Oathkeeper

by Erin Hunter

  Thorn did not even flinch. He isn’t real, he thought dully.

  Extending a lazy paw, Stinger snatched up a brown scorpion that scuttled up the trunk. He snapped off its tail and began to chew on its body, his mocking eyes never leaving Thorn’s.

  “So you’re going to run away, Great Father? Hmm?”

  Thorn ignored him.

  “Look at you! Is this what you thought your life would become?” Stinger tilted his head and grinned. “Take it from one who knows, Thorn: you won’t feel better till you take your vengeance. Stop moping and take it! Do it now. For Berry’s sake.”

  Thorn stared up at him. Those cool amber eyes glittered with mischief as Stinger sucked the meat from inside the scorpion.

  “Don’t you care enough? Didn’t you love my daughter, Thorn? Look at her!”

  A hand took hold of Thorn’s arm, pulling him back to reality. “Try not to think about the body,” Nut murmured. “That’s not Berry, not really. It’s only her pelt and her bones, and the rot-eaters will come for it soon, and she will become part of Bravelands. It’s how it should be.”

  Her body will become part of Bravelands, thought Thorn. Yes. But her spirit will never fly to the stars. It’s been stolen, murdered as surely as her body was.

  Thorn glanced up, just to be sure the vision of Stinger had indeed gone. Still, though, the old baboon’s words echoed in his mind. Was vengeance the answer? Easy to say, but almost impossible to achieve.

  Mud exchanged a worried glance with Spider. “Thorn, if you’re retreating to the ravine, let the three of us come with you.”

  “That’s a good idea,” agreed Nut.

  “Thorn-friend needs us right now.” Spider nodded.

  Thorn bit on his lip. A clump of straggly lantana grew by the tree root beside him; he plucked a pawful of its tiny orange blooms and laid them carefully with the others on Berry’s chest. Maybe it was his imagination, but the death-odor seemed stronger now; Bravelands was taking her. Shutting his eyes, he blew out a heavy breath.

  “Mud should come with me,” he told his friends, “but Nut and Spider, I want you to stay here. I don’t know how Dawntrees Troop will react to this; Berry was once their Crownleaf, after all. Would you keep an eye on them for me?”

  Nut took a breath to argue; then, reluctantly, he nodded.

  Thorn turned to Mud. “Come on, my old friend. Let’s head for the ravine. I have so much to think about, and I need your advice more than ever.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Fearless’s heart was heavy as he padded toward the Great Father Clearing. His pride had held back, waiting at the borders of the trees, and the forest was unusually silent, the air heavy and hot. Although Sky and Rock paced as delicately as they could behind Fearless, their movement seemed astonishingly loud in the weighty peace of the forest. Barely the stir of an insect disturbed the quietness; no birds sang.

  But as the trees thinned and the glade opened before him, Fearless caught sight of vultures circling in the blue circle of sky above. His gut wrenched. Already some of the huge birds had landed by the lifeless furred shape in the clearing and were tugging at strips of its flesh.

  That was strange, thought Fearless. He remembered how the vultures had refused to touch the body of Great Mother, how they had guarded the murdered elephant themselves out of respect. Did that respect not extend to Thorn, the baboon Great Father?

  Fearless swallowed hard and pushed though the last branches into the clearing. At once, some of the vultures scattered, glaring and cawing at him, but he ignored their flapping wings. He walked forward. The smell of death was strong, though the corpse was half-obscured by scattered flowers.

  Something about the odor was wrong. Fearless frowned and flared his nostrils, tentatively drawing in the scent. Of course death changed creatures, but this did not smell like Thorn at all. This was more like—

  “It’s Berry!” gasped Sky, taking two rapid steps forward.

  Shocked, Fearless swept his paw across the torn body, dislodging more flowers and revealing its identity. Her face was oddly peaceful, and emotions warred within his heart. Berry too? This is unbearable. But where is Thorn’s body?

  He tore his eyes from Berry. Fearless had grown up with her; it was her father, Stinger, who had snatched him from the eagle’s nest when he was a cub. Berry had been his friend. They had drifted apart recently, torn by the conflicts that ravaged all of Bravelands, but they had never truly lost that affection that bound them together. Berry had been one of the cleverest baboons he knew; she’d had all her father’s intelligence with none of his malice.

