by Erin Hunter
Silent, Sky shook her head.
Moon’s voice wobbled. “But we came all this way!”
“We’ll try something else,” she assured him.
Maybe one of the other Great Parents could help? Sky let her gaze roam over the grass beneath the pink blossoms. Something drifted into her memory: her very first visit to the Plain of Our Ancestors, when she had been even younger than Moon. Great Mother had brought her here, and she had shown Sky something very special. . . .
There. The ancient bones were just fragments now, and Sky parted the tangled grass with a gentle touch. Over the years the tree’s roots had grown and spread, coiling around the bones; one had thrust through an eye socket of the skull. The Mother Tree had made this skeleton part of the Plain itself.
“The bones of the first Great Mother,” she told Moon softly.
He craned forward, then shut one eye. “They’re broken.”
“They’re very old,” Sky said. “They’ve been here a long, long time.”
Reverently, she stroked the worn bones. Can you hear me, ancient Great Mother? Sky closed her eyes tightly, hoping against hope.
And the First Great Mother heard her.
Darkness. Storm clouds and densely growing trees, their heavy boughs thrashing.
A howling wind blew back Sky’s ears and drove into her face and chest, almost shoving her to her knees. Yet there was something very important up ahead, Sky knew, something she had to see. She creased her eyes against the storm and leaned into its force, battling forward.
Something was approaching, something vast and powerful that broke through the trees as if they were twigs. The ground trembled, branches cracked and snapped, and leaves tumbled down. It was a dark shape, huge and familiar and comforting, and its gaze was locked on something distant.
Joy surged through Sky. “Great Mother!”
The heavy, well-remembered head began to turn.
And then the great elephant vanished.
“Great Mother!” Sky wailed. She was abandoned, she was lost. . . .
A white light bloomed among the trees and Sky gasped. The glow of it shimmered, more beautiful than anything Sky had ever seen, and for the first time in a long while, she felt filled with peace. . . .
Until the light began to shrink.
“No,” Sky whimpered. “Don’t go!”
She stumbled forward. The light was changing, forming an outline of spread feathers. A bird, Sky realized: a bird with impossibly wide, shining wings—
She staggered, her knees weak with shock. She was back on the Plain, with a bright sun overhead and a gentle breeze shimmering through the grass.
“Sky?” Silverhorn trotted close, alarmed.
“What did you see?” Moon asked, grabbing her trunk with his. “What happened, Sky?”
Sky blinked, trying to collect her thoughts. “I don’t know—I saw Great Mother, and a bird . . . I don’t know,” she exclaimed in desperation. “Maybe the Great Spirit is in the air somewhere? Looking for the right Great Parent?”
Before either Moon or Silverhorn could reply, a harsh call split the sky, echoing from the rock walls. A shadow swept across the grass with the breeze.
“A bird!” Moon cried. “Like you saw, Sky! It’s a good sign, isn’t it?”
Sky stared up, her heart swelling with hope. But as the bird spiraled down out of the sun’s dazzle, Sky’s throat grew tight with fear. It was a vulture—an eater of the dead.
The vulture screeched in Skytongue as she circled, sending a shiver along Sky’s spine. The bird was not beautiful. Her wings were vast and black, her face wrinkled and wattled, and her long neck was almost bald. The three companions flinched as she angled her broad wings and swooped down beneath the calodendrum.
She took a lurching hop through the grass, and her talons raked the ground. With a cry of triumph, she seized the shard of Great Mother’s tusk.
“No!” Sky cried, lunging forward. “No! Please don’t take it!”
Ignoring her, the vulture flapped up into the sky. Out of Sky’s frantic reach, she swept over their heads, then soared above the narrow pass of the Plain’s entrance. As Sky sobbed with frustration, the bird gave another harsh scream, then circled once again.
“She’s stolen her!” trumpeted Moon, galloping back and forth, his trunk swinging with fury. “She’s stolen Great Mother!”
“But why?” Silverhorn’s black eyes were angry. “Sky, why would a bird do that?”
Sky was immobile, staring up at the vulture. Her heart turned over. Why would a bird do that?
