by J. Thorn
The envoy stepped forward and raised both hands in greeting. “Welcome, Jonah of the Elk,” he said. “And come as a friend, for you are such within these walls.”
Jonah remembered standing at the entrance to a small camp once, long years ago when he was much younger, with his father as such words had been said. He couldn’t remember how that meeting had gone, it was so long ago, but he remembered his father’s reply and hoped that it was correct to use here.
“I thank you for your welcome and come as a friend to these walls,” he said. He watched the envoy’s expression, trying to judge if the response was correct. It seemed it was, because the man stepped aside and waved him in.
The hall itself was the remains of a large building, set near the very back of the walled compound, and Jonah thought that it was similar in size and design to the old mall building in Summerville. Half of it had been torn down to create a large open space at the front that was now solid, trodden dirt, but he could see the remains of the lower walls surrounding the area clearly enough to recognize what would once have been an entrance and a wide, open walkway. And it was in the middle of this open space that five figures stood waiting. A large gathering surrounded them, but few of the gathered crowd seemed to want to move any closer to the small group that stood facing him as he approached.
The five men were old—much older than Jonah’s father had been when he died, by at least ten, maybe twenty summers. And not one of them looked like they could stand and fight. They were elders—wise men, not warriors.
The group bowed as he approached, and one of them stepped forward. “I am Corrun of The Reed, head councilor of The Five Clans,” he said, his voice low. “Who comes before our council?”
Jonah frowned. Another traditional greeting, he thought, but he was unsure of the proper way to respond. He decided simplicity was probably the best choice.
“I am Jonah, leader of the Elk,” he said. “I have come as you asked.”
Another of the elder took a step forward. “I am Noti, of The Bastion. I offer my thoughts for your father. He was a great warrior and will be missed.”
“I thank you,” said Jonah.
“What require you of us?” Corrun asked. “To stay joined in alliance? My scouts tell me that your number is not as great as they were when your father led the Elk. And that you have recently suffered a division.”
A strange combination of comments, Jonah thought. But he’d somehow known that they would jump straight to the point.
“Your scouts are partly correct,” Jonah said. “The Elk has divided.”
There was a knowing nod from the gathered elders.
“But they are wrong about our numbers,” Jonah continued. “Last night, after the division, the Elk merged with other clans and is greater in number than it has ever been.”
The elders seemed to snap out of their lazy attitude at this comment, and Jonah could see that it had caught them unprepared. Bastards presumed they had the upper hand, he thought. They thought this would cost them little.
Noti seemed to recover quicker than the rest. “You have chosen a Right Hand?” he asked. “We heard that both Judas and Nera had passed.”
“I have,” Jonah said. “But I have not one, but three Right Hands.”
The elders seemed confused at this. It wasn’t traditional, Jonah knew, but he had seen the choice, made just an hour ago as the prepared to head to meet the council, as an obvious one, and one that would please many in his clan, but mostly those who chose to sacrifice their own clan freedom to become Elk.
“Gunney, once of the Harpeth clan, Solomon, once of the Valley, and Declan, once of the Bluestone, stand with me as my right hands,” Jonah said, turning to the three who stood with him, and he couldn’t help but smile a little at the determined expressions upon the faces of all three of his companions. In giving up leadership of their clans, both Solomon and Gunney had expected to stand down from leadership, and Declan, he guessed, had felt relieved to have a choice other than slaughter for his people. To be given the position of Right Hand was the greatest of honors, even if it was a shared one.
“Three?” asked Noti. “One is traditional.”
“The Elk are a large clan, much larger than any of the five. And I have more than one warrior who can be trusted with such a title. I have three.”
Noki nodded. “And we welcome you as an ally.”
“Bah!” snapped another of the elders. “Let’s stop pissing around and get to the point.” The newcomer was much shorter than the other elders but Jonah thought that he would the kind of man to make up for it in loudness. “I’m Halforth of the Chautauqua, blah fucking blah. We’ve been allies for a long time, us and your father—and, with that, the Elk. We want to remain allies, and all these pissants are scared shitless that you’re going to come stomping around and be demanding and violent like Judas was. They’re scared you will bully like he did, and it seems now they’re even more fucking scared because your clan is even stronger than it was under his rule.”
Jonah smiled. The man reminded him of Rav, the leader of the clan who held the gate at the summit. Honesty and crudeness. Jonah liked this man, just as he had decided he liked Rav.
“Now, god-speed his soul,” continued Halforth. “But I didn’t like the man. He was a bully. But he was good at making sure we got to Eliz in one piece, and the Elk has always been a strong fighting force. Is it still?”
He didn’t give Jonah the chance to answer, but carried on.
