DEF: Wrath of the Gods - The Journey to the Black Mountains

By Lee Fulford

Reactivated after seven-hundred and fifty years of slumber, a sinister force has returned to Terrak the world of the Kaotäri. Unbeknown to the human population and their sworn enemies the mermians, the planet Terrak has been scheduled for soul harvesting.

Heroic characters from three very different races pit their wits against nature and an all powerful enemy. By chance their low-tech and high-tech cultures are forced to unite. They are drawn reluctantly together on an action packed adventure through the treacherous Deadlands territories to the Black Mountains. Every step of the way, their survival skills are tested to the limits. when the true nature of their mission is discovered the need to trust one another and work together becomes increasingly more important.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lee Fulford
• Release date: May 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9780955901263

Lee Fulford

Illustrator and fledgling author from Hertfordshire, England.Favourite quote - "A day without laughter is a day wasted"- by Charlie Chaplin

Book preview

DEF - Wrath of the Gods - The journey to the Black Mountains

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Text copyright 2013 Lee Fulford

All rights reserved.

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Published by LunaZoo at Smashwords

ISBN: 9780955901263

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - Bad Omen

Chapter 2 - Wise & Wary

Chapter 3 - Fool Hardy

Chapter 4 - Kotai Warrior Braves

Chapter 5 - Over the River Darbak

Chapter 6 - River Crossing

Chapter 7 - Danger on the Darbak

Chapter 8 - The Awakening of the Dark Entity Forces

Chapter 9 - The Deadlands

Chapter 10 - Confusion in the Ranks

Chapter 11 - Survival of the Fittest

Chapter 12 - The Storm Hawks

Chapter 13 - Pause for Thought

Chapter 14 - The Iron Giants

Chapter 15 - Infiltrators

Chapter 16 - Confrontation & Collaboration

Chapter 17 - Dark Plans

Chapter 18 - Into the Mountain

Glossary & Reference

The first chapter of DEF - Wrath of the Gods - Part 2 Revelations

About the Author

Chapter 1. Bad Omen

Batwan Kotai, fearless leader of the Kotai warrior tribe, stood majestically at the top of Mount Calak. A tri-moon-lit sky highlighted the tatmal scarring across his broad shoulders – decorative marks that indicated him as a King and leader of the Kaotäri.

Batwan gazed across the land around him, land that belonged to him; as ruler and King, he had vowed to protect it and the Kaotäri inhabitants. He frowned thoughtfully, and then mumbled in a guttural form of speech to his two Krillion companions Yoko and Tukran.

‘So the prophesy is true, once more the gods have returned to punish our people.’

A small comet or meteor had been the focus of all Kotai attention on that night; they had been watching it get closer to Terrak for the past two nights. According to their ancient Kaotäri cave paintings, and the little historical facts that had been past down by their elders, a bright light moving across the sky had been deemed a bad omen; especially if it happened to enter their world and land in Dar Tädakana (The Black Mountains). Batwan had hoped in his heart that history would not repeat itself.

‘We have changed as a race, we live in peace and only fight for survival,’ he said to himself.

The bright light had entered into Terrak’s atmosphere; it trailed a fiery orange tail across the night sky – the brightness became too intense for Batwan; he raised his left hand to his brow and shielded his eyes from the bright burning white light that had momentarily flooded the surrounding sky.

‘It is heading to Dar Tädakana. I will take my finest warriors to greet the gods and show them we have changed.’

King Batwan Kotai knew that the journey to Dar Tädakana would be a huge challenge; many Kaotäri had gone missing there during hunting trips – the Black Mountains were situated in the centre of the Mortäe Terräna (the Deadlands) and King Batwan Kotai himself had long ago completely forbidden the Kaotäri to enter these territories.

Batwan watched the bright light head towards the Deadlands, and as he had guessed but had hoped wouldn’t happen, it disappeared into the Black Mountains – the night sky returned, lit only by the three moons and a blanket of stars.

King Batwan Kotai lowered his hand and patted Yoko on the head. She purred and pushed her large feline head into his thigh in approval. He looked at his two Krillion companions and then back out toward the Deadlands – Yoko and Tukran both looked at their master, as if waiting to receive orders.

Batwan calmly spoke to his Krillion, ‘We are going somewhere very dangerous my friends,’ – the two Krillion growled, as if to say let’s go. Batwan quickly replied to their keen approval, ‘Not yet – we must gather the others. It will be too dangerous for us to go alone – come, everyone will be wondering where I am.’

