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  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.’

  Chapter 6

  All of a Lava

  At first light the next morning, Iggy and Chief Hammerhead took the rough track that wound uphill in the direction of the mountains. They were joined by Umily and Hubba, who insisted on going with them at least as far as the foothills. Old Grumbly loomed in the distance, a plume of cloud curling from its mouth like smoke from a dragon’s nostrils.

  Iggy had never been to the High Mountains before but the closer they got the more he had a bad feeling. No one had ever climbed to the top of Old Grumbly and now didn’t seem the best time to try it. But worse than the volcano itself was the prospect of meeting the Ancestors. Most of them had been dead for hundreds of years so they weren’t going to be looking their best. He wondered if they would appear as ghosts or spirits, or maybe as skeletons with wormy hair.

  As they climbed the foothills, they entered a strange world of swirling cloud and falling ash. Hammerhead had brought gift offerings of nuts and yumberries for the Ancestors, though typically he’d eaten half of them on the way. They paused by a stream, gazing up at the mountain in awed silence. Hubba blew out his cheeks.


  ‘Yikes! I wouldn’t like to climb that!’

  Iggy gave him a look. ‘Yeah, thanks, Hubba.’

  Umily looked at her father. ‘We could go back. It’s not too late.’

  Hammerhead shook his head. The future of the tribe was in their hands. Besides, he didn’t want people calling him a wimp.

  ‘Wish us luck,’ he said.

  ‘Best of luck,’ said Hubba. ‘Say hello to the Ancestors for me.’

  ‘We’ll be waiting right here for you,’ said Umily. She hugged her father one more time and gave Iggy a grateful smile. Then the two of them began climbing up the steep rocky slope.

  For the first hour they made good progress, but as they climbed higher the landscape grew stranger and more barren. The earth was dry and cracked with a powdery grey crust. Here and there grew stumpy black trees that looked like giants’ fists bursting through the ground. Nothing crawled or crept or made a sound apart from the weird groans and rumbles of the mountain which seemed to come from under their feet. Now and then Iggy would jump back in alarm as a jet of steam hissed up through a crack in the ground. And all the time the air grew warmer and heavier as they drew closer to the volcano’s rim.

  Iggy halted and wiped the sweat from his brow as he waited for the Chief to catch up. Hammerhead’s face was pink as a lobster and bits of ash were caught in his hair and beard. If he was ever going to reach the top Iggy thought he might need carrying.

  ‘Got to . . . rest,’ he panted, flopping down on a rock.

  ‘Not far now,’ coaxed Iggy.

  ‘I’ve gone all dizzy,’ Hammerhead moaned. ‘Maybe you should go on without me.’

  ‘I think it’s safer if we stick together,’ said Iggy. There was no way he was facing the Spirits of the Ancestors on his own. Old Grumbly rumbled loudly as if growing impatient. Hammerhead got to his feet.

  ‘Scared?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ said Iggy. ‘Well, maybe a bit.’

  Hammerhead grinned. ‘Me too. Still, what’s the worst that can happen, eh?’

  We could die a horrible death, thought Iggy, but it was probably bad luck to say it.

  They started the final climb towards the top. This high up there were no trees or boulders, only a desert of grey dunes and valleys. The ground grew hotter as they climbed so that it burned the soles of Iggy’s feet. Hammerhead went on tiptoe, making little ‘Ohh ahh eee!’ sounds with every step. Above them the ground seemed to rise to a peak where the smoke was billowing out. It was strangely beautiful, in a terrifying sort of way. Iggy didn’t think the heat would allow them much closer, but there was no sign of the Ancestors.

  ‘You got the offerings?’ he asked.

  Hammerhead felt in his furs and produced a purple mess of berries.

  ‘That’s it?’ said Iggy.

  ‘I were hungry!’

  ‘Go on then – you better speak to them.’

  ‘Right.’ Hammerhead hung back. ‘What shall I say?’

  ‘I don’t know! It wasn’t my idea.’

  Hammerhead blew out his cheeks. ‘You do it,’ he said, offering the berries.

  ‘What? You’re the Chief!’

  ‘But you’re younger. You can run faster. Please.’

  Iggy sighed heavily. He might have known this would happen. He took the squashed berries from Hammerhead and crept up the slope towards the smoking crater.

  ‘Hello? Anyone there?’

  No answer.

  Iggy glanced back at Hammerhead, who looked ready to leg it at any moment.

  He took a deep breath and called out: ‘I seek an audience with the Spirits of the Ancestors – if they’ve got a minute.’

  BLOOB! BLOB! BLUB!

  Iggy peered through the smoke to see where the strange noise was coming from. The volcano had a mouth – wider than the mouth of a cave – and from this the smoke was belching into the sky. But that wasn’t what made Iggy’s stomach flip over. Inside the mouth he glimpsed something red that bubbled and heaved like boiling stew.

  BOOOOOOOM!

  Iggy dropped the squashed berries and fled. Hammerhead was ahead of him, moving surprisingly fast for someone with bad knees. They tore down the mountain – over the scorching ash, past the hissing blowholes, jumping over boulders and sending pebbles racing down the slope. They didn’t stop until they reached the lower slopes where the stumpy trees grew. It took a full minute before either of them could speak.

  ‘Well?’ panted Hammerhead. ‘You saw ’em?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The Ancestors, you fool! Did they answer?’

