by Erin Hunter
No living lions were in sight; except for little Menace, Titanpride had vanished. Even their crazy leader must have decided that, for now, discretion was the best strategy.
What was he doing? What was he thinking?
The attack itself had been ill judged at best, suicidally insane at worst. And as for what Sky had seen in the darkening twilight—she didn’t even want to remember it. Had Titan really been doing what she’d thought? Would a rational lion tear at the corpse of one of his own?
Sky knew one thing with absolute certainty: her quest must go on. Rock had distracted her, and she had been weak; she must never again forget her duty to the Great Spirit. Bravelands needed its guidance more than ever.
CHAPTER 23
The night was almost unnervingly peaceful; in the distance a jackal bayed and yipped, but briefly. From even farther away, the grunting roar of a lion resounded across the flat grassland, but when Fearless flared his nostrils to catch the scent, it was not even detectable. The voice of a stranger, he realized: it came from some territory near the mountains, carried disconcertingly far on the night air. He, Keen, and Ruthless had wandered almost to the farthest fringe of Mightypride’s territory, aimless and a little apathetic.
“Where are we actually going?” asked Ruthless, padding along between Fearless and Keen.
“I don’t really know,” admitted Fearless. “Far away from Mighty, that’s all.”
“At least we can make our own decisions now,” said Keen heartily. “Nobody to challenge you, Fearless. Nobody to make silly suggestions.”
That was the trouble, Fearless thought gloomily. He wasn’t at all sure anymore that Mighty’s suggestions had been silly. Most of them had made a lot of sense. If only Mighty hadn’t been so arrogant about it.
Except that wasn’t quite true either, if he was honest . . .
“We’d be safer with the pride,” he grunted. The admission hurt. “Three young and inexperienced lions trudging across Bravelands in the night?”
“We’ll be fine. There are fewer of us,” Keen pointed out brightly. “That means we can react faster!”
I could have listened more patiently, thought Fearless, as the row played out once again in his head. The pride would have come down on my side eventually. If I’d given them a chance . . .
Maybe he had rather let things get out of control.
“Lions,” whispered Keen, coming to a sudden halt. “Nearby this time. I can smell them.”
Shaking off his guilt and misery, Fearless stiffened and pricked his ears. His hackles sprang erect. “What lions?”
“I don’t know,” murmured Keen. Ruthless looked nervous, his ears twitching.
“You stay behind,” Fearless told the cub. “Close, but behind. We’d better investigate.”
“Carefully,” warned Keen, shooting him an anxious glance.
Fearless nodded, and with Ruthless trotting on light and fearful paws behind them, the two bigger cubs prowled forward through long dry grass.
Keen halted, one paw raised. “Four of them,” he murmured.
Fearless hunched his shoulders, creeping forward. The scent was very strong and sharp, and he could see them ahead: three lions and a lioness, their backs sagging as they plodded exhaustedly across the plain toward them.
“They don’t look much of a threat,” growled Fearless, one ear flicking forward. He mustn’t make any more rash decisions or stupid moves, he knew—but he had to be strong, too. Maybe it had been a mistake to leave the pride, but his decision had been made, and there was no going back. He had to start acting like a proper leader. Taking a deep breath, he bounded forward into the path of the lions.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “Whose pride do you follow?”
They glanced up at him, startled, but their wary eyes held no aggression. They looked exhausted and miserable. Three of them were injured, with great bloody scrapes on their haunches and flanks, and even the uninjured lion looked too weary to fight.
“I know who they are!” Ruthless padded forward between Fearless and Keen, his eyes wide. “They’re Titanpride lions. They joined when Father beat Steadfastpride.”
“Titanpride?” snarled Keen, lowering his shoulders and prowling forward menacingly.
“Hello, Adamant,” said Ruthless, his voice hard but quavering. “Have you come to drag me back to my father? Because I won’t go!”
The strange lions only stared at all of them, wordless. At last the one called Adamant took a pace forward. Fearless tensed, but Adamant only ducked his head, opened his jaws, and swung his flank toward Fearless.