King Batwan Kotai set off back down Mount Calak to his village, to gather his Warrior Braves for the perilous journey.

Chapter 2.Wise & Wary

Far from Terrak’s mainland, deep beneath the surface of the sea, nestled into the ocean bed in all its glory resides the city of Lothian.

At the centre of this beautiful underwater city was the mermian high command centre, a simple understated dome shaped structure. It contained one room for one purpose, the purpose of decision making. There were no tables or chairs, just a white empty 150ft diameter room with a dome shaped ceiling, up-lit from floor lighting around the inner circumference of the room – the lights created a striped effect on the walls and ceiling, reflecting off the pale marble material, giving the room a tranquil white ambient light. Standing around the centre were mermian ministerial politicians and military commanders. Normally they communicated telepathically with one another, but the discussions were of a very serious nature and as such had demanded a more expressive audible approach. They jostled together, each taking turns to step forward and voice their opinions – the sound of their eloquent language flowed almost poetically from their lips.

‘We must send our best Merlorians to that location immediately. If they are here, an attack will be imminent.’

Everyone in the room agreed with Lokian the head Mermiton Commander. She stepped back into the crowd.

A majestic character stood forward and spoke, General Claith was her name. She had the final say on all things military.

‘So it is agreed, I suggest we use Selene and her team of Merlorians.’

Another mermian stepped forward to speak.

‘Are you sure that is wise General Claith, she is reputed as being rather un-orthodox in her approach.’ She stepped back as General Claith turned to face her.

‘If you are suggesting that she is somewhat brutal in her methods then wouldn’t you agree that given the current circumstances that is exactly what we require?’

General Claith paused and turned her thought filled gaze to face the other council members. She then continued to speak – this time with a more aggressive tone to her voice, her patience was wavering. Claith knew they were wasting valuable time.

‘If it is DEF, and I fear that judging by the power signature emitted by the object, it is, then we must destroy them before they take hold of the surface dwellers. Once they begin their invasion more will arrive and then we may not have the time to evacuate. The power signature has been detected in the Deadlands. It disappeared into the Black Mountains – this is unchartered territory.

All attempts to scan the area have been unsuccessful. The Black Mountains contain something that disrupts our sensors and signals. It is also impossible to view what is there from the skies. Violent storm clouds and lightening frequently hang over this dark place.’ She stopped and turned back to the mermian councillor who had questioned her. ‘Selene may not return from this, in which case we will have to leave this planet. She is the only Merlorian brave enough and strong enough to do this and I believe she could prevent a full scale invasion. Who else would you suggest?’ The room remained silent.

General Claith looked around at the councillors, checking to see if anyone else would dare to question her judgement. She had once been a Commander with an untainted record of military decisions under her belt. Nobody could really question anything she said.

‘So be it, Selene will be informed immediately. Let her have anything at her disposal, they must be on their way by nightfall.’

Claith exited the room followed by the other mermians. A sense of important purpose pictured on all their faces, but grave concerns about the future of their civilization weighed heavily in their minds. A generation of mermians long ago had been through this before and only just escaped.

Selene had awoken abruptly. Her mornings usually started early, with a hard two hour military work out followed by food then her power nap. Normally she would have still been asleep at this time but something had troubled her sleeping thoughts and so her day began a little earlier than usual.

Disturbed by a sense of pending urgency, Selene had gotten out of her bed and walked over to the shower room in her quarters. As she’d entered the room the lights automatically turned on, up-lit from the floor like glowing white puddles. Water sprayed from a small hemispherical fitting on the ceiling above her.

Selene’s body gleamed as the water poured over her perfect athletic body. Floor lighting highlighted every bit of her toned figure. Although physically strong in appearance, she was oddly attractive. The water stopped and she held her arms up taking a T-pose. Warm air blasted in through four opposing wall vents and dried her within a minute. She stepped back out of the shower room and reached for her locker, the doors automatically detected her hand gesture and swiftly parted in the middle.

Inside the locker was Selene’s standard issue dark red M-skin bodysuit, boots and gloves. All framed by a granite grey cast alloy inlay, moulded perfectly to the shape of her clothing. Selene pulled it all out and slid on the skin tight bodysuit over her sleek pale blue body. Her body’s natural smooth texture allowed it to ride smoothly into place. She zipped up the front, the ankles and the wrists. Finally, Selene pulled on her boots over her bare slightly webbed feet. She then put her gloves on. Her webbed feet and hands were hardly noticeable and didn’t make her any less desirable.

