The Last Days of Planet Earth Vol II: Tribes

By L J Hick

Tribes the second book in the series, introduces some new characters.
An old adversary arrives courtesy of Benny and makes an immediate impact.
The identity of Morgan’s mother is revealed and she is no Angel.
The origin of Volkane is explained along with his friendship with Blake and Connall.
The old order finds a home and Arthur, together with Adok Vega tries to get some sense out of them.
Meanwhile, the wolves become very disenchanted and seek to create a state of their own.
Jack is worried about the mental health of the English population, whilst Helen is just worried about the state of Jack.
When a surly Scotsman hands Jack and Helen a book that nobody else can read, they seek the guidance of Blake, only to wish they had not bothered.
Khan and Sariel get a couple of very dodgy new recruits, one of whom Sariel would very much like to kill.
Jason begins to build a new home from home, much to the consternation of Nick and Michael.
Jericho wants to attend to some unfinished business.
Arthur discovers that there is much more to Victor than meets the eye.
Victor discovers the truth about Pandora from Blake and is not impressed.
Rebekah has turned into the nastiest and most violent environmentalist you could ever meet, whilst Khan dreams of world dominion.

Why has the left-wing turned right-wing in Texas?
Why are warlocks blue?
Why does Jack drink so much?
Will Blake ever tell the truth?
Why is Sariel sent to Hell, and who or what is Victor really?
Read on...

• Language: English
• Publisher: L J Hick
• Release date: Nov 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311949349

L J Hick

L J Hick is the author of The Last Days of Planet Earth series and lives in Warwickshire, England.He released the horror/mystery novel, Atom, on the 30th June 2016.

Book preview

Tribes

The Last Days of Planet Earth Vol II

By

L J Hick

Copyright 2014 L J Hick

Smashwords Edition

The second book in The Last Days of Planet Earth.

The sequel to The Last Days of Planet Earth Volume I: Gods and Monsters.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to your favourite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

My thanks to Nigel Dean for his help with editing and proofreading this book.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Epilogue

Connect to L J Hick

PROLOGUE

‘I am the eye of the ancients, the ward of the future. Hear my warning.

When fifty stars become forty-nine, the great eagle will turn its attention to its flock, turning its gaze inward and becoming blind to the world.

The ancient warrior will rise in the east to reclaim his children and slay the dragon.

Death and his horsemen will tame the great bear.

The lion and black eagle will stand together against the armies of the dead, whilst the wolves circle humanity, waiting for their moment.

The horde will rise once more to recreate the lost empire and fight the armies of the forsaken in the dark forests of the west.

As the horde retreat, the spawn of another world will enter the fray, led by the lost child of a king.

Dragons will rise from the oceans and scorch the earth. The darkness will return to claim the planet and the wolves will watch the skies, waiting for their masters to return and stake their claim.

All is lost, unless Lucifer reveals himself and the last Nephilim is found.

Find the dark angel and deal with the devil, before all is lost.’

Primus Moiragetes

1566 AD

Chapter 1

"And did those feet in ancient time

Walk upon England's mountains green:

And was the holy Lamb of God,

On England's pleasant pastures seen."

William Blake

Good God, that woman had a big mouth. The sound of her shouting at him to wake up made him sit straight in his bed. His hands rubbed his eyes, desperately trying to focus on the woman now pulling at the quilt. He reached for the top of his bedding in a last ditch attempt to stop the removal of his covering, but was too late.

The woman snatched the quilt away from him, leaving him sat upright, naked, with his legs apart.

Good God, look at the size of that thing, said Helen, pointing between Jack's legs.

Jack's face wore a smug smile.

Why thank you, I grew it myself, said Jack.

Not that, said Helen dismissing his manhood with a wave of her finger, That!

She was pointing between his legs at the huge black spider, which was gazing at him.

Jack screamed and jumped out of bed, forgetting his nakedness and standing by the window.

For God's sake Jack, said Helen. It's only a spider.

She walked to the bathroom and returned with a large glass. She carefully placed the glass over the spider and then slipped a piece of card underneath. Taking care not to drop the glass, she turned the container over so that the opening and the card were on top. Walking towards Jack, she reached past him and opened the window, throwing the spider from the glass, out into the open.

Jack dived to the wardrobe, grabbing some underpants and a pair of trousers, together with a white shirt and covered his nudity.

