The Berranian's refusal to comment only heightened Tank's appraisal.

  'The cause of the sky-rock's coming is immaterial to me, offworlder, as is your motive for trekking here. What does intrigue me is Rexus's unprecedented interest in you. Other than me, what keeps the Killjaw king from biting you in half?'

  'Maybe he's afraid of how I'll taste.'

  'His palate is not that choosy. I deduce it corresponds to your link with Balticea's progeny and her flat-nosed sidekick.'

  Warning bells rang in Gideon's head. ‘What do you know of them, Tank?'

  'They had naught in common, except their age. So what goaded Rexus into slaughtering an entire Thunderfoot herd just to get at those two minors? Ah, let me theorise ... perhaps it was their shared birthmarks.’ Tank could almost hear the alien's heart sink.

  'How did you find out?’ gasped Gideon.

  'Simple deduction,’ Tank said. ‘When I accompanied the tyrant-king on his jaunt to Fernwalk I spied Bronte. Shortly thereafter, Chappy showed up and lost his head over the reunion.’ The Clubtail almost chortled over that bad pun. ‘The reason behind their oddball association became glaringly obvious. Care to elaborate?'

  There was a distinct pause while Gideon deliberated his options. Honesty seemed his only recourse at this stage of the game, if only to continue his ruse. ‘I named them the Chosen.'

  'How prophetic of you. I take it the pair held a special significance for you.'

  'I'll say. They were the only animals on the planet suited to undergoing the Transformation.'

  'Into a more survivable form?'

  'Yes.'

  'And you know this, how?'

  'Call it a hunch.'

  Tank did not bother to press the issue. It smacked of religious overtones. ‘That's where the quandary lies,’ he pondered. ‘Since they're both dead, logically speaking you have no purpose here anymore. Yet, you plainly have some worth owing for Rexus to hold you...'

  Gideon resumed his silence, tersely awaiting the perceptive Clubtail's inevitable summation. His anxiety was well founded.

  'Who is the third member of the Chosen?’ Tank demanded a moment later.

  The alien remained tight-lipped.

  'Who, Gideon?’ pushed Tank.

  'Prince Luthos.'

  * * * *

  'It's breathtaking,’ marvelled Alphie.

  'The view is rather majestic,’ agreed Orridus.

  The Treefur was back atop his Shieldhorn ride. They were beginning the descent into the vale of the Boneheads and the vista was indeed incomparable.

  A virgin forest of pure evergreens spread out before them, walled in on all four sides by the basalt Uplands. The emerald trees stretched away in orderly rows of perfect symmetry as if carefully planted by a giant heavenly hand, fenced in by dark cliffs of finely grained volcanic rock that sometimes broke loose in freestanding columns shooting for the sky. Behind the travellers sparkled the crystalline waters of the Oasis, the rock-rimmed lake perched on the summit of the half-mile-high precipice that formed the backdrop to Starlight Falls and whose overflow produced the mighty cataract. Sunlight played on the surface of the inspiring lake, silvering the wavelets encouraged by the sighing breath of a mild breeze. Cragg had led the lowlander trio out of the canyon trail, around the western brim of the craggy lakeshore, and was now taking them down a snaking pathway of worn stone onto the valley floor.

  Alphie inhaled deeply the overpowering, invigorating scent of pine and promptly forgot autumn's decay in the lowland wood. The trees here were untouched by seasonal change. ‘This place has a special feel to it,’ he whispered to Orridus.

  'It should,’ said the hermit, coaxing Bronte round a corner. ‘The Concealed Valley is a predator-free zone that has remained undisturbed for a great many generations.'

  'You mean there are no meat-eaters around here whatsoever? I'm in heaven.'

  'As close as you'll ever come, whiskers.'

  'I have to disagree,’ interjected Cragg.

  'Trouble in paradise?’ Orridus asked ahead around Bronte's bulk. His note of concern was plain for all to hear.

  'Only the usual problems,’ replied their Bonehead pilot. ‘The council is a bunch of stick-in-the-muds, the Regressionist movement is gaining momentum, and Redmount is snorting ash all over the place.'

  Alphie glanced downwards. On closer inspection he found the pristine dale not to be so virginal after all. The ashen grey dusting the canyon floor outside Thunder Passage was evident here as well, the drab powder coating foliage and rock alike with an air of contagion.