  He realized in that moment that the peaceful future he’d imagined—when he, Berry, and Thorn might sit in a glade together and laugh about old times—would never be.

  He became aware of two shadows, slinking cautiously out of the undergrowth. He glanced toward them, alert for hostility from Dawntrees Troop. But there were only two baboons, and one of them cleared his throat as he padded into a patch of sunlight.

  “Hello, Big Talk,” he said.

  “Nut,” exclaimed Fearless. “It’s you!”

  “And this is Spider,” said Nut, with a glance at the skinny baboon behind him, its tail crooked, its gaze wide and a little vague.

  Neither of them looked particularly distraught, which made no sense at all. Unless of course . . . they don’t know!

  How could he break the news to them? Fearless shot a desperate glance to Sky, hoping she might be the one to tell Thorn’s friends the awful truth. From the sorrow in her gaze, he guessed she was willing him to do the same. Very well, he thought. It’s my duty, as friend to Dawntrees.

  “Nut,” he said softly. “I have something I must tell you.” He struggled then to continue. How could he share the wretched tale without breaking their poor hearts? “It’s Thorn,” he mumbled. “He’s . . . he’s dead.”

  The reaction wasn’t as he suspected at all. Nut hesitated, exchanging a glance of trepidation with his odd companion. For a moment they muttered to each other, so softly that Fearless could hear only an occasional word: secret and promised and then, finally, trust.

  Nut cleared his throat again and padded closer to the lion and the two elephants. He glanced from side to side and peered cautiously into the tree shadows. Quietly he said, “Thorn lives.”

  Sky shifted awkwardly behind Fearless. They couldn’t accept the truth; it was hardly a surprise. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you,” said Fearless. “But I heard it from Titan’s own mouth. It isn’t a lie he would tell.”

  Nut looked unmoved. “It isn’t a lie as such,” he said, “but Titan is mistaken. We were with Thorn just a short while ago. He’s in hiding.”

  “But how?” exclaimed Sky. “The wolves said they ate his heart!”

  “They attacked what they thought was the Great Parent.” Nut’s expression grew grim and dark. “Berry tricked them into thinking it was her. She—she did it behind Thorn’s back, to save his life.” His voice broke, and he fell silent.

  Spider glanced at Nut, anxious. Then he gazed up at Sky. “Poor Thorn-friend,” he murmured. “He didn’t know. Berry Crownleaf did a brave thing.”

  “She did.” Sky’s voice was somber. “She lost her own life, but she saved the Great Father’s.”

  “That at least is good news,” murmured Rock, curling his trunk around Sky’s.

  Things were moving so fast that Fearless felt dizzy. “I’m glad Thorn is alive,” he rasped, “but his heart must be in pieces. I’ve known Berry all my life. She was kind to me from the moment I was brought into Brightforest Troop. She was the best of baboons. And she . . . she was so dear to Thorn, for so long.”

  “I can’t bear to think how he’ll be feeling,” said Sky quietly.

  “Nut,” said Fearless. “What can we do to help him? I feel we have to do something.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Nut grimly. “Thorn will need all the help he can get, and he’ll need it soon. We can all show our support for him then.”


  “He’ll call on us before long.” Spider nodded. “Spider feels it.”

  “Where is Dawntrees Troop now?” asked Sky suddenly. She reached her trunk upward and gently lifted down the baby baboon. It was wide-awake, and it gazed around the animals with huge frightened eyes. “Don’t worry, little one,” Sky murmured to it. “We’re going to help you.” She held up the baby, cradled in her trunk, to show the others. “She was in the fire. We need to find her a mother, and I thought there might be someone in Dawntrees who’s willing to help. She has to nurse soon, or she’ll die.”

  “That infant looks familiar . . .” murmured Nut, peering with fascination at the tiny baboon.

  “It’s Tendril’s baby, Seedling,” agreed Spider. “Spider recognizes that fur-splash on its head.” He pointed to the patch of black fur like a splayed leaf.

  “I think you’re right.” Nut frowned. “I thought she would have died after Creeper and Viper murdered her mother. Spider and I will help find her a new one.”

