Code of Honor

by Erin Hunter

  In moments, it was over. The gazelle sagged, her dead eyes glazing.

  He’d made his first proper kill. Exhilaration coursed through him. Despite his weakened muscles, he felt as if he could run the length of Bravelands.

  “Nicely done,” remarked Valor, his older sister, as she emerged from the long grass. Her pale gold fur glowed dully in the misty rain, and she moved lithely, her elegant head high. “One day you might even hunt as well as me.”

  Fearless swatted her playfully. “Oh, really? Didn’t you see that beautiful kill? Maybe you could learn something from me.”

  Valor snorted, but Fearless could see the pride in his sister’s eyes. Her hunting lessons were paying off. Their mother had been the best hunter in Gallantpride, with the keenest nose and fastest sprint, and Valor was becoming just like her.

  Valor stiffened. “Something’s coming,” she murmured.

  Fearless tensed. Through the mist, a rustle of damp grass reached his twitching ears. He flared his nostrils and felt an involuntary growl rise in his throat. Together with Valor, he crouched, tail lashing, prepared to defend their kill.

  Then the mist carried a scent to his nostrils: it was earthy and sharp and familiar.

  Loyal!

  “It’s all right.” Fearless relaxed. “He’s my friend.”

  A lion’s great head broke through the grass near them. A pale scar was slashed across his cheek, and his black mane was shot through with gold. “I’ve been looking for you, Fearless,” said Loyal gruffly.

  Valor eyed the newcomer suspiciously. “Did this one live with baboons too?” she asked Fearless.

  Loyal growled, his crooked tail flicking. “Certainly not.”

  Fearless grinned at the thought. “I met him after I left the troop. You know when I rescued Ruthless from the cheetahs? Loyal helped me.”

  “I did. And you must be Valor,” said Loyal. “I was a friend of Gallant’s, long ago.”

  Valor’s eyes sparked with joy. “You knew Father!”

  Father, thought Fearless; he could never repress a stab of angry grief when his name was mentioned. Gallant had been murdered by the tyrannical Titan just over a year ago. The memory of that fight still brought a cold shudder of horror and loathing to Fearless’s blood. It had been brutal, like any battle for a pride—but it had also been unjust. Unable to defeat Gallant alone, Titan had his friends intervene to attack Gallant. Gallantpride had become Titanpride through deceit and a shattering breach of the Code—and the lives of Fearless and Valor had changed forever.

  “So where do you live now, Loyal?” Valor asked, her tail lashing with excitement. “What pride do you belong to?”

  Loyal tilted his head with a hint of defiance. “I hunt alone these days.”

  Valor stared, the fur rising along her spine. “You’re prideless?”

  Fearless knew what she was thinking: a prideless lion either couldn’t be trusted, or wasn’t strong enough to join a pride. It wasn’t true of Loyal—he knew that from experience—but Valor was bound to be suspicious.

  Ignoring her tone, Loyal swung his huge shaggy head toward Fearless. “Where have you been, youngster? I haven’t seen you for days.”

  “Hunting,” Fearless told him. “Valor’s been teaching me.”

  “To hunt for Titanpride?” Loyal’s face soured. “I hope you’re keeping a check on that temper of yours. Titan won’t forgive any defiance. I’m still amazed he lets you anywhere near his pride.”

  Fearless bristled. “I haven’t got a temper! And I’m not a newborn cub, Loyal. I don’t need looking after.”

  Loyal cuffed him gently. “You’ve got a lot of growing up to do yet,” he growled. “Maybe the grass-eaters are frightened of you, but you’re no match for Titan. You’re not safe in Titanpride, and don’t you forget it.”

  Fearless tossed his head. “Actually, I am safe. Titan made an oath not to kill me if I rescued Ruthless, and we did. Not even Titan would break an oath.”

  “Let’s hope not.” His eyes dark, Loyal gazed across the plain toward the watering hole.

  Somewhere on its churned, muddy shore, Fearless knew, lay Great Mother’s lifeless body. Three days ago, Titanpride’s scouts had brought news of her murder; Fearless could still barely accept it was true. It was Great Mother who had negotiated Fearless’s meeting with the cheetahs; Great Mother who had used her tact and reputation and wisdom to help him get Ruthless back. It was horrifying to believe that the noble old elephant was dead.

