The Parting of Ways Read online

  “With every light comes a shadow.” - Dustfall

  The saga continues...

  When Gaston splits the tribe and convinces Seren to join him, Jonah must lead the remaining Elk despite the constant threats on the road to Eliz. But all is not what it seems in the land of the winter ruins. Invaders from the north have secretly traveled south as well, forcing Jonah to risk everything to save his clan and his family.

  From bestselling authors J. Thorn and Glynn James comes Dustfall, a new post-apocalyptic series chronicling one man’s challenge and his epic quest to save what remains of humanity.

  Dustfall, Book Two - The Parting of Ways

  By J. Thorn and Glynn James

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  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  Copyright

  Table of Contents

  Dustfall, Book Two - The Parting of Ways

  First Edition

  Copyright © 2016 by J. Thorn and Glynn James

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, places, and dialogue are drawn from the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Edited by:

  Andrea Harding

  For more information:

  http://www.dustfall.uk

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  The peddler woman had lived on the street in Wytheville for over forty years, ever since she had been a young woman and her family had moved from the east for the first time, back in the days when men took notice of her. Now she was old and getting stiff. She was of little interest to most folks, especially not men of the clans, and although she managed to follow the great convoy to Eliz each year, she was never welcome in a camp and always feared those months of insecurity on the plains. She’d seen what thieves were willing to do, especially to the weak, just to take what they had. But she’d been lucky so far in her life and avoided such pains.

  Leta leaned forward and slapped the old man in front of her on the hand. Bjorn was much older than she, and if she were not so low on food herself she would have let him take one of the apples. But he was a greedy man, and although he did sometimes bring her something rare, he was far too willing to help himself.

  I do have some friends, she thought, as she looked up from her cart and its pitiful wares of rough skins and pelts. But they were also getting old and soon would not last the journey.

  “Not for you,” she snapped at him.

  “Ah, what’s up?” the old man asked. “You got a couple dozen of em. One won’t be missed.”

  “You didn’t bring me any of that deer you managed to get last week. Ate it all yourself, no doubt.”

  “I didn't get much,” he said, a look of exasperation on his face. “I owed. I got just a bit of haunch. And it was a thin one with hardly any meat on it.”

  “Still could have shared it.”

  She noticed Bjorn turn to look down the street toward a group of men who approached. They were armed and wearing the furs and leather of the forest clans. Warriors.

  Trouble? she wondered, but didn’t think so. They were only a few hundred yards from the gates along the main street, and she knew that any ruckus would be stopped quickly. People were stupid but not that stupid.

  The four men walked slowly along the street, laughing and talking with lowered voices, but she caught little of the conversation.

  “I can’t believe you got three dozen slaves out of it as well,” said the youngest of the men. Leta thought he looked no more than a boy. “Three dozen, and you even haggled with them on that. Two dozen up to three dozen.”

  One of the other men laughed. “Just what are you going to do with three dozen slaves, Jonah? I mean they can pull the carts and work, I guess, but you’ll have to feed them too.”

  Another man, taller than the others and less worn-looking, spoke. Leta thought his voice was strong and there was something else about him. Something that urged her to just listen to his words, even though Bjorn was chattering right next to her.

  “Set them free, I guess,” said the man. “We don’t want slaves, but we do want a larger clan. Three dozen new people to add to our numbers will help toward that, if they stay.”

  “But they’ll be weak and unhealthy,” said another of the men. “They won’t give you the strong slaves, they’ll send you the weakest.”

  “Then we’ll feed them until they are stronger or they can leave,” said the tall man. “Plenty of food in the forest if you have a bow and you’re not lazy.”

  Leta now believed that he may be a leader of some sort. Maybe from a northern forest clan, though she didn’t recognize him. “Must admit I wasn’t expecting to end up with them, but I figured I’d take everything offered, and then some.”

  At this the four men laughed loudly, and then they were too far away for Leta to hear, moving through the crowds away from the great hall.

  “Bjorn,” she said, but the old man was still chattering, in between mouthfuls of the apple he seemed to have taken while she was distracted, much to her annoyance.

  “Bjorn, shut up and listen,” she said. At that he looked up. “Who were those men?”

  “Those?” he asked. “That’s what I was trying to tell you, you old bag. That’s the new Elk leader, Jonah, son of Judas. Biggest fucking clan in the forest, now they swallowed up about fifty bajillion other clans. So Myer says, anyway.”

  “Swallowed up?” Leta asked, squinting and not sure whether to believe the old man. But he seemed genuine. “Really?”

