Yes, this is the second time I’ve used this book. Partly, because I don’t have many books with K titles (4, as it so happens), but mostly because one of the new characters I introduce in this book, has a name that begins with a Y.
Yktobo is an interesting character. Full blooded Kahlea Thinker, he is inherently evil. However, long association with Champion Mai’s people, has mellowed him a little. Not that he’s nice, far from it. There are few creatures more viscous and heartless, than the Kahlea. Yktobo has been training Champion Mai in advanced fighting techniques, expending a great deal of psy energy. He knows this can be sensed by Zoiathula, the Grand Master Kahlea Thinker, which is a large part of his motivation to train her.
In a Faraway Galaxy
Zoiathula heaved his grotesque and gargantuan bulk into a more comfortable position and tasted the psyonic waves around him. Yes, there it was, the slightest hint of ozone. Oh, someone was practicing the Unseen Hand, he could tell. They were shielded and he couldn’t get a fix upon them, but he could smell Yktobo. He was a part of this. Yktobo! He’d thought that misbegotten blight on the once great Kahlea, to be long dead! How could a dead Kahlea be at work? Unless….
“He has found a way to protect himself. He lives—lives—we must find him! When he’s found,” the old, barbaric monster thought happily. “We shall do unspeakable things to his person! There will be nothing left for anyone to bury, and no one left to mourn his passing. I come, you slime covered filth! You sewer spawn! How I shall take you, dice you into little pieces and rend the fat from the remains! I’m coming for you, Yktobo! I’m coming for you!”
This last he cast upon the psyonic ocean, the source all Kahlea had once drawn upon for power. Only the strongest of beings now could access this and feed on it, channeling its energy for their use. He felt the tug of another mind, the energy for a few moments dropping, undulating around this being, feeding it. So, another Kahlea lived? Impossible! Yktobo had no spawn, for he had been far too ambitious to reproduce. No, someone else, this being tasted and smelled far different.
Settling back, sending forth his anger, Zoiathula called his minions from afar. The time had come to settle things for good. It was time. The call from the tainted one, Riley, had set him looking, but the time hadn’t been ripe to move. His minions weren’t enough, this needed his own personal touch.
“Prepare my vessel,” he commanded his slave angrily.
The hound like man obeyed obsequiously, bowing as he quickly backed from the room.
“I come for you, Yktobo,” Zoiathula snarled.
© 2018 Dellani Oakes