If he didn’t, Thorn knew, they would rush to tell Stinger. And then Stinger would have the perfect excuse to get rid of Thorn, and with him the truth about his crimes.
His guts twisting, Thorn reached for the nearest branch and cracked it between his paws.
CHAPTER 21
Fearless’s head ached from the heat, and his gullet burned with thirst. His paws were sore from running, his stomach empty—and worse than any of it was the heavy stone of shame in his chest. He’d failed the elephants.
He’d managed to follow Sky and Moon’s scents for a long time. Sometimes the two had been together, and sometimes apart. Other animals had crossed their trail, confusing it: he’d caught the sour tang of rhinoceros and the sharp odor of monkeys. By the time he’d tracked them to flatter, drier lands, the trail had grown faint; then it was gone altogether, dissipated by the winds. He’d lost them, after promising their family he would reach them in time. He couldn’t bear to face Rain Strider again, or worse, Moon’s sad-eyed mother.
I just hope Titan lost their trail too.
He plodded along in a daze of guilt. It was so all-consuming, he had almost stepped on the gazelle before he saw it.
Fearless sucked in a breath, withdrawing his paw. He was hungry, but this gazelle was not much more than its skin. Fur was stretched over bones; its empty-eyed head craned toward the grassland beyond. Fearless followed its eyeless stare.
His gut quivered with shock. Before him on the plain lay the rest of the herd—twenty or more of them—and every single gazelle, young or old, was in the same state as the first. They sprawled where they’d stumbled and fallen on the desiccated grass. Every tawny body was a dried-up bag of hide and bone, and the gathering vultures tugged listlessly at shreds of skin.
A few had been dismembered by rot-eaters, but there was no pooled blood and he could see no bite marks on throats or haunches. Fearless knew little about the lives of grass-eaters, but even he could tell it was thirst that had killed these creatures. He did not like to imagine their stumbling, hopeless trek in search of water.
Shuddering, he picked his way through the shriveled corpses, not tempted to take so much as a bite. No doubt Titanpride had no such problems; one thing there was plenty of was live prey and thirst-quenching blood.
The fate of the gazelles distracted him from his worry about the elephants; by the time he was in sight of Titanpride, he almost hoped he’d find Titan and the young males lounging with the others, eating all the prey and bullying the lionesses.
But Titan wasn’t there. None of the full-grown males were. The lionesses dozed under broad-topped acacias, almost piled on top of one another in the shade; obviously they reckoned the warmth of huddled bodies was preferable to the full blaze of the sun. Ruthless was curled against Artful’s side, his tail tucked across his nose. Fearless’s chest clenched tight. Where were the adult males?
And where were Swift and Valor? He stopped, his fur prickling. His mother and sister were nowhere to be seen.
Artful rose and stalked toward him, her haunches heavy from eating so well. Ruthless glanced up at his mother, his small face tight with worry, then dropped his head onto his paws again, pretending to sleep.
“Where are Mother and Valor?” Fearless demanded.
Artful clouted him on the ear. He stumbled, the side of his head stinging, but he locked eyes with her defiantly. “Where are my mother and—”
“Silence!” she growled. “Where have you been?”
“Hunting,” he lied.
Artful’s paw slammed into his head again. Fearless shook himself, his ear buzzing like a hive of angry bees.
“You’re always disappearing,” she snarled. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Don’t think Titan hasn’t noticed.”
Still Fearless held Artful’s gaze, holding his aching head high. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”
Artful’s tail lashed back and forth. “Stay with the pride,” she growled. “Titan might have decided not to kill you, but we haven’t forgotten you’re Gallant’s brat. From now on you’re not leaving my sight—so if you stir up trouble, I’ll know. Understand?”
She glared for a moment longer, then turned and flopped next to Ruthless again. Ruthless kept his head down and his eyes closed, but Fearless was sure from the twitch of the cub’s ears that he’d heard everything.
Despite his defiance, Fearless felt unnerved. It was foolish to cross Titan, he thought as he paced away. I have to be more careful.
He slumped down beneath an acacia next to Honor. He’d grown fond of the lioness since she’d stood up for Ruthless, when Resolute had tried to force the cub to finish off the zebra.
