Oathkeeper

by Erin Hunter

  “You can’t,” snapped Keen, padding to his side. “You’re not in any state to take him on.”

  “I agree with the rangy lion,” said Rock. “Don’t be a fool, Fearless. Titan’s defeated now. There will be other moments.”

  “None like this one,” said Fearless. “He’s weakened and alone. And trapped.” His eyes glinted with determination.

  “Fearless, please.” Thorn raked a paw through his mane. “There’s no sense in doing this now, old friend. You know you’re hurt!”

  “No sense?” bellowed Boulder. “He’s a suicidal idiot if he does this now.”

  Sky backed away, distressed. She did not want to see Fearless fight, not right now, not in his state of injury. But nor did she want any part of what seemed about to become a rancorous squabble. And somewhere deep inside, she felt a qualm of uncertainty. Titan is still alive, and Fearless could be right. There may never be another chance. Titan might slip away somehow. He might recover, regroup, return. . . .

  Turning her head, she stared into the drifting pall of sun-gilded smoke. She sucked in a wondering breath. With a glance to left and right, she realized no other creature saw what she was seeing.

  But it was no illusion. Perhaps this vision was for her alone—but she was not imagining that those coils of smoke were coalescing, shaping themselves into a familiar figure. It was one Sky had seen before, in the morning mist after the Great Battle against Stinger. A massive, imposing, but beloved elephant matriarch, her ears spread wide, her tusks glinting gold in the dawn.

  “Great Mother,” whispered Sky. She lurched forward a step, lowered her head.

  The smoke-form of the great old elephant moved toward Sky; her eyes were as golden as the sun, yet they were gentle and kind.

  Sky. A beloved voice, unheard for far too long, echoed inside her head. Let the lion enter the Plain. Let him do what he must. He has earned this.

  Sky gazed at her beloved grandmother, her heart almost bursting. “But your bones, and the bones of our ancestors—if blood is spilled, and it will be—”

  Sky. Great Mother’s voice was so warm. It’s no longer the time to protect the dead. Now you must protect the living.

  A whisper of breeze touched Sky’s ears, and the acrid air stung her eyes. She blinked hard, and when she looked once more, the trails of smoke had dissipated. Great Mother’s golden form had vanished.

  There was no time to mourn all over again, and Sky could not bear to. She turned sharply to Boulder and Rock.

  “Let Fearless enter,” she commanded, raising her head and spreading her ears wide. “Step aside, brothers.” Great Mother’s soft words came back to her. And let him do what he must.

  Boulder opened his mouth as if to protest, but closed it again when his gaze met hers. Rock simply watched her with warmth and gave her a slight nod. The other elephants, one by one, stepped back from Fearless.

  His mane glinted gold in the dawn light, and his eyes burned with longing. Beneath his sleek tawny fur, his muscles rippled. But there were scratches and lesions on his hide, and dark blood stained his pelt. He seemed to have aged a year in just the last day.

  Keen gave a single, tormented growl; then he fell silent. Thorn looked stunned.

  “Go, Fearless,” Sky said quietly.

  Gazing at her, he nodded.

  “Come what may, Sky Strider,” he said, “I will fulfill my oath.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  It all came to this. Every moment since he had watched Gallant die at the claws of Titan; everything he had done or said, every decision he had made, had brought him to this moment. Though he was afraid, he was calm too. The promise he had made to avenge Gallant had filled his dreams and waking life for so long. No, he simply wanted it to be done with.

  Fearless stood in the first golden light of the new sun, letting its warmth flow into him.

  I will keep my promise to my lost family. Come what may.

  “Remember, my father is cunning.” Ruthless was at his side; Fearless glanced at him. Why was he so surprised at how the cub had grown? Already tufts of black-and-gold fur fringed his neck and head; his mane was coming in far sooner than Fearless’s had. One day he was going to be a fine, strong lion. Fearless smiled at him.

  “I won’t forget, Ruthless.”

  “Watch for attacks from all your sides at once.” The cub stared at him pleadingly. “Be ready for the unexpected, at any moment.”

  “I’ll try to do the impossible.” Fearless laughed. “Don’t I always, Ruthless?”

  “Listen to the cub, and don’t joke,” growled Valor. “You know what Titan is. I lost my father and my mate to that brute in there; I don’t want to lose my brother too.”

