by Erin Hunter
Sky had no idea whether the animals of Bravelands would respond to her summons. Titan had struck so much fear into so many hearts, she would not even blame the herds if they chose to stay away; to follow the example of the Great Father who they thought had fled in fear. How had the Great Spirit protected them lately? Even the firmest faith must waver in times like these. But if no creatures came to the Great Gathering, then Thorn’s plan would all be for nothing.
Oh, Great Spirit. Let them come.
Titan had to come too, of course, if Thorn’s scheme was to succeed. Sky was not nearly so eager for that lion to turn up, but of course he must. This might be their last opportunity to defeat him for a very long time—or at all.
“Sky,” said Rock. He reached out his trunk to curl it around hers. “We have done all we can. You have done more than could ever have been expected. If the Great Spirit is with us, and watching, I know all will be well.”
“I hope the Spirit is near,” she whispered. “Rock, this could all go so wrong. We could see our friends die today. We ourselves might not survive.”
“Courage, Sky. Our friends are watching. We have to look certain for their sakes.”
Rock was right. Though they tried not to stare, Sky was aware that the gazes of the gathered elephants kept turning toward her. She swallowed hard, wishing that the Great Father were here.
She scanned the landscape. Thorn would not show himself until he needed to, but even if he was not physically close by, Sky knew he would be watching everything through the eyes of another creature. Perhaps a vulture? The great birds were swooping out of the sky right now, alighting in the branches of the surrounding trees, stretching their wings, hunching their shoulders to wait. Recognizing Windrider, Sky gave the old bird a respectful nod.
There was movement out on the savannah; Sky gave a small gasp of excitement. Creatures were coming . . . a pair of shy dik-diks picked their way nervously toward the watering hole. They glanced warily at a pod of hippos that thundered up from the riverbank, churning it to mud. A vast mass of black buffalo raised a cloud of sun-gilded dust as they moved across the plain toward the elephants. Zebras and wildebeests approached from another direction, and a troop of vervets bounded from the direction of the distant forest, chattering and screeching.
Soon there were too many to count the different herds, and Sky’s heart soared. Silhouetted against the rising sun, more and more animals trekked across the grassland: hyenas, impalas, three elegant giraffes. Another zebra herd approached, accompanied by gazelles and a pair of bushbuck. Even the earth came alive with small creatures: ground squirrels, rats and hares and hyraxes. A serval cat stalked toward them, alone and aloof, averting its gaze very determinedly from a family of mice; hunting was forbidden during a Great Gathering.
Sky realized she need not have worried. The herds kept coming, and before long she was wondering if this might be the largest Great Gathering she had ever witnessed. A leopard bounded through the grass. A coalition of cheetahs approached from the opposite direction, lithe and sleek. A pack of wild dogs trotted between the grass-eaters, huge ears pricked high.
One of the wild dogs skittered indignantly aside as three baboons bounded straight through the pack. Mud, Nut, and Spider loped toward Sky, their eyes bright with excitement.
“Sky.” Nut stopped in front of her trunk and nodded. “We’re the only baboons so far, I’m afraid. I’ve kept an eye out for Dawntrees Troop as we traveled here, but there’s no sign they’ve left Brightforest.” He sighed.
“Don’t worry,” Sky reassured him. “Look how many have come to the Gathering! This is going to work, Nut.”
“Wait.” Mud loped a few paces to the side and craned to see over the herds. “I can’t be seeing what I’m seeing. . . .”
“What?” Spider’s eyes opened wide with curiosity. He grabbed hold of Nut and scrambled onto his shoulders, ignoring Nut’s yells of indignation. Nut swayed and cursed, but Spider hung on to his head and stood up on Nut’s shoulder blades, balancing carefully. “Wow. Mud, you’re right! Lions!”
“Lions?” Rock’s ears flapped forward, and he frowned. “Titan, already?”
“No, that’s not Titan,” said Mud. “I’d recognize that brute anywhere, and there aren’t any wolves.”
“Surely they aren’t here to hunt,” exclaimed Sky in horror. “Even lions wouldn’t intentionally disrespect a Great Gathering.”