Selene picked up her wrist band communicator from a small clear cylindrical plinth positioned next to her bed. As she gripped the device, it buzzed, vibrated and a small screen on it started to flash-red. Selene had already started responding to the message before the glowing screen had finished its first flash.

‘Okay, I am on my way, is it something bad?’

An abrupt female voice replied. ‘You will receive your orders at the debriefing unit, please make your way down here now.’

Chapter 3. Fool Hardy

It was early morning after the night that a strange ball of light had disappeared into the Black Mountains. The humans had been preparing for their own mission to locate the fallen meteor, and were already one step ahead of the mermian and Kaotäri.

High up above the cloud line aboard a DB1 military dropship was sergeant Davian Chase, a scarred faced, middle aged hardman sporting a body that was trained for battle. He stood nearly seven feet tall in his thick soled flexi-armoured boots and was geared up to his eye balls with enough military tech to take on a small army. Seated around him were six other elite special operatives.

In his earlier days, as a sergeant, Davian insisted that all his men listened to the archived ancient classics of Jimi Hendrix in their headsets during battle. In particular the track ‘Sweet Thing’ which he truly believed had helped him and his men decimate the enemy during at least twelve big skirmishes against the mermians and Kaotäri.

`Srg´ as he was more commonly called by his men had enlightened the minds of many soldiers who had followed him and his eccentric ways. Davian had passed on the belief to his men, that to be a good soldier and to stay alive you needed to love what you do and be confident. He would also tell them that music could evoke the fighting spirit within a man and even make them become heroes. Those who dared sneer at his wise words were subjected to a barrage of lectures on the subject of ancient military history.

As a child, Davian had studied the military history of ancient Earth. It had fasinated him so much that even at the age of six, he had always known he was going to be in the army.

Davian often talked about the ancient military bands of Earth. He particularly liked to talk about bagpipes. Many soldiers who were privi to any of Davian’s bagpipe lectures had fought back their tears of laughter whilst they’d listened as he described the instrument and the unusual sound it had supposedly produced. Most of the soldiers had thought his stories to be absolutely ludicrous – the Sgt wasn’t gifted with a great descriptive vocabulary, but he knew that what he was talking about was true. If he caught any of the soldiers taking the piss out of him he would kick their arses, and they knew it.

Stood next to Sergeant Chase, half a head shorter and much thinner was the youngest member of his crack squadron. His name was Calam. This was his third mission under the command of Davian and he was one of Davian’s favourite team members – mainly because Calam had shown complete dedication to his role in the military; he reminded Davian of himself when he had first joined the forces.

Calam had a thirst for knowledge, and just like Davian he would spend hours listening to audio books on anything that he felt could improve his fighting or survival skills. He happened to be listening to such a book at this time, via an earpiece – it was about the native Kaotäri. Calam had listened to it dozens of times before, but had felt the need to listen to it again whilst he waited to arrive at the dropzone.

As Calam listened to the book, he closed his eyes and relaxed – the calming sound of a female voice drowned out the noise of the dropship and the other men. ‘Chapter 1. The Indigenous Tribal Native…’ The audio book was soon interrupted by Sergeant Chase’s voice. He quickly opened his eyes and focused his attention upon the Sgt – the smooth calm female voice had faded from his earpiece.

‘Listen up ladies…’ hollered the Sgt. It had taken five hours to fly from the secret military base hidden deep in the heart of the Cirus mountain range to the dropzone. He had already debriefed his men and prepared them for their mission before they had boarded. It was time for Sergeant Davian Chase and his men to leave the dropship.

‘Saddle up, it’s time to earn your keep!’ barked Davian in his incredibly deep voice. His men immediately shouted their reply, ‘Yes sir…,’ in unison over the engine noise dominating the cargo bay.

Sergeant Chase had personally picked his team of operatives. They were all more like family than fellow soldiers. Many of them had served with him for nearly a decade. All of them fearless hardened killers, ready to die for him.

‘Come on, move it, move it, move it…. We haven’t got all day ladies.’

Chase jeered the men on as they performed their last minute weapons and equipment checks. They were all known by their peers collectively as `The Magnificent Seven´. With over two hundred successful missions under their belts, they had well and truly lived up to that title.