Fearless blinked in surprise. He hadn’t done a thing, but Adamant looked downright cowed. As he watched, the big lion staggered awkwardly sideways, flopped to the ground, and rolled onto his back.
Fearless simply gaped. No full-grown lion had ever shown such submission to him before. He swallowed hard.
“All right, I won’t attack you,” he said, trying to sound as arrogant as he could. “But what are Titanpride lions doing approaching our territory?”
Adamant rolled back onto his flank and got to his paws. His head hung low. “We’re not Titan’s anymore,” he growled. “And we’re not trying to threaten anyone’s territory. We’re just looking for a new pride. One that isn’t mad.”
“You’re deserters!” exclaimed Keen.
“No lion in its right mind would stay loyal to Titan!” snapped Adamant. He shot a glance at Ruthless. “He’s gone completely insane. Sorry, Ruthless, but it’s true.”
“What’s he done now?” mumbled Ruthless.
“Ha! His latest demand? That we bring down the largest bull elephant in Bravelands.”
“What?” Keen sat back on his haunches and stared. “That’s impossible!”
“Exactly. But he threatened us with death if we didn’t try.” Adamant narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps we should just have chosen death. Because plenty of us met it anyway. A lot of good hunters paid the blood-price for Titan’s madness today.”
Ruthless’s eyes started wide. He took a pawstep forward. “My mother? Menace?”
“Both dead,” said Adamant curtly. “They fell under the feet of the creature that Titan would have had us kill.”
“No!” Ruthless’s cry was desperate. His small body shook. “That can’t be true!”
“Take my word for it, cub,” growled Adamant. “And they’re both better off now, so take comfort. Artful is free of your father’s tyranny.”
As Ruthless made a choking sound in his throat, Keen gently licking his head, a lioness limped forward. Fearless remembered her: Tenacious, a fine and fierce hunter. Now she looked beaten and dejected, and her beautiful lashing tail had been severed to a stump. Blood still leaked from the raw wound.
“Titan’s been behaving strangely for moons,” she growled. “But it’s become far, far worse lately. He spends his nights alone, and when he comes back at dawn his fur smells sickly and odd.”
“He’s obsessed with killing,” said Adamant, “and just for the sake of killing. He hardly ever eats the flesh of his prey.”
“He has changed the Code,” said Tenacious. “He says the old one no longer applies. His new Code is this: Only kill to be strong.”
“This has to be nonsense.” Wrinkling his muzzle, Keen drew back in revulsion. “I don’t trust these deserters, Fearless.”
“Is that so?” Adamant sounded more weary than threatening. “You might be interested in Titan’s next target, though, because I believe he’s one of yours. A lion called Mighty.”
Fearless’s ears went back. “What?”
“The most powerful male in this area, Titan says. He wants Mighty’s spirit.”
Fearless’s neck fur bristled. It might be Mightypride now, but that had been his pride only that morning! “If Titan wants to take over Fearlesspride, I will accept a formal challenge. Then I will have my revenge—”
“You don’t get it, do you?” said Adamant with a sigh. “He’s not interested in your pride. I told
you, he simply wants to kill Mighty: the most powerful lion in this area.”
It was dreadful news. Mighty may have ruined his life, thought Fearless, but the big lion was Valor’s mate, and the father to her unborn cubs. He could not let this happen to his sister!
All the same, beneath the horror, Fearless couldn’t help a ripple of resentment. “The most powerful lion, huh? And what about you four?” he asked grandly. “Will you stay to resist Titan, then?”
“Not a chance,” huffed Tenacious. She was trying to flick her tail, but the stump only wobbled. “We’re heading far from here. We’ll find a place where the Code is still respected. Where lions can still live as they should.”
Adamant turned away with a nod, and one by one the others followed him. They limped away slowly into the darkness and were swallowed by the night.
Drawing a breath, Fearless turned to Ruthless and nuzzled the cub’s head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “about your mother.”
The cub nodded, his head drooping. It was a hard blow for him to accept, Fearless knew. However Titan had made her behave lately, Artful and Ruthless had once been so close.
“You know,” muttered Keen in his ear, “this may not be so bad. Mighty’s a big lion. He might beat Titan.”