  Fearless watched as the two baboons cooed over the tiny creature in Sky’s trunk. Life had always been fragile in Bravelands, but looking at the helpless little baboon, Fearless knew it had become an incredibly precarious thing now. It could be snatched away at any moment, by enemies that had never been expected or foreseen—like those Codebreaking golden wolves.

  What started all this in Bravelands? he wondered. Stinger had turned all their lives upside down, it was true, but even that wicked baboon had never tried to steal the spirits of the dead. He had never allied with a pack as demented and savage as the wolves. No, it was Titan who had brought Bravelands so low, Titan who strode across the savannah consuming spirits, making himself ever stronger and ever more insane, never caring about what he did or the effect it would have on the whole land. How could Thorn and his friends ever hope to defeat such a creature? Baboons stood no chance against Titan.

  But lions might, he realized. We’re the only ones with any chance of stopping him.

  “Sky,” he said, turning to her, “can you get a message to me when Thorn contacts the other animals? I need to go back to my pride, and the lions don’t always hear of Great Gatherings.”

  “Of course.” She touched his neck with the tip of her trunk. “Though I think that when Thorn makes his move, you will be one of the first he seeks out, Fearless. We will leave this place soon, too.” She glanced at the sky, and at the dark silhouettes hunched in the branches above them. “The vultures will want to be about their proper business.”

  “Yes,” agreed Fearless sadly. “Take care, Sky and Rock. We all need to be careful these days.”

  “May the Great Spirit go with you, my friend,” she said.

  Fearless set out through the forest toward his waiting pride; he found himself, almost without thinking, walking even more carefully than usual, placing his paws as silently as he could, tensing at the smallest sound of tiny creeping animals. All of Bravelands seemed to tremble, like a shriveled leaf that hung precariously to a creaking branch.

  When he reached his pride, most of them lay sprawled in the grass just beyond the forest’s edge, but all were alert and watchful. Heads turned to watch him approach, and ears pricked toward him.

  “The Great Father lives after all, Great Spirit be praised,” he said.

  Some of the lions rolled their eyes and muttered at that comment, but Fearless took no notice. “But I’ve made a decision. The threat Titan poses to Bravelands is still huge, and Thorn can’t deal with him alone.”

  “Only lions can deal with lions,” drawled Resolute.

  “My thoughts exactly,” said Fearless, narrowing his eyes.

  “But some of us have only just escaped Titan,” Resolute went on. “We don’t plan to go back for more punishment.”

  “Titan had so much power because the other prides were smaller and weaker,” insisted Fearless. “If lions join together to defeat him, he won’t be able to stand against us. Mightypride, for instance. I think they will stand with us. Mighty doesn’t like bullies any more than I do, and he knows what a danger Titan poses. That’s what we need—for prides to band together, and defeat Titan as one!”

  “Is it, though?” growled Resolute. “Is that really what we need?”

  “Or,” added a young former lioness of Titanpride, “do we need to find ourselves a territory that’s far from Titan, and leave this baboon Father of yours to deal with him?”

  “Sounds far more sensible to me,” grunted the lion at her side. “Isn’t that what the grass-eaters and the little cats keep a Great Parent for? To solve all their problems?”

  “You don’t understand at all,” snapped Fearless. “No, that’s not what a Great Father is, whether you believe in the Great Spirit or not. Thorn is a guide and a protector, but he can’t do it all alone. No one could.”

  Resolute yawned. “Still not our problem. Titan’s one lone male, and he’ll shake off those silly wolves soon enough. He’s no threat to us if we stay within our territory, and frankly, Fearless, that’s what matters. Lions have no responsibility to protect—oh, warthogs and ground squirrels.”

  “No,” snarled Ruthless, padding to Fearless’s side. “You’re wrong, Resolute. You might have been in his pride, but you clearly don’t know my father at all. There’s nowhere you can go, in or beyond Bravelands, where you’d be safe from Titan. He’s mad, don’t you realize that yet? He’ll go on spreading his madness till there’re no lands or territories left for him to conquer.”

