The Spirit-Eaters Page 4

  Sky’s trunk nudged Thorn’s shoulder, and he turned to her.

  “You must make it official,” she murmured.

  He nodded. He’d seen Stinger do it, and it was time to cleanse the Great Parenthood from that evil baboon’s noxious legacy.

  Getting to his paws, he padded forward into the lake until the cool water lapped around his chest. He rose onto his hind legs and cupped his forepaws, scooping up the water. Tipping his head back, he drank.

  Around him all the animals were moving forward now, stirring up the water and splashing happily as they plunged their muzzles in to drink. But Thorn was only vaguely aware of them. In the dazzling sunlight that dappled the surface, he saw shapes form: animals whose ghostly bodies did not disturb the water’s surface—great spectral elephants, a bounding cheetah, a noble giraffe.

  The others weren’t seeing this, he knew. Only Thorn could see the spirits of the Great Parents of the past. Pacing across the water toward him came a dignified, elderly baboon, his shape shimmering against the lake’s brightness. He gazed into Thorn’s awed eyes, nodded, and smiled.

  I am Bravelands now, Thorn realized. I am all of its creatures. I am linked to all these ancient Parents, and through them to the land itself.

  He stood very still, letting the joyful herds plunge and drink around him, and allowed the Great Spirit to bind him to Bravelands forever.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It felt strange but quite pleasant to stand up to his belly in the lake, feeling it tickle his fur, as herds of prey animals splashed and waded in the watering hole nearby. Fearless lapped at the water, then lifted his dripping jaws and tried to spot Thorn in the melee. At last he glimpsed him, talking earnestly to a couple of hippos as a bushbuck waited his turn patiently. Fearless felt a tingle of pride.

  He’s one of my best friends, and now he’s Great Father of Bravelands!

  A rhino gave Fearless a sidelong stare, and a young kudu looked particularly nervous. That was natural, he thought. It was most unusual for a lion to attend a Great Gathering; his kind followed neither the Great Spirit nor the Great Parent who embodied it. But he had been raised by baboons, and he felt at home here. After all, he had been to Great Gatherings before—though those had been Stinger’s, and the thought of those scandalous charades in honor of a False Parent now made him cringe with shame.

  Thorn’s dry joke had bitten him sharply: a reminder of the day Fearless had tried, on Stinger’s orders, to kill Thorn. Looking back, that moment seemed to Fearless so symbolic of Stinger’s dreadful tyranny and deceit. Thorn might be able to make lighthearted jibes about it now, but Fearless knew he would carry the disgrace of it for the rest of his life.

  How could he have fallen so hard for lies and pretenses and turned against his lifelong baboon friend? Looking back, it seemed so clear that the wily Stinger had been a charlatan and a murderer. Yet Fearless had believed in him utterly. He’d felt loyalty and love for the baboon who had adopted him as a cub, and he remembered those emotions every bit as well as he remembered his shame. It was confusing enough to make his head ache.

  “Don’t look so dejected, Fearless,” growled Keen. He and Ruthless had refused to get into the water, but they stood close by on the bank. “You made a mistake, that’s all. I think your baboon friend has forgiven you. And it’s not surprising you believed that other one. Stinger was like your father, wasn’t he?”

  “My mentor, for sure.” Fearless glanced back gratefully at Keen. How was it that his companion could so often read his mind? “Are you coming in, by the way?”

  “I’ll stay right here, thank you.” Keen laughed.

  Ruthless shuddered at the mere suggestion. “Me too. What are they all splashing around for anyway?”

  “It’s a tradition,” Fearless explained. “They think it connects them to the Great Father, and through him to the Great Spirit. I don’t know how it works, but it’s been the custom forever.” He slid his eyes mischievously back to Keen. “And it feels great. The water’s so cool. Very refreshing. You two look as if your fur’s smoldering.”

  Keen sagged dramatically. “It is hot,” he said.

  “You’re missing out,” taunted Fearless.

  With a sudden spring, Keen plunged into the water beside Fearless, showering him with spray.

