CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
Stranger barreled down the corridors of the palace, not caring about any of the Sligs lining the hallways. The guards were in an uproar inside, many of them already called outside to deal with the Mudokon army attacking at the gates, unsuspecting that a huge Steef would suddenly come down the hallway.
It gave him a clear opening to get all the way down – past the intense rows of Sligs and swiveling laser turrets – to the throne room where that blasted Gabbit had emerged.
The Steef paused in the room and looked around. The place was a mess; scorch marks, quite fresh, still smoked in the walls; the blown hole from his and Abe’s bomb remained, stark and grim; bits of Snoozer lay in heaps all around.
“Nice throne room…these Glukkons have,” he laughed to himself. “And I thought they always cared about…style.”
The pattering of footsteps from behind him made him whirl, reaching for the crossbow that should have been on his back and wasn’t. He cursed and missed the familiar feel of his weapon, but was relieved to see it was only the Mudokon shaman that had arrived earlier on the roof.
“Where’d Abe go?” Stranger asked.
The Mudokon glanced behind him, and his eyes swelled to an unbelievably large level. “You haven’t seen him?”
“Not since…up there.” Stranger pointed a finger up toward the ceiling, a reminder of the drama with the Gabbit that had just gone on a few minutes before. “Where’d he go?”
“I don’t know.” The shaman shook his head. “I hope he’s all right.”
Stranger heard the sound of the throne room door hissing open, and turned to regard the sound. When he saw who was entering the room he said, “We should be more concerned…about ourselves right now, Mudokon.”
Entering the room was a whole pack of Slogs. And he had no crossbow.
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