  Loyal was watching him again. “I heard what happened,” he said, as if he could read Fearless’s thoughts. His voice was surprisingly gentle. “I’m sorry.”

  Fearless’s head drooped. “Nothing’s gone right in Bravelands since she died. Driving rain for days, and there’s no sign of it relenting. The grass-eaters are scattered, and hunting is next to impossible.” He jerked his head toward their kill. “It took Valor and me forever to find just one gazelle.”

  “I know it. Even I’ve had trouble hunting.” Loyal shook his mane. “But Great Mother didn’t control the weather, Fearless. There have always been hard times in Bravelands. Even believers in the Great Spirit suffer.”

  Valor flicked her ears in agreement. “This is what I’ve been trying to tell him,” she said. “It makes no difference if there’s a Great Parent or not. In the end the weather will go back to normal and hunting will be good again. You’ll see, Fearless.”

  Fearless sighed. Their attitude wasn’t surprising; it was shared by every lion. Almost every other animal in Bravelands believed in the Great Spirit and followed the Great Parent’s advice, but lions had always ruled themselves. And yet . . .

  He scratched at the muddy grass with his claws. “The baboons believe in the Great Spirit, and they’re clever.”

  Loyal gave an amused growl. “Perhaps, but lions are clever too. And no one, Great Parent or not, tells us what to do.”

  Valor butted Fearless’s shoulder. “Living with baboons has left you with some odd ideas, brother.” She glanced at the looming clouds. “We should get this gazelle back to the pride.”

  “I’ll be going then. Be careful, both of you.” As Loyal padded away, he paused and glanced back. “Fearless, have you told your mother about me?”

  “Not yet.”

  Loyal looked relieved. “Keep it that way.”

  “Why?” asked Valor. “She’ll be pleased Father’s friend is nearby, won’t she?”

  “Believe me, it’ll be safer for her if she doesn’t know.” Loyal narrowed his gaze. “Will you promise?”

  Fearless felt offended on his mother’s behalf. “She can keep a secret,” he said stiffly. “Just because she’s blind now doesn’t mean she’s stupid.”

  “I know that,” Loyal growled. “But promise me, Fearless. Please.”

  Fearless sighed. “All right. I promise.”

  He watched Loyal slink back into the tall grasses. Valor was already worrying at the gazelle’s leg, starting to heave the corpse back toward the pride, and Fearless hurried to help her.

  “What was all that secrecy about?” Valor asked him through a mouthful of leg.

  “I don’t know,” said Fearless. He dug his fangs into the gazelle’s rump.

  “And he’s prideless,” Valor mumbled darkly. “What happened to him?”

  Fearless raised his chin. “I haven’t asked,” he said. “Look, he must have his reasons. He’s a good lion. I know it.”

  “Whatever you say, little brother.” Valor shrugged. “He seems strange, that’s all. And you remember what old Wisdom Gallantpride used to tell us?”

  Fearless didn’t reply, but Valor growled it anyway.

  “Never trust a prideless lion.”

  The lions of Titanpride were huddled under a dripping acacia tree. Honor, Regal, and Agile, three of the former Gallantpride lionesses, had already returned from hunting; they were licking their fur clean of blood and mud. Artful, Titan’s favorite mate, sprawled smirking near them, tail wrapped neatly around her plump haunche
s. Ruthless, her young cub, batted at her curled tail in frustration.

  When’s the last time Artful bothered to go hunting? Fearless wondered resentfully. He and Valor dragged their gazelle to where the other kills lay.

  Titan was tearing into a zebra. His muzzle was smeared with gore, blood matting his magnificent black mane; nearby, his allies were devouring an antelope. Titan stared contemptuously at Fearless and Valor as they dropped their gazelle, then ripped another mouthful of flesh.

  Once, thought Fearless, a zebra would have fed all of Gallantpride, and they would have hunted and shared it together. Now Titan demanded multiple kills, and he gorged on them with his cronies and Artful. How does that fit with the Code?

  The junior males and the lionesses lay in a hungry circle, waiting their turn to eat. This pride is too big, thought Fearless; these lions would be desperate to gnaw at what remained after Titan’s favorites had eaten. His chest tightened with frustrated fury. This is not the way of true lions!

