Code of Honor

by Erin Hunter

  Fearless reared back, then threw his whole weight at him. Together they rolled and bounced across the earth, Fearless ducking his head to dodge Keen’s snapping jaws. As his burst of furious energy drained, Fearless twisted and pinned him down.

  He panted as Keen glared up. The cub’s brown eyes were full of fear and anger, and Fearless recognized grief there too. “Go ahead,” Keen grunted, breathless. “Kill me if you want to. I’ll never follow Titan.”

  “Weren’t you listening?” growled Fearless. “I don’t want to fight.” He shifted first one paw, then the other, from Keen’s ribs. “I’m Fearless Gallantpride. Titan killed my father too. He’s as much my enemy as he is yours.”

  Keen staggered to his feet, breath rasping, never taking his eyes off Fearless. “You mean it?”

  Fearless nodded. “Don’t stay here, they’ll kill you. Run, Keen Dauntlesspride—and take as many of the others as you can.”

  Keen studied Fearless, a glint of doubt in his eyes. Abruptly he blurted, “Come with me, Fearless. You don’t have to stay with Titan.”

  “I do for now,” Fearless said with disgust. “Until I can fight him—and kill him.”

  For a moment longer, Keen stared at him. “If I can help you do it, I will.” Turning, he huffed over his shoulder, “Thank you, Fearless Gallantpride. Good luck!”

  The cub darted low into the fight, dodging the slash of paws as he grunted to the Dauntlesspride lions. A few younger ones broke from their battles and fled after him, dashing into the cover of the scrubby trees nearby. Honor and Sly ran in pursuit, but drew up when Keen and his group reached the woods.

  I hope they’ll be all right, Fearless thought, watching Keen’s golden outline disappear into the shadows.

  He was still staring after them when a heavy blow caught the back of his head. His legs buckled as he slammed onto the ground. Wheezing for breath, he struggled and flipped himself over.

  A furious Titan straddled him, black mane soaked in blood, slaver dripping onto Fearless’s face.

  “Traitor,” he snarled, his breath hot on Fearless’s muzzle. “You helped our enemy escape. Now you die.”

  CHAPTER 22

  “I didn’t!” Fearless yowled. He tried to scramble away, but Titan’s heavy paw slammed down onto his throat. He flailed uselessly with his paws, his breath jerking.

  “Liar,” Titan snarled. “I saw you. You weren’t fighting Dauntless’s cub, you were talking to him. And then you let him go.”

  Titan was horribly close. All Fearless could see was his huge head. Hot air puffed from Titan’s nostrils, and flecks of drool spattered from his long yellow teeth. “No, I didn’t,” Fearless rasped, forcing out the words. “He escaped!”

  “You’ve betrayed me,” Titan growled softly. His breath smelled of blood. “You’re the oath-breaker, Fearless. You’re the traitor. My oath means nothing now.”

  Fearless stilled, his heart pounding. Surely this wasn’t where everything ended? I can’t die now, he thought, dazed and horrified. I haven’t beaten Titan yet. He was aware of silence all around them, in a baking heat that was almost as heavy as Titan’s paw. The battle must be over.

  “I’ll be glad to be rid of you,” Titan growled. “I only wish I’d done it when I killed your father.”

  Terror shot through Fearless. He struggled again, but Titan’s weight was a boulder bearing down on him, and drawing every breath was its own battle. Titan’s jaws opened, his fangs shining. Before long the vultures would be gathering above his body. I’m sorry, Mother, Fearless thought. I’m sorry, Valor. Loyal, I’ve let you down.

  “No!” A piercing yowl cut through the silence. “Father, no!”

  Startled, Titan paused. Fearless felt his grip lessen, just enough that he could twist his neck to see Ruthless. The little cub’s eyes were wide with fear.

  “Father, I saw them,” he panted. “Fearless was fighting that cub. He knocked him over and he took a really big swipe at him.”

  Titan’s eyes narrowed.

  “He got him, too,” blurted Ruthless. “That cub won’t be around much longer. The hyenas will catch him and eat him if he’s bleeding like that.”

  “Are you sure of this, Ruthless?” Titan asked. “It’s very important that you’re absolutely certain.”

  Ruthless nodded. “I’m sure, Father. Fearless fought really well.”