And she realized she already knew.
“We have to follow her!”
CHAPTER 16
“Slash at his eyes,” Titan said, pacing around a pair of tussling young lions. “Now kick him with your hind paws.”
The stillness of the savannah gave an ominous atmosphere to the fight training. The wind had dropped so abruptly, it felt almost eerie. The violent gales had been replaced, in what seemed like the blink of a lion’s eye, by a motionless, shimmering heat that left the young lions drained and lethargic. Even at a distance, Fearless could tell they were struggling to find their fighting vigor.
One of the lions had a pale pelt that was almost white; perhaps he wasn’t suffering quite as badly as the darker-furred lions, because he found the energy to twist and slam his powerful hind legs into his opponent. The rival, whose fur was dark amber-gold, yelped and sprawled. Yielding, he flopped, panting in the dusty heat.
“Good, Forceful!” Titan growled. The pale lion tossed his patchy mane triumphantly, while his opponent slunk away. “Let’s see you take on Proud.”
A big young lion with a short brown mane leaped toward Forceful. Roaring, they reared up on their hind legs and crashed together.
Fearless sat with the lionesses, between Swift and Valor, his claws working in and out as he imagined joining in the fighting practice. Of course, these lions were older than him; not quite grown yet, but old enough to have left the prides of their births. He envied them the tufty manes they’d started to grow.
“I don’t understand what those youngsters are doing here,” Daring muttered. “Proud left the pride when Gallant was our leader. Why has Titan asked him back? And that one with the amber fur—Clever—he left ages ago too. Remember old Constant? She was their mother.”
“I remember Constant,” Valor murmured. “She must have hoped her sons would start prides of their own.”
“That’s harder than it used to be,” pointed out Sly. “Forceful and the others from Dauntlesspride have been roaming Bravelands for the last few moons, and they’ve still not managed to establish prides. Maybe they think Titanpride will give them a better life.”
Swift raised her dusty head from her paws; it seemed a massive effort for her in the broiling heat. She stared sightlessly toward the sounds of fighting. “There shouldn’t be too many grown males in a pride,” she said, sounding oddly wistful. “It always leads to trouble.”
“That’s up to Titan,” Regal snapped. “If he invited them here, he must have good reason.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Swift murmured.
Forceful and Proud were struggling in close combat, their muscles straining as they bit and snarled. Fearless watched uneasily.
All the new young males looked powerful. Taking on Titan was one thing, but no matter how strong he became, Fearless couldn’t fight Titan’s allies too. After all, Titan wasn’t exactly averse to bringing in his cronies to help him fight—he’d done just that in his duel for Gallantpride.
Ruthless, who had been stalking crickets in the long grass, flopped at Fearless’s side with a grunt. Fearless butted the little cub’s head. “Hot, isn’t it?”
The cub opened his jaws, panting rapidly. “I almost preferred the wind.”
“How are your hunting skills coming on? Catch anything?”
“A lizard,” Ruthless said. “For a bit, anyway. Then it hid under a rock.” He grimaced. “I don’t like these new
lions. Father watches them fight all the time instead of playing with me. I wish they’d go away.”
“Me too,” Fearless murmured.
Proud looked exhausted, swaying as if he was wilting in the heat. Forceful sprang, toppling him off-balance and sending him crashing to the ground. He whacked the side of Proud’s head and straddled him. Proud stayed down, flanks heaving, tongue lolling.
“Forceful is the winner!” Titan roared. “You were named well, young one.” As he grunted a summons to the new lions, Fearless counted them through the quivering heat haze: eight young males, all of them large and powerfully built.
“Titanpride is the finest in Bravelands,” Titan declared. “We want only the best and strongest males as we expand our territory. While Forceful has shown himself the strongest, all of you have fought well and proved yourselves worthy.”
Rising to their paws, the rest of the pride grunted their approval. Even Daring and Valor, who had been complaining about the new lions, got to their feet. They’re too afraid not to, Fearless realized.
As if hearing his thoughts, Valor turned to glare at him, narrowing her eyes and lashing her tail. Belatedly, Fearless got the message, and he grudgingly stood up too.
