Oathkeeper

by Erin Hunter

  Calmly, without any urgency at all, Titan turned in the water. He seized Rip’s foreleg in his jaws and dragged him backward out of the river.

  The herds stampeded and wheeled, but Fearless could only gape in silence, his flanks heaving. He could hardly bear to look as Titan set about Rip’s corpse, tearing at the dead crocodile’s tough hide. Titan plunged his head into the cavity of his chest, and Fearless lowered his eyes. It was obvious the morsel he was searching for. When Fearless looked again, Titan’s face and muzzle were drenched in blood. He held Rip’s heart in his jaws.

  “No,” Sky was still crying. “This isn’t possible.”

  The crocodiles of Rip’s bask drifted in the water, as they watched Titan devour the heart and spirit of their former leader.

  “He outwitted you again,” snarled Fearless to Sky. “You and Thorn both. He found out about your plan and approached the crocodiles himself. He convinced them to betray their leader. To betray you. To betray all of us.”

  “But,” cried Sky, bewildered, “how? How could he even communicate with crocs? He can’t speak Sandtongue!”

  “Maybe he can,” spat Fearless. “How many spirits of Sandtongue-speakers has he devoured? Snakes, lizards—according to you, he ate the heart of Rip’s own son!”

  Sky fell silent, her eyes tormented. Mud, Nut, and Spider ran to her side, and Keen trotted behind them.

  “There’s more to this,” growled Keen, padding to Fearless’s side. “Think for a moment. If Titan knew about Thorn’s plan all along, that means he knows Thorn hasn’t run away.”

  Fearless’s eyes widened. “Thorn could be in terrible danger.”

  Rock pressed his shoulder against Sky’s, and Mud touched her leg gently. Nut stared at the carnage by the river. All the while, the crocodiles sniggered. Panic had gripped the gathered herds; they stampeded wildly, crushing smaller animals beneath their hooves, colliding with one another, snapping and biting in their desperation to escape.

  “That was the strongest croc in Bravelands!” neighed a zebra, high-pitched and terrified.

  “Titan has the crocodiles on his side now!” squealed an impala.

  “We’re doomed!” bellowed a buffalo. “Get our calves away from here! Get away!”

  Wildebeests, warthogs, giraffes and gerenuks, hippos and hyraxes: they all shoved and struck out, struggling to flee up the sandbank and away from the bloodstained water, where Titan postured triumphantly over the corpse of Rip.

  Fearless and his friends could only stare at the scene in anger and desperation. Nut picked up a stone and flung it in frustration after a fleeing buffalo.

  “That’s no good at all,” pointed out Spider, shrugging.

  “Spider’s right,” said Mud. “We need to calm down. Think. This is an emergency!”

  Sky looked too horrified even to speak; Rock was murmuring gently to her. Keen glared at Titan and his crocodile allies. The lion and the giant reptiles still lingered smugly in the blood-drenched lake.

  They don’t need to attack us, thought Fearless bitterly. That can wait. They’re taking this moment to enjoy their triumph. Because Titan has won.

  Keen nudged him. “Come on, Fearless. We must get away from here. I think your baboon friend is at more risk now than ever.”

  Mud scrambled suddenly up onto Sky’s back, hauling himself up by grabbing her ear; she was still too stunned to protest.

  “Sky!” he pleaded. “Fearless! I think I know why Dawntrees isn’t here!”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  For a long moment Thorn found himself rooted inside Mud’s head, stunned by what had happened. He did not know where his friend’s shock and despair ended, and his own began. Staring out through Mud’s eyes, he watched Titan’s victory, and the panicked stamping and screaming of the herds.

  Thorn shook himself loose from Mud’s bewildered terror. How can this have happened? Rip had been the crocodiles’ strong and crafty leader, yet they had turned on him in an instant. And yet, it all made sense. Rend had never been his ally. Even when he approached the bask to outline his plan, even then Titan must have known he was alive.

  Peering frantically around, Thorn made the leap to the closest animal: a rat that dodged and scuttled from the hooves of stampeding wildebeests. The thundering vibrations shook his whole body, but as he fled unsteadily through the scratchy crushed grass, he became aware of another thrumming sensation: the beat of his tiny heart against his ribs: My family, my nest, my pups, I have to get back, get back to them. . . .