‘Okay, remember, these little beauties are quite a bit faster than the Mark 1 Fleidar bikes. Give yourselves plenty of time to pull the nose up or the only thing you’ll all be seeing before you go to hell are your arses as they pass through the back of your heads,’ Davian joked, ‘oh, and don’t forget to activate your full face helmets, it’s going to be a bit windy out there.’ he reminded the others as his own helmet had begun to envelop his head and face with protective armour.

Davian proceeded to climb onto his M2 Fleidar bike, with a huge grin on his face, seemingly un-nerved by what lay ahead for him and his men.

A siren sounded and a red light began to flash above the dropship’s rear cargo bay door.

‘This is it, fire’em up.’ Davian commanded.

His men followed suit each turning on the power to their Fleidar bikes. Warbling rumbles from the bikes vibrated through their bodies and drowned out the sound of the warning siren.

‘Okay ladies, the door is lowering, when the light turns green go on my lead, single file, do you all copy?’

Davian looked over his shoulder toward his squad. They all nodded and replied in chorus through their intercoms.

‘Yes Srg.’

Two large hydraulic pistons began to lower the massive cargo bay door. The air pressure releasing from the Cargo bay created a deafening whooshing sound - the dropship became slightly unstable. The door clunked into its lowered position and a green light fired up.

‘We are all good to go!’ Davian shouted. His Fleidar bike hovered up and toward the open door.

Stubby wings on the bike turned to balance it as the twin boosters beneath the machine began to change position from vertical to horizontal. Davian’s Fleidar bike rocketed into a nose dive from the dropship followed by his elite squadron. Travelling at speeds of over 400 hundred miles per hour through banks of thick cloud, battered by turbulent cross winds, the bikes dived towards the Zolan’s surface, shaking every bone in their bodies.

A warning symbol flashed up in Davian’s Visor, followed by a message spoken in a calm informative female voice.

‘Danger, severe electro static energy is present.’

Davian had seen it to his left, a freak storm drawing in upon them. Sheet lightening lit the looming storm clouds.

‘This has come from nowhere, we need to pull off to the right and go around it.’ Davian ordered his men and took the lead. He could feel the hair on his body standing up as the static electricity built up around him.

Another warning symbol flashed in Davian’s visor.

‘Moth seven has been struck by lightening srg, it took the boosters out. If I can’t get them to fire up I’ll have to bail!’

Suddenly the sky around them burned a blinding white and all Davian could hear was a bloodcurdling scream through his headset. Marcus, the rider of Moth seven had been struck by lightening and although airborne and not earthed it had still sent him and his Fleidar bike spinning wildly out of control. He nearly took out the whole squadron. Warning messages were being piped into their ears via their helmet comlinks.

‘Warning, surface impact imminent.’ it bleated.

More flashing warning symbols had appeared on their visors.

Davian could see trees and mountains coming up beneath him. ‘Pull up, pull up now.’ he shouted, and yanked the handle bars of his bike back, nearly pulling them off. He planted his feet firmly onto the air-brake pedals forcing the Fleidar bike’s nose up.

Davian saw something flash past him. Just as he managed to pull the bike level he looked back and down. There was a small ball of flames and a plume of black smoke coming up from a mountain side.

‘Marcus,’ Davian shouted but there was no reply. The signal was dead as was Marcus and he knew it. ‘Say your farewells men, he was good man.’

Davian led the squadron to surface level and they followed a river in fighter formation just above the water. Daylight was now visible through the cloudy sky. Thick jungle lined either side of the river; patchy mist hung above the surface of the water that spanned approximately eighty meters across from bank to bank.

Nobody said anything, just silent reflection as everybody gathered their thoughts on the loss of Marcus.

Davian had lost very few men under his command, he was angry with himself for what had happened. He opened the throttle on his Fleidar bike to sharpen his concentration, take out his aggression and clear his mind of the accident ‒ the squadron followed, each of them felt much the same way as their Sergeant.

‘For Marcus ‒ no more mistakes.’ said Davian to his men.

Chapter 4. Kotai Warrior Braves

Swinging through the vines and leaping from tree to tree, a Kotai Warrior Brave named Tukvar was making his way back to King Batwan Kotai to tell him what he had recently witnessed. He’d been in the vicinity of an incident on a mountainside; Tukvar had seen the humans travelling upon their flying mechanical beasts, and the exact moment that one of them had crashed.