Titan was still pacing haughtily before the youngsters. “There is one more demand I make.” His black mane rippled over his powerful shoulders. “You must swear an oath of loyalty.”
The new lions exchanged apprehensive glances as Resolute rounded them up into a line. Some of them shifted nervously; Forceful stood stiffly, his head high. There was an arrogant curl to the pale lion’s muzzle that reminded Fearless of Titan himself.
Titan prowled closer, looking the young lions up and down. “By the laws of our ancestors,” he roared, “I, Titan, welcome you to Titanpride. My pride will protect you and feed you, give you a home and a family. This I swear.”
Resolute stared expectantly at the young males. “Respond,” he grunted. “By the laws of our ancestors . . .”
“By the laws of our ancestors,” they chorused in unison.
“We pledge our loyalty . . .” he went on.
They followed his prompts obediently. “We pledge our loyalty to Titanpride. We will raise no paw against Titan. We swear to protect him and his pride in all ways.”
Titan had moved to face Forceful. With a quick swipe of his paw, he scratched a long bloody line across the pale lion’s throat.
“My oath is given.” He moved down the line, scratching the neck of each lion.
“Now you lot,” growled Resolute as Titan stalked back to his dominant position.
One by one, prompted by Resolute, the young males stepped forward. Some of them trembled, but every one of them raised a paw and drew a swift claw scratch across Titan’s throat.
“My oath is given,” growled Forceful.
“My oath is given.” That was Proud.
“My oath is given. . . .”
The heat was so oppressive, Fearless felt almost groggy; perhaps, too, it was the memory of his own oath, the one he’d had to give Titan when he was forced by circumstance to join Titanpride. He remembered all too well the longing that had surged through him: the longing to dig his claw harder and deeper, to end Titan’s life then and there. It had been impossible, barely even thinkable. But he’d thought it, and he thought it again now as he watched Titan bind yet more powerful young lions to his will.
The new lions slunk back into their obedient rank; Titan surveyed his recruits, nodding with satisfaction.
“The blood oath of a lion is the most precious thing he has to give.” A thin trickle of blood ran through the mane at Titan’s throat and down to his chest. “Breaking an oath is shameful. Every lion in every pride turns his back on an oath-breaker. This is the way of our ancestors.”
“I knew a lion once, called Bold,” growled Resolute, pacing along the line of youngsters. His muzzle curled. “Coward would have been a more fitting name. He swore an oath to protect his leader, then refused to battle another pride because he was afraid. No lion could atone for such shame; he was driven out of the pride. He became Bold Prideless, skulking the land alone. In the end he grew so thin and weak, the hyenas finished him off.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “That’s how oath-breakers die.”
As one, the pride grunted in approval. “Well said, Resolute,” rumbled Titan.
Despite the horror of the story, Fearless felt a little lighter on his paws. Loyal’s fears must be groundless. If this was an indication of Titan’s respect for oaths, he would undoubtedly keep his own vow not to kill Fearless.
Titan stretched out his forepaws, clawing the earth, his muscles flexing. The blood had stopped trickling from his oath wound, but there was still a dark clotting trail across his chest. “Today, you will honor the oath you have made to Titanpride,” he told the young lions. “You have work to do. Come with me.”
What kind of work? As the young males followed Titan and Resolute to the very edge of the long grass, Fearless narrowed his eyes. What was Titan talking about?
The pride dispersed, finding whatever shade they could from the dazzling glare of the sun. Swift fell asleep beneath a fever tree, her thin flanks rising and falling. Valor and the other lionesses sprawled in the dappled shadow of an acacia cluster, grooming one another. Fearless studied Titan’s group at the edge of the long grass, his foreboding growing ever worse. The young lions’ ears quivered as they hung on their leader’s words.
Something batted at Fearless’s tail, making him jump and glance around; it was little Ruthless. “I’m so bored,” he whined. “No one will play with me.”
Fearless shot another look at Titan and the young males. He got to his paws. “Lucky I know some fun games, then.”
Ruthless’s tail shot up. “You’ll play with me? Thank you, Fearless!”