  “Don’t even say that, Valor.” Keen nudged her, then nuzzled Fearless’s neck. “I have faith in you, my friend,” he said, a little too eagerly. “I know you’ll beat Titan. But take me with you. I can watch your back, look out for Titan’s tricks.”

  “I can’t let you do that, Keen.” Fearless pressed his face to his friend’s. “The oath is mine alone to keep.”

  “Fearless.” He felt a paw on his shoulder, and turned to see Thorn’s face, creased with concern. “My friend. Mud is reading his stones for you. It might help with those . . . those unexpected moments, as Ruthless called them.” Thorn gave a twisted smile and pointed to his small friend, who was already scattering his stones close by, in the shadows of the cliff.

  “All right,” said Fearless gruffly. He butted Thorn gently with his head. “Let Mud tell me what he sees.”

  Mud did not glance up at Thorn or Fearless. He was watching the shadow withdraw with the rising sun, his face intent as its line crept back and back to illuminate each stone in turn. Fearless had never understood how Mud could see the things he saw in them. He swallowed hard, wondering what the little baboon would tell him.

  Though it didn’t matter, in the end. This battle had to be fought. Come what may.

  Together they watched Mud reach out to touch his stones, turning, adjusting, frowning.

  “Believe me, Fearless,” murmured Thorn, “the Great Spirit is with you.”

  “I’m sure of it,” growled Fearless.

  “Good.” Thorn patted his mane and left his fingers there for a moment, twined in Fearless’s fur. “Good.”

  Mud glanced up. “Thorn. Fearless.” His eyes were unreadable, but his mouth twitched with nerves.

  “What do you see, Mud?” asked Thorn.

  “It’s . . .” Mud glanced back at the stones. “It’s not very clear.” He chewed his lip and swallowed. “It . . . it’s hard to say.”

  Fearless watched the little baboon. He seemed to be staring very hard at the stones, as if it was an excuse not to look at Thorn and Fearless.

  “I’m not afraid,” said Fearless.

  Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. I am afraid, Father Gallant. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve let you down. A tiny ember of resentment flared inside him. Why give me a name I couldn’t live up to? Why?

  The spark of anger flickered out as quickly as it had risen, and a quiet calmness settled on him. Because you knew, Father, didn’t you? You knew that even in the worst moments, even if I failed, I’d try to live up to it.

  “It’s all right, Mud,” he said more calmly. “If it’s bad, you can tell me.”

  Mud’s head jerked up again, and this time Fearless could see the anguish in his face. “I’m sorry, I can’t. It’s too confused. The stones—they’re like that sometimes.” His voice faded.

  Fearless licked the top of Mud’s head. “Don’t worry, old friend. Today Titan’s reign of terror ends. I promise you.”

  “I know it will.” Mud’s throat sounded constricted. “The Great Spirit go with you, Fearless.”

  There was nothing left to do, no more words of advice to take. Fearless was on his own in this confrontation, as he’d always known he must be. Taking a deep breath, he stiffened his aching muscles, turned, and strode toward the center of the Plain. His pr
ide, his baboon friends, and the elephants were watching his every move; he could feel it. But they remained absolutely silent.

  Smoke still drifted in tendrils and billows, obscuring the great tree at the heart of the plateau, and his nostrils were full of the stink of ash and burned wood. It was hard to make out distinct shapes, and the sun blazed in his eyes, but Fearless knew Titan was there. He knew it in his blood and bones.

  There was a rustle to his left. He halted. A soft yip was answered by a staccato howl.

  So there were still a few wolves left, the most loyal and dogged of Titan’s minions. They’d happily kill him; to kill them first would be no Code-breach. Fearless drew back his lips, exposing his fangs, and gave a low snarl.

  Right in front of him, a wolf erupted from the grass, its jaws wide and drooling. Fearless sprang at it, but his teeth only grazed its golden fur before it darted off. He felt a sharp pain in his hind leg, and he spun to catch a wolf this time. His fangs sank into its cheekbone, and he flung it away.