He gazed at Helen, as if in a sense of bewilderment.

What? she asked.

Correct me if I'm wrong, said Jack. I'm no expert on arachnids, but last time I checked I'm pretty damn sure that they don't fly. Also I don't believe that the spider had a parachute strapped to his back.

Your point being? asked Helen.

Why pick the thing up so carefully and then launch it out the window? We're eight floors up here, said Jack.

Oh I'm sorry, said Helen. Maybe I should have just shoved the thing down your pants Mr Squealer. Ah, but then that would have obscured the view.

Ha, ha, you're a very funny girl, you know that? said Jack.

But not a big girl, like you, hey, said Helen. Mr Squealer pops.

I did not squeal, said Jack.

I think you did, said a patronising Helen.

I was half asleep, protested Jack. How did you get in here anyway?

You left the door open, said Helen.

Jack looked quizzically at Helen who led him to the door propped open by a beer mat. She reached down and removed the beer mat, causing the door to slam shut. Turning towards Jack, she passed him the item.

Your thoughts on the narrative please? she asked.

The words, Fuck my legs, were written in biro on the beer mat.

Jack laughed a guilty schoolboy laugh, before looking back to Helen and composing himself.

Yeah, I remember now. I was trying to walk through the door, but it kept hitting me and knocking me over. In the end I worked out that by getting on all fours and crawling through the opening, I could strategically place a beer mat to wedge the door open, thus avoiding any sudden contact between wood and my head, said Jack.

Wood on wood, said Helen. I don't know why, but somehow that makes sense.

Jack reached inside the wardrobe and took out a tie and a jacket.

Tell me. Was it the Guinness or the Jack Daniels that caused this madness? asked Helen.

Both, said Jack. It was a team effort.

Helen gazed at Jack, who was now dressed in a dark suit and tie, which was a noticeably different look to hers. She was dressed in dark brown canvas trousers and a heavy Parka style coat. On her feet were a pair of trainers.

You're not seriously going out dressed like that? asked Jack.

Well I'm going to change the trainers in the car, but that's it, said Helen.

Hang on one second, said Jack. Where exactly are we going?

You remember John Ballard? asked Helen.

Oh yeah, the Andy Pandy guy. How could I forget, said Jack, turning his gaze skyward.

Well he called this morning. Thought we might be interested in something that happened overnight at a farm. You got any rubber boots? asked Helen.

Ermmm no, said Jack sarcastically.

Mine are in the car. You will just have to manage. We don't have time to stop, said Helen.

Don't you worry about me, I'm one cool son of a bitch, said Jack.

Oh by the way, you’re not seriously going out like that, are you? asked Helen, pointing at his feet.

Jack groaned as he realised he was wearing one black shoe and one brown shoe.

The sat nav elegantly issued directions as Helen drove the rental car through the countryside. Jack loved the countryside, but the light rain outside that decorated the windows with rain droplets and obscured his vision, made him realise that he was inappropriately dressed for a farmland walk. Helen still wore her trainers as she drove, but her rubber boots were placed on the seat just behind her. God I hate organised people, thought Jack.

Jack read the notebook they had received from Vega once more. The imprints were filled with a dark ink now and Jack studied the words that Vega had meant for them to read once more.

He laughed and looked towards Helen.

This guy thinks he's Nostradamus, he said. You're surely not taking this seriously.

I wouldn't be if it wasn't for all the other weird stuff, said Helen. But you have to admit, this is all very strange and I don't think we can afford to ignore it.

It's all coincidence, said Jack. Even that Blake character scoffed at some of the stuff.

Giant wolves, cartoon thugs, crucified priests, Templers and hippies from nowhere. Seems more than coincidence to me, said Helen.

It was only one nut job and a gay priest when we were back at home, said Jack.

Your point being? asked Helen.

Maybe this entire country is nuts, said Jack.

Maybe the overload of Jack Daniels and Guineas is driving you nuts, said Helen.

It's Guinness not Guineas, said Jack. And I can handle my drink, thank you very much.

So much so that you crawl through hotel doorways and wedge the door open with beer mats inscribed with nice messages to avoid hitting your head, Helen replied.

One bad night that's all, said Jack.

He was not going to tell her that the reason he drank so much in England was that it seemed to stop his recurring nightmare. Better pissed than fucked up, he thought.