  Beyond even that circle of famished lions crouched a lone lioness: Swift. Fearless could clearly see his mother’s rib bones through her thin, dull fur, and the terrible scar where one of her eyes had been. The other was cloudy and sightless.

  Her nostrils flared as Fearless and Valor approached. “My cubs,” she murmured. “You’re back safely.”

  “Fearless killed a gazelle, Mother,” said Valor, nuzzling Swift’s cheek.

  “My brave lion,” Swift said. She leaned forward, searching for him, and Fearless touched her nose with his. “Your father would be so proud.”

  The best parts of the kills had already been reduced to bone and shreds of sinew. Fearless knew how this would go. Despite the quantities of prey, despite the fact that he and Valor hunted Swift’s share as well as their own, their mother would be shoved aside until only the smallest, least desirable scraps were left. And she would be expected to be grateful.

  But Fearless wasn’t going to let his mother go hungry today. Keeping a wary eye on the rest of the pride, he padded back toward the gazelle. I caught this, he thought defiantly. It’s mine.

  He slapped a paw onto the gazelle’s rump and bit down on a hind leg, then gave a violent wrench of his head. Tendons tore and joints snapped as the leg came away; grabbing it in his jaws, he trotted to a clump of acacias. Valor had watched him, eyes wide; now she butted Swift gently to her feet and guided her to the shelter of the trees. Fearless laid the leg under his mother’s nose. She sniffed it and took a delicate bite.

  “It’s the gazelle I caught,” he told her.

  “Your first kill,” murmured Swift, licking it. “No wonder it tastes so delicious.”

  Fearless swallowed hard. Once his mother had been the strongest hunter in Gallantpride. His chest ached to see her now, thin and blind and living on the charity of lions who had taken her sight and her mate. He glanced at his sister and saw the same sadness in her pale gold, elegant face.

  “I’d better join the other lionesses,” said Valor. She rubbed her mother’s cheek and slipped away.

  Swift ate a little more, then raised her head. “I’ve had enough, Fearless. You eat the rest.”

  “You’ve barely had anything!”

  Swift licked the blood from her muzzle. “You need to eat well so you can become as strong as your father.” She pushed the leg. “Go on—it’s your first kill, you should enjoy it.”

  Fearless sighed, but as he took a bite of the rich meat he realized how hungry he was. He’d had a long day of hunting, and yesterday Titan had let him have only scraps. Giving in, he tore at the gazelle.

  Her ears twitching toward him, Swift sighed contentedly. “I’m so happy to have you back. I only wish I could see what you look like now.”

  “Pretty much the same, I expect. Only bigger.”

  Swift rubbed her cheek against the back of his head. “Well, I can feel you don’t have a mane yet.”

  “I wish I did.”

  Swift chuckled. “It’ll come,” she said. “You’ve got a lot of growing left to do.”

  Fearless sighed. Loyal had pointed out the same thing.

  The sooner I’m grown, the better, he thought.

  With a mane, and my full strength, I’ll finally strike down Titan.

  Fearless and Swift had rejoined the pride by the time Titan stood up from his meal and stretched. His powerful muscles flexed beneath his thick, healthy fur, and he shook his full black mane.

  “A good meal,” he grunted. “While the grass-eaters panic, the lions feast.”

  His tail lashed as he gazed around his pride. When his eyes locked on Fearless, they gleamed with malice.

  “Ah, those foolish animals who follow the Great Parent,” Titan said loudly. “Living their feeble lives in terror, and all because they don’t have anyone to plod after now. Their Great Spirit didn’t protect the old elephant from a few crocodiles, did it?”

  Fearless’s chest tightened with suppressed rage: Titan knew he had been raised by baboons, had been taught to believe in the Great Spirit. Clenching his jaws, he stayed silent, determined not to show how much Titan was riling him.

  “The Great Spirit didn’t even give her the sense to stay out of the water,” Titan went on mockingly. “So much for the wisdom of elephants. They’re no brighter than the idiotic herds who hung on her every word.”

  Artful and Titan’s allies roared with laughter. Fearless swallowed his grunt of rage, but he kept his stare riveted on Titan’s.

  You can laugh now, he thought fiercely, but you won’t when I keep my oath and take back the pride. One day, Titan, I’ll make you regret every vicious deed of yours.