  Again a wolf leaped up, almost from beneath his paws; they had burrowed to protect themselves from the smoke, Fearless realized. He dodged the attack and snapped at the wolf’s shoulder, but again he felt teeth in his hind leg. These fangs went deeper, and Fearless staggered. Twisting, he lunged and found his tormentor’s throat, tearing it out with a quick shake of his head. They were no match.

  Panting, he stood motionless, waiting for the next attack. A couple of shadows scuttled at the edge of his vision, but they had seen what had become of two of their pack-mates; they held back, for now.

  “Is this how it’s going to be, Titan?” he roared, lashing the ground with his paw. “You’re going to hide from me, even now? Let your wolves die for nothing, while you cower like a miserable snake?”

  “Snakes.” The voice that rippled out of the smoke was deep and dark and sinister. “I’ve eaten snake-spirits. They are with me, fool. All of Bravelands is with me.”

  “No creature in Bravelands truly stands with a coward,” snarled Fearless.

  “Ah, you and your precious honor. Just like your stupid father. Look where it got him, Fearless. I’m only sorry I didn’t know back then that I could devour his spirit too. Gallant was a strong one, I grant you. But his principles condemned him to death, just as yours will.”

  Death. The absolute certainty in Titan’s voice chilled Fearless’s blood, just for an instant. Then he felt a warm certainty of his own. It roiled in his chest, growing and swelling till it was a fire in his heart.

  “Today, Death comes for you, Titan.”

  “Then I will meet Death head-on.” A huge-maned silhouette loomed from the drifting smoke. “And I will eat its heart.”

  Fearless knew he should be terrified, but somehow his fear had drained away. A growl building in his throat, he bounded forward to meet the monstrous lion.

  Yet Titan did not move farther. He stood very still. Just as Fearless was within spring-length, he felt a stabbing pain in his cheek, the hot impact of a furred body colliding with his head.

  Not a wolf. Too strong for that. Teeth tore at his face, claws raking at his eyes. With a roar of frustration, Fearless skidded to a halt, shaking his head violently and lashing at the attacker with a paw.

  A lion cub fell away, thudding onto the grass, but swiftly bounced back onto its paws, fangs bared in fury. Menace! He had long known she was loyal to her father, and too confident in her abilities. But still, the ferocity of her assault shocked him.

  “Stay back, daughter of Titan, if you want to live,” roared Fearless. “My fight is with your father!”

  She narrowed her flashing eyes. “Then your fight is with me.”

  Her leap was an astonishing one for a cub of her size. She streaked through the smoky air toward him, but Fearless was ready this time. Rearing back, he struck out with sheathed claws at her snarling head. The cub was tossed back like a bird, crashing to the stunted grass. Menace rolled once, as if to spring up yet again; but the twisting of her body stopped short as she gave a bone-chilling scream of pain. She flopped back, panting and gasping.

  Fearless stared at her, tensed to defend himself again if he had to. But Menace struggled to rise, and failed.

  Then he saw it: a shard of elephant rib that pierced her haunch, pinning her to the earth. Blood drenched the white bone and dripped down to soak the ground beneath her.

  “Get up!” Titan’s roar split the silence. “Get up and fight, daughter! Defend your leader and father!”

  To Fearless’s stomach-churning amazement, she did her best, tearing a deeper wound.

  “I’m trying, Father, I’m trying. I’ll kill him, I’ll protect you, I’ll—” The cub lurched and kicked, mewling, battling to stand, but the elephant bone held her fast. She was finished, and Fearless couldn’t find more than a shred of sympathy.

  “Was she your last trick, Titan?” Fearless growled. “It’s just you and me now.”

  Titan’s eyes glittered through the smoke trails. “You and me, then, Gallantbrat.”

  Fearless tensed. He had waited for this moment all his life.

  Yet he did not have time to draw a breath before Titan’s lightning onrush. There was a spike of fear, a blur of teeth as Titan’s jaws stretched wide to seize his throat. But Fearless ducked and they simply collided. The black-maned lion flung Fearless backward with his sheer weight and speed.

  Fearless rolled with the impact, letting himself be driven back even as he bit and snapped and raked with his hind claws at Titan’s body. A black throat gaped above his face, blotting out the sky, and he twisted to elude those long yellow teeth, sinking his own fangs into Titan’s neck. Most of what he seized was black mane, but his grip kept Titan’s teeth from his throat, for a moment at least.

