Oathkeeper Page 4

  Accelerating, Fearless bunched his haunches and leaped, just as it finally caught sight of him. It tried to dodge at the last moment, but his claws dug deep into its rump, dragging it down. It stumbled, kicking in desperation, and from the corner of his eye he saw the other lion bolting to join him.

  It’s doomed. It can’t escape. We will eat!

  The lion barreled into the antelope from its other flank, but as Fearless triumphantly dug his claws deeper and lunged for its throat with his jaws, the newcomer gave a snarl and swiped at his head with exposed claws.

  For a fraction of an instant, Fearless didn’t understand. The lion must be one of his; he even smelled familiar! Fearless swung his head and bared his fangs to snarl a warning.

  Then he realized. Keen! His once closest friend and he had parted on cold terms when Keen, frustrated by Fearless’s obsession with Titan, had left to join Mightypride. At the sight of him, Fearless felt his heart soar; he couldn’t help it. His snarl faded into a growl of surprise.

  Keen, though, showed no sign of lingering affection. “Get away from my kill!” he roared.

  “Your kill?” Narrowing his eyes, Fearless got ahold of himself. He peeled back his muzzle, distracted by the need to hang on to the impala. It still kicked and struggled, and he could feel the strain in his claws as it tried to rip itself free.

  “Why do you think it ran straight toward you?” demanded Keen. “I’ve been stalking it! Get off my prey!”

  The impala collapsed at last, worn out, and Keen clamped his jaws around its neck, even as he went on glaring at Fearless. The rest of Fearless’s pride was running closer, and Fearless realized he had only a moment to make his decision.

  Reluctantly, with a wrench of disappointment, he stepped away. “Leave it,” he growled to Ruthless and Resolute, and they stared at him in disbelief. “The kill belongs to Keen.”

  “Where’s the rest of his pride, then?” snarled Resolute.

  Keen dropped the impala’s broken neck. “I was out alone. I came across the herd and decided to have a go. I cut this one off before you all came on the scene. It’s mine.”

  And I doubt you’d have caught it if we hadn’t blocked its escape. Fearless took a breath to say it, but the glare of defiance in Keen’s brown eyes made him hesitate.

  “And you’re in Mightypride territory!” snapped Keen. “You shouldn’t even be here.”

  Fearless curled his muzzle. He didn’t want to fight with Keen, not the very first time he’d seen him after their ill-tempered parting. His heart felt too full at the sight of his old friend, however cold the hostility in Keen’s eyes.

  “It’s Keen’s,” he growled in a low voice.

  “Ridiculous,” snapped Glory, who had trotted up, salivating.

  “Nevertheless, I’m your leader,” snarled Fearless. “Let him take it back to Mightypride.”

  For a moment, he wasn’t sure if the other lions were going to heed his instruction. Their fur bristled and their eyes were fixed on the fresh meat before them. Perhaps in a more established pride they’d have listened straightaway, but his grip on power was tenuous at best.

  “Come,” he said, trying to sound more authoritative. “We’ll find another.”

  “I’ll believe that when my fangs are in its rump,” muttered Glory. Turning, she stalked back to the rest of the pride, who were muttering among themselves and glaring at both Fearless and Keen.

  With a slight, cold nod, Keen sank his teeth into the impala’s neck and braced himself to drag it away. Then his shoulders stiffened, and his eyes found Fearless’s again.

  “Thank you,” he grunted reluctantly.

  “Keen.” Fearless took a breath. “Will you take me to Mighty?”

  The young lion narrowed his eyes, releasing his hold on the impala. “He won’t be pleased to see you.”

  “I know it’s unusual, but we have important things to discuss with him. We didn’t intend to hunt on his territory. We had not crossed the boundary when we began.” Fearless took a hesitant pace toward his old friend. “Let me approach him, Keen. Please?”

  “Fine,” growled Keen after a moment. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Fearless, is this wise?” put in Ruthless, glancing anxiously from him to Keen.

  “Mighty is proud, but he’s fair and he’s smart,” Fearless assured him. He raised his voice to address his pride. “The rest of you, stay here on the edge of Mighty’s territory.”

