Warriors 03 - Forest of Secrets (20 page)

Now he sat beside the nettle patch, enjoying a juicy mouse. Graystripe, crouching nearby, had taken a magpie from the pile of fresh-kill but had barely touched it.

“No, thanks, Fireheart,” he mewed. “I promised Goldenflower I'd look in on the kits. Their eyes are open now,” he added with a touch of pride.

Fireheart guessed that Goldenflower would rather that Graystripe stayed away, but he knew Graystripe would never be persuaded to leave his kits. “Okay,” he meowed. “I'll see you later.” Swallowing the last morsel of mouse, he went to find Cloudpaw.

Tigerclaw had been busy that morning, sending out one patrol with Whitestorm to renew the scent markings along the RiverClan boundary, and another with Sandstorm to hunt around Snakerocks, so he had neglected to tell Fireheart where Cloudpaw should go for his hunting mission. Fireheart hadn't felt the need to remind him.

“You can make for Twolegplace,” he meowed to Cloudpaw. “Then you won't get in the way of the other patrols. You won't see me, but I'll be watching you. I'll meet you by Princess's fence.”

“Can I talk to her if she's there?” Cloudpaw asked.

“Okay, as long as you've caught plenty of fresh-kill by then. But you're not to go looking for her in the Twoleg gardens. Or their nests.”

“I won't.” Cloudpaw's eyes gleamed, and his snowy fur was fluffed up with excitement. Fireheart couldn't help remembering how nervous he had felt before his own first assessment; Cloudpaw, in contrast, was bursting with confidence.

“Off you go, then,” Fireheart meowed. “Try to get there by sunhigh.” He watched the young apprentice race off toward
the tunnel. “Pace yourself!” he called after him. “You've a long way to go!”

But Cloudpaw didn't slow down as he disappeared into the gorse. Shrugging, more amused than annoyed, Fireheart glanced around at Graystripe, but his friend was nowhere to be seen. His half-eaten magpie was left beside the nettle patch. He must be in the nursery already, Fireheart thought, and turned to follow Cloudpaw out of the camp.

The apprentice's scent was strong, showing where the young cat had ranged back and forth through the woods in search of prey. A flurry of loose feathers told of a caught thrush, and specks of blood on the grass showed that a mouse had fallen to his claws. Not far from the edge of the Tallpines, Fireheart found the spot where Cloudpaw had buried his fresh-kill so he could return for it later.

Impressed that his apprentice was hunting well so early in his training, Fireheart put on speed, hoping to catch up and watch him stalking his prey. But before he reached Twolegplace he caught sight of Cloudpaw racing back along his own scent trail, his fur bristling and a wild light in his eyes.

“Cloudpaw!” Fireheart ran forward to meet him, his body tingling with sudden fear.

Cloudpaw skidded to a halt, his claws scattering pine needles, barely managing to avoid a collision with Fireheart. “Something's wrong!” he panted.

“What?” Icy claws clutched at Fireheart's belly. “Not Princess?”

“No, nothing like that. But I saw Tigerclaw, and there were
some strange cats with him.”

“At Twolegplace?” Fireheart meowed sharply. “Where we smelled them the day we visited Princess?”

“That's right.” Cloudpaw's whiskers twitched. “They were huddled together, just on the edge of the trees. I tried to get closer to hear what they were saying, but I was afraid they would see my white fur. So I came to find you.”

“You did the right thing,” Fireheart told him, his mind racing frantically. “What were these cats like? Did they have a Clan scent?”

“No.” Cloudpaw wrinkled his nose. “They smelled of crowfood.”

“And you didn't recognize them?”

Cloudpaw shook his head. “They were thin and hungry-looking. Their fur was all mangy. They were horrible, Fireheart!”

“And they were talking to Tigerclaw.” Fireheart frowned. That was the detail that worried him. He could take a guess at who the strange cats were—the former ShadowClan warriors who had left their Clan with Brokentail when he had been driven out. They had caused trouble before, and there were no other rogues that Fireheart knew of in the forest now—but what Tigerclaw was doing with them was a mystery.