  Iggy shook his head. ‘No. There was no one there – just a hole like a giant mouth. But I saw inside . . .’

  ‘And?’ said Hammerhead. ‘It were full of spiders?’

  ‘No,’ said Iggy. ‘It’s like a fire – a sea of fire, burning and bubbling.’

  Hammerhead looked disappointed. He’d been hoping for spiders at least.

  ‘That were all?’

  ‘All?’ said Iggy. ‘Don’t you see? All this smoke and ash, it comes from down there, in the mountain’s belly. Any time now it could erupt!’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Erupt! Explode!’ said Iggy, waving his hands. ‘And if it does, the fire will overflow. It’ll sweep down and reach the valley!’

  ‘Crumbs,’ said Hammerhead.

  ‘We’ll be wiped out!’ said Iggy. ‘All of us. Burned to a frazzle!’

  ‘Not if we stay in our caves.’

  ‘It won’t make any difference. You can’t run or hide – not from this.’

  ‘Then what can us do?’

  ‘Leave,’ replied Iggy. ‘While there’s still time. We’ve got to get away from here.’

  Hammerhead nodded sadly. Iggy was probably right though none of this was going to be easy to explain. Rivers of fire, bellies and eruptings – it might be better to say they’d chatted to the Ancestors who had suggested they all take a short holiday.

  At the foot of the slope Hubba and Umily were waiting for them anxiously. They’d heard the mountain rumble and had feared the worst. Iggy explained what he’d seen inside the crater and the terrible danger they were all in. They hurried back towards the Valley of Urk, knowing there was no time to lose.

  As they came over the hill, Umily stopped in her tracks.

  ‘Look! What’s that?’ She pointed to the valley below.

  ‘The river. It’s that green thing,’ answered Hubba.

  ‘No, not that, that!’ Umily was pointing to the bend in the river upstream. Iggy caught sight of a line of dark figures moving swiftly along the bank under the trees. They were heading towards the crossing point further down.

  ‘Hunting party?’ suggested Hammerhead.

  Iggy shook his head. Urks didn’t hunt in such large numbers and in any case these men didn’t look like their tribe. They were bigger and uglier, moving as if they were in a hurry.

  ‘They’re not Urks,’ he said. ‘They’re Nonecks.’

  Chapter 7

  The Wrath of Krakkk

  Crouched among the trees by the river, Borg made sure he kept out of sight. No one seemed to have spotted their approach. Up the hill he could see a few Urks moving around outside the caves. The only noise disturbing the peace was the occasional low rumble from the mountains. Borg thought this was a little strange – he’d never known the mountains to have bellyache before. Still, he had far more important things to consider. He had waited a long time to be rid of Hammerhead and now, with Krakkk’s help, he would finally become Chief. It was lucky that the Noneck was as dim as a dung beetle or he might have decided to claim the valley for himself.

  ‘Let me and Snark go ahead,’ said Borg. ‘I don’t want it to look like we come together.’

  Krakkk frowned. ‘
Why not want?’

  ‘They mustn’t know I has anything to do with this. Remember what we agreed?’

  Krakkk nodded impatiently. ‘The boy and the fat one are mine.’

  ‘Hammerhead. You can’t miss him – he’s hairy as a grizzler,’ said Borg. ‘Remember, once they surrender, you and me pretend to quarrel.’

  ‘Quirrel?’ said Krakkk.

  ‘Quarrel. Fight.’

  ‘Ah, fight,’ said Krakkk with a smile. ‘I keel you good.’

  ‘No! No killing,’ said Borg. ‘We been over this a hundred times. We argue – then you leave. Run away.’

  Krakkk scowled. ‘You think Krakkk is scaredy-clot?’

  ‘That’s what we agreed, for Urk’s sake! You get Hammerhead, I become Chief. Then you take what you want and go. Got it?’

  Krakkk grunted. He didn’t like the way this ugly Urk talked to him, as if he was seven kinds of stupid. But there would be time for him later. First he would crush his enemies and have his revenge.

  Up the hill, the Urks were going about their daily tasks with no idea that they were being watched. Iggy’s dad picked up a pile of skins that were spotted with ash and carried them down to the river to wash. Halfway down the hill, he stopped to watch a group of young Urks playing Head-banger. It was a simple game involving two blindfolded teams charging at each other and cracking heads. The winner of the game was the last man standing (or semi-conscious). Already two of the Urks were flat on their backs moaning and clutching their heads. A third had missed everyone and was wandering around blindly, bumping into trees.

  Dad smiled at the young Urks having fun and continued on his way. The river was still high after the rains and the current was strong. He waded in up to his knees and dunked the skins in the water, rubbing them clean. It was peaceful here, he thought. Nothing but the birds singing, the breeze blowing and the fish talking in low voices.

  Wait a minute – fish didn’t usually do that! He looked up and locked eyes with someone hiding in the reeds. The stranger had a flat ugly face, full lips and an animal skull on his head. Dad stiffened with fear. Now he looked again, there were more of them – fifty or a hundred, crouched in the reeds and among the trees, staring right at him. Nonecks! He dropped the wet skins and splashed towards the bank, his heart racing. As he climbed out something thudded into the muddy bank. A hunting axe. He tore up the hill, flattening one of the blindfolded Urks who got in his way.