  'You think Redmount might be going to blow its top?’ The Shortfrill's disquiet was flaring into outright worry.

  'There hasn't been an eruption in several lifetimes. That's not to say it isn't a possibility though.'

  'You're about as much comfort as horn-head here,’ Alphie complained.

  'Aye, that's unsurprising considering we're distant cousins.'

  The Treefur practically toppled off his mount at Cragg's revelation. ‘Is that true, Orridus?’ he spluttered.

  Alphie must have been shocked. He was being civil.

  'Both of our herds possess long racial memories, though the paltriest of flashbacks in comparison to Thunderfoot recall,’ explained the old Shieldhorn. ‘We remember coming from the same ancestral stock. I'm proud to be related to the Boneheads, only Cragg is but one of a minority of two who'll freely admit to that connection.'

  'The other being my Hetti,’ added their guide.

  'Where will Hettinor be meeting us?’ Orridus wanted to know.

  'Your unannounced return—with company—has put me on the spot, old friend, so arrangements were made rather hastily. She'll be waiting in the copse of firs behind the Settlement. I thought it prudent to place your big friend out of sight while Hetti administers to her. I'm going to have enough trouble smoothing over the disturbance your visit is causing without having the giant lowlander standing in plain view attracting sightseers.'

  'You're forgetting me,’ Alphie piped in, clearing his throat with an attention-grabbing cough. He hated being overlooked.

  'You're too small to be readily noticed,’ quipped Orridus.

  'Good things sometime come in wee packages,’ Cragg interceded, heading off the Treefur's rebuttal.

  The disgruntled marsupial settled for digging his tiny claws into the Shieldhorn's back to express his umbrage. Needless to say it was like pricking a boulder with a thorn.

  'Always the diplomat,’ the hermit said to Cragg with a chuckle.

  Reaching the valley floor, the Bonehead usher continued along the twisty path wending through groves of pine and mountain hemlock, the sprinkling of ash thicker in these low-lying pockets of foliage where the stiff highland breezes could not reach to blow the build-up away. Glimpsing a stone edifice jutting above the treetops separate from the cliff walls enclosing the hidden vale, Alphie curtly asked his ride, ‘What's up ahead?'

  'The Settlement,’ Orridus supplied. ‘It's the cave system where the highlanders reside.'

  'I've never heard of lizards living in burrows before.'

  'The Boneheads are not your typical reptiles.'

  Taking a side trail that branched off from the main pathway, Cragg headed his party into a stand of White Fir sitting behind the natural skyscraper and brought them to an oblong clearing where a lone Bonehead cow stood expectantly. He nuzzled her briefly in greeting before stepping aside. She marched over to the halted Thunderfoot.

  'You've stayed away too long, Orridus,’ Hetti scolded the hermit, conducting her preliminary examination of the mammoth plant-eater at the same time. Running her knobbly hands over her patient's trembling flanks, she clicked her tongue in reproof at finding the blood-encrusted lesion. ‘This should have been looked at far sooner. It's badly infected.'

  'I regret to say that's hard to do when you're on the run from hunters, Hettinor.'

  'I'll never understand the games your lot play with meat-eaters, Orry.'

  'Must you call me that? You are the only one who does and it bugs me.'

  'Oh stop being such a prissy.'

  'Cragg, she's your mate. Talk to her.'

  The bull highlander gave the imploring Shieldhorn a look of total helplessness.

  'He knows better than to go against me,’ said Hettinor.

  'You should've learnt by now that the cows, not the bulls, really run a herd,’ Cragg whispered to the hermit.

  'I heard that.'

  'Yes, my love.'

  'Orry, what's the name of this poor wee lassie?'

  'Bronte. Will she live or die?'

  Alphie was stunned by his mount's blunt query and scampered down off the Shortfrill.

  Hettinor was equally frank in her reply after sniffing the sickly sweet exudation of the Thunderfoot's putrescent bite marks. ‘That's difficult to say. Considering I've never seen one of her kind before, let alone treated anyone this size, I can't guarantee that I'll heal Bronte. She's unresponsive, dehydrated and obviously lost a fair amount of blood. What did this to her?'

  'One of the smaller Killjaws,’ clarified Orridus.