  His pride watched him go with a mixture of anger, suspicion, and resentment. For a moment Fearless thought how it must look to them: he was entering possibly hostile territory to meet with another pride leader, and he was helping a member of that pride drag away an impala that should have been theirs.

  He shook off the anxiety. He couldn’t afford to dwell on their response to this odd situation. Any problems with his own pride, he could solve later. For now it was more important to consult with Mighty about the threats that faced Bravelands. Fearless sank his jaws more firmly around the impala’s shoulder and put extra effort into helping Keen carry it.

  The impala was heavy, and it was long, hard work; Fearless wondered how far away Mightypride could be. How big was this territory? Neither he nor Keen could spare the breath to exchange any words, even if their jaws hadn’t been full of impala. The farther they dragged it from Fearlesspride, the more vulnerable Fearless felt. But he couldn’t let himself be distracted from his mission. Mighty will understand why I’m here.

  His hide prickled as he became aware of watching eyes; Mightypride scouts rose from the concealing grass to stare at him as he dragged the impala at Keen’s side.

  “Leave it here,” growled Keen at last, dropping the prey.

  Nodding, Fearless released the impala, and as he padded on with Keen, he glanced back to see the scouts home in on the carcass. They would take it the rest of the way, he realized, and Mightypride would feast today . . . while Fearlesspride went hungry.

  Uncertainty rippled through his gut, but he swallowed hard and paced after Keen. Ahead lay a cluster of shady acacias, and he could make out the shapes of recumbent lionesses. They rose as he and Keen approached, and stalked aggressively forward, their teeth bared. At least eight sleek lionesses fanned out to face him, snarling in threat. If they took exception to the presence of a rogue male and chose to attack, he’d have little chance to escape alive.

  Then, beyond them, Fearless saw the pride leader rise, stretch, and turn. Mighty looked bigger than ever, his mane thick and magnificent. His golden eyes met Fearless’s, and they were not welcoming.

  “What is the meaning of this?” growled Mighty.

  There was no trace of the kindness and geniality that Fearless remembered. Mighty looked hostile, strong, and completely in control. He took three deliberate paces toward Fearless, his mane bristling, his fangs gleaming.

  “Answer me, Fearless. Why have you entered my territory? You are not welcome here.”

  Fearless halted. He couldn’t help but swallow hard, as a lurch of fear clenched his chest.

  He had to think hard about his answer, and he had to do it fast. Because he knew, with certainty, that the wrong words would be the death of him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sky was very conscious of the tiny baboon on her back; as she made her way through the forest ahead of Rock, she had to be careful not to let branches snap back and hurt the little creature. She chose her path carefully, searching for the clearest route through the tangle of vines and undergrowth, ducking the lowest boughs as well as she could. The baby stirred occasionally, but weakly, and it had stopped crying out with hunger and fear. Not, Sky thought, because the poor thing didn’t still feel them, but because she no longer had the strength to protest.

  In fact, it wasn’t a branch that dislodged the baby; she simply lost her grip suddenly and slipped from Sky’s back. Though she was lighter than a starling feather, Sky was instantly aware she was gone, and gave a cry of alarm.

  Sky turned as fast as she c
ould, but Rock had caught the little baboon as she fell. She saw with relief that he cradled her fragile body in his trunk. The baby’s eyelids flickered and trembled, but they didn’t open.

  “We haven’t got long, Sky,” he rumbled. “We have to find her a mother, soon.”

  Very tentatively, Sky extended her trunk and blew gently onto the baby’s muzzle. “Little one,” she crooned, “try to stay awake.”

  With what seemed an enormous effort, the baby opened her heavy eyelids, blinking up at Sky. Her eyes were huge in her emaciated face, but she couldn’t emit so much as a whimper.

  Rock set her carefully back on Sky’s shoulders, leaving his trunk-tip curled around the baby to steady her. “Let’s try to move a little faster, Sky. I’ll stop her falling.”

  As she turned, Sky heard a rustling and creaking in the branches above her. Glancing up, she saw furred shadows leaping between the trees, following their path through the forest.

  “Baboons,” she whispered to Rock. “They’re watching us.”

  “Well, we did come looking for them,” he said. “Let’s just hope they’re friendly.”