  “Artful!” Titan roared. The plump lioness shambled over. “You heard what Ruthless said? What do you think?”

  Artful paused, looking down at Fearless with cool golden eyes. “Ruthless wouldn’t lie,” she said. “Not to you. Certainly not for the benefit of Gallantbrat.”

  Titan pressed down again, forcing a strangled yelp from Fearless’s raw throat. “I should kill you,” he growled, his dark eyes glittering. “But Ruthless’s word has saved you today. Understand? You owe my son your life.”

  He lifted his paw. Fearless lurched to his feet, taking great gulps of the clammy air. He staggered across the hilltop, willing his head to stop reeling. The battle was indeed over. Several Dauntlesspride lions sprawled, dead. The rest huddled together, edgy gazes locked on Titan.

  “This land is Titanpride territory now,” Titan declared. “Follow me.”

  He didn’t even have to glance over his shoulder; every lion followed his command without question, the new Titanpride lions falling in behind the existing ones. Fearless limped along at the back, beaten and aching.

  “Fearless? Are you okay?” Ruthless had dropped back to pad beside him.

  “Because of you I am.” His voice sounded rough, and it hurt to speak. “You saved me, Ruthless. Thank you. That was brave.”

  Ruthless licked his jaws. “You’re my friend,” he said. “You helped kill that zebra for me, didn’t you?” He peered up again, puzzled. “But why did you help that cub? He’s our enemy.”

  Fearless hesitated. Keen isn’t the enemy, he thought. Your father is. But he couldn’t say that to Ruthless. “I . . . I felt sorry for him,” he said instead. “I know what it’s like to see your father die.”

  Ruthless looked at his paws. “Oh,” he said. “I forgot.”

  “Ruthless,” Artful called sharply. “Stop talking to Gallant’s brat. Come and walk with me.” Obediently Ruthless scampered forward as Artful glared at Fearless. “Stay away from my son.”

  A vulture wheeled in the sky high overhead. With a shudder, Fearless realized it must be heading for the corpses of the Dauntlesspride rebels. Titan was watching the bird too, his shaggy head proudly tilted.

  “Now all the lions of Bravelands will know their true leader.” Titan tossed his mane. “Nothing’s sweeter than the blood of a weak lion.”

  “No one will dare cross you now, Titan,” said Resolute.

  “Gallant’s dead, and his pride is mine. Dauntless is dead, and his pride is mine. They were fools to think they had any chance of resisting me. It was a pleasure to kill them.”

  Titanpride’s camp came into view, the grass scorched yellow by the heat. Fearless peered, searching for his mother and sister, but they still weren’t back. Worry gnawed at him.

  Ahead, the young lions were laughing. “So, Titan,” called Forceful, “whose blood tasted better—Dauntless’s or Gallant’s?” Titan guffawed in response.

  Fearless couldn’t bear to listen anymore. He was terrified of doing something he’d fatally regret, and all he wanted was his mother and sister. He slowed his paws and hung back. Titan was too busy basking in the flattery of his fighters; Artful’s attention was all on Ruthless, who gamboled at her side. None of the others had a reason to spy on him.

  Fearless sidestepped and darted into a clump of tall grass. Keeping perfectly still, breathing hard and quietly, he watched the other lions pad out of sight.

  The sun was lower in the sky now, and though the air remained clammy and hot, shadows stretched out across the grass. Monkeys shrieked in a nearby acacia grove, and from far overhead came the harsh cry of an eagle. Despite the stifling heat, Fearless shivered. Wit
h a pang of renewed grief, it occurred to him that even more than Swift and Valor, he wanted his father.

  He slunk across the parched grassland, his spine sagging with weariness, his muzzle brushing the grass. It didn’t even surprise him that his paws carried him once more to the kopje near Loyal’s den.

  As he clambered with difficulty up the rocky slope, he caught sight of a herd of antelopes across the savannah. One was on guard, ears swiveling, but even from here its head seemed heavy on its slender neck. A haze of heat shimmered across the herd, but he could still make out that their flanks were bony, their hides coarse. Some of them pawed at the dry slash of a ditch, bending their heads hopelessly in search of water, then lurched on in a slow, despairing line. Fearless hadn’t eaten anything since he’d found a rotten lizard for breakfast, but he felt sick at the idea of killing anything right now, especially those pathetically weak grass-eaters.