Honor flicked her tail. “Don’t annoy her, you idiot,” she muttered. “The best thing you can do is keep your head down, like the rest of us.”
“Do you know where my mother and Valor are?” he asked quietly.
Honor shook her head. “No,” she said, “but they left together. Probably hunting.”
“They’ll have to go a fair distance, then. There’s a herd of dead gazelles not far away, and there’s no flesh on them. The grass-eaters are dying, Honor.”
“I know.” She nuzzled him. “It’s bad. But Valor will look after your mother, don’t worry.”
Fearless sprawled in the grassy dirt beneath the tree’s shade; even that felt uncomfortably warm against his belly. His clammy fur prickled with the heat, and he panted hard. A tchagra bird gave a piercing call in the branches, and he blinked up to see the little bird searching for insects, a blur of gray and red-brown. His eyelids felt heavy; Honor’s had closed already, and her sides gently rose and fell. He mustn’t do the same. Turning his gaze to a horizon that wobbled in the glare, Fearless watched for his mother and sister—and for Titan.
But in the heat, it was so hard to stay alert. When he became aware of blurred shapes moving, he jerked up his head, realizing he’d almost fallen asleep. Mother?
No. With a lurch of dread, he saw that the lions were Titan, Resolute, and the young males. Forceful, the pale-furred lion, trailed behind the others, limping badly. They’re not dragging prey, he thought, his hopes lifting.
“Father!” Ruthless jumped up as the males drew closer. The rest of the pride stirred too and rose to greet them; Fearless followed Honor as she dutifully padded to join the other lionesses.
Ruthless scampered up to Titan, then jolted to a halt, his small muzzle wrinkling. “You smell bad,” he said.
Titan cuffed Ruthless affectionately, rolling him in the grass. Fearless could only stare, his stomach twisting: the lions were spattered with rank, clotting blood. They had certainly killed something.
Ruthless yelped with excitement as Titan nuzzled his belly and licked his nose. When Ruthless scrambled back to his feet, his small chest and muzzle were stained red, and Titan nodded in satisfaction.
“There,” he growled. “Now you look like a proper hunter.”
Artful smirked, while Ruthless peered uncertainly down at his bloodied chest.
Titan paced back and forth, his powerful muscles flexing. “We have won a great victory today,” Titan roared. “We tracked and killed a young elephant. It was a hard fight”—he glanced at the injured Forceful—“but Titanpride was triumphant. Now the elephants and rhinos know what we’re capable of.”
Resolute and the young lions roared in triumph, their heads thrown back. As the lionesses grunted and huffed their congratulations, Fearless clenched his teeth, digging his claws into the baked earth. Was it Sky or Moon who had died? For nothing more than a display of Titan’s arrogance . . .
Titan nuzzled Ruthless, streaking more blood across the cub’s face. “I do this for you, my son,” he said. “One day, you will rule all Bravelands.”
Rearing up on his hind legs, Ruthless pressed his paws against Titan’s chest and touched his nose with his own. “Yes, Father,” he said, but his expression was puzzled. He kept glancing from his mother to his father.
Titan’s tail lashed the air.
“Now that all of Bravelands has learned to fear Titanpride, we must keep up the pressure. Today I will lead you in the next great step.” He gazed around, meeting every eye. “It’s time to take Dauntlesspride.”
The pride roared in approval. Even Honor joined in, though Fearless couldn’t tell if she was sincere. But no matter how he tried, he couldn’t join the chorus of grunting roars. Into his head flashed an image: Titan and his allies stalking over the hill onto Gallantpride territory, and his father leaping forward to face Titan’s challenge like the honorable lion he was. Fearless could almost hear the terrible grunting roar as the lions had collided in midair, could feel the ground shaking as they slammed down, locked in combat. And once again, he saw the awful, treacherous moment when Titan’s allies had sprung into the battle against all the laws of lions and killed his father.
His breathing was suddenly rapid and harsh. I’m going to have to watch the same thing happen again.
“Titanpride, follow me!” Titan roared. As he strode across the grasslands, heading out of his territory, the other lions fell into position: Resolute beside him, the young lions forming up behind. The lionesses followed, Ruthless weaving his way between their legs; Fearless could do nothing but trudge after them, his paws heavy as his heart.