  “Yep, is what Myer says. Just swallowed up a load o
f smaller clans. Ten of them, someone said. All gone now. Just all Elk. Some say he has two hundred warriors in his warband.”

  “They killed them all, all those clans?” said Leta, shocked. “They just slaughtered them?”

  Bjorn laughed. “No, you silly old cow. They dint do any killin’, apart from some crazy chief. They took them in.”

  Leta frowned. “What do you mean? No one does that unless there’s a marriage or something like that. You don’t just swallow up a whole clan.”

  But Bjorn was nodding. “No shit, woman. I mean it. That’s what everyone is saying. What’s the names Myer said? Valley, Bluestone, Harpers or something like that. They were the first three and they been grabbing others ever since. He said they just merged overnight and became one big clan under that new leader, Jonah.”

  “No, way,” said Leta.

  “Apparently, what sparked it all was there was this fight, between one of the other clan leaders and Jonah, like a duel for leadership or some shit like that, and Jonah kills the man in one swing of his axe. Like two seconds and it was over. He’s some sort of devil with a magic axe, is what Myer’s told me. Faster than lightning. And you know what? He dint kill off the clan at all after he done duelin with the leader, not one of them except the guy who’d challenged him. Dint even take down the eldest son, as is tradition. The rest are now part of the Elk, no honor slaughterin’ nor nothin. The son of that clan is now his best buddy or something. They’re all Elk, now. And pretty damn happy about it, I hear.”

  “And that was him? Just gone by?” asked Leta.

  Bjorn was nodding. “Yeah, that was him, the tall one. And...you won’t believe this shit,” he said leaning in close. “Apparently, up on the old north road, that old codger Cortesse—you know, Elder Noki’s pet. Yeah, Mister Ironballs. Well, he went up the north road, all the way to Sixty-Four, and some has been saying that Jonah there scared the living hell out of him and his warriors. Big warriors, sent with him, too. Growled at him just like a bear. You wouldn’t think to look at him, would ya? Appearances can be demeaning, though.”

  “Deceiving,” said Leta.

  “What?”

  Leta shook her head. “Never mind.” She looked up the street in the direction that Jonah and his group had gone, her mind drifting with possibilities. The man just said he was going to free three dozen slaves. Three dozen. No one freed slaves; they were too expensive to buy. Only the wealthy and strong owned slaves. To get three dozen and just free them? And he took the remainder of a clan that many would have wiped out.

  “So, can I have just one more of them apples?” Bjorn asked, and Leta tossed him one without thought. She no longer paid attention to her old friend. Instead she looked in the direction that the four men had gone. She wondered, standing there on the street next to her cart, if the new leader of the Elk would let in old people, and homeless, and those without clans. People like her.

  “Bjorn,” she said. Somehow deciding her next move in an instant. “Get off my cart and grab your things.”

  The old man looked puzzled “Eh? What?”

  “Come on,” she said. “Get the others. We’re going for a walk.”

  Chapter 2

  Declan, Gunney and Solomon slapped Jonah on the back and pushed flasks of rye in his face. Jonah smiled and nodded, looking at the ground as the men showered him with adulation, the tent bursting with bravado and optimism.

  “You got the seat on the council and the supplies,” said Gunney. “Ain’t no way they saw that coming.”

  Gunney stepped in front of Declan, as if to remind the boy that he was the youngest member of their new leadership crew.

  “The old men didn’t expect the clan mergers,” Solomon said.

  “No. That they didn’t,” said Jonah. “And we have you two to thank for that idea.”

  He looked at the men, laughing and hollering along with them, and yet his thoughts turned to Seren and Roke, and those that he had lost. Jonah knew the celebration would be short-lived, and they would be back on the road soon. And this time he would be without his best set of eyes and most dangerous bow.

  “Let’s hunt. Get us some deer and have a feast.”

  “I think we should stay camped up tonight,” said Jonah. “Including the warriors. We received more than expected from the elders. We got the Elk a seat on the council and things that will help us get to Eliz. But the road has never been more dangerous. The clans are thinning, and those on the fringes are becoming more desperate.”

  “You should speak,” Declan said.

  Jonah looked at the boy and winked. He is wise beyond his years.

  “What should I say?” Jonah asked.

  “Tell them the truth.”

  Solomon and Gunney nodded along with Declan.

  Having three right hands instead of one. How fortunate am I?

  “There is an open space on the east side of the camp. Tell the people I will address them there in one hour’s time.”