“All right,” he mewed to Cloudpaw. “Follow me. And keep as quiet as if you were creeping up on a mouse.” He headed cautiously toward Twolegplace, stalking from paw to paw over the softly cracking pine needles. Long before he reached the edge of the forest he picked up the strong reek of cats.
The only one he could identify was Tigerclaw, and as if the thought had summoned him the deputy came into sight at that moment, bounding through the trees in the direction of the camp.

There was no undergrowth to provide cover under the pine trees. All Fireheart and Cloudpaw could do was flatten themselves in one of the deep furrows carved out by the Treecut monster and pray to StarClan they wouldn't be seen.

A group of scrawny warriors poured after Tigerclaw. Their jaws were parted eagerly and their eyes blazed. All the cats were so intent on the trail that they never noticed Fireheart and Cloudpaw, crouching in their scant cover a few rabbit-hops away.

Fireheart lifted his head and watched them race out of sight. For a moment he was frozen with horror and disbelief. There were more of them, he realized, than the group who had left ShadowClan with Brokentail moons before. Tigerclaw must have recruited more loners from somewhere. And he was leading them straight toward the ThunderClan camp!

“Run!” Fireheart ordered his apprentice. “Run
like you've never run before!”

Already he was pelting through the trees, not waiting to see if Cloudpaw could keep up. There was just a faint hope that he could outpace Tigerclaw and the rogues, and warn the Clan.

He sent out all those patrols this morning, Fireheart thought, fighting back panic. And he told me to follow Cloudpaw. He left the camp with barely a warrior to defend it. He's been planning this all along!

Fireheart hurtled through the trees, his powerful muscles bunching and stretching as he drove himself on. But when he reached the ravine, he realized that he had not run fast enough. The hindquarters and tails of the last of the rogues were just vanishing into the gorse tunnel.

Launching himself down the steep side of the ravine, with Cloudpaw scrabbling down behind him, Fireheart let out a yowl. “ThunderClan! Enemies! Attack!” He hurled himself into the tunnel and at the same moment he heard another yowl from the camp ahead.

“To me, ThunderClan!”

It was the familiar battle cry, but the voice was Tigerclaw's. A thought flickered into Fireheart's shocked mind: What if he had made a mistake? What if the rogues had been chasing Tigerclaw, not following him?

He burst into the clearing just as Tigerclaw whirled on the band of rogues, who scattered, yowling, from his attack. The deputy certainly looked as if he were trying to drive enemies from the camp, but Fireheart was close enough to see that his claws were sheathed. His heart plummeted. Tigerclaw's brave defense was all a sham. He had brought these enemy cats here, but he was cunning enough to conceal his own treachery.

There was no time for any more thought. However they had come here, the rogue cats were now attacking the camp. Fireheart turned swiftly to Cloudpaw.

“Go and find the patrols and tell them to come back,” he ordered. “Whitestorm is somewhere along the RiverClan boundary, and Sandstorm went to Snakerocks.”

“Yes, Fireheart.” Cloudpaw raced back into the tunnel.

Fireheart sprang at the nearest rogue, a dark mottled tabby, and raked his claws down his side. The rogue snarled and twisted toward him, paws splayed for attack. He tried to pin Fireheart down; Fireheart's hindpaws pummeled his belly, and the rogue broke away howling.

Fireheart scrambled to his paws and crouched with tail lashing and fur bristling as he looked around for another enemy. Outside the entrance to the nursery, Graystripe was wrestling a rogue with a pale coat, the two of them rolling
over and over as they tried to get hold with teeth and claws. Brindleface and Speckletail were fighting against a warrior twice their size. Near the warriors' den, Mousefur dug her front claws into the shoulder of a huge tabby, while her back claws shredded his flank.

Then Fireheart froze with shock. At the other side of the clearing, Brokentail had pounced on his guard, Dustpelt, fastening his teeth in the younger cat's throat. Dustpelt was struggling furiously to free himself. Though Brokentail was blind, he was still a formidable fighter, and he hung on. Fireheart realized with dread that he was fighting on the side of his old rogue companions, the cats who had left ShadowClan with him—not for ThunderClan, who had risked so much to defend him when he was injured and alone.