“This will make us the most powerful pride in Bravelands,” Regal murmured just ahead of him.
“Dauntless is old, and he’s getting weak.” Agile hunched her shoulders. “It’s about time someone took over his pride.”
Fearless gulped back a snarl of anger. Regal and Agile had been Gallantpride lions—had they already forgotten what Titan had done to his father? And Forceful had been raised in Dauntlesspride! Yet Fearless could see the pale-furred lion limping up ahead, talking cheerfully to Fierce, showing not a single qualm of regret.
Of course lions took over prides—Gallant had won his from another pride leader, and Fearless wanted to claim his own someday—but Titan wasn’t like other lions. Titan Codebreaker. Suddenly Fearless was glad that his mother and sister weren’t here. At least they had been spared reliving their worst memory.
Titanpride moved quickly and fluidly through the yellowed grass. As they passed a grove of trees, a monkey shrieked, foliage rattled, and Fearless caught a glimpse of small greenish shapes racing away through the branches. Every animal in Bravelands is afraid of Titanpride, he thought darkly. And that’s just what Titan wants.
Ruthless dropped back to walk next to Fearless, his eyes shining with pride. “I never saw a real fight before,” he told Fearless. “I think my father can beat any lion, don’t you?”
A sharp pain went through Fearless; he remembered saying the same about his own father, just before his death. But the awful thing was that Ruthless was right. Titan would win any fight at any cost; Gallant had lost because he fought with dignity and honor. I wish Ruthless didn’t have to find out what Titan is.
“He probably can,” Fearless said at last. And if he can’t, he’ll cheat.
The trek to Dauntlesspride territory was a long one under the unforgiving glare of the sun. Fearless’s paws, already tender after a night spent searching for the young elephants, throbbed and ached. As the lions paced on, the land turned from flat grassy plains to low dry hills, where the grass grew in clumps and groves of scrubby trees dotted the landscape.
“Look,” Honor said, craning her neck. “They’ve seen us coming.”
Fearless peered ahead. The rival pride was gathering on a hilltop, their bodies long golden lines of tension; he could hear their apprehensive growls. Dauntlesspride was a lot smaller than Titanpride: the old lion who was their leader, eight or nine lionesses, and few half-grown cubs about Fearless’s age. Ranged on the crest of the hill, they stared warily down as Titanpride advanced.
Dauntless himself was tall and rangy, his fur tipped with silver, his face craggy with a long life’s experience. A lioness with dark brown eyes—his mate, Fearless guessed—pressed protectively against the old lion. At Dauntless’s other flank stood a half-grown lion about Fearless’s age. Brown-eyed and long legged, he was clearly their cub. His fur was dark gold, his features sharp and anxious, and he stood with every muscle taut, working his claws against the ground.
Dauntless grunted and padded forward to meet Titan. His gait was stiff, as if his joints ached, but his gaze was steady. “Titan of Titanpride,” he said. “What brings you to Dauntlesspride territory?”
Titan roared, his powerful chest swelling. “By the laws of our ancestors, I, Titan, come to claim this pride of Dauntless.”
Dauntless’s cub clenched his jaws, but neither he nor any other Dauntlesspride lion moved. They knew this was coming, Fearless thought.
Dauntless gazed at Titan, his eyes cold and hard. “All lions know that Titan is a breaker of the Code.”
A low growl rose from the Titanpride lions. Titan himself snarled, his muzzle peeling back to expose his deadly fangs.
“Lies!” he roared. “Everything I’ve done has been for the survival of Titanpride.”
Dauntless shook his silvered mane. “You don’t fight to survive,” he said contemptuously. “You fight to make sure others don’t. But I will fight you, according to the ancient laws of our ancestors.” He swept a long, scornful look across the lions gathered behind Titan. “We all know how you defeated Gallant. If your pride attacks, Dauntlesspride will retaliate.”
“Agreed,” said Titan smoothly.
Dauntless turned to the lions around him. “Stand aside, Dauntlesspride,” he said. Obediently, they moved back, their tails low. The dark-eyed lioness touched her nose to Dauntless’s, and he murmured something before she padded away.
