BOOOM! (3 page)

Chapter 4

Looking for Nonecks

M
eanwhile, many miles to the north, two weary figures were trudging through a dismal landscape of fog and bog. The fog made it impossible to see where they were going and the bogs made every step dangerous. It was all too easy to blunder into one and find yourself sinking up to your neck in oozing brown mud.

Snark couldn't imagine why anyone would want to live in this bog-ridden wilderness. There were no hills, no rivers or forests, and no caves to shelter from the clammy cold. The fog played tricks on his imagination. Just now, for instance, he'd imagined that he'd seen someone, but when he looked again there was nothing there. He leaned on his spear to rest. They'd been travelling for three days and all they'd found was this miserable swamp that gave him the collywobbles. All around were eerie sucking sounds, mud flupping and flopping as if it were alive.

‘What are we doing here?' he sighed. ‘Can't us go back now?'

‘I told you, not till we find 'em,' snapped Borg.

‘They can't live here, Dad. No one does.'

Borg peered into the swirling mist. ‘Maybe,' he said, ‘maybe not. Maybe them are watching us right now.'

The hairs prickled on the back of Snark's neck. He would have turned and run if he hadn't been terrified of falling into a bog. He'd never actually seen a Noneck, except in his nightmares, but he knew that they were cruel, savage creatures, tall as giants and ten times as ugly. For a brief moment the fog cleared and he caught his breath.

‘Dad,' he said in a trembling voice, ‘there's something there.'

‘Where?'

‘There!' He pointed ahead. Borg grasped his spear tightly, peering into the fog. He could see nothing but more fog.

‘You're imagining things,' he muttered.

‘I'm not! It were there. Let's go back, please!'

Borg shivered with the cold. He was beginning to wonder if coming to the Farlands was such a good idea after all. What if the Nonecks didn't like the sound of his plan or murdered them before he even had a chance to explain it? Still, it was a bit late to think of turning back now. He called out.

‘Hello? Anyone there?'

Silence. Suddenly something hummed through the air, narrowly missing his ear. It was a spear with a jagged point. Borg decided it was never too late to admit you might have made a mistake.

‘Run!' he cried. ‘RUN, you fool!'

They turned and ran. Harsh shouts rang out, coming from all sides. Another spear went zipping overhead. They tore blindly through the fog, splashing through marshy puddles and slipping in the mud. Borg ducked his head trying to make himself a smaller target. He overtook Snark and leapt a big clump of reeds. Too late he saw what lay on the other side.

THLUUUUUUPPP!

He sank up to his knees in the bog. A moment later Snark landed beside him.

‘AARGH! IT'S A BOG!'
wailed Snark needlessly.

‘I know. Get off me!'

‘But Dad, I'm sinking!'

‘So am I, you big lump, and you're making it worse!'

Borg looked around. Tall figures loomed out of the fog like ghosts. They stood at the edge of the bog, leaning on their spears and sticks, watching. Borg took in their flat ugly faces, stooped shoulders and impressively hairy chests. Nonecks. The one with a string of dirty yellow bones round his neck spoke or grunted something.

‘Urgs!'

Borg twisted his head round. ‘Please help us! We're sinking!'

Krakkk, Chief of the Noneck tribe, nodded, showing his jagged teeth.

‘Yes, you stinking.
HA HA HA!'

The rest of his tribe joined in the laughter as if this was the best joke they'd heard in ages – which it probably was. (Nonecks are not famous for their sense of humour.)

‘Listen!' pleaded Borg desperately. ‘I am Borg. This is my son. We just want to talk!'

Krakkk squatted down beside the bog. ‘Talk, Urg,' he said.

‘But first pull us out – or we'll die!'

The bog was swallowing them bit by bit. The thick brown sludge was up to Borg's chest and every second it sucked him in deeper. Snark grabbed him round the neck.

‘DAD! HEEELP!'

‘Not now, boy,' snapped Borg. ‘Listen,' he begged Krakkk. ‘I can help you. I can give you Hammerhead!'

‘Hoggerhead? I never hear of him.'

‘Hammerhead, Chief of the Urks. You remember? He beat you.'

Krakkk's face darkened. Last winter his tribe had captured a small boy called Iggy and forced him to lead them to the Valley of Urk. But Iggy had escaped and warned his tribe. The Urks had driven the Noneck invaders back, inflicting a humiliating defeat on them. Ever since that day Krakkk had sworn by all the gods he would be avenged.