  Rip’s dead, Thorn tried to remind himself through the fog of the rat’s panic. I need to find out what went wrong!

  My family! The rat’s churning thoughts resurfaced, swamping his own. My pups! Get back there!

  There was nothing to be learned here; the rat was too driven by single-minded desperation. Thorn sprang into the mind of a wildebeest, and he was enveloped in the white dust that rose from the pounding of his own hooves. The herd must stay together. Together!

  Another wildebeest veered, colliding with his shoulder, making him stumble. . . .

  Thorn let himself be thrown from the wildebeest’s mind and into a leopard’s. There was rarely an occasion that could make her panic, but this was just such a calamity. She had risen to her paws and now stood trembling on the branch where she had stretched so lazily. Which way to go? Titan had eaten leopards before now—or just their hearts. She had no wish to join her cousins, her spirit trapped in that brute’s body forever. She must calculate the risk, choose a path out of here, and slink away from Bravelands, never to return. The cubs in her belly needed a safe territory where they could grow up in peace, and that meant far from here. . . . Making her decision, leopard-Thorn sprang lithely down from her branch and slunk toward the scrubby bushes on the eastern bank of the lake. . . .

  Thorn rebounded back into his own body and mind. His head reeled with the fear of the other animals. No, his eyes had not mistaken him, and this was not some twisted nightmare; Titan had killed Rip, Thorn’s most powerful ally, and his scheme was in ruins.

  Nut had been right all along; Thorn should never have trusted the crocodiles. This should have been his great moment; he should have been returning to the herds right now as their triumphant leader, their trusted guide, with Titan dragged under the water’s surface, never to torment Bravelands again. Instead, all Thorn had achieved was to get Rip killed in the worst of ways. Rip was the only crocodile who had shown loyalty to the Great Spirit. And he paid with his life. How is that justice?

  As he shook his fur, clinging dizzily to the feeling of his own familiar body, Thorn heard a tremendous, bone-chilling roar split the air. His blood turned cold.

  He was used by now to seeing through Mud’s eyes; with only a slight jolt, Thorn lurched back into Mud’s body. Spinning around to face the lake, he stared in horror.

  Titan stood in the shallows, his jaws and mane still dripping dark blood. His eyes glittered, and sun sparked off the golden hairs in his black mane. He was surrounded by grinning wolves.

  “You weaklings!” he roared. “You never had a chance against me; what deluded fool told you otherwise?” Titan’s glare took in the trembling herds, still milling around and tossing their heads, yet too terrified to flee completely. “Of course you need a strong leader; you’ve been led until now by fakes and feeble idiots. I, Titan, have come to change all of that. And you will thank me!” The lion’s glinting eyes narrowed, and his muzzle peeled back from his bloodstained yellow fangs. “Will anyone challenge me? Come forward now—or walk into this water and pledge your allegiance to Titan, best and last leader of Bravelands!”

  From across the water came a full-throated roar. “Never!”

  Fearless! Thorn-Mud lunged to grab a branch, feeling his heart stutter; it was clear to Thorn, inside his small friend’s mind, that Mud’s terror for their old friend was just as intense as his own.

  “Challenge you?” the young lion went on, ferociously. “Yes. I will challenge you, tyrant and heart-thief!” />
  No! Mud swung around, but there was no time to cry a warning. Fearless bolted toward his enemy, fangs bared. Through Mud’s eyes, Thorn saw the charge, but he saw something else too that Fearless did not: Rend the crocodile.

  As Fearless’s bounding paws touched the water, sending up showers of spray, the huge reptile moved with astonishing speed. Rend twisted and slammed his tail into Fearless’s chest, smashing him aside. Fearless was flung across the bank, rolling and crashing against a rock and finally coming to a halt, limp and lifeless.

  Thorn gave a high-pitched snarl of fear and anger. Snapping free of Mud’s mind and returning to his own, he leaped from his hiding place among the thick foliage. Through the trees he could make out the silver shimmer of the watering hole; it seemed too far away now. Much too far! What had he been thinking when he hid himself at this distance? I have to get there, I have to help. . . .

  Thorn leaped for branch after branch, heedless of the twigs lashing his face. There was only one thing to do now: show himself to the herds, reveal that he was still here and no coward, and rally them all to drive Titan away. Together we can do it, I know. We must!