  They must be very close to the heart of Dawntrees territory now, Sky thought with trepidation. Taking a breath, she parted a tangle of vines and stepped forward into a broad, sun-dappled glade.

  She halted, with a tremor of uncertainty. Baboons were everywhere. On low branches, on mounds of earth and rotten logs, gathered in clusters gossiping or gnawing on fruits, they all fell silent and turned toward the two elephants. In the center of the clearing stood a huge, flat-topped boulder, and on it lounged a one-eyed, grizzled baboon with a surly expression.

  “Greetings. Are you . . .” Sky cleared her throat. “Are you the Dawntrees Troop?”

  Slowly, almost lazily, the baboon rose to his paws, eyeing her. “I am Creeper Highleaf.”

  “I . . . I see.” Sky’s hide was hot with the awkwardness of the moment. “Greetings to you, Creeper Highleaf. I am Sky Strider, and my mate Rock and I have come to ask for your help, but also to deliver upsetting news.”

  Creeper stared at her for a long moment, his single eye traveling from her feet to her shoulders. He squinted and frowned.

  “That’s a young baboon,” he grunted. “What are you doing with it?”

  “I will come to that,” said Sky. She lowered her eyelashes. “But know first that Berry Crownleaf is dead. She was killed by Titan the lion and his pack of wolves.”

  There was an eruption of distressed hoots from the baboons around the clearing, and cries of dismay and disbelief.

  “Berry Crownleaf?”

  “No!”

  “Oh, may the Great Spirit take her to the stars.”

  “Mama, is it true?” whimpered an older youngling. “Berry’s dead?”

  In the hubbub, Sky watched Creeper, but he simply gazed back at her, unperturbed. He turned his head toward his friends. “Hey, Viper. Hear that? Berry Crownleaf’s dead.”

  “Hmph.” The muscular female called Viper strutted to his side. “She wasn’t Berry Crownleaf, though, was she? Not anymore.”

  “What?” said Sky, startled.

  “That’s right.” Creeper nodded and picked his teeth. “She was Berry Deeproot when she left.”

  “Demoted by the Crown Guard, as is our right.” Viper shrugged.

  “We get rid of useless leaders,” put in a male beside her. “Works very well. Keeps a leader on their toes.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Viper nodded. “And if she’s dead now, it proves we Crown Guard were right. She was weak all along.”

  “No!” Sky couldn’t contain her horror anymore. “Berry was no weak leader—how can you think that?” Around her baboons of the troop fell silent, some of them listening sympathetically, others glaring with resentment—especially the Crown Guard around Creeper. “The Great Father loved Berry!”

  “Oh, him,” sneered Viper. “He’s still alive, is he? Saved his own skin?”

  Sky clenched her jaws, trying not to swipe her trunk at the snide baboon. “He’s alive, yes— thank the Spirit. Thorn knows Titan is everyone’s enemy. And even now, he’s working on a plan to bring that evil lion down.”

  The Crown Guard couldn’t contain themselves at that; they hooted and slapped the ground with laughter. “Good luck with that!” shrieked another sturdy male.

  “Thorn couldn’t even control his own baboon troop,” howled Viper.

  Creeper peeled back his lips in a hostile grin. “He’s got no chance. Maybe Titan will eat him quickly.”

  Sky stared at them all, shocked. “He wasn’t your leader, but don’t you have any respect for him as the Great Father?”

  “Great Father?” mocked another Crown Guard baboon, leaping up onto a branch. “Great Coward, more like!”

  “Great Slugwit,” giggled another, skinnier baboon.

  “Good one, Fang.” Creeper laughed.

  Sky swallowed back the sickened feeling. What had happened to the baboons and their traditions?

  “Anyway,” continued Creeper. “You still haven’t explained about the baboon clinging to your boyfriend. Tell him to release it at once!”

  Rock glared at him, but Sky kept her voice as humble as she could. “He can’t, Creeper. It’ll fall. The poor thing is so weak.”

  “Why? What have you done to it?” Creeper rose up on his hind paws, glaring.

  “Nothing,” snapped Rock.

  “We, uh . . .” Sky thought fast. “We found it in the great destruction to the west, where fire-flowers ate the forest. It has no mother; she must have died in the flames and smoke.”