  In the long grass beyond the antelopes, something rippled. Narrowing his eyes, Fearless recognized Loyal’s black-streaked mane and tawny shoulders. The big lion slunk forward, one cautious paw after another. Abruptly his ears twitched and he halted, straightening to stare across the herd at Fearless. With a flash of its white tail the lookout antelope bleated a warning cry, and the herd sprang away, energized by fear. Loyal bounded straight through the stragglers, ignoring them as he ran toward Fearless.

  Loyal’s forepaws jutted into the earth as he skidded to a halt, sending up clouds of parched red dust. He stared at Fearless, studying him from nose to tail-tip.

  “Are you all right?”

  Fearless realized he must look as bad as he felt. “I’m fine,” he said. “I just . . .” His voice caught. “I just can’t stand being with the pride right now. Titan . . .”

  “You’re exhausted,” Loyal said, his gruff voice surprisingly gentle. “Come with me.”

  He led Fearless up the rocky slope toward his den. By the time they reached the entrance, Fearless was swaying on his paws.

  “Just rest,” Loyal said, nudging him toward the cave entrance. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

  Fearless ducked under the low-hanging crag and padded into Loyal’s cave. In its darkness, the air was blissfully cool after the beating glare of the open grassland, and it was filled with a comforting combination of Loyal’s sharp, earthy scent and the faint aroma of zebra and antelope meat.

  A few gnawed bones lay in the corner. Sagging, Fearless stumbled toward them and flopped onto his belly. His eyelids were heavy, his muscles weak and his paws sore, but he needed badly to talk to Loyal—

  Darkness swamped him, and he slept.

  He woke in the dark, disoriented. What is this place—

  Then scents flooded his nose: Loyal, he recognized, then gazelle. His stomach growled.

  “Hungry?” Loyal sounded amused. His dark shape was just visible on the other side of the cave. “Here.” Something scuffed across the cave floor, and the scent of fresh meat was right under Fearless’s nose.

  “Thanks.” Fearless seized the torn flesh, and the rich taste of gazelle flooded his mouth. His hunger overcoming all his anxiety, he tore into it, gnawing and gulping, relaxing as his belly filled. It felt so good to eat his fill undisturbed, and to feel cool rock beneath him instead of sun-scorched grass.

  This was the only den he’d ever slept in; both Gallantpride and Titanpride rested on the grasslands under the stars, and when he’d lived with Brightforest Troop he’d curled up under a bush or stretched himself out between tree roots. This is better, he thought. The weight of rock that surrounded him felt blissfully safe, protecting him from both the relentless heat of the savannah and the claws and sharp stares of his enemies.

  “Tell me what happened,” Loyal said, when Fearless had licked the last shreds of meat from the bone.

  With a deep sigh, Fearless rested his head on his paws. It had been good to forget for a while.

  “Titan,” he said grimly. “It’s always Titan.” He told Loyal how Titan had invited the young lions to join Titanpride, and how Titan had planned to use them to kill the young elephants and rhinoceroses. It was easier to talk in the dark—he didn’t have to look Loyal in the eye as he told him how he’d failed in his mission to protect the young elephants. At last he came to the takeover of Dauntlesspride and the escape of Keen.

  “Titan had me pinned down,” he growled, his throat aching again with the memory of the big lion’s crushing paw. “He would have killed me if Ruthless hadn’t stopped him.” He hesitated. “But I know he’ll do it one day, when he’s angry enough. You were right, Loyal. Titan’s not going to keep his oath.”

  Loyal gave a low growl. “It doesn’t give me any pleasure to be right. What will you do now?”

  “What I should have done before,” Fearless said. “Leave Titanpride.” Speaking the words out loud made him feel better immediately, and he raised his head. “Can I still live here with you?”

  The dim outline of Loyal shifted. “Of course you can.”

  “And Mother and Valor?” Fearless asked. “They’ve wandered off somewhere, but I need to find them. Titan will blame them for my absence, and that won’t go well for either of them. Is there room for them, too?”

  There was a long silence, and Fearless felt his heart skip. Perhaps I’ve asked too much of him.

  “They can stay,” Loyal rumbled at last. “I would hardly turn away your mother and sister. Would I?”