Ruthless’s ears pricked up a little and flickered hopefully. “Or could Mighty just run away? Then we could return to your pride.”
Fearless shook his head. “Titan won’t let him escape. By fair means or foul, your father always wins,” he growled. “I’ve told you how he cheated to kill Gallant, haven’t I? And he did the same to Keen’s father.”
“Yes. I’m sorry, Ruthless, but what Fearless says about your father is true.” Keen’s ears had flattened. “If Titan wins, there’ll be no chance of Mighty simply being driven out. He’ll be killed.”
“I can’t let Mighty go through that, whatever I think of him,” declared Fearless, shaking his head. “I can’t do it to Valor.”
The decision, after all, was an easy one. Swiveling his head back toward the pride he had abandoned, making sure of the direction and his own recent scent trail, Fearless set off at a loping run.
He could not keep up the fast pace for long, but even when he slowed, Fearless maintained a steady trot through the darkness. Behind him he could hear Keen’s pounding paws and the lighter, more hurried tread of Ruthless as the cub panted to keep up. They had come a long way from the pride, but Fearless was surprised at how much farther it felt on the return journey, with his heart tense with fear for Valor. The plains seemed suddenly endless.
The night was so still, their pawsteps seemed horribly loud over the chirping of insects. We have to be in time, Fearless thought, his heart in his dry throat. If something happens to Valor and her cubs, I won’t forgive myself.
As they passed a tangled acacia grove, its flat canopy edged in starlight, the sound of a wild cry brought Fearless up short. The sound came out of nowhere, a wild trumpet of distress. An elephant? Confused, he skidded to a halt, his ears straining.
There it was again, panicked and hopeless. “Help! Help us! Boulder!”
He didn’t know who Boulder was, but he knew that voice. For a moment, Fearless was torn.
But he didn’t know when Titan planned to attack Mightypride. Sky Strider was in trouble right now.
With a grunt he sprang off in a run to the left, down a shallow slope of cracked earth. His companions, unquestioning, followed his lead.
Slowing, he blinked, trying to focus. Beneath the thorny trees the night seemed even darker; their branches obscured even the faint star-glow that lit the grassland. Beneath his paw pads, the ground was growing softer; Fearless could feel its cool dampness.
Just ahead of him, the ground fell away. He stopped with his protracted claws on the edge of a sharp drop.
And there, outlined in blue moonlight, he spotted the elephant.
Sky Strider was struggling hopelessly, her legs and belly mired in a thick patch of mud that was blacker than the night. Her glowing eyes caught and held his, and he saw her terror and panic.
“Sky!” he grunted in shock. Then his eyes drifted to something pale that moved on her back. “What is that?”
He did not need her answer; he recognized a lion cub when he saw one. The tiny creature was hunched with two small cheetah cubs between Sky’s shoulder blades. They propped themselves desperately with stiff forepaws, staring in fear at the sucking mud that had almost reached them.
He shouldn’t be surprised at anything where Sky Strider was concerned, but she could still take him aback.
“Hold on, Sky! We’ll get you out of there.” Fearless wished he could be as sure as he sounded.
“That’s Menace!” Ruthless scrabbled to a halt at his side, gasping. “That’s my sister. She’s alive!”
“Ruthless?” A high-pitched, indignant squeal drifted from between Sky’s shoulders. “I thought you were a deserter! What are you doing with those strange lions? Are they enemies of Titanpride? I don’t think you should be—”
“Hush, Menace!” chirped one of the cheetah cubs crossly. “They’re helping us!”
“Menace, hold on! These lions are my friends, they won’t hurt you.” Ruthless’s voice was strained with fear as he watched Sky plunge and struggle in the mire. “Fearless, what can we do? I can’t lose my sister now!”
“We’ll get them all out,” growled Fearless. He placed a paw on the steep slope and began to inch his way down, but his paws slithered on the muddy surface. He dug in his claws, wary.
“Fearless, don’t risk getting stuck yourself!” Keen called from behind him. He was peering down anxiously from the edge. “There are trees. That might be a way to help.”
Fearless glanced up. Keen was right: the tangled branches clustered thickly above the mud hole. They were too high for Sky to reach, though.