“No.” A broad smile spread over Mud’s features. “That’s Fearless and his pride!”
“Fearless? His pride too?” cried Sky.
The other animals seemed to be just as shocked. One by one, the herds and predators turned to stare as the lion pride stalked toward the water’s edge.
“I want to see,” protested Nut. He shook Spider off, put a paw on his head, and clambered up, swapping places.
“Lions do not follow the Great Parent,” muttered Rock to Sky. “What are they up to? Fearless I could understand, but his whole pride?”
“That’s his sister, Valor,” said Mud, as the lions drew closer.
“And his pride’s gotten much bigger,” observed Nut. “Where’s that other lion? Whatshisname, Mighty?”
“I don’t know.” Sky waited in trepidation as Fearless detached himself from the pride and paced forward alone. “Fearless. Welcome.”
Fearless bowed his head respectfully. His mane really had grown quickly, thought Sky distractedly, and it was going to be impressive.
“Thank you, Sky Strider,” said Fearless formally. He lowered his voice. “My pride has come at Thorn’s request, and they have respect for the Gathering and its traditions.”
Sky blew out a quiet breath of relief. “Where is Thorn?” she murmured.
“He’s watching from the forest,” Fearless told her, adding wryly, “and probably from a few of these grass-eaters’ heads. He’d get a good vantage point from that giraffe.”
Sky couldn’t help but smile. “I feel better knowing he’s here somewhere.”
“And he’ll put in an appearance when the time is right,” Fearless assured her quietly.
Sky cleared her throat and took a decisive step forward. Around the watering hole, the hosts of animals stilled their hooves and voices.
“Thank you all. For attending this Great Gathering, I am grateful to you; after all, we had no Great Parent to summon you.” She lowered her eyes, guilty at the lie. She could only hope the herds would mistake the tremor in her voice for grief. “This has been a terrible season, after many dreadful ones. I can confirm to you all that we have lost our beloved Great Father, Thorn the baboon.”
“We’d heard that already,” snapped a hyena. “He scarpered like a scared mouse? So what are we here for?”
A group of wildebeests stirred restlessly, and their leader pawed the earth with a hoof. “This whole Gathering is irregular, Sky Strider,” he said with a glare at the lions. “Are we going to get a new Great Parent?”
“I hope we haven’t come all this way for nothing,” called a giraffe from the rear.
A few rodents squeaked in haughty agreement at Sky’s feet. A leopard gave an impatient growl and glared at the elephants.
Sky glanced anxiously around. She couldn’t blame them for their frustration. This Great Gathering had provoked much gossip and excitement on the plains and in the forests; no wonder the animals were impatient to know what it was all about.
“I hope it’s not another baboon,” bellowed a buffalo, and his herd grunted in agreement.
“That’s not fair—” began Sky, but a gerenuk interrupted her.
“We need a good strong leader,” she brayed. “One that can take on Titan and defeat him!”
“I knew from the start that baboon was wrong for the job,” grumbled a hippo.
“He’s probably sunning himself on a branch in a distant forest, fat on juicy fruit,” agreed the surly leopard. “Everyone knows baboons are idle at heart.”
Sky longed to trumpet in anger at them all. If only you knew what Thor
n had done, and is still doing, for all of you! But she swallowed the words and stood in silence. It was so important to let them all go on thinking Thorn was dead.
Where are you, Titan? I know you must be here. Show yourself!
Just as she thought it, there was a squeal of terror from a sounder of warthogs at the edge of the Gathering. They bolted into a run, almost crashing into a herd of gazelles. The gazelles, turning to complain, went stock-still, then skittered away themselves, pronking and dodging.
The murmurs of dissatisfaction from the whole horde turned to squeals and bellows of panic, as Titan prowled through the broad gap that opened to make way for him. Zebras flinched away, whinnying in fear; a giraffe lurched into a run. Behind Titan stalked his wolf pack, fangs glittering, jaws hanging wide in gleeful grins.