Tukvar was slim compared to the average fully grown Kaotäri male. His body was well toned, almost ripped; his muscles defined but not bulky. Tukvar’s body had clearly made him more agile and perfect for scouting in the jungle, especially from up high in the tree canopy.

Tukvar’s two Krillion companions had followed beneath him on the ground; they’d scrambled through the undergrowth and occasionally stopped to look up and check for the whereabouts of their master.

It was possible for Kotai Warrior Braves to travel great distances relatively quickly via the tree canopy. Some of the big vines allowed Tukvar to swing as much as fifty feet across from vine to tree or vine to vine.

When there was not a quick route available via the vines between the trees, Tukvar climbed up further into the canopy where the branches intermingled and tangled together; there, he effortlessly ran and leapt from tree top to tree top.

Most of the leaves on the large ancient trees were twice the size of Tukvar, some even bigger; he’d used them as spring boards and leapt further and faster to his destination.

On the rare occasion that Tukvar became tired, thirsty or hungry upon the forest canopy he’d used the jungle’s natural resources to recuperate. Up in the canopy there was food in abundance. Bird’s nests were dotted around; they’d often contained eggs or even birds that made for a good snack. Depending on the time of year, nuts, berries and fruits were there to be foraged for. Certain types of trees would catch rain water, condensation or dew and hold it in their funnel shaped leaves like cups, perfect for a thirsty Kotai Warrior Brave.

This is not to say that the jungle’s treetop canopy was a paradise, it was also fraught with hidden dangers. Poisonous plants and insects were rife. Only an experienced native Kaotäri could have survived any long periods of time in the canopy. Many deadly arachnids and reptiles laid in wait, ready to catch birds; dangerous treetop dwelling creatures were so well camouflaged that they’d appear to be invisible to the untrained eye.

Tukvar had the experience and knowledge to avoid certain types of trees that the most common dangerous species were often found on, and he knew how to find natural antidotes in the jungle for the rare occasions he’d been bitten.

The real danger for Tukvar could have come from the sky, in the form of a giant bird of prey that the Kaotäri called Matuga. This gigantic bird has a wing span of up to forty feet and lives in huge caves high up in the bigger mountain ranges of Terrak, particularly around the Black Mountains area. A man sized meal is perfect prey for this feathered monster, it would even take on a Krillion and other such creatures, small bears, big snakes, anything it can carry away with its razor sharp talons.

Tukvar kept Matuga in the forefront of his mind during anytime spent on the jungle’s tree top canopy. He had heard stories about Kotai Warrior Braves, plucked from the canopy never to be seen again – Matuga had flown at such high altitudes that despite their huge size you could have barely seen them from the ground. White plumage on the undersides of all Matuga, from a distance, seemed to reflect the colour of the surrounding sky and blend the predator perfectly to the background; unless the sunlight was shining from directly above – in which case the shadow would give it away.

Matuga almost always attacked from above and behind their prey, swooping down to sink up to eight nine inch razor sharp talons into the victim before carrying them off to eat somewhere safe or to feed their young – Tukvar had dealt with gliding snakes and jumping spiders during his time on the canopy, but even he feared the Matuga.

Finally, Tukvar had reached his destination. He peered down through a clearing in the canopy. Below him were the other Kotai Warrior Braves; the chosen few to follow King Batwan Kotai through Mortäe Terräna (the Deadlands) to Dar Tädakana (the Black Mountains).

Tukvar grabbed a nearby vine and slid fifty meters down to the ground. There waiting for him were his faithful Krillion companions – the female Krillion was growling and shaking her head. Tukvar saw the problem, a giant tick, the size of his fist, had attached itself to the scruff of her neck. In a calming voice he spoke to Laiko in his native Kaotäri language, ‘Calm Laiko, I will make it go away.’ He gestured with his hand to make her lay down and then looked around at the surrounding trees.

Tukvar ran to a nearby tree and rooted through the large ferns that grew around the base of its trunk. He pulled back the ferns uncovering a large fungus that protruded from the bark of the tree like a large tongue. Thick golden resin had oozed from the base of the fungus where it was attached to the tree trunk. Tukvar scooped up a handful of the strong pine smelling substance and ran back to Laiko.

Laiko was clearly agitated by the grotesquely big tick that had clawed its way into her skin to drink her blood. A tick of that size could well have drunk her dry within two days. Normally, in the wild, Krillion scratched the bodies of the ticks off leaving the heads in – the risk of infection was great, and had sometimes led to death.