‘Krakkk great warrior,' he said. ‘Kill many Urg.'

‘Yes, I know,' nodded Borg. ‘But I can help you beat Hammerhead for good.'

Krakkk frowned. ‘Why you help? You Urg.'

‘Because we want the same thing!' panted Borg. ‘I want Hammerhead dead. Iggy too.'

‘Iggy?' Krakkk's eyes flickered with sudden interest.

‘Yes. He's the next Chief.'

The mud was up to Borg's neck. Snark was making strange noises like someone gargling porridge.

Krakkk stood up suddenly and barked an order to his men. They went running off and came back with a long branch. It slapped on to the bog close to Borg's head. He seized hold of it for dear life and grabbed Snark by the hair with his other hand. The Nonecks heaved and grunted, pulling them out of the slime. They emerged with a horrible sound like a snail being sucked from its shell.

SHLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP!

The two Urks lay on the bank, limp and panting, plastered with stinking brown mud. Borg would have happily stayed there a bit longer, but rough hands dragged him in front of the Noneck Chief. Krakkk pressed an axe-blade to his throat by way of greeting.

‘Speak, Urg,' he said. ‘Tell me this plan. Maybe I don't keel you.'

Borg gulped. He began to talk fast, explaining the bargain he was offering. When he had finished Krakkk removed the axe from his throat and ran his finger over the blade thoughtfully.

‘You help Krakkk – against tribe of Urg?'

‘Yes,' nodded Borg. ‘Hammerhead and Iggy are yours. Do what you want with them.'

Krakkk considered this. ‘And you, Urg, what you get?'

‘I become Chief – High Chief of the Urks,' said Borg, wiping mud from his eyes. ‘You take any furs or flints you want, then you go.'

‘Go?'

‘Yes, go home – back where you came from,' said Borg.

Krakkk narrowed his eyes. For a moment Borg thought he might throw them back in the bog. But he drew back his lips, showing his horrible teeth.

‘Good,' he said. ‘Krakkk do this.'

Borg heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Then we has a bargain,' he said.

‘Bargin,' nodded Krakkk. ‘Now we swear oath – in blood.'

‘Ah,' said Borg, swallowing hard. He was hoping they could just shake hands.

Chapter 5

Wise Words

B
ack in the valley, the Urks had plenty of problems of their own. For two days and nights Old Grumbly had continued to boom and rumble, filling the sky with curtains of black smoke. Much of the time it was hard to tell if it was day or night. Bits of ash fell like snowflakes, getting in people's eyes and turning their hair to grey. The Urks were used to rain, hail and blizzards, but this was much worse. Many of them hid in their caves, covering their ears to shut out the noises echoing through the valley. Sometimes Old Grumbly was silent, but that was almost worse. Then everyone was on edge, wondering when the next explosion would come and if it would crack the sky open like an egg. The wailing women went from cave to cave moaning that they were all going to die.

On the third morning, Iggy went looking for the Chief and found him lying in the dark of his cave.

‘Uncle Ham, what are you doing?' he asked.

‘Nothing,' grunted the Chief, from under a pile of furs.

‘Everyone's gone mad out there. They think the world's ending!'

‘Maybe it is.'

‘But you're the Chief,' said Iggy. ‘Shouldn't you maybe do something?'

‘Like what?'

‘I don't know. Go out there. Say something – anything!'

The Chief's face peeped out. ‘We're all going to die!' he moaned.

‘Oh, for Urk's sake!' Iggy didn't hear Umily come in but he could tell she wasn't in a patient mood. She marched over to her father and grabbed the furs off him.

‘Get up, you lazy lump!' she scolded.

‘But Umily . . . Oww! Argh!' cried Hammerhead as she kicked and walloped him.

‘Get up! Now! Put on your necklace!'

‘What for?'

‘Because you're going to do something useful,' stormed Umily.

A Council of the Elders was held that evening at the Standing Stone. All the Urks attended, anxious to hear how their Chief was going to save them from
The End of the World
. Iggy found himself seated at the front, beside the six white-haired elders, since Hammerhead insisted that this was where a future Chief belonged. Personally, he would have felt much more comfortable sitting next to Hubba, with the rest of the tribe. Being at the front made him self-conscious – he'd only ever spoken once at a meeting of the elders and he didn't want to do it again.

Once they were settled, Hammerhead rose to his feet and addressed the tribe.

‘Are us all here? Anybody not?'