Sky stared at the massive lion, and suddenly she felt her faith in Thorn’s plan waver. Surely Titan, already a full-grown lion, had become unnaturally huge? His presence seemed to darken the dawn, his shadow spilling before him like darkness with a mind of its own. His smooth movements crackled with power, and his yellow fangs gleamed as he snarled at the animals he passed. The herds pressed back so desperately, Sky was afraid that some smaller creatures might be crushed. Truly, she believed that Titan could kill with the power of fear alone.
Beside her, Fearless was silent, but his hide and mane bristled. Sky could sense the hatred emanating from him. His muzzle peeled back from his fangs, but he didn’t move.
Titan came to a halt, right beneath the tree in which the vultures perched. They stared down at him, unmoving.
He turned to face the gathered herds, surveying them with an air of absolute dominance.
“Creatures of Bravelands. Poor, weak creatures, living your lives in fear. I, Titan Wolfpride, bring you great news.”
Not a hoof scraped, not a growl escaped a predator’s throat. Even the mice crouched quietly in the grass. Every scared eye was fixed on Titan.
Titan’s voice boomed like thunder. “You all know me, and you know my strength. Your Great Father has abandoned you. He sent another—his own mate—to die at my jaws so that he himself could flee. I have sensed him spying on me and tasted his fear. But he is gone now, never to return. If this Great Spirit occupied his heart, it too has run away.”
A little jackal whimpered and was shushed by its mother; there was no other sound.
“Power over Bravelands is mine,” Titan went on, his glossy black mane rippling as he flexed his huge shoulder muscles. “Lions have always been your natural leaders, and I, as the leader of lions, come to claim my right of rule. My first edict: forget your petty Code. I revoke it from this moment, and in its place my single rule applies: the strongest will survive. I, Titan, am the strongest of all, and you will bow before me. Follow me to the water, every one of you. Do you see how I respect your traditions and customs?” Titan turned with a flick of his tail and prowled the few paces down to the riverbank. “Drink with me and show me your respect.” A sly light came into his eye as he glanced back at the herds. “Obey or die, here and now.”
With a single, soaring bound, Titan plunged into the water. He rose up in a fountain of spray and stood tall, up to his belly, water streaming from his mane and shoulders, his coat gleaming darkly in the sunlight.
“Respect!” he roared. “Now!”
Sky could bear it no longer. She thundered forward to face him, glaring straight into his black glittering eyes. Then she turned back to the gathered herds and raised her trunk.
“Stand firm, all of you!” she cried. “This creature cannot cow the Great Spirit!”
The animals looked from Titan to Sky, and back again. It was as if, in that moment, they didn’t know who scared them more. The wolves were slinking forward, growling as they formed a semicircle around Sky, but she ignored them. Fearless was watching her intently, his tail lashing. He looked coiled to spring at Titan. No, Fearless, she willed him. Don’t make your move, not now.
“You.” Sky turned furiously on Titan once more. “You are nothing but a Codebreaking murderer, and you have no place in Bravelands.”
“Says you, a mad elephant who cannot even walk with her herd!” Titan slammed a massive paw into the water in a shower of glittering spray. With deliberate contempt, he averted his gaze from her and glared once more at the herds. “Perhaps one of you wish to challenge me? Come, seize your moment of glory! Be remembered for this day! Let your heart be ripped out and consumed; why not? Let your weak spirit live in me and feel true power for the first time!”
Sky’s mouth was as dry as old bones on the Plain of Our Ancestors. Oh, Thorn, she found herself pleading inwardly. Thorn. Now is the time, or never!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Fearless prowled to Sky’s side. His paws trembled with the longing to rip out Titan’s throat, to silence that boastful, booming roar forever. Sky had barely had time to outline Thorn’s plan as they waited, and her rapid explanation had not calmed his fears. He had been here before, he thought bitterly. Then, I had to stand back to let Mighty fight; now, still, I must wait! Fearless wanted to trust Thorn completely; he respected his cleverness. But could this outcome really be any different?
As his muscles tensed with frustration and loathing, he felt Sky’s trunk touch his shoulder gently.
“No, Fearless,” she whispered urgently. “We have to follow through with Thorn’s plan.”