“Of course it is,” he said. “And if you hadn’t divided last night, I would guess you’d be beyond bargaining right now. You’d be kicking down the walls and taking us over. Judas would have done that if he’d doubled his numbers. But what about you, young Jonah? What is it we need to cough up to keep you happy? Weapons? Slaves? Food? If it’s horses you want, you can forget it. Last clean breeding horse we had died two years ago. But slaves and weapons, and some supplies...we can give you those.”
“I want a sixth seat on the council,” said Jonah.
He was met by silence. No one in the hall spoke, and the five council members looked stunned. This was the last thing they expected.
“I’ll take the weapons, food and slaves.” said Jonah, smiling. “Since you already offered those. But yes, we’ll remain allies, and I will lead the clans to Eliz as my father did.”
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Acknowledgements - J. Thorn
I would like to thank my wife and kids who vetted the concept over salad and breadsticks at a crowded Italian restaurant - anything sounds great on a carb high. As always, The Keepers continue to provide me with constant support and motivation. The ADH gang (you know who you are) have become my “secret” round table of advisors and I continue to learn from their collective wisdom and humor, even Zach. Speak of the devil, Zach Bohannon has become a great friend and partner in many ways. I'm grateful for his friendship and look forward to many more years of it. Finally, I'd like to thank Mr. Glynn James. He is a true professional and a writer I've admired for years. To collaborate with him has been an amazing experience and I'm sincerely appreciative of the opportunity - I'd go to a Dustfall with you, brother.
Acknowledgements - Glynn James
Thanks to all of the Jameses – Julia, for your patience and constant encouragement, and my kids, for just being you.
To my parents and my brother for not being too su
rprised that I write crazy fiction, and for telling me it’s cool.
To Bill, Sara, Billy, Jim & Jean for taking me seriously and never doubting that I could actually do this, and for demanding signed copies when I thought that whole idea was daft.
Many thanks to Andrea of Express Editing Solutions - http://www.expresseditingsolutions.co.uk
Any typos or errors in this book after this fantastic editor went through it - are entirely my fault.
Lastly, thanks to James Thorn for going along on this crazy journey with me. It took us a while to get this project going, but we got there in the end and I’m certainly glad we did!
James is a blast to work with and a kindred soul, quite often first guessing me on ideas before I even mentioned them, and coming up with ideas far better than mine. Here’s to us continuing to work together to bring life to stories that not only we, but other people will want to read.
About J. Thorn
Click here: http://jthorn.net/optin/df01.htm
Healed by the written word
Want a story that's rooted in a fundamental aspect of being human?
I believe reading dark fiction can be healing. My overriding mission is to connect with you through my art, and I hope to inspire you to do the same. I’m a word architect and driven visionary. I’m obsessed with heavy metal, horror films and technology. And I admire strong people who are not afraid to speak their mind.
I grew up in an Irish Catholic, working class family and was the first to go to college. I didn't have expensive toys, so I used my own imagination for entertainment. And then I abused alcohol for entertainment. I spent the first thirty years of my life convincing myself I wasn’t an addict and the last ten worrying about all the potential threats the substances hid from me.
Anxiety and depression are always hiding in the corner, waiting to jump me when I start to feel happiness.
I had to break through family programming and accept the role of the black sheep. In my 30s I started writing horror and formed a heavy metal band while my family rolled their eyes, sighed and waited for the “phase” to end.
I spent years paralyzing myself with self-loathing and criticism, keeping my creativity smothered and hidden from the rest of the world. I worked a job I hated because that’s what Irish Catholic fathers do. They don’t express themselves, they pay the damn mortgage. I may have left my guilt and faith behind long ago, but the scars remain.
My creativity is my release, my therapy and my place to work through it all. I haven't had a drink in a long time, but the anxiety and depression are always lurking. Writing novels and songs keeps it at bay. I scream over anxiety with my microphone and I turn my guitar up loud enough to drown out the whispers of self-doubt.
I hope to leave a legacy of art that will continue to entertain and enrich lives long after I'm gone. I want others to see that you don’t have to conform to the mainstream to be fulfilled.
Don’t be afraid of the dark. Embrace it.
About Glynn James
GLYNN JAMES, born in Wellingborough, England in 1972, is a bestselling author of dark sci-fi novels. He has an obsession with anything to do with zombies, Cthulhu mythos, and post-apocalyptic and dystopian fiction and films, all of which began when he started reading HP Lovecraft and Richard Matheson’s I Am Legend back when he was eight years old. In addition to co-authoring the bestselling ARISEN books (over 250,000 copies sold), he is the author of the bestselling DIARY OF THE DISPLACED series and the THROWN AWAY series. More info on his writing and projects can be found at www.glynnjames.co.uk.