Fearless grinned. “Have you ever played Snake-in-the-Grass?”
Ruthless shook his head.
“Valor and I played it all the time when we were little,” Fearless said. “One cub hides in the long grasses, keeping low, the way we do when we’re sneaking up on prey. The other cub looks for them. If they find the cub who’s hiding, they win, but if the hider manages to sneak up on them without being seen, they win.”
Ruthless’s tail twitched with excitement. “I’ll hide first!”
“Okay,” Fearless said, shutting his eyes. “I’ll count a hundred heartbeats. Then I’ll come find you.”
“No you won’t!” came Ruthless’s cheerful voice, and then there was the rustle of his paws moving away through the grass.
The cub’s pawsteps were clumsy and obvious, but Fearless wasn’t paying attention anyway. When he opened his eyes, Ruthless was out of sight. Fearless caught his scent at once—nectar-like, from all the insects he caught—and realized he’d headed toward a clump of scrubby trees, well away from Titan and the young lions. Ignoring the cub’s trail, Fearless wandered closer to Titan’s group.
“Where has that tricky cub gone?” he said loudly, sniffing the air.
Behind him, he heard the long grasses quiver. Good. He’s following me.
Fearless padded on. “I can’t find the scent,” he pretended to grumble. Glancing back, he saw ripples in the grass—Ruthless must be shaking with excitement. The cub was going to have to practice a lot more. . . .
Fearless turned his rump and wandered idly on.
There was a quick patter of paws and Ruthless leaped on him. “I got you! I got you!” he yowled.
Fearless threw himself down with a grunt. “Oh no! Where’d you come from?” He tussled with the cub, rolling him over in the grass while Ruthless yelped in delight. A couple of the young males glanced up at the commotion, then, ignoring the cubs, looked self-importantly back at Titan.
“My turn now,” said Fearless. Hardly able to keep still, Ruthless shut his eyes.
Fearless idled toward the lions’ gathering, trying to look aimless. When he was sure no one was watching, he crouched low in the grass and slunk forward on his
belly.
“Two young ones is what Daring told me,” came Titan’s low growl. “Traveling alone. The rhinos and elephants think they rule Bravelands, but this will teach them a lesson.”
There was a rumble of agreement from the other males. Fearless stopped crawling, hardly daring to breathe. He couldn’t see anything but grass and had ended up closer to the group than he’d intended. He was suddenly terrified of sneezing.
“But how could we kill an elephant?” a young male asked. “Or a rhino?”
Fearless recognized Resolute’s snarl. “I thought they called you Clever? Titan said we’re hunting young ones, not fully grown fighters.”
“Killing zebras and gazelles is one thing,” said Titan. “Any cheetah or leopard could do it. Taking down the young of the giant grass-eaters will show all Bravelands the power of Titanpride.”
Fearless clenched his jaws and curled his tail tight against his rump to stop it from thrashing. Lions might not follow the Great Spirit, the way the baboons had taught Fearless, but they did live by the Code. Titan was already a Codebreaker; now he was planning to tear the Code apart like a piece of meat.
By killing young ones . . .
Sky, thought Fearless in sudden horror. The wise young elephant had been kind and friendly, and she had helped him when he’d met with Great Mother. Now, if Titan had his way, she’d be dead.
He wriggled backward through the high grasses, putting distance between himself and Titan’s lions. He had gotten a little distance away when paws landed on his back. Fearless froze, his heart leaping into his throat.
“Found you!” Ruthless yowled triumphantly.
Panting with relief, Fearless rolled the little cub over in the grass. “Good job,” he said. Glancing back at Titan and the others, he caught Resolute’s eye. The big lion stared at him for a long moment, and Fearless’s skin prickled. Had he realized Fearless was listening?
But Ruthless squirmed out from under Fearless’s paws and hopped onto his back again, squealing with excitement. Resolute rolled his eyes and turned back to the others.
Ignoring Ruthless’s pleas for more games, Fearless made his way back to the rest of the pride. He thought of the rhinos and elephants who were right now grazing in peace at the watering hole, oblivious to Titan’s plans.