Titan’s triumphant sneer was almost unbearable to see. The morning sun outlined his black mane in a haze of gold; he looked, thought Fearless with a lurch in his gut, like a vision of supreme victory.
The herds were creeping forward now, one animal at a time, approaching the bank. They were afraid, Fearless knew. Some would make the decision to survive, to enter the water to drink with Titan. Then others would follow, faster and faster, and eventually all the creatures of Bravelands would submit to this tyrant. Anger surged hot in Fearless’s throat.
Then something stirred in the river beyond Titan, ripples that became sharp-pointed waves. Fearless laid back his ears, holding his breath.
“Titan’s day has come,” Sky whispered to him.
Ridged backs rose from the water as the crocodiles surfaced. Titan was hemmed in by a semicircle of them, their slitted eyes fixed on him. His gaze passed over them, but he barely moved.
At once, the herds erupted in screams and howls and hoots of alarm. A zebra gave a braying cry of terror.
“Crocodiles!”
“They’re coming for us all!” squealed a warthog.
“No!” trumpeted Sky. “Calm yourselves!”
One by one, the animals around her turned to stare. They looked from Sky to the circling crocodiles, their ears flicking, hooves stamping. One or two exchanged mutters and nervous cries, but Sky’s order had stilled them. Trembling, the herds turned to stare at Titan, and at the ridged heads and backs that now homed in on him.
Fearless dared to believe that Thorn’s plan was going to work.
Murmurs of disbelief and a growing excitement went through all the creatures. The wildebeests grunted and pawed the ground. The leopard sat up on its haunches, its grumpy expression changing to one of eager fascination. Farther back, a gazelle pronked, eager to see past its herd-mates. A great chirruping and squeaking arose from the smaller creatures. The animals that had moved toward Titan now drew back, their heads lifting, their expressions of defeated terror replaced now with relief. As the crocodiles closed in on Titan, the noise became a swelling chorus of roars, hoots, whistles, and cheers.
Fearless remained silent, his claws digging hard into the shoreline mud, as he stared at Titan. He should be glad, but all he felt was a bone-deep frustration. This should have been his moment. He should have been the one to kill Titan, yet Sky and Thorn had stolen his moment of glory and given it to a bask of vicious Sandtongue-hissers.
“Look, Fearless!” said Sky. “That’s Rip, the leader of the Muddy River Bask. Titan killed his son. I know this must be hard for you, but others have lost family
to that mad lion. The crocodiles have the best chance of all of us. And Rip is owed this!”
“I’m owed it too,” growled Fearless, “and Titan doesn’t look afraid.”
“That’s only because he’s mad,” said Sky grimly. “Don’t worry, Fearless. He’s doomed. There’s no way he can escape.”
Titan looked from side to side. He eyed the crocodiles, his face impassive. Then he turned back toward the animals on the bank.
Throwing his head back, he gave a roar. “So this is your plan to defeat me?” There wasn’t so much as a quaver in his voice. “You dare not face me yourselves, so you have these crocodiles do your dirty work?”
Something’s wrong, thought Fearless. Why isn’t he trying to escape?
After a brief moment, Rip lunged toward Titan, jaws agape. As he closed in on the mad lion, the other crocs surged too. But not toward Titan. Savage jaws clamped around Rip’s tail, dragging him back.
Rip had no time for anger; he looked astonished as he was pulled under by the other crocodile. Fearless snapped his head around to stare at Sky. This was part of the plan?
But Sky looked almost as confused as Rip. Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened a little. Rock gave a trumpet of horror.
Rip surfaced again, struggling and flailing, as the other crocodiles broke their circle around Titan and turned on their leader. Rip’s jaws opened in a bellow of shock and fury as he vanished in a turmoil of lashing tails and spinning bodies and foaming river water.
“What?” Fearless gave a roar of despair as the crocs snapped and tore, and a dark cloud of blood stained the water. “Sky! What is this?”
“I don’t—I don’t know—” Sky took a step backward, shaking her ears. “No, no—”
Something floated to the surface as the crocodiles withdrew, something pale and scaly. Rip drifted there, lifeless, his belly exposed, torn to pieces by his own bask.