Tukvar crouched down to attend to Laiko; whilst he held the bulbous blood sack of the tick in his left hand, he applied the resin around the base of the sack and hind legs of the tick with his right hand. It squirmed in his hand and seemed to pull itself further into Laiko’s skin. She yelped and lashed out at Tukvar.

‘Calm, all will be well soon,’ Tukvar spoke softly to comfort her. Laiko had been through this process before but that didn’t make it any less painful.

Tukvar opened a small animal skin pouch that he’d carried about his person. It revealed a flint stone and strange small block of metal no bigger than his little finger. Holding the metal block level to the resin, Tukvar struck it with the flint and a spark instantly jumped igniting the highly flammable resin, bursting it into flames – the tick unlatched itself from Laiko’s scruff and dropped to the floor. A high pitched shriek came from it as the flames lapped up over its dark purple bulbous blood sack; it was the size of a man’s head and growing. Tukvar gestured with his hand and told his Krillion guardians to get back.

`Splosh´ the tick exploded, crimson blood splattered the nearby contrasting green foliage.

A deep booming sound of laughter came from behind Tukvar; he turned and bowed his head, King Batwan Kotai was standing there, laughing out aloud.

‘King Kotai, I have news for you. Six humans head to Mortäe Terräna. They come from sky, one smashed on mountain at Darbak.’ explained Tukvar.

The King’s mighty laugh turned into more of a slow chuckle. He pointed at the dead exploded remains of the tick and made a humorous quip.

‘He looked like that! Let us hope they all suffer the same fate.’

The King turned to face his Warrior Braves; they had gathered around to hear what news Tukvar had returned with. He joked again as he animated himself as trying to fly by flapping his arms up and down, and then shouted out aloud.

‘If they were meant to fly they would have been born with wings.’

Batwan ran around in a little circle flapping his arms up and down, his Warrior Braves roared with laughter. King Batwan Kotai was loved for his sense of humour but his ferocious temper was equally as legendary amongst the Kaotäri. If you didn’t laugh at his jokes he would probably punch you in the face, especially if he’d consumed too much florenectar. King Batwan Kotai was also King of drinking in his village. Everything he did he had to be the best at, and he was.

‘Silence…’ shouted the King as he held his arms out.

Everyone went quiet, only the jungle and its animal inhabitants replaced the noise of the laughter.

‘If the humans have not already killed themselves…’ he paused for a second and smiled a cheeky smile as he looked around at his fellow Kaotäri. His Warrior Braves burst out laughing again.

‘Listen.’ shouted the King, continuing to speak in a firm serious tone that everyone knew meant business, ‘If we come across the stinking humans and they are still alive I will personally cut off their heads – they do not belong in our world. The gods will surely be pleased to rid them from Terrak.’

His Braves roared their approval back in chorus at him. King Batwan Kotai then bellowed out orders to get ready to move out.

‘Kotai, fall in behind me,’ roared the King, ‘Tukvar you will ride with me up front until we get to Darbak – regain your strength my friend, then you must scout the first stretch of the journey and find us the safest possible route through the Mortäe terräna.’

Tukvar acknowledged the King with a single nod of the head and replied, ‘Yes King Kotai. When jungle gets too dense we will need to travel hand and foot upon jungle canopy.’

Deep creases appeared on the Kings forehead as he frowned – a look of surprise appeared on his face.

‘Matuga live in the Dar Tädakana. Tukvar, you know as well as I do that the Mortäe terräna are their hunting grounds.’ said the King sternly.

Tukvar tried to justify the idea of travelling above the jungles tree canopy – the King listened intently.

‘Matuga will be least of our worries. You remember hunting party that I had to find? They chased a whorac into out-skirts of Mortäe terräna!’

The king nodded, a look of sorrow was showing on his face. Even his snakelike eyes looked sad.

Tukvar continued his explanation.

‘It took three days, three nights to find one Brave, he only lived because he climb giant bubla tree and hid there in terror until I found him. It was his story that made you, King Kotai, forbid entry to Mortäe terräna.’

King Batwan Kotai and Tukvar began to climb up a rope onto a beast of burden, an eledron; a creature very similar to an elephant, but with three trunks instead of one, and twice as big again in size as a fully grown African male elephant.

Eledron tusks were like no kind of ordinary elephant tusks; they looked like giant chainsaws sticking out eight to ten metres from either side of