  The lions were still huffing with laughter when one of the scouts threaded through them and padded to her leader. It was Daring, a small lioness with a scarred ear.

  “I bring news, Titan,” she announced. “I overheard the monkeys’ chatter. There’s a Great Gathering at the watering hole at High Sun today.”

  “Really?” Titan growled with amusement. “How exciting for the poor animals. They can bleat about how much they miss their old elephant.” Resolute, Titan’s closest ally, snorted so hard he choked.

  “They’re going to decide what to do now,” said Daring. “I think they’re looking for a new Great Parent.”

  Titan flicked his tail dismissively. “Fools,” he said. “They can’t wait to be told what to do.” He stalked toward Fearless. “And you,” he snarled, “you’re just like them. A lion who wants to be bossed around by some grass-eater.”

  More laughter rumbled around the pride. Valor edged closer to Fearless, looking worried.

  “Since you love the grass-eaters so much, you can spy on the meeting,” said Titan. “It could be useful to know who they pick next.”

  Fearless bowed deferentially, hiding the hatred he knew was in his eyes. “Yes, Titan.”

  “Please, Titan, could I go too?” Valor asked. “They won’t expect lions at the Gathering. When Fearless shows up, there might be trouble.”

  Titan curled his muzzle in a sneer. “You think I care what trouble this baboon-lover gets into?”

  “If two of us go,” Valor said quickly, “at least one of us will be able to report back to you. Even if something bad happens.”

  Titan shrugged. “Go if you must,” he said coolly, turning away. “I can’t imagine two lions I’d be happier to lose, and I daresay you’d be happy to leave. But just remember what happens if neither of you returns.”

  He glanced back, and his eyes burned with malevolence.

  “If you’re not here to hunt for your mother, she doesn’t eat at all.”

  As Fearless and Valor trotted across the grasslands, heading for the watering hole, High Sun was almost upon them. Fearless knew it only because the clouds were mottled with a feeble, pallid glow. The sun itself had not been visible since dawn, and still the rains fell.

  “We have to be careful,” said Valor. “It’s like I told Titan. The animals will be suspicious if they see lions at the Gathering.”


  “I know,” Fearless agreed. “I’ll stay out of sight. But I want to speak to the baboons if I can. They’ll be there for sure—Brightforest Troop is so important.”

  His heart lightened at the thought of seeing Mud and Thorn again. A rain-soaked, rocky kopje jutted from the grass not far ahead; in his excitement, Fearless leaped up the stones to the top.

  “Important baboons,” Valor huffed sarcastically, as she jumped up beside him.

  “Well, they are. They’re one of the biggest troops in Bravelands. And they’ve definitely got the best territory—you’ve never seen so many fruit trees.”

  Valor wrinkled her nose. “You like fruit?”

  Fearless laughed. “Of course not!” he said as they sprang from the highest rock and set off down the far slope. “Hey, maybe the new Great Parent will appear at the Gathering! Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

  “Not for us,” Valor growled firmly. “The Great Parents have nothing to do with lions, remember?”

  “I know.” Fearless gave a wistful sigh. “But it would be nice, wouldn’t it? To have someone to turn to with our problems?”

  Valor stopped short, lashing her tail. “Is that so?” she snapped. “A Great Parent would solve our problems, eh? Could a Great Parent bring back Mother’s sight? Or protect us from Titan?”

  “No, of course not,” said Fearless, offended and a little hurt. “They don’t do things for you, they teach you how—oh, never mind. You’d get it if you’d lived with baboons.”

  “Like I’d ever dream of it.” Valor gave a scornful snort, then shouldered him aside and jumped down from one gravelly outcrop to another. “Idiot,” she grunted, but her tone was affectionate.

  “Watch your paws,” called Fearless cheekily. “You’ll—”

  —Trip, he had been about to mock her, but at just that moment, she did. One paw slid as it hit a puddle, and Valor stumbled. She had to take a few sideways paces to regain her balance; then she stopped and spun around, glaring indignantly at the waterlogged slope.

  Her expression changed. “What . . .”

  Fearless loped down to her side, and the two lions stared aghast at the devastation that lay before them. The slope was pockmarked with meerkat burrows that had not been enough to save their inhabitants.