  Cragg shuddered. ‘I'd not like to come across one of the bigger ones then.'

  'Can you save her?’ urged the horned oldster.

  'Is she a friend?’ inquired Hetti.

  'A stranger I'm helping out.'

  'You're just a big softy behind those horns, Orry. It'll be touch and go, so I won't make any promises, other than I'll do my utmost for the Thunderfoot.'

  'I appreciate that, Hettinor.'

  'Good. Now clear off so that I can doctor to this cow.'

  'I thought I might stay.'

  'And get in my way? Not on your nelly. Now shoo.'

  'But I brought her this far.'

  'With a little help,’ Alphie reminded him.

  'You had better do as she says,’ advised Cragg. ‘No-one budges my Hetti once her mind is set.'

  Orridus gave in and backed up.

  'You too,’ Hettinor barked at the Treefur crouching between Bronte's forefeet.

  'I'm not big enough to bother anyone,’ protested Alphie, playing on his smallness and giving Orridus a black look in the process. Hettinor's uncompromising glare left no room for misunderstanding and he joined the banished Shieldhorn on the edge of the glade.

  'Come on you two,’ prodded Cragg. ‘Let's find a spot out of the way where we can have a wee chat.'

  Waiting for Alphie to clamber onto Orridus's back, Cragg conducted the pair around to the rocky promenade fronting the Settlement. His concern over alarming his fellow Boneheads with the presence of the outsiders diminished, since the visiting Shieldhorn was known already to the highlanders and his minuscule jockey was really too small to cause much of a fuss. He led them onto a rugged footway of unnatural appearance that angled upwards across the face of the limestone edifice. The steep path doubled back on to itself several times as it climbed through the half-dozen habitat levels, crossing the mouths of variously sized grottos from which watchful Bonehead faces peered out, some friendly, some unkind, most simply curious about the passersby. Stopping outside the middle of the three topmost caverns, Cragg bade his guests to enter the dim chamber.

  'Nice place you've got here,’ Alphie complimented Cragg, dismounting and exploring the unadorned hollow with his bright eyes. It was a semi-circular depression of smoothed, almost polished granite some twenty feet in diameter.

  'It's home. Not as roomy as the lower caves, but that's the price paid for prestige. We prefer to think of it as “cozy".'

  The Treefur shot Orridus a querulous glance and the oldster happily obliged.

  'Bonehead rank is reflected in where they live,’ he filled in. ‘The further up the social tree, the higher up their living quarters. Cragg is actually quite an important Bonehead.'

  'Just one of the collective, Orridus.'

  'Don't be so modest, old friend. You've breathed fresh life into the stale goings-on of the council ever since your appointment.'

  'Speaking of which, what exactly have you gotten me involved in this time?'

  The crafty old Shortfrill feigned ignorance. ‘Whatever do you mean?'

  'Am I going to find an angry mob of your lowland Killjaws coming into my hills to look for that injured giant of yours and causing strife?'

  'I hope not.'

  'Reassurance is not one of his strong points,’ Alphie butted in.

  'It never has been,’ Cragg confirmed.

  Orridus complained with a throaty rumble, ‘Have you got nothing better to do than discuss my shortcomings, chieftain?'

  'Aye, I do, as a matter of fact. Please stay put until I get back. Now, if you'll excuse me.'

  Alphie waited for Cragg to exit. ‘You'd best start explaining, horn-face.'

  'About what?'

  'These Bonehead pals of yours, that's what. Share their story.'

  Orridus turned about face to stare from the cave mouth at the vista. Redmount reared its malevolent bulk over the northeastern lip of the valley walls, belching sulphurous clouds of ash and steam into the mid-afternoon skies amid sporadic rumbling. Other than that ominous spectacle, the forested and rocky dale lying in the damning shadow of the volcano looked deceptively serene.

  'They're a reclusive bunch,’ started the Shieldhorn. ‘That's probably the reason I like them so much. They keep entirely to themselves, shut away from the ills and woes of the outside world here in the seclusion of the highlands.'

  'No wonder I've never heard of them before,’ reasoned Alphie.

  'That wasn't always the case, whiskers. The Boneheads used to live in open high country north of Mother Forest and freely mingled with other lizard races back then.'