  Creeper tilted his head and gazed at the baby, rather dispassionately. The other baboons were loping closer, muttering among themselves and pointing at the infant. Some gave soft cries of sympathy; others grunted and chittered their fangs.

  “Ordinarily,” said Creeper at last, “I’d tell you to leave it for the rot-eaters. That’d be the natural thing.” He shrugged. “But Dawntrees needs more members, that’s the truth.” He glanced at a couple of other strong-looking baboons, who nodded. “We’ve lost many young ourselves recently. We have bereaved mothers who’d be happy to take the youngling.”

  “That would be generous and noble,” Sky flattered him.

  “Hmph. It’d be advantageous for the troop, or I wouldn’t consider it.” Creeper raised his voice and barked. “Scratcher!”

  A female baboon hurried forward from the crowd, her mournful brown eyes lighting up with hope. “Yes, Creeper?”

  “Didn’t you lose an infant? Do you want this one?”

  Scratcher stared up at the baby and nodded eagerly. She opened her arms as Rock lifted the tiny thing down, and she took it from him with great care. For a moment, mother and baby gazed at each other, wide-eyed and nervous. Then Scratcher stroked the baby’s skull and cuddled its scrawny body close to her.

  “Thank you,” she whispered to Rock.

  The baby’s tiny claws clutched tightly onto Scratcher’s fur, clinging for dear life, and Sky felt a wave of relief as she began to nurse hungrily.

  “She is well enough to feed,” murmured Scratcher, looking ecstatic. “She will survive. Blessed be the Great Spirit.”

  “I’m so glad,” murmured Sky.

  “I shall call her . . .” Scratcher hesitated and glanced down at the little baboon. “Greenshoot. Because she brought me new life and hope.”

  “A fine name,” rumbled Rock.

  Scratcher has that right, thought Sky, sadly. But poor Tendril: snatched by the fire from her baby, and now even the name she gave her will be lost.

  But this was what Sky and Rock had searched for: a mother who would care. Little Greenshoot would live now and be loved. Sky smiled. “Yes, Scratcher, that name was well chosen—”

  “Is that all?” interrupted Creeper, scratching with irritation at the scar of his empty eye socket. “Because it’s time you were leaving.” There were hoots of agreement from the powerful baboons behind him, and something struck Sky’s shoulder;
as it shattered and splashed pulp, she realized it was a rotten mango. It didn’t hurt, but deep inside she felt the sting of anger. Rock gave a bellow of fury and fanned out his ears.

  “I’ll tear your nests down,” he blared.

  “No.” Sky stepped a little in front of him. She stared around at Dawntrees Troop, and then up at the Crown Guard who had taken to the trees. Some of them held more overripe mangoes, and they were grinning.

  “They’re ignorant brutes,” Rock growled.

  “Yes, and they’re not worth a fight,” said Sky, clearly and calmly. She looked at Creeper, who had bounded back onto the Crown Stone. “We have more important battles to fight, Rock. Let’s go.”

  Mangoes thudded and splattered on the ground behind them as she and Rock marched out of the clearing, and Sky heard baboon jeers fading behind them as she made her way out of the forest, toward the secret ravine that Nut and Mud had told them about. None of Dawntrees Troop followed them; the Crown Guard didn’t have quite enough nerve for that, she thought contemptuously.

  There was a quiet fury inside her: How dare they talk about the Great Parent like that? How dare they disrespect Berry’s memory? She and Rock had been right to walk away; Creeper and the Crown Guard were not worth his justified wrath.

  But alongside the anger, there was a rising anxiety, a cold and creeping fear for the future.

  Those baboons cared nothing for the Great Spirit, or the traditions of Bravelands, or the Great Parent’s authority.

  How long might it be before such contempt spread to infect all of Bravelands?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Mighty stalked forward. Sunlight made his pelt and his mane glow with what seemed like a Spirit-given magnificence. And Fearless’s argument was not with him; it was definitely no time to fight. Fearless dipped his head, lowered his tail, and swung his body aside, crouching submissively.

  His breath was in his throat. Mighty could still attack, of course, and he wouldn’t even be ready to dodge. Though fear clutched at his gut, he forced himself not to meet Mighty’s glare.