  “That’s as may be,” said an older lion nervously, scratching at a scar on his forepaw, “but however much we hate Titan, we’re not strong enough to defeat him. You can’t be certain that other lions will join you, Fearless. It sounds like guaranteed destruction to me.”

  “And leaving Titan alone doesn’t come to the same thing?” exploded Fearless. “Look at it this way: Titan’s obsession is killing. Not eating, just murdering. He slays for hearts and spirits, not for meat! And that means he’ll kill and kill regardless—he and that wolf pack of his. They’ll never be satisfied, and there will be no prey left when they’re finished. Maybe they’ll starve in the end, but you will starve first. We all will.”

  The lions exchanged glances. Resolute looked surly, but he nodded. “Now, there’s a point to that argument.”

  “I agree,” muttered Glory.

  “Fearless is right.” Ruthless looked solemnly around the pride. “Deep down you know it, whether you care about the other animals or not. Sure, Resolute, we might not need to worry about ‘warthogs and ground squirrels.’ But we’ll care a lot when there are none left to eat.”

  “Wise words, Titan’s cub,” said Resolute reluctantly. “I think we can all see the sense. All right, Fearless, we’re with you.” He glanced around at his comrades, who growled agreement.

  “You should be,” Fearless reminded them sharply. “You’re Fearlesspride now, remember?” He turned without another word, to stride off toward the east and Mightypride territory. For long moments his breath felt jerky and his heart juddered, but he would not look back. He couldn’t; he must look confident at all costs.

  But his head swam with relief when he heard the pride fall into line behind him, their obedient paws crunching on the dry grass.

  He had to be sure of himself, he knew. His new pride was hungry, and many of the lionesses had cubs in tow. They wanted meat, and the hunt, and a normal lion life. At some point, he would have to provide it for them, or Fearlesspride would fracture and collapse—perhaps at the cost of his own life.

  Ruthless caught up with him, jogging at his side. “I’m sorry, Fearless,” he said quietly.

  “What for?” Fearless flicked his ears quizzically. “You supported me very well back there.”

  “No. For ruining your fight with Titan,” said Ruthless. “If I hadn’t been stupid enough to get cornered by the wolves—”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Fearless assured him, though the memory of his frustration turned his voice to a deep growl. “Titan always
has lieutenants to back him up, and to save his worthless hide when he’s in trouble. He’d have had that plan set up before he even ran into me. That’s why we have to be clever when we fight him.”

  “I understand—” Ruthless halted abruptly, his nostrils flaring. “Fearless, I smell antelope!”

  Fearless followed the turn of his head, excitement rising. A hunt would distract his pride from their troubles, fill their bellies, and make them far more likely to follow him. And Ruthless was right; a herd was moving slowly to their left. A few sentries scanned the grassland, broad and elegant horns raised high, but there was no indication that they had noticed the lions.

  “Yes,” he murmured. “Impalas—I see them!”

  “They’re fast,” said Ruthless, “but there are enough of us to take one.”

  Turning, Fearless slunk back to Glory. “Get the others into position,” he growled. “See the impalas? We’re going to hunt.”

  Her eyes lit up with hungry excitement, and she twisted and loped back, shoulders and haunches low, to spread the word through the pride. They had done little hunting as a team, but all the lions swiftly and without apparent trouble separated themselves into groups for right and left flank, and for harrying from behind. Fearless felt his heart swell with pleasure.

  His hopes rose as the lions fanned out and slunk swiftly into position, hemming in the herd from the rear and sides. Some seemed to sense the danger, but from the restless way their hooves skittered, Fearless realized they still hadn’t actually seen the approaching hunters. Then a few impalas began to trot, followed by others; Fearless saw Glory and Ruthless picking up speed to the left, eyeing the grass-eaters keenly to judge their speed and direction.

  As the herd sprang into flight, Fearless picked up speed. Oddly, one impala ran at a different angle from the rest, racing perilously close to his hunting trajectory. Well, he thought, there’s no accounting for the behavior of grass-eaters. More fool than impala.

  As Fearless homed in on it he saw another blur of gold aiming for the same prey at a sharper angle. The impala spotted the other lion, and panic sparked in its eyes, but in its dash to elude the hunter it was running right across Fearless’s sight line.