  'Why did they move here?'

  'Persecution. You may have gleaned that we reptiles are a trifle blinkered.'

  'No kidding. Is that why you go around killing one another?'

  'Very funny,’ grimaced Orridus. ‘Predation was not the impetus for the Boneheads relocating to the Uplands. Prejudice was.'

  'Bigotry?'

  'Racism in the ugliest sense of the word. Boneheads look different, think different, and act different from all other plant-eaters. This uniqueness singled them out to their judgmental neighbours and they bore the brunt of a remorseless, gratuitous hate campaign. Harassed and hounded without end, the highlanders were finally driven from their beloved hills by the taunts and jeers of the intolerant.'

  Alphie twitched. ‘And I thought meat-eaters were cruel.'

  'There is cruelty in all of us, Treefur. Rather than suffer further dogmatism, the Bonehead elders wisely dispatched scouts to seek out a new territory where they could live a peaceful life free of narrow-minded oppression. They found it here in this upland glen, fenced in by impassable cliffs and with the added advantage of a single point of entry easily defended. Blessed with an ample supply of freshwater and an undefiled forest of edibles, Concealed Valley was ideally tailored to their needs. Here they've resided undiscovered ever since.'

  'That's not quite true. You obviously found them.'

  'Purely by accident.’ The Shieldhorn gave Alphie the lowdown. ‘With nothing but time on my hoofs, I went nosing about the highlands and stumbled across the passage behind Starlight Falls. Discovering that it was the way into the hidden valley, I eventually met and became friends with Cragg. He enjoys keeping up with current lowland events, so I happily oblige his pastime by delivering the odd snippet of outside news. That service means I'm now a welcome visitor to these parts.'

  'His son doesn't feel that way,’ the marsupial wryly observed.

  'Shrok is another story altogether.'

  'So what's this business with spooks and hauntings out here?'

  'An invention of the Boneheads to discourage trespassers and ensure their privacy.’ Orridus chortled. ‘Funnily enough, that was what drew me to the Uplands in the first place. I was investigating the myth.'

  The sun started to depart for the west on its daily journey into evening, turning the sky a lustrous shade of amber and dabbing the scudding clouds on the far horizon with purple. The elderly Shortfrill acutely felt his age. A lot of sunsets had passed since the day he became acquainted with the eremitic Boneheads.

  'I'm feeling tired again,’ he abruptly told Alphie and began to doze.

  The Treefur considered the napping dinosaur for a moment. ‘I bet the old coot could go to sleep in the teeth of a gale,’ he swore.

  Slipping under Orridus, Alphie squatted on the verge of the footpath running outside the cave, deciding his next move, when a snort from the somnolent Shieldhorn sent him on his way.

  Racing down the walkway, he scurried past the adjoining residences and retraced his steps to the copse of evergreens housing Bronte. Hettinor was busy applying a poultice of mud scooped up earlier from the lakeshore to the Thunderfoot's wound, newly rinsed with clean lake water carried back in her mouth and sprayed on to disinfect the unsanitary flesh.

  'What are you doing back here, laddie?’ she tartly demanded, looking down from her task at the Treefur scampering brazenly into the clearing.

  'I'm worried about Bronte. Is she going to be all right?'

  'If the lass survives the night, she might pull through,’ the Bonehead healer gravely informed him, finishing heaping the mudpack on her patient's immense flank and spreading it evenly over the injury with circular forehand motions. ‘That's a big if, mind you. She's dangerously feverish.'

  'Will she regain her senses? Orridus reckoned she's in a state of shock from seeing here entire herd killed and eaten.'

  'Poor luv,’ Hettinor said with a click of her tongue. ‘That would account for her torpor. Given time, perhaps her mind will return to her. If it doesn't, she's likely to remain this way indefinitely.’ Her doctoring complete, the cow highlander tried to firmly usher Alphie from the glade. ‘She's needs rest now, wee one. Scurry along.'

  He would hear none of it and stood his ground, whiskers bristling in defiance. ‘I prefer to stay. I kind of feel responsible for her.'

  Hetti's stony countenance softened. ‘I can see how determined you are not to go. Fine, you can watch over her, but only if you're quiet. Where's Orridus?'

  'Horn-head is taking a nap in your cave. He's rather worn out.'