Only Dauntless’s cub hadn’t retreated. “I want to help, Father,” he said. “I can protect the pride, too.”
The old lion rested his muzzle on the cub’s golden head. “Not today, Keen. Not yet. This is a battle I must fight alone.”
The cub swallowed hard. He nodded, pressed his forehead to his father’s, and retreated to his mother’s side.
Dauntless turned to Titan once more. He curled his muzzle and gave the roar of response.
“By the laws of our ancestors, I, Dauntless, fight to keep this pride.”
Titan didn’t hesitate. With a snarl, he leaped for Dauntless’s throat, and the old lion reared up to meet him. They grappled and rolled on the ground, growling, then broke apart and scrambled to their feet.
As the two lions circled each other warily, Fearless saw that the older lion was already limping, although his gaze was steady and not yet clouded by pain. As both prides roared encouragement, Ruthless hopped from paw to paw, his eyes wide.
Dauntless swiped at Titan, but his movements were slow. The huge black-maned lion dodged the blow. With a snarl, he pounced, slamming into Dauntless’s side and forcing him to the ground. The older lion struggled, but Titan pinned him down with one paw on his shoulder and one on his flank. He opened his jaws wide and plunged them into the older lion’s throat. Dauntless’s legs kicked once, and then were still.
It had been so quick.
Titan lifted his bloodstained muzzle. “By the laws of our ancestors,” he roared, “I, Titan, claim this pride.”
“No!” yowled Keen. “No!” He bolted to his father’s body, his tail thrashing with distress. For a long, aching moment he pressed his face against his father’s; then he straddled his body as best he could, facing Titan. The cub trembled, but his shoulders were hunched in threat, and his brown eyes flashed.
“Step away, little cub,” Titan growled.
“I am Keen Dauntlesspride,” the cub snarled. “And I won’t yield my father’s pride to Codeless lions!”
His mother sprang to his side, her head high. “I stand with my son,” she said. “We are not Codebreakers. And we do not wish to be ruled by one.”
A golden lioness joined her, then several more. Together, they lined up alongside Keen. Fearless shivered. A guilty memory rippled through him: when his own father had been killed, Fearless had r
un for his life. He couldn’t help but be impressed by the young lion’s staunch bravery.
But he knew it was hopeless.
Titan’s tail lashed. “You do have a choice, young Keen. Certainly you can refuse to join Titanpride.” His fangs bared. “You may choose the alternative. Death.”
His lunge was sudden and violent, and Titanpride charged forward with him. Fearless shoved Ruthless away with his shoulder.
“Get clear of the fight!” He paused, just long enough to see the startled Ruthless scamper away, then hurtled into the battle. He wouldn’t harm these lions, whatever Titan’s orders, but he had to look convincing or he’d die himself. Snarling, he swiped at Dauntless’s mate, his claws deliberately tearing empty air.
Thundering on, he passed Agile grappling and rolling on the ground with another lioness, then Regal snarling at one of the males, her muzzle and paws streaked with blood. The Dauntlesspride lions’ faces were tight with grief and terror, their eyes glassy. It was horribly reminiscent of the day Titan killed Gallant.
Fearless dodged and darted between them, roaring and lunging without letting his claws and teeth meet flesh. There was no need to, he realized with a lurching sickness in his gut; Dauntlesspride was losing the battle, swiftly and badly. Not only were they outnumbered, but not all the Dauntlesspride lions had joined the fight. Some stood aside, heads and tails drooping. Fearless felt a deep pang of pity. They didn’t want to obey Titan, he knew, but the laws of their ancestors said they must follow the victor. It was a hard tradition to defy.
A dark golden shape leaped into Fearless’s path, and he jerked to a stop, paws skidding. Keen! He was smaller than Fearless, but he crouched low, shoulders hunched in fury, and bared his fangs.
“I’d rather die than join you!” He sprang.
Fearless rose up onto his hind legs just as Keen crashed into him. Twisting, he shoved the smaller cub away with his forepaws. Keen rolled, staggered upright, and crouched again.
“Stop,” Fearless growled desperately. “I don’t want to fight you!”
“I won’t follow Titan!” Keen yowled. Wildly, he slashed at Fearless.