  Solomon and Gunney clapped Jonah on the shoulder before leaving the tent. Declan stayed behind. “I will walk with you.”

  “Okay.”

  Declan followed Jonah out of the tent and they walked through Wytheville to the field. The crumbling walls of ruin rose up on each side of the expansive, rectangular space. Strands of sheet metal and rusted bars dangled from the edges, with chain link fence ripped and torn open by time. One of six towers surrounding the field remained standing, while the other five lay crippled amongst the weeds and ivy that strangled the thin trees shooting out from the ground. The scrub on the field lay matted, trampled by clans using it as a meeting place. Before the end of the old world, men would compete against each other on this field while the rest of the clan watched from the raised seats, now nothing but rusted metal. Nera once told Jonah that people had massive torches mounted on tops of the towers so they could watch the match at night as if it were day. He did not believe the old man. Who would be so wasteful with such a precious resource as night vision?

  The rest of Wytheville buzzed with people heading from the great hall to the peddlers, still selling their spoiled wares to the thin and hungry of the clans. The aroma of roasted meats mixed with that of piss and human filth. The tents and shanties lining the main street had reached maximum capacity, and yet it seemed that Jonah’s meeting with the council elders had somehow attracted more people to the streets of Wytheville.

  “Look. They are already gathering.”

  Jonah turned toward the field, following Declan’s gaze. Members of the Harpeth and Bluestone clumped together beneath the rickety platform on which Jonah no doubt knew he’d be standing. He watched as members of the Valley and the Elk arrived next, the message started by Gunney and Solomon now spreading through Wytheville.

  Jonah walked the perimeter of the field with Declan at his side. By the time he reached the stone stairs leading up to the platform, the clans filled the space. People stood shoulder to shoulder on the field, with more filtering in each minute. Solomon and Gunney climbed on to the platform and the people below cheered and clapped. Declan led Jonah up next, to another round of thunderous applause.

  He took a step forward and heard the raw scrape of metal shift below his feet. Jonah looked at Gunney and the man shrugged, as if he knew the platform would hold at least until they were done addressing the clans. Jonah spied the council elders at the edge of the field, sitting on a cart pulled by their chieftains. Each man held a piece of sheet metal to his ancient ear, the aluminum rolled into the shape of a large funnel. Jonah raised both of his hands and the hundreds of people on the field fell silent.

  “I am Jonah of the Elk. And these are my Right Hands.”

  He spun with his right arm extended and then nodded at the three men standing on the platform with him. Solomon, Gunney and Declan bowed together, all three grinning beneath the grime on their faces. Another surge of energy came from the field, the tired clans tapping into unknown reserves to acknowledge the leadership of what was now the largest clan in Wythe
ville.

  “We are here again, another year. Another journey to Eliz before us. And we have much to fear.”

  The words ripped the smirks from Jonah’s Right Hands. Groans floated up to the platform punctuated by an occasional muttered obscenity.

  “I followed my father on this road every fall season, all the way to Eliz. Even in those early days, when clans had more than we do now, The Walk was treacherous. And deadly. We often lost members of the Elk before we even arrived here, in Wytheville.”

  Jonah caught Sasha’s eye. She stood to the left of center, huddling over their children. He ignored the pain in his heart and continued.

  “I am honored to have welcomed the Valley, the Harpeth, and the Bluestone into the Elk. I am also honored to accept a position on the council of clans, and to lead the clans to Eliz. There are many of us, and it has been long known that numbers correlate to strength, but do not think for a moment that alone will bring you security. We must be vigilant. All of us.”

  A lone crow landed on the last remaining light tower, cawing across the expansive field.

  “The Walk remains as dangerous as it ever was. And now we have new threats. Some of our Elk brothers have left to follow another. We will not have their experience and guidance on the road. In addition, the rogue clans and lawless heathens have become desperate. As population drops, and resources dwindle, they have become more violent and savage in their attacks.

  “We will, no doubt, be ambushed on the road at some point. Know this will happen, as sure as the sun will rise in the east. When that happens, we must be ready, and that means being ready every moment of the journey.”

  Jonah looked to his Right Hands, standing nearby, and turned back to the crowd.

  “I will lead. The Elk will lead. All clans are invited to join us on the way to Eliz. I will protect you like my own clan. But you must know the risks. You and your clansmen must decide whether remaining in Wytheville is better for you. It is not for the Elk. We must go to Eliz, as commanded in our book. We will honor our ancestors and our faith. But you have a choice.