  Spitting out lake water, Fearless shook himself. Wading closer, he licked Keen’s face, then settled to grooming his slender back. He felt Keen reciprocate, and they basked for a moment in the cool water under the sun. It was so good to have a moment of peaceful respite amid all the troubles that had afflicted Bravelands and their own prides.

  “Oh, fine!” yelped a voice from the bank. Ruthless flung himself into the lake, splashing them both. His shorter legs took his out of his depth quickly, but he adapted straightaway, paddling quite confidently around the two older cubs.

  “What?” he said defiantly. “I was feeling left out.”

  Fearless gave a throaty growl. “Told you you’d like it.”

  Ruthless immediately looked distracted, though. He was staring back at the bank. “What’s happening there? Is it another Great Gathering thing?”

  Fearless and Keen stopped grooming each other and turned to look at the shoreline. Other animals were turning too, and there was a ripple of uneasy murmuring.

  Two leopards were prowling down the shallow slope of bank, dragging something heavy and limp between them. The thing was shapeless, bumping along the gritty sand, but every animal in the lake grew silent as it became clear what it was. The leopards dropped it from their jaws and raised their heads to look at the new Great Father. Their faces were set hard with grief and anger.

  Fearless stared at the limp corpse of a third leopard. Why would they bring that here, and on such a day?

  Thorn was already wading back through the crowd, dropping to all fours as he reached the shore and bounded forward. He halted in front of the leopards, staring in horror at the body. Sky had followed him, and she gasped, flapping her ears in distress.

  Fearless ran to join them, Keen and Ruthless at his heels, shaking water from their fur.

  What did this? Fearless was about to ask, but he only had to look at the wound to know what had killed the leopard. Its rib cage had been torn raggedly open, and where its heart had been, there was a bloody cavity.

  “The wolves,” snarled one of the leopards hoarsely. “They took her heart. Now she will never hunt among the stars.”

  As the thick silence deepened, Fearless felt his own heart wrench. I should have told Thorn at once about Titanpride. But now wasn’t the moment. The leopards’ distress was painful.

  Soft cries and squeals and a horrified muttering were rising once again from the herds that were now emerging from the water. Thorn crouched over the dead leopard, his fingers gently brushing the edges of its terrible wound.

  Abruptly, he stiffened and rose to his paws. He turned to the other animals. Fearless almost didn’t recognize the expression on his friend’s face: it was full of such cold fury.

  “These wolves,” he declared in a ringing voice. “I will stop them, and I will put an end to the evil they have brought to Bravelands.”

  “How?” cried an impala, stepping forward and shaking his horns. “This same thing happened to one of ours, not three days ago. She too has lost her spirit, and she will never run along the silver way that lights the night sky.”

  “I heard,” rumbled a hippo angrily, “that they have even done this to great and powerful animals. A crocodile. A rhino. More than one buffalo. How can a baboon stop them?”

  “I’ll start with the only thing I know,” said Thorn. He gazed around the herds, and it struck Fearless how open and honest his face was compared to Stinger’s; there would be no crazy boasts from Thorn. “I’ll find the leader of these savages and tell him it must stop. They cannot stand against the united animals of Bravelands, and they know it. We defeated Stinger’s army. Perhaps these creatures don’t know how much they have to fear.”

  For a moment Fearless felt a nip of anxiety in his gut. How would the herds react to Thorn’s first, peaceful proposal in the face of such brutal provocation?

  But a rumble of approval went round the gathered crowd. “Well said, Great Father!” bellowed a buffalo.

  Fearless took a pace toward Thorn. “I’ll help,” he said, “and so will Keen and Ruthless.” The two lions nodded at him. “We can track down this golden wolf leader and bring him to you. You are a fine Great Parent, Thorn, but you need strength and muscle behind you.”

  “And that’ll be us,” added Keen.

  Thorn exchanged a look with Sky and nodded. “That’s a good plan. Thank you, Fearless.”

  “It’s the least I can do,” said Fearless, his head drooping slightly. “Perhaps it’ll help make up for what I did the last time we all gathered here.”

  “Stop thinking about that,” said Thorn kindly, rubbing his friend’s head. “What matters now are the wolves.”

