendathor? Well, Dracoth would just grunt and lift a rock or something—such a meathead.

Celutok’s tone shifts as he glances toward the sky. “Did I mention the arrohawks?”

I stiffen. The ominous name and his sudden wariness send a jolt of unease through me.

“Um, no...” I say slowly, following his gaze up to the sky, where hazy purple sunlight struggles to break through the thick, obsidian clouds. “What are they—evil birds or something?”

Celutok chuckles darkly, still scanning the heavens. “Something like that. Big flying predators. Fast as sin. They can carry off two snarlbrocs in a single swoop. Lost a few of the herd to one a couple of years back.”

I emit a short, nervous laugh. Trying to picture what size a ‘ bird’ would need to be to lift two snarlbrocs—the conclusion hitches my breath.

“Wait, what?” I glance between Celutok and Sandra. “Are you saying some giant fucking bird monster could show up and eat us?”

Celutok grins—I think it’s supposed to be reassuring, but I only feel my anger simmering that I’ve been led out like a cute little lamb for possible dragon chow.

“It’s rare they penetrate the hunter borders,” he says, his gaze shifting to me. “But there’s always a chance they miss one.”

“Wonderful,” I say, dripping with sarcasm, suddenly wishing these snarlbrocs would move faster. Like, a lot faster, so I can get back to the safety of my nice cozy mountain.

“What do we do if one shows up?” Sandra asks, her voice tense as her grip tightens on her stone spear.

“You females hide under an outcrop.” Celutok waves a dismissive hand, as if that solves everything. “But it’s so rare I regret bringing it up. Please, forget I said anything.”

Easy for him to say. They’ll probably eat me first because I’m so plump. Isn’t that what that creepy Ignixis kept calling me?

He was such a rude prick.

Suddenly, an ear-piercing shriek, like a wraith, freezes me on the spot. My heart almost leaps out of my chest.

No way? Really? My eyes shoot to the sky, but there’s nothing there.

“What’s happening?” I ask, frantically scanning the area.

Celutok frowns, glancing around. “Sounds like an arrohawk, but there’s nothing in sight.” His eyes widen. “Void! The herd’s scattering!”

He leaps into action, shouting and waving his spear, trying to corral the snarlbrocs. Another shriek rips through the air, coming somewhere from the left, and I cringe at the awful sound.

The snarlbrocs panic, slithering in all directions, just as spooked as I am.

Sandra and Celutok race around the snarlbrocs, trying to keep them under control, but it’s chaos. My heart pounds as I watch the blue-shelled snarlbroc—Micheal—squirming to the left, further afield than the others.

I rush after him. “Come back, Micheal!” I shout at his back.

God, this is just like our toxic relationship.

The snarlbroc doesn’t listen—Micheal never listened either. He’s driven with surprising speed by another deafening shriek that sounds disturbingly close now.

Micheal rounds a massive boulder and I lose sight of him, almost slipping on his mucus trail in my frantic chase.

Hot ash warms my lungs as I gulp for air, struggling to keep up. I round the boulder and finally spot Michael, stopped at least, relief flooding through me.

“Thank God,” I mutter, approaching carefully.

Then, a figure steps out from behind the creature. My breath catches in my throat.

Scorched black skin, glowing green eyes, and a smirk full of sharpened yellow teeth.

“Demon Egg-Head?” I whisper in disbelief.

“Hail, my little snowdrop,” Ignixis purrs, raising a metal canister.

“Wait—wait!” I throw my hands up, but it’s too late. A cold mist sprays into my face. I splutter in outrage, but my fury quickly gives way to icy terror. My vision blurs, my legs buckle, and I crash to my knees, my balance slipping away along with my sight.

Strong arms catch me just before I hit the ground. “How nice to see you...” the voice distorted and monstrous, fades.

Darkness swallows me whole.