  Coiling his muscles to make the jump to the forest floor, Thorn felt something strong catch and snag his ankle. He gasped as he lost his balance and plummeted to the ground.

  The air was knocked from his lungs, and he felt as if a buffalo had trampled his ribs. Panting, struggling to rise, Thorn saw paws racing toward him through the bushes.

  Lifting his head, he drew back his lips to bare his teeth. There, dashing through the trees, was Viper; behind her ran the Crown Guard, grinning and hooting in triumph.

  What? Thorn’s heart plummeted. What were these baboons doing here?

  Creeper landed far more gracefully than Thorn on the forest litter beside him. The thuggish one-eyed baboon must have ambushed him, Thorn realized—he had grabbed his leg and made him fall.

  “Viper! Creeper!” Thorn sucked in a painful breath and staggered to his paws. “I haven’t got time for your tricks. I have to get to the watering hole! It’s urgent!”

  “Oh you do, do you?” Viper smirked. “Another important plan of yours to go wrong, then.”

  “Leave me be,” snarled Thorn, lashing out a paw in Viper’s direction. “Get out of my way! You don’t understand, I must go to the lake!”

  “It’s too late for that,” growled a new voice. “Too late already, Baboon.”

  He knew the voice, and it wasn’t one of the Crown Guard. Thorn’s fur rose in horror as Menace Titanpride paced through the smirking baboons. The lion cub halted right in front of him.

  Gaping at her, Thorn couldn’t speak. It seemed impossible. It made no sense—

  And then the reality hit him, and a chill surged through his blood. His throat dried like a dead leaf.

  “No,” he rasped, his voice trembling with rising shock and rage. “You can’t. Viper, Creeper—you didn’t—”

  “Pick the winning side?” Creeper grinned. “Some baboons are smart, Thorn. Smarter than you, it seems.”

  His words took Thorn’s breath away. The Crown Guard were brutes, he knew that—but to side with Titan against all of Bravelands? For a moment Thorn wished he hadn’t risen to his paws; his muscles shook, and he felt dizzy with the blow of the betrayal.

  “Anyway, most of Bravelands thinks you ran away long ago,” Creeper went on, grinning at Thorn. “And Titan would like to keep it that way.”

  As the one-eyed baboon stalked forward, baring his fangs, Thorn finally found his strength. Clenching his jaws, he rose onto his hind paws to face down Creeper.

  “You traitor,” he snarled. “Not to me—you’ve never had any loyalty to me—but you’ve betrayed the Great Spirit.”

  “Great Spirit?” Viper paced forward, a sneer curling her muzzle. “If it exists, it’s a useless, weak thing. Such a spirit deserves to die. Isn’t that the way of Bravelands? Your Great Spirit is nothing but a . . . a wounded antelope.”

  “Bravelands enters a new era today,” said Creeper. “By the new Code, Titan’s Code, the strong and the brave will prosper!”

  “You’re not strong,” hissed Thorn. “You’re not brave.” He glared around at the Crown Guard. “You’re cowards, all of you. Where is Dawntrees Troop? Have you abandoned them? I thought you were supposed to protect them!”

  “Dawntrees Troop?” Creeper shrugged and gave Viper a sly grin. He turned back to Thorn. “We couldn’t care less.”

  Then Creeper’s grin vanished. “Take him!” he yelled.

  Thorn had no time even to defend himself. They leaped on him together, and Thorn found himself pummeled to the ground by muscular arms. Fists smashed into his muzzle and belly, claws dragged on his fur and hide, and he could only curl up helplessly, trying to protect himself and endure the blows.

  But there was no escape, not even in complete submission. The big baboons seized his limbs, dragging and stretching them till Thorn was pinioned, spread-eagled on the forest floor.

  Great Spirit, help me! Please! His arms and legs felt as if they might pop out of their sockets; the pain was excruciating, but worse was the vulnerability. Thorn had never felt so helpless.

  “I’ll do it,” growled Menace. “It’s my right. Father said so.”

  Padding forward, she stood over him, blotting out the dazzle of the sun through the branches. Menace seemed far bigger than he remembered. He had never thought of the cub as especially dangerous, but oh, she had grown—and there was a very adult coldness in her eyes as they gleamed down at him. When she parted her jaws, he could see that her fangs were more than long enough to rip away his life.

  Menace lowered her muzzle close to his ear. Thorn tried not to flinch from her hot breath.