  “We know roughly where they are,” Keen told him. “We scented them at the Dead Forest. We’ll start our search there.”

  There was movement between the long legs of the zebras, and a small shadow sauntered out, her tail held arrogantly high. Fearless stifled a groan. It was the irritating daughter of Titan: Menace.

  “I want to hunt wolves too,” the little cub demanded haughtily. Her nose tilted high, she looked around. “I am the daughter of Titan, born to hunt and kill my enemies.”

  “You’re too little for this mission, Menace,” said Sky kindly.

  “I didn’t ask for your advice, elephant,” snapped Menace. “I am going! I’m not staying at this stupid gathering a moment longer. My father says it’s all a load of hyena dung anyway. I want to hunt.”

  “You can want all you like,” s
aid Fearless irritably, “but you’re not coming.”

  “My father said I—”

  “Your father isn’t here!” roared Fearless. He lunged his face down to hers, peeling back his lips from his fangs and trying to look as furious as he could. “You—are—staying—put!”

  Menace did not flinch much. She glared at him until he had no option but to draw back.

  He turned away, flicking his tail at her. “Keen, Ruthless—let’s go.”

  “Good luck,” called Sky.

  “You’ll need it,” muttered Nut.

  Thorn, though, shook his head as he raised a paw in farewell.

  “Luck does not matter so much, Fearless. Not when the Great Spirit goes with you.”

  “Can you hear that?” Keen halted, one paw raised, flaring his nostrils.

  Fearless paused too and glanced around. “What?”

  “That sound. There’s something following us.”

  Fearless’s muscles tensed, and his claws sprang from their sheaths. “Yes. I hear it. In the long grass behind us.” He swung his head toward Ruthless. “Stay back, young one.”

  “Ha! I’m not much younger than you two.” Ruthless padded to his side and turned to face the danger, his gentle muzzle curled in threat.

  Keen caught Fearless’s eyes over the younger cub’s back and wrinkled his muzzle. They’d been moving for half a day after the Great Gathering, over empty plains. With so many animals at the watering hole, the rest of the Bravelands belonged to them.

  The breeze sighed across the grass, making the long blades sway and rustle gently, but it was coming from behind them. There was no way to catch the scent of whatever trailed downwind. But there was definitely another sound: a compact body, the pad of paws, the huffing of breath. Fearless coiled his shoulder muscles and lowered his haunches, his tail-tip twitching. No golden wolf would take them by surprise. . . .

  The creature blundered out of the long grass, coming to an abrupt halt as she caught sight of them staring at her. A fleeting look of guilt crossed her face, replaced quickly by defiance.

  “Menace!” Fearless’s snarl was exasperated.

  “You young fool,” snapped Keen.

  “Sister!” exclaimed Ruthless. “You were supposed to stay behind. This is dangerous!”

  “No chance,” said Menace smugly. “This is what Father would have wanted. And I know that much better than you, Ruthless. Besides,” she added, unconsciously quoting his own words, “I’m not much younger than you.”

  “Yes, you are,” Ruthless growled. “Fearless, she has to go back!”

  “Indeed,” said Fearless, swatting a paw at her. “Get back to the watering hole!”

  “You’re not my pride leader,” she retorted, “and you’re certainly not my father.”

  As Fearless glowered at her, wondering whether to grab her scruff in his jaws and drag her back, he felt Keen nudge his neck.

  “Fearless,” his friend murmured, “she can’t go back on her own, and we’ve come too far already. Our mission is urgent. We can’t spare the time.” Keen looked at Menace. “We’ll have to let her come. It’s not safe, with the wolves around.”

  “I can hear you, you know?” snarled Menace. “I’m not scared of a puny wolf. If I see one, I’ll tear its—”

  Fearless growled. Keen was right, and he knew it.

  “Fine,” he snapped. “You can stay with us. Ruthless, don’t argue, we don’t have a choice—she’s safer here. For now,” he added, as Ruthless shut his jaws and glared at his sister. “But mark my words, Menace, you’d better do as I say. You may not consider me your pride leader, but for the purposes of this mission, I am.”