The farm is not far now, said Helen. According to you, the farmer we're going to meet will be nuts too. Might as well turn back now and get pissed.

Put your foot down, said Jack, without expression.

You should change your surname to Daniels, said Helen, smiling.

You should change your surname to Bitch, thought Jack.

They pulled into the courtyard and drove between the two large barns, which gave access to a much larger area at the rear of the barns, where tractors and traditional farm machinery lay. Two police cars occupied part of the area, and outside leaning on the roof of one of the cars, talking to the other officers was John Ballard. Helen parked the rental whilst Jack made his way over to Ballard.

Where's your wellies? Ballard shouted to Jack.

Jack stood still, shifting his head from side to side and shrugging his shoulders.

My what? he replied.

Your wellies, man, shouted Jack.Boots?

Oh rubbers, said Jack.

The police around Ballard laughed.

We're not interested whether you're wearing a rubber or not, said Ballard.

Helen had now caught up with Jack and overheard the conversation.

I told him to bring some rubbers, said Helen, shaking her head. Told him he'd need them.

Ballard burst into laughter now, together with the other officers.

Let's just use the phrase boots from now on, he said to Helen.

Jack leaned over to Helen and whispered into her ear.

Told you, he said. This whole fucking country is nuts.

I'm glad you lot are having such a great fucking time, said an angry voice behind them.

A burly young man, with a short beard and unkempt thick, curly hair, walked briskly towards the group.

I'm sorry Tom, said Ballard. We didn't mean to be disrespectful.

The young man nodded, a quick smile indicated that he forgave them.

This is Helen and Jack, the FBI team I told you about, said Ballard. Guys this is Tom East, the son of the owner.

Tom shook their hands, briefly noticing the stature of the FBI man.

Well if you can help us in any way with this it will be appreciated, said Tom.

Where's your father? asked Ballard.

Staring out into the field, said Tom. He hasn't moved for half an hour now.

I'll take Helen and Jack to see him if that's okay, said Ballard.

Of course, said Tom. Just tread carefully around him. He's a little...upset.

Jack went to get in the police car.

Where you going? asked Ballad.

Thought we were going to use the car, said Jack.

Not a fucking chance, said Ballard. It's been raining steadily all night, didn't you notice?

Trust me, he wouldn't have noticed, said Helen.

No it's too muddy, so we'll have to walk, said Ballard.

Told you to bring some... Helen went to say.

Boots, interrupted Ballard.

The officers behind him chuckled and even Tom smiled.

Ballard, Helen and Jack made their way down a narrow gravel path, stopping when they reached the first gate. Jack looked in despair, as all he could see was miles and miles of muddy field. Ballard opened the gate, and Helen and Jack followed behind him. Jack was the last one through and as he sank into his ankles in mud, Ballard shouted to him.

Don't forget to close the gate behind you.

Jack moved backwards to close the gate but his feet did not. Thankfully, the weight bearing down on the gate from the man with both arms clinging desperately to it was enough to stop it from moving and left Jack at an almost perfect forty-five degree angle. Not able to move and staring down at the mud, but not in the mud at least. Ballard ran back, stood the big man in an upright position, and then closed the gate.

Better take your time mate, else you're going to make one hell of a splash, said Ballard.

Thanks, I will, said Jack.

Yeah, take your time Mister Stick-in-the-mud, laughed Helen, and turned to carry on in front of the two men.

Unfortunately for Helen, although her feet turned, her boots did not and she fell, with a little whimper, face first into the mud.

The laughter erupted around her, but Ballard still managed to pick her up and knock some of the mud off her.

Fuck me, it's swamp thing, laughed Jack.

Fuck off Jack, Helen replied.

Helen twisted her feet back into position inside her boots and went to continue the trek, but Ballard held her shoulder.

Better take your time too, Swampy, he said.

Ha ha, nice one, laughed Jack.

Helen gave both men the stare.

Ballard continued on his way, dancing through the mud as though he was walking on smooth tarmac, whilst Helen and Jack trudged painfully and slowly through the quagmire, pausing every now and again to free a stuck leg. The field had a gentle slope upwards to the second gate where an elderly man stood with his arms resting on it, gazing into the next field. When Ballard reached the top, he turned and waved to the other two, urging them to hurry.

Jack and Helen smiled at Ballard, before both raising their hands in perfect unison to acknowledge Ballard.