“Maybe we can bring them lower?” suggested Keen in the silence as Fearless hesitated. “Somehow. Then the elephant can grab one. If you’re determined to get her out.”
“I am,” said Fearless firmly. “She’s as much my friend as Thorn Highleaf.”
Sky’s glowing eyes turned to him, filled with gratitude. She looked a little calmer. “I think your friend’s idea might work,” she gasped.
“How do we do it, though?” Fearless licked his jaws uncertainly. “Keen or I would break those branches, and then we’d all be in the same mud.”
“I’m smaller,” Ruthless piped up suddenly. “I’ll make the climb.”
Fearless turned his head to the cub. “Be careful,” he growled. “Don’t fall, Ruthless.”
The cub set his jaws firmly. Without another word, he leaped up to sink his claws into a sturdy trunk, then dragged himself up toward where the branches began to spread out over the mud hole.
The lowest branches were obviously too short; Fearless watched, his breath catching in his throat, as Ruthless hauled himself farther up the trunk. At last the cub stopped and placed an experimental paw on a higher branch.
“I think this one will reach,” he called down.
“Be very careful,” Fearless warned him. His heart skipped as he watched the cub edge out onto the branch, paw by paw. The bough dipped slightly, then a little more. Fearless could hear the wood creaking.
Fearless wanted to focus only on Ruthless—If he falls, maybe I can spring out and catch him, he mused doubtfully—but there was an itch in his spine that was distracting. His fur was rising all along his back, and he frowned.
Are we being watched?
Yes, that was definitely the sensation he felt. Fearless gave himself a light shake, but it did nothing to dispel that uneasy suspicion. He risked a glance over his shoulder, but he could see nothing moving in the shadows around the mud hole.
“Hurry, Ruthless,” he murmured. Suddenly the chance of the cub falling didn’t seem like the most pressing danger.
The branch was drooping dramatically now, as Ruthless crept farther and farther along it. None of the watchers seemed
to be breathing, not even the frightened Sky or the cubs on her back.
Then, abruptly, Ruthless stopped. He raised his head sharply, staring out beyond Fearless.
“Look out!” he cried.
Fearless spun around, just too late. A furred shape lunged for his hind leg, fastening sharp teeth in his flesh. With a roar of shock, Fearless lashed at it.
It fell back, but suddenly the shadows were full of them: quick-moving shapes with glowing eyes and glinting fangs. Fearless saw flashes of pale fur, the flick of bushy tails.
Hyenas? No, the tails were wrong, the outline of the ears too big. And these were smaller—though they seemed even more vicious than hyenas, their sharp snouts biting and tearing with glee. And these creatures were faster. Fearless spun and slashed, roaring with anger, as they darted in and snapped at his flanks. On the top edge of the slope, Keen too was under attack, growling and twisting as he tried to defend himself.
The air was filled with a cackling and a racket of sharp yelping howls. As soon as Fearless could fling one away, another two seemed to take its place, chattering and shrieking. Pain stung Fearless’s flanks and haunches and shoulders as they seized mouthfuls of his flesh and shook their heads violently.
Are these little brutes actually going to kill me? he thought, a wave of panic flooding in along with the pain.
No. He couldn’t let that happen, not now! Valor needs me. Shunting three of the creatures away, he roared and flung himself sideways, knocking another two off their paws. As sharp teeth sank into his shoulder again, he let himself fall, crushing his attacker beneath his weight.
They seemed warier now, backing off and circling. Fearless shook himself and roared again.
They still surrounded him. Gradually they prowled closer once more, and individuals darted forward in a feint now and again, their movements fluid and confident. It was as if, thought Fearless, they were following some well-practiced plan to wear him down. I mustn’t take my eyes off them!
But how could he watch them all at once? And they were so fast. Jackals? No, Fearless thought; they were like jackals, but somehow different. Their grins were lurid, their muzzles peeled back in spite, and now it was easier to make out the details: they were slender creatures with narrow faces, big ears, and bushy tails. In their glowing eyes was nothing but cruelty. Fearless knew instinctively that if he showed a single trace of weakness, they would fly for his throat.