  “The only lion who can tell me what to do,” Menace sneered, “is my father.”

  Keen took two paces forward and swatted her muzzle with the flat pad of his paw. Menace staggered sideways and laid back her ears at him, hissing, but he stood over her, four square and tall. The blow had been a warning—clawless but firm.

  Fearless gave a growl of approval.

  “Fine,” said Menace after a moment. “I’ll behave.”

  Keen nodded and stalked back to Fearless’s side; Fearless gave him a grateful nuzzle as they turned and set off once again.

  He hoped he wasn’t going to regret this decision.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The sun was beginning to drift down from its midday zenith, but Thorn was still surrounded by a great crowd of animals, stamping and snorting in impatience as they waited their turn to talk to him, to seek his help or ask his advice. The herds had moved up onto the shore, and the water of the lake lay still once more, gleaming rose and silver. But there was no quiet afternoon peace for the new Great Father.

  As Sky watched, Thorn backed away from a couple of impalas, nodding and smiling and muttering some reassurance. As soon as he could detach himself from the throng, he turned and beckoned Sky closer, his eyes pleading.

  How could Thorn be expected to focus on all these complaints, wondered Sky, on his very first day as Great Father? There had been no letup in the petitioners who surrounded him, not since Fearless, Keen, and Ruthless had left on their mission to find the wolf leader. It was true that giving advice was a vital part of being Great Father, but Thorn was so new to this, and he had so much on his mind. Sky’s heart went out to him.

  She trod carefully to his side, dodging guinea fowl and an indignant hyrax. “Excuse me, little cousin,” she murmured to it as it glared at her. “Coming through. The Great Father needs me.”

  The hyrax harrumphed and backed off a little, and Sky dipped her head to Thorn.

  “What do I do now?” he whispered to her. “What happens next, Sky?”

  “Try not to worry, Thorn.” She stroked his shoulder with her trunk.

  “I can’t help it,” he muttered. “These animals don’t have a great deal of patience when it comes to their problems. There’s much more to this than I expected, and I expected a lot.”

  Then I’ll try not to worry, too. Sky suppressed a sigh. Thorn seemed so unsure of himself. . . . But whatever happened, she had to support him. “I watched Great Mother for years,” she told him. “She might have been confident when I knew her, but she told me often what a terrifying burden it was to begin with, when she was only a young elephant like me. I saw how she dealt with the practical matters, too, so I can help.” Turning to face the waiting animals, she raised her trunk and smiled.

  “Please, will you give the Great Father some space for a little while? He wants to address all your questions, help you with your problems, but he has only just begun.”

  The creatures exchanged glances. A hippo gave a grunt. “All right. That’s fine with us.”

  “He will help us, though?” asked the hyrax. “Won’t he?”

  “Of course he will, little cousin. Give him time, that’s all I ask.” Sky raised her gaze to the others. “Even our beloved and wise Great Mother needed space to gather her thoughts.”

  With some reluctance, the waiting animals dispersed, flicking their tails and murmuring together. Only Mud, Nut, and Spider remained, hovering at the edge of the little clearing by the shore. Spider was chattering to his lizard, though it seemed to have fallen asleep on his shoulder.

  “I’m going to have to make a more sensible arrangement.” Thorn looked around at them all. “I need to be accessible. Every animal needs to know they can talk to me. Great Mother roamed the plains freely, Sky, but I’m not used to being away from the forests. I don’t know if I can do it.”

  “You don’t have to,” she told him. “Don’t live like an elephant. You’re a baboon! Find a baboon way of being Great Father.”

  Thorn scratched his jaw thoughtfully. “Honestly, Sky, I have no idea why the Great Spirit didn’t choose you. You’re so wise.”

  “The Great Spirit always chooses the right host,” she said firmly. “And it’s so much wiser than I am. You simply need to find a place where all can reach you—the largest and the smallest. Somewhere they’ll know where to find you, where you can be safe.”

  “What about Baboon Island?” suggested Nut, picking a tick from his elbow and squashing it. “I know bad things happened there, but it was a perfect setup.”