Synchronised mud walking, said Jack.

Helen said nothing.

When the two of them eventually reached the top, the elderly man turned and spoke.

I wouldn't worry about the mud sweetheart, I've spent my whole life covered in shit, said the man to Helen.

This is Graham East, this is his farm, said Ballard.

Was my farm, said East.

Jack looked confused.

Was your farm? asked Jack. I don't understand, I just met your son and your buildings looked okay and all that machinery looked used.

Don't you notice anything? asked Graham.

Jack and Helen stood still, searching their minds for an appropriate answer but found none.

There's no sound from the birds or animals, all there is, is wind and rain, said Graham.

Graham, this is Jack and Helen. They're from the FBI. They're sort of specialists in this type of thing.

What type of thing? asked Jack.

I better tell you what happened, and then perhaps you'll understand, said Graham.

The evening before, a tired but happy Graham East, had gone to bed. Although things were never easy on a farm, Graham, together with his two sons Tom and Lee, had turned a good profit through the farm. They had spent the whole year free of any disease to the livestock, and the crops had yielded good results too. Graham had been sceptical about the success of mixed farming, but thanks to the knowledge and the enthusiasm of his sons, he was able to reap the benefits. The loss of his wife the previous year had been a bitter blow to both Graham and his sons, but where they could have lost the heart for the fight, they instead found resolve and tenacity. He slept well, despite knowing that he would shortly be awake to meet another demanding day.

When the alarm sounded and the hint of a lighter skyline beckoned him outside, he dressed and made his way downstairs. It was quiet today, not even the excitable dog, Crisp, came to greet him. Perhaps they are all as knackered as I am, he thought. He decided to wake the boys after he had eaten some toast, had drunk a strong mug of coffee and stretched his legs outside.

As he ventured out into the courtyard, he shouted for Crisp, but the dog did not come. He should have checked whether the boys were already up as it was not uncommon for the boys to get up before him and get things under way. Usually when this happened, one of them would take the dog with them. He would not be worried by the absence of the dog normally, but the complete silence that overhung the farm indicated that there were no animals or birds around him. He ran to check on the chickens and when he opened the door, he saw that they had all gone.

Tom, Lee, where are you? We've been turned over, he shouted.

After only a couple of minutes, the boys came running out of the house, still dressing as they made their way towards their father.

Shit, you were both still asleep, they must have taken the bloody dog as well, snarled Graham.

I'll check the pigs and sheep, Lee go and see where the cows are, said Tom.

Lee ran off to check the herd whilst his brother went to make sure the pigs were still there. Graham pulled his phone from his pocket and rang the police. Graham looked around whilst the boys made sure they at least had some animals left. No machinery had gone and nothing looked to have been forced. The gates and doors around him looked to be intact. No tyre marks were in evidence in the grit on the floor. Why had the alarms failed to go off? Surely, either he or at least one of the boys would have heard something, even if the alarms had failed.

Tom was running back.

All gone, I don't fucking believe it, said Tom.

Same, said Lee, running back towards them.

This is impossible Dad, I didn't hear anything. How can you silently pinch chickens, let alone the others? said Lee.

Shit, the crops! I bet the bastards have ushered them into the other fields, said Graham. Stay here lads and wait for the cops, I'll check the fields, hopefully I'll find Crisp too.

The boys nodded and Graham jumped the first gate, running up the hill to the second gate, which led to the crops. When he arrived at the second gate, he saw that it was still closed and he could see no shapes roaming around in the fields. He called for the dog, but Crisp still failed to appear. The sun was still weak but the soft light lit the field in front of him just enough to cause the farmer to vault the second gate and take in the sight before him.

Graham ran and walked around the field for what seemed like ages before falling to his knees.

Noooo, he screamed.

The sound of their father's cries reached the ears of his sons, and Tom rushed to aid his father. When he reached the top field, his father was still on his knees, his cries now turned to floods of tears.

What the fuck has done this? he asked, sobbing.

Tom gazed across the fields now lit dimly by the morning sun, stunned by the sight. All the grain, wheat and hay had gone, along with the grass. Perfectly stripped away, leaving no mess and no remnants. Tom turned around, as his brother Lee appeared beside him.

The cops are here Dad, said Lee. Oh my God, how the hell have they done this, and what the fuck is that?