One of the elders raised his hand.

‘Put it down, Sedric,' sighed his neighbour.

‘What about Borg?' asked someone at the back. Heads turned and there was a brief discussion. It seemed that no one had seen Borg for days – not since he had set off for the forest with his son to go hunting.

‘No matter. We'll start without him,' said Hammerhead. If Borg had got himself eaten by a wild animal, that was his problem. Hammerhead surveyed the rows of faces in the firelight.

‘I won't beat about the rocks,' he said. ‘Things look bad, maybe badder than ever before.'

‘Woe!' wailed the wailing woman.

‘Silence!' roared Hammerhead. ‘Urks has lived in this valley since the beginning of time. Nothing is going to drive us away, not even Old Grumbly.'

In the distance the volcano rumbled, almost as if it had been listening. The Urks gasped and clutched at each other. Only Gaga the Wise remained calm, sitting cross-legged among the elders nodding his head as if listening to silent music. Hammerhead waited for the whimpering to die down, then turned to the elders, asking for their counsel.

‘Maybe if we put us fingers in our ears,' suggested one.

‘How's that going to help?'

‘What?'

‘I said how's that going to help?'

‘Sorry, I can't hear. I got my fingers in my ears.'

Iggy rolled his eyes. Meetings of the elders were always like this – you asked a simple question and got a dozen stupid answers. It drove him round the bend.

‘We're missing the point,' he sighed loudly. A dozen heads turned in his direction. Iggy felt his cheeks burning. He hadn't meant to speak – the words had just spilled out.

‘Um . . . what I mean is,' he stammered, ‘how do we know the world's ending?'

‘Are you deaf?' asked someone. ‘Listen to it!'

‘But maybe it's just like rain,' said Iggy.

‘Talk sense, boy,' grumbled Hammerhead. ‘What's rain got to do with it?'

‘I mean when it rains here, we don't know if it's raining in the mountains. It's the same thing – maybe the world isn't ending everywhere, just here. If we leave the valley, we might be safe.'

Hammerhead frowned. ‘Leave?
Leave
the Valley of Urk?'

‘We may have to,' said Iggy.

This met with howls of protest.

‘We can't
leave
!'

‘We'd all die!'

‘We'd be eaten by wolves!'

Everyone was shouting at once. What Iggy suggested was madness, unthinkable. Urks belonged in the Valley of Urk. They'd always lived there and nothing on earth would persuade them to live anywhere else. Besides, where would they go? Most Urks had never been further than the forest. If you went too far you would fall off the edge of the world – everyone knew that.

Iggy eventually sat down, feeling that it was pointless to argue.

‘Gaga the Wise, what has you to say?' asked Hammerhead, turning to the ancient elder. The crowd went quiet. Gaga was the oldest of the tribe and his opinion was always respected. For a minute he remained silent, so that Iggy wondered if he'd heard the question. Finally his eyes snapped open.

‘The question is not where, it is why,' he said. ‘Why are the Ancestors angry?'

Hammerhead looked baffled. He hadn't the foggiest idea.

‘Perhaps we should ask them,' said Gaga, folding his hands in his lap.

The Urks murmured agreement – finally someone was talking sense. It stood to reason, if the Ancestors were angry then they must find out why.

‘But no one's ever seen the Ancestors,' said Hammerhead. ‘How can we ask them?'

Gaga the Wise raised a bony finger, pointing to the mountains. ‘Seek them out,' he said. ‘Someone must climb into the clouds and speak for the tribe.'

Hammerhead stared. ‘Climb Old Grumbly? Won't that be dangerous?'

‘Very,' nodded Gaga. ‘That's why you must go.'

‘
Me?
' Hammerhead's eyes widened.

‘You are the High Chief. You must save your people.'

‘Yes, but . . . but my knees aren't so good,' stammered Hammerhead. ‘And I don't like heights.'

Gaga was unmoved. ‘Take a companion,' he said. ‘Someone young and strong.'

Hammerhead nodded. A companion was a good idea – that way he could send them on ahead to see if it was safe. He looked around for a volunteer but everyone seemed anxious to avoid his eye. Finally he noticed a hand raised in the air.

‘IGGY!' he boomed. ‘I knew you wouldn't let me down.'

‘What? No!' croaked Iggy. ‘I was only –'

‘Good, then that's settled,' said Hammerhead, clapping him on the back. ‘We set off at dawn – unless of course the world ends before then.'