Just then he realised that the light from the sky had taken a dull carnelian tint that was rapidly transmuting into an ominous purple cast.
The time of darkness!
One glance at the sky was all the confirmation he needed. Several purple bands had appeared and were stretching from horizon to horizon. He looked around in increasing concern for a place of refuge.
All he could see were the various piles of boulders, scattered randomly over the austere terrain. He sprinted towards the highest of the nearer ones and with panic starting to throb through him scrabbled his panting way to the top. He knew that this pile of rubble was not as high as an akaro tree but it was his only chance.
Just as he reached the top all light vanished instantly as if a switch had been thrown. He lay there, his heart hammering, waiting for sounds of movement and the terrifying roars.
Nothing happened for quite some time and then he heard them – the unmistakeable cries of the night predators. But they were so far away, so faint and only coming from the direction of the forest. Gradually the joyful realisation came to him: the predators were confined to the forest – there were none out here in this rocky wilderness!
He lay on his back, feeling the tension in his body fade as muscle and sinew relaxed. He found himself staring up at an enormous sky, much, much bigger than the one he was accustomed to, for here there was no intervening vegetation to block the view. He looked deep into it, finding it impossible to shake the feeling that he was looking down into a vast bottomless sea of inky nothingness. Were there any lights in that sea, any sign of other existences?
He stared long and hard. There was nothing; just blackness piled high on blackness. Nothing.
Eventually his exhausted body demanded its rest and he drifted, unknowingly, into a deep sleep.
And so it was that in his sleep he did not hear the faint sounds of movement in the darkness below him.
Three
The crepuscular light gave Jon’s surroundings a weird mauve tint as he gradually returned to consciousness. He stretched his arms and back to drive out the stiffness which had invaded them during the unaccustomed cold of the time of darkness; such times were not as bitter in the forest because of the comforting cloak of the vegetation.
Gradually strength and agility returned to his powerful frame and he dropped lightly to the stony ground. He stood with his back against the pile of rocks and slowly scanned his surroundings. Above him the sky slowly became a more dramatic scarlet from its initial pale cerise. Despite the excitement he still felt about the possibility of companions he had not lost his alertness and his mistrust of apparently peaceful surroundings. Many times in the forest he had gone from peace to peril in an instant and he had not forgotten those lessons. Perhaps the new Jons that he was about to meet lead a quieter life; perhaps out here on the stony plains there were fewer dangers. It was a pleasant, almost intoxicating thought. To one side he could see the black wall of the forest; shrunken now to a one-dimensional line. Ahead and off to one side stood the enigmatic hill that was his ultimate destination, now much closer than in his initial view but still disappointingly distant.
He was about to resume his seemingly interminable journey when he noticed that the ground around his refuge had been disturbed since he had last seen it. There were new oval depressions in the ground, which he interpreted as showing that one or more of the new Jons had passed close to him in the time of darkness. Why hadn’t he heard them and woken up, he groaned inwardly, now it would be an unknown period before he had the chance again!
He tried to follow the line of tracks but the ground was too hard and he soon lost them among the stone and gravel that was this area’s equivalent of the rich dark soil that he had known in the forest. He decided to abandon the attempt; if he was correct in interpreting the objects at the top of the hill as dwellings then surely there must be Jons living in them. All he had to do was complete his quest and at last he would have the companionship that he longed so much for.
His mind made up, he took one last look at his resting place and struck out for the hill.
The time of light drew on and the temperature began to climb. Once again heat hazes started to ripple and dance in the distance, mocking the eyes with their appearance of running water. He was not dismayed: he had found water once – he would find it again.
Then far off on one of the tawny ridges that were apparently endless in this area, he saw one of the stick figures again. He stopped his march to study the thing, to ensure that heat and wishful thinking were not deceiving him. He stood alertly motionless and watched. Yes, it was definitely moving – it was indeed one of the new Jons.
Although the figure was not in the direct line to the hill he veered off his course and quickened his pace so he could intercept the figure and bring this mystery to a satisfactory conclusion. He climbed up and over ridges and around gigantic boulders, all the while keeping his gaze on the distant figure.
And so it was that as he came around one particularly colossal slab of stone that he did not immediately see them.
Then he did. And stopped.
Facing him were five figures. But they were not Jons.
They were tall with a spare angularity, their skins black and armoured. Spines stood out from their arms and shoulders and their eyes were crystals of a substance that gleamed like rubies in the red light from the sky. They had six limbs; two were employed as legs and the others as arms, although the lower two were so small that they were almost vestigial.
And they bore spears and axes. Spears and axes of sharp, mirror-smooth blackness that seemed to take the crimson light into them and destroy it. Jon himself was dark-skinned but this blackness was unreal, unnatural, like looking through a hole in reality into another universe.
He was so astounded by this totally unexpected development that he stood completely motionless staring at the eldritch apparitions. His mind whirled in crazy patterns. Should he run? Should he attack? Should he…
The nearest creature looked down on him and spoke.
Its voice was like a wind blowing sand off the barren ridges; thin and whispery and ominous.
‘Do not move,’ it said, ‘or we will kill you.’
Jon could not tell how long they had been marching; he only knew that the route that they were taking was at right angles to the path to the hill. And that made him angry. Nothing was more important than getting to that hill – nothing!
‘Where are you taking me?’ he said for the third, or perhaps fourth, time.
As before there was no reply; ever since they had tied his hands behind him and put a rope around his neck there had been no communication. Three of the creatures marched behind him and two marched in front. They paid little attention to him except occasionally one of the ones behind would prod him with a goad if they thought he was too tardy. Too tardy for what? he wondered sourly, where were they taking him and for what purpose?
The first question was answered almost instantly. They came out of a maze of shattered rock and there before them was a group of huts surrounding an empty central area, which was bounded by a low fence. The huts were conical and Jon noticed that the shape bore a striking resemblance in its angles to the hill that he had been trying to reach.
He was pulled and prodded into the little village and came to a halt just where the huts stopped and the empty central area began.