Lee was pointing to the rise of a distant hillside, which the sun was just illuminating. There, in the centre of the hill, like some variation of a crop circle was a very detailed crucifix.

Jack wondered why he had not noticed the cross in the first place. There it was, printed on the hillside in all its glory. How had the thieves managed to harvest the crops and take all the animals? Above that, how had they found time to carve out the crucifix?

You must have heard something, said Helen.

Would I be standing here with nothing left if I had? asked Graham incredulously.

I'm sorry, I guess you wouldn't, said Helen.

They must have used machinery to harvest the crops and a huge fleet of vehicles to move the livestock, said Ballard. How did they keep it so quiet?

There's something else, said Jack. There are no tyre marks anywhere and no footprints by the look of it.

There must be somewhere, said Ballard. Once the guys are organised, we'll go through the fields bit by bit.

Graham was just about to speak when a bark in the distance interrupted him.

Crisp, he shouted.

Graham ran towards the sound of the dog barking, closely followed by the others. Underneath a large oak at the edge of the field, the dog sat on his haunches. As Graham approached him, Crisp turned towards his owner, snarling and baring his teeth. It was only when Graham spoke to the dog that it shuffled towards him, tail wagging and head bowed, its snarling now turning to a whimper.

It's alright boy, you're safe now, said Graham stroking and hugging the dog.

Crisp has never snarled at you before, said Tom. Why did he do that?

I guess whatever was here scared the crap out of him. said Jack, turning to face Tom.

As the pair of them turned their gaze back towards the tree, they saw that Graham was waving his hand in front of the dog's eyes.

No it's not that. Look he doesn't see my hand, said Graham. He could only hear us rushing towards him. He didn't know who I was until I spoke. He's blind.

Back by the main house, police officers in waterproofs were preparing to scan the landscape for clues. Tom and Lee were giving interviews to other officers and showing them the now empty barns and out-houses. At least the birds had returned to give some sense of normality with their singing. Graham was still comforting the dog. Graham paused to wipe away the tears that dripped down his own cheeks every now and again. Ballard was thanking Jack and Helen for their help.

What help? asked Jack.

To be honest, just the fact that you two were here helped, said Ballard.

I'll do some research and ring the guys back home to see if anyone has any experience of something like this, said Helen.

I'll do the same, said Jack. There has to be an explanation.

Thanks guys, said Ballard. Well I guess I'd better let you go and get cleaned up. Especially you, Swampy.

Helen laughed and shook Ballard's hand. Jack slapped Ballard on the shoulder.

We'll just say goodbye to Graham, said Jack.

The two of them walked over to the farmer who was still holding the dog.

Mister East, we have to go now, but we'll be back if you need us, said Helen.

Yeah, if there's anything we can do to help, said Jack.

Have you got a herd of cows and some sheep back at the hotel? A stash of grain and hay hidden around the corner you can give me. Have you? Well, have you? spat East.

Jack and Helen said nothing, just smiled weakly and made their way back towards the rental car.

Jack leaned and whispered in Helen's ear.

I think I've just been told to fuck off, he said.

Helen wanted to smile but dare not.

When they reached the car, Helen made Jack wait whilst she opened the boot and took out a large fold of polythene, with which she covered the seats and floor of the car. Jack was allowed to remove his shoes and enter the vehicle as Helen put the muddy shoes into the boot of the car. Once all that was done, she removed her coat and trousers to reveal another coat and a less robust pair of trousers. Taking a clean pair of trainers from the back seat, she started the car and cleaned her face in the rear view mirror with a selection of tissues and wipes.

Should've known really, scoffed Jack.

Excuse me? Helen asked.

What about the mud in your hair? asked Jack.

I'll brush it out when it dries a bit more and sort the rest at the hotel, said Helen.

Jack sighed and waved to Ballard and his officers as the car pulled away.

Well what do you think about that? asked Helen.

Obviously bible bashing, alien, crop and cattle thieves, said Jack.

Helen gave him the stare.

When the mobile phone sprang into life emitting a loud ring tone in his jacket pocket, Jack deftly removed it and answered.

Hi, Captain James T. Kirk, he said, before hurriedly adding. Sorry, Jack Abrahams.

Agent Abrahams, I didn't know you're a Star Trek fan, said the man at the other end.

Jack did not answer swiftly enough to prevent the man continuing.

This is Ian Swain, you came to see me to ask about Adam Blake, remember? asked Swain.