  It took effort for Fearless to leave the cool shadows of the den for the dazzling glare of the savannah, but it had to be done. Besides, a night in the cave had revived him more than he’d have thought possible when he’d crawled into it like a wounded lizard the previous night. It was early morning when he and Loyal squirmed out of the slit in the rocks and bounded down the kopje. With the most intense heat of the day still to come, they slunk into the thickest clump of bushes they could find and settled down to watch Titanpride from a safe distance.

  The savannah already shimmered with heat, warping the pride into a blur of tawny bodies, but still Fearless could make out individuals. The lionesses lounged in the shade as usual, while Titan sprawled on his belly before the pile of prey, holding forth to the youngsters. A knot of lions from the former Dauntlesspride sat a little apart from the group, looking anxious and still out of place. Yet however hard he peered, there was still no sign of Swift or Valor.

  “Where could they be, Loyal?” he rumbled. “Mother can’t even hunt anymore. And she’s too weak to go far.” His eyes felt hot. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Loyal nudged Fearless with his gold-streaked head. “Your sister’s got her wits about her. And your mother might not have eyes, but her instincts are as sharp as ever. They’ll be all right.”

  Fearless nodded, unconvinced. In the rippling grasses he caught sight of something a hundred or so paces away, creeping cautiously toward Titanpride.

  “That’s strange,” Loyal said, following his gaze. “You don’t often see lone baboons.”

  As the baboon came closer, Fearless recognized the small, scrawny limbs and large eyes. “He’s looking for me,” Fearless said, dismayed. Rising to his paws, he squirmed out of the bushes and bounded low toward his old friend. “Mud!” he called, as loudly as he dared. “What are you doing here on your own? It’s not safe!”

  Mud turned, his face furrowed with misery. “Oh, Fearless,” he gasped, flinging his arms around the lion’s neck. “I know I shouldn’t have come, but I didn’t know who else to talk to.”

  Fearless had never seen him so upset, not even when he’d been wounded by a crocodile. Around his neck he felt Mud’s arms tense, and he turned to see Loyal padding toward them, his scarred face creased into a scowl.

  “What’s this?” Loyal grumbled. “More idiotic advice from Stinger Crownleaf?”

  “You remember Mud, don’t you?” said Fearless. “He helped us get Ruthless back.”

  “Hmph. That one?” Loyal studied Mud’s scrawny form. “Yes.”

  “I need to talk to
him,” Fearless said. “I’ll come and find you at the den later, all right?”

  Loyal tossed his mane, but he stalked away, his crooked tail twitching with irritation.

  Fearless turned his attention back to Mud. “What’s wrong?” he pressed him. “Did something happen to Thorn? Is he okay?”

  Mud half laughed, half sobbed. “Thorn? No, he’s not okay at all. I don’t know if he’ll ever be okay again.”

  Fearless frowned, perplexed. “What are you talking about?”

  “Mother’s missing,” Mud whimpered, wringing his paws. “She vanished in the middle of the night, and she never would have left by herself. Not without telling me. And then the next morning, Thorn came back into camp—he’d sneaked out. He said he hadn’t seen her, but the more I think about it, the more I’m sure he was lying.”

  “But why would he do that?” Fearless frowned. “You two have been best friends forever. He loves Starleaf almost as much as you do.”

  Mud shook his head. “He’s been acting so strangely, Fearless. Something’s changed him. Stinger started this group, this cadre of fighters to protect the troop—the Strongbranches. Thorn’s one of them, and they’re all the worst baboons. Baboons like Worm and Fang—remember what they’re like? He spends all his time with them.”

  Fearless’s heart sank. “I saw Thorn with Nut,” he remembered suddenly. “A few days ago.”

  “See?” Mud’s voice rose into a wail. “Nut’s the worst of them all!” He clasped his face with his paws. “Has Thorn been visiting Nut the whole time he’s been in exile?”

  “I don’t know,” Fearless muttered. “I wonder what’s made him like this?”

  Mud swallowed. “Maybe it’s because he can’t be with Berry. And that’s because of me.”

  Fearless paused, unsure what to say. How could he reassure the little baboon? After all, he knew it was true: Thorn had forever lost his chance to be a Highleaf when Mud beat him in a wrestling match for the Third Feat. Thorn had always loved Berry, that was obvious to anyone, and staying at Middleleaf status meant he could never be with her. But could even that awful disappointment change him so terribly?