  “Father said I can have your heart,” she murmured. Her lips curled back, and Thorn could almost feel those savage teeth tearing into his ribcage already. And there’s nothing I can do.

  Abruptly there was a shocked hoot from one of the baboons holding him, and his arm popped free. Thorn had no time to see what had happened. As Menace’s jaws lunged for his muzzle, he lashed out with his free arm, tearing his claws wildly across her eyes.

  She yowled in pain, staggering back. The baboons holding his other arms and his hind legs let go too, and Thorn scrambled to right himself. There was something in the air all around, black dots that swirled around the Crown Guard and the lion cub, and with it came a noise, an insistent, maddening buzzing. . . .

  Bees!

  The baboons scattered, yelling and shrieking, and as Thorn blinked hard he saw a bees’ nest lying smashed and crumpled on the forest floor nearby. Jerking his head up, he caught sight of Spider, perched in the branches above him. The strange baboon was rocking back and forth, hugging his knees, clearly delighted with his trick.

  “Spider!” he yelled.

  “Thorn! Get out of there!” Mud’s voice reached him across the small glade, and Thorn saw his little friend bounding toward him. At Mud’s side, Nut was snatching up rocks and flinging them at the Crown Guard as he ran.

  The only sign of Menace was the flick of her tail as she fled into the bushes. Thorn leaped to his feet to dodge the bees, but Spider’s aim had been perfect; the insects were fully focused on the Crown Guard, who hopped and screeched and slapped at the swarm around them. Their frantic movements only enraged the bees more. Creeper gave a ragged yell of summons, tearing at his fur, and one by one the Crown Guard staggered after him, diving into the thickest scrub to shake off the bees. It didn’t seem to do much good. The bees swirled in a cloud above the scrub, hovering in wait, attacking and driving the baboons back every time a furry head popped up.

  At last their agonized yells faded. Thorn could still hear the crash of foliage as Creeper and the rest of the Crown Guard made their escape. Panting, rubbing his sore joints and limbs, Thorn watched Spider jump down from the trees as Mud and Nut ran to join them. Nut was dusting his paws with great satisfaction.

  “I whacked that Viper right on the ear w
ith a rock,” he said gleefully. “Thorn, are you all right?”

  Thorn shook himself, feeling a shiver run through his spine. “I am now,” he muttered. It had been too narrow an escape for comfort, and he could still see the glitter of Menace’s eyes as she parted her jaws to crush his head. “Spider, how did you manage to grab that nest? Did you get stung?”

  Spider shrugged. “Bees don’t hurt Spider, Thorn-friend.” He grinned. “Once, a bee stung him. When Spider was very little indeed. Ever, ever since, bees have been Spider’s friends.”

  “You have the weirdest friends,” said Nut, rolling his eyes and laughing.

  “Yup.” Spider picked his teeth happily. “And now the bees are the friends of the Great Father too.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Her breath catching raggedly in her dry throat, Sky bolted from her brother’s side and thundered to where Fearless lay inert on the hard-packed sand. There was no stir of movement from the lion’s limbs, and if his flanks rose and fell, she could not make it out. Surely his ribs were broken at the very least.

  “Fearless. Fearless, wake up.” Sky nudged her friend urgently but tenderly with her trunk and blew soft breaths at his muzzle. Fear clenched her heart as she saw the blood leaking from his nostrils. The blow from Rend’s tail had been savage, and Fearless had hit the rocks hard.

  A groan rasped from the lion’s throat, and his legs twitched.

  “Fearless, don’t move. I think you have broken bones.” Sky caressed his limbs with her trunk, feeling delicately for any more weaknesses. If Fearless had been mortally injured . . . no, it didn’t bear thinking about. And Mud had run off into the woods, and she had no idea what was happening to him, or to the Great Father he had rushed to find. Everything is falling apart! From their high hopes as the Great Gathering began, their plans had collapsed into chaos.

  Fearless’s flanks heaved, and he panted, his eyes flickering open. What mattered right now was that he lived. She lifted her head to stare at the watering hole. Many animals still lingered on the shore, fearful, but more and more of them were wading into the water, trembling, to drink alongside Titan. She could hear their muted, quavering voices, pledging their allegiance and loyalty. It wasn’t just the gazelles and the tiny dik-diks; huge buffalo and hippos made their way into the shallows, their eyes wide and staring.