Yeah, I remember, of course. How are you? asked Jack.

Well, we've had a rather usual development here I thought you might be interested in, said Swain.

Go on, said Jack.

Well, remember how I told you about the strange nature of Adam's recovery? said Swain.

Yeah, he was just with Benny and suddenly he was perfectly normal again, said Jack.

Helen was glancing across, wondering what the conversation was about exactly, but too focused with the narrow country lanes, to take more of an interest.

Benjamin Sansom has recovered in exactly the same manner, said Swain. Indeed, I believe he may well be the sanest person here.

Now that is weird, said Jack.

I wondered if you might like to drop in later today and see for yourself? asked Swain.

One sec Doc, said Jack, leaning over to Helen.

Benny Sansom has recovered as well. Completely sane. Doc wants to know if we want to go take a look, said Jack to Helen.

Wow, of course, said Helen. Tell him we'll see him this afternoon, if that's okay.

Jack looked at the drying mud dropping off Helen's hair.

Hey Doc, we're on our way now, said Jack, turning off the phone.

Bastard, said Helen.

Chapter 2

Germany

1650 BC

If your heart is a volcano, how shall you expect flowers to bloom?

Khalil Gibran

Valens rubbed his eyes as the sunlight poured through the fragile shelter that he and his family called home. It was early in the morning and already he could hear the activity of others, who had risen to greet the day a great deal more enthusiastically than he had. He was already dressed as he had fell into bed exhausted from the previous day’s labours, and so he pulled himself to his feet and made his way outside. His father stood outside and laughed at his son.

The daytime hurts your eyes now, does it? he asked.

My eyes, my mouth, my ears and my skin, in fact, it hurts all of me. Damn it's hot, said Valens.

It might be hot son, but we still need more items to trade, said his father.

If we gathered the jewels around the volcano, we would make a lot more than we do now, said Valens.

And what about the thieves, murderers and criminals who camp around there? asked his father. We cannot trade if we are both dead.

If we move swiftly and quietly, they would not know anything, said Valens.

No, said his father firmly. The risk is too great. You are to go nowhere near that place. Do you understand?

Yes father, I understand, Valens replied, begrudgingly.

Good. I will take the ground to the east, whilst you take the land to the north. Bring back anything we can trade until you can carry no more, said his father.

Valens gathered the sacks they used to store the precious stones, animals and other items they could trade and nodded to his father.

He set off north as his father had instructed him. Although they had a small piece of land where they farmed both animals and crops, it was not enough to fulfil the needs of the family. A good proportion of it was used to serve the community. This was a sharing based society, the only society that worked in these times. The collective efforts of the many provided a far sturdier and workable environment than one based on personal gain could, but it had its limitations.

The extra provisions for the old and the weak meant that much of the food and medicine that they produced was used to make them more comfortable. No greater priority existed in their society than the conservation of human life, and the provision for all, regardless of their capacity to contribute.

Valens cursed the men and women who surrounded the volcano. They farmed the stones and minerals that men had come to believe to be precious, and yet they displayed no wealth, only a capacity for greed and betrayal that Valens's small society would not have suffered. Despite the dangers of farming the volcano, some of the community’s younger and more headstrong men had ventured there, believing themselves too strong and clever to fall victims to the soulless fiends there. Not one of them had ever returned however, and so Valens' father had forbade him to go there, lest his son suffer the same fate.

Valens cursed the heat of the day. He was already sweating profusely and short of breath, just by dragging the empty sacks behind him. He knew that this was as good as he would feel today.

The men foraged for anything of use outside of the community whilst some stayed as guards against thieves. Some would do heavy tasks around the farms and housing, but only if the women could not manage it. Valens thought that the women were more important than the men were when it came to survival. They sewed the animal skins and fabrics together for clothes, so that nobody would freeze to death in the bitter winters. They farmed the animals and cooked the meat. They milked the herds and kept them fed. They watered and gathered the crops and provided the food and medicine for all. The men wandered the landscape, for the most part, returning at best with very little, or at worst with nothing at all. It seemed that the men in the community just drank, screwed, ate, defecated and slept to Valens. Of course, he dare not say this to the rest of the men. He watched his mother and sisters work hard all day, whilst he and his father roamed around, resting when they felt like it, and giving up the foraging when they decided they were too tired to continue. Valens determined that his fellow men felt no guilt about this at all. Valens felt the guilt though, and so today, he had decided to risk the volcano and return to the community in glory, with all the wealth that the volcano offered.