  Fearless wrenched himself out from beneath his enemy and sprang for his shoulders. He dug in his claws and hung on, trying to drag Titan down, but the brute’s strength was astonishing; Fearless could almost feel the power of him, pulsing violently through his claws. It was like combat with a gigantic buffalo. Except that a buffalo didn’t have those fearsome claws.

  Grunting, Fearless freed one paw and lashed out at Titan’s head, seeking his eyes but managing only a shallow scratch of his muzzle. The older lion twisted, jerked and flung Fearless away. Then, with all the speed of a striking cobra, Titan leaped again, digging his long claws into Fearless’s shoulders and pinning him to the ground.

  The landscape around him became a blur of light and noise as the two lions grappled and fought; blood roared in Fearless’s ears, and the dawn light darkened. The struggle had brought them, snapping and twisting and rolling, close to the foot of the eastern cliffs. Merely noticing his surroundings was too much distraction; as Fearless lost his grip on Titan’s shoulder, bright hot pain blossomed across his face. Staggering back, he felt hot blood gush into his left eye, and he realized that Titan’s claws had ripped down through his eyelid and cheek.

  The two lions panted and circled each other. Fearless blinked blood from his eyes, but there was no stopping the stream from his wound; it blinded him again instantly.

  Still, the gouges and bites on his body felt unimportant next to the deep agony that spasmed through his side, the side the crocodile had struck with his tail.

  Thorn had been right. I’m hurt. Badly. I can’t do this—

  “You’re not fighting a lion, do you realize that?” Titan’s mocking growl reached him through the thunder of pulsing blood in his ears. “Have you understood it yet, Gallantbrat? You’re fighting Bravelands. I am more than Titan. I am buffalo, and crocodile, and snake, and cheetah. I am leopard and wild dog and wolf. You think the Great Spirit is powerful? It’s nothing compared to Titan.”

  “You are . . . not Bravelands,” panted Fearless. “Bravelands and its creatures . . . are everything you are not.”

  Titan gave a belly-deep laugh of derision. “You’ve waited your whole life for this, haven’t you? Well, it will be worth it, I guarantee that. You will die like all the ot
hers, and the spirits of Gallant and Loyal and your mother Swift will look on in despair. Because you will not join them in the stars, after all. You will join me. It’s a stubborn, courageous heart you have, I’ll give you that. Submit now, and I’ll tear it from you with little pain.”

  Another spasm of agony rippled through Fearless, intensified by a dark and heavy despair that threatened to drive him to his knees. He could hardly speak. But he managed one word.

  “No.”

  “Come along, then.” Titan danced lightly back on his paws. “Come and hunt down your death.”

  With that he turned, and, light-footed as an impala, made a springing leap onto a narrow shelf of rock. Fearless gave a groan of frustration and dug his claws into the crumbling rock to scramble up after him. Titan jumped for the next ledge, and the next; Fearless, his chest burning with the effort, hauled himself after him. Here at the edge of the Plain, the dark smoke was thicker, still billowing upward from the smoldering brushwood stacks. It stung Fearless’s eyes, making them stream with water that mingled with the blood of his wounds.

  Titan is hurt too. Yes, he’d made a few blows count. But the deep scratches and fang punctures did not seem to affect Titan’s energy or his arrogant demeanor. And he clearly wasn’t half blind as Fearless was.

  Out of a blur of smoke and shadow, Titan sprang at him. Fearless reeled back, trading blows with his enemy as he fought to keep his balance on the rocky ledge. As Titan paused, and he staggered, Fearless realized his mouth was filled with blood.

  It did not taste of black earth and evil; it wasn’t Titan’s. Fearless spat it out.

  “Nearly there, Gallantbrat, nearly there. Shall I give you your name, out of respect for this last effort of yours? Very well, Fearless. There’s something I want you to know before I kill you.”

  Fearless’s head reeled. His body was weakening, and his skull felt full of smoke. That taunting voice seemed to come from every direction at once.

  “When you’re dead, Fearless, I shall pay you an extra tribute. And you’ll watch it through my own eyes! I’ll find your sister Valor, and her cubs. And that friend of yours, Keen: he deserves my recognition. I’ll take their hearts and spirits too, so that they can join you forever. Be grateful, Fearless!”