The track to the volcano lay roughly northeast, and the tip of it stood like some fearsome signpost in the distance. He would make a quick visit around the perimeter of it. Doing it this way would get him accustomed to the layout of the land and make him aware of the safest places to gather. He would move in quickly and leave quickly. Even if anyone spotted him, he would move swiftly and rush back towards the community. The men at the volcano might be ruthless and evil, but they would not dare enter his village where the numbers of men were greater.

The sun continued and Valens wondered whether it might have been better to wait until dusk when the sun relented and the air grew cooler. The night time would have presented him with some cover as well, to protect him from the eyes of his foes. After a while, he came across a gathering of shrubs and bushes that stood at the base of the volcano. He left the rest of the sacks hidden in the bushes, whilst he took just one with him. One was all he would need, as he had to be quick, but also anything he found around the area would be far more valuable than the rubbish with which he usually filled the sacks.

Most of the landscape on the climb upwards was open and offered no shelter or cover. Valens looked around him as he made his ascent, fully aware that while he would have a very early visual warning of the enemy, they would have ample time to see his approach as well, and the thought of being hit by multiple rocks, stones, spears or arrows was not a welcome one.

As he scrambled through the rocks and dust around him, his eyes kept a keen look out for the rocks that held wealth for him and his people. His heart beat faster and he almost shouted with joy when he came upon the first one. The rock itself was not wonderful to look at but the glinting transparent crystals it contained were exactly what Valens had hoped to find. Eagerly grabbing it, he turned it over, examining all sides before gleefully throwing it into the sack. He could not help but smile to himself. His father would know where the rocks had come from and would admonish Valens for ignoring his wishes, but he would soon forgive his son when he gazed upon the rocks. He began to move quicker now as more and more of the rocks came into view. Despite his excitement, he was determined not to fill the sack too much as he wanted to move fast and did not want to make the weight of the sack too much to carry. When he felt he had enough, he began his descent back down to the bushes where the other sacks lay. He quickly gathered the other sacks from the bushes and slung them over his back together with his sack of rocks, before turning around and running into the gang of men smiling at him.

The man nearest to him was wielding a knife as big as he had ever seen. Bearded and unkempt, his dark brown locks of hair were stuck to his face by the sweat streaming from him.

What have you got in the sack, boy? asked the man.

Just some rocks, that’s all, replied Valens.

They wouldn’t have nice shiny ones stuck in them, would they? asked the man.

No sir, I use the rocks for the fuel. Do shiny ones burn better then? asked Valens.

The men walked towards Valens and the man with the knife pointed it at Valens.

Empty the sack, he rasped.

Valens sighed and did as the man asked. He had no choice, and he knew that he had wasted his time here today. He only hoped that he could escape with his life. The rocks spilled out over the ground and the leader of the men picked them up examining them closely.

Every one of these is full of nice and shiny ones, said the man. You were not going to burn these, boy. Do you think us stupid?

No sir, but there are more up there. I only have a few, as there are too many for one man to carry. I can show you if you’d like, said Valens.

The man laughed and so did his friends.

We know where they are, we farm these every day, he said. When we have enough we sell them for great profit, which is exactly what you were going to do isn’t it?

Valens said nothing, instead gazing around for the best direction to run.

You are a thief and thieves must be punished. When we throw your dead body off the volcano, it will send a message to others. Then there will be no more men turning up to steal our rocks, said the man.

Valens did not wait to hear any more, he turned and ran back up the volcano, throwing the empty sacks into the face of the man.

Kill him, the man shouted.

The men ran after him but Valens was strong, quick and agile. As he made his way upwards, the men following him slipped and stumbled, with two of them stopping to catch their breath. The distance between him and the men grew greater and Valens raced down the other side of the ridge whilst his chasers still negotiated the climb. He looked behind him and laughed. The men had spread out now and it was only when he ran further and saw the gap in the ground in front of him that he realised why. The gap in front of him stretched in a crescent shape. At no part was the crescent narrow enough to jump across, and when he gazed into the gap in the ground, all he could see was a black void. He turned around to face the men. Perhaps there was a gap between them big enough to run between, but they had spread out to narrow his escape and each