A tiny picture flashed into Fireheart's mind, of Tigerclaw and Brokentail lying side by side, sharing tongues. That had not been evidence of the deputy's compassion. Tigerclaw had been planning this with the former ShadowClan tyrant!

There was no time to think about that now. Fireheart plunged across the clearing to help Dustpelt, but before he got halfway he was bowled over by a rogue cat. His flank stung as claws raked down it. Green eyes glared a mouse-length from his own. Fireheart bared his fangs and tried to bite down into the enemy's shoulder, but the rogue cat batted him away. Claws ripped into his ear. His belly was exposed and he couldn't twist free. Suddenly his attacker let out a wail and released him. Fireheart caught a glimpse of the young apprentice Thornpaw with his teeth fastened into the rogue's
tail; the rogue dragged him through the dust until Thornpaw released him and the enemy fled.

Panting, Fireheart scrambled to his paws. “Thanks,” he gasped. “Well done.”

Thornpaw nodded briefly before racing off to where Graystripe still battled in front of the nursery. Fireheart looked around again. Dustpelt had vanished and Brokentail was stumbling farther into the clearing, letting out a weird wailing that struck a chill into Fireheart's heart. Even blind, the former ShadowClan leader possessed a terrifying power that seemed driven by something more than mortal.

The clearing heaved with struggling cats, but as Fireheart poised himself to rejoin the fray he realized something that sent an even colder pang of fear along his spine. Where was Bluestar?

In a heartbeat, Fireheart realized that he couldn't see Tigerclaw either. Every instinct told him that danger was looming. He dodged around Willowpelt, who was clinging to the back of a much bigger rogue, her teeth fastened in his ear, and made for Bluestar's den. To his relief, as he approached the entrance he heard Bluestar meow from inside, “We can worry about that later, Tigerclaw. The Clan needs us now.”

For a few heartbeats there was no reply. Then Fireheart heard Bluestar's voice again, surprised. “Tigerclaw? What are you doing?”

An answering snarl. “Remember me to StarClan, Bluestar.”

“Tigerclaw, what is this?” Bluestar's meow was sharper
now, edged with anger, not fear. “I'm the leader of your Clan, or have you forgotten that?”

“Not for much longer,” Tigerclaw growled. “I'm going to kill you, and kill you again. As many times as it takes for you to join StarClan forever. It's time for me to lead this Clan!”

Bluestar's answering protest was suddenly cut short by the sound of paws thudding against the hard floor of the den, followed by a dreadful snarling.

Fireheart sprang forward and burst through
the curtain of lichen. Tigerclaw and Bluestar were writhing on the floor of the den. Bluestar's claws scored again and again across Tigerclaw's shoulder, but the deputy's greater weight kept her pinned down in the soft sand. Tigerclaw's fangs were buried in her throat, and his powerful claws raked her back.

“Traitor!” Fireheart yowled. He flung himself at Tigerclaw, slashing at his eyes. The deputy reared back, forced to release his grip on Bluestar's throat. Fireheart felt his claws rip through the deputy's ear, spraying blood into the air.

Bluestar scrambled to the side of the den, looking half stunned. Fireheart could not tell how badly hurt she was. Pain lanced through him as Tigerclaw gashed his side with a blow from his powerful hindpaws. Fireheart's paws skidded in the sand and he lost his balance, hitting the ground with Tigerclaw on top of him.

The deputy's amber eyes blazed into his. “Mousedung!” he hissed. “I'll flay you, Fireheart. I've waited a long time for this.”

Fireheart summoned every scrap of skill and strength he
possessed. He knew Tigerclaw could kill him, but in spite of that he felt strangely free. The lies and the need for deceit were over. The secrets—Bluestar's and Tigerclaw's—were all out in the open. There was only the clean danger of battle.

He aimed a blow at Tigerclaw's throat, but the deputy swung his head to one side and Fireheart's claws scraped harmlessly through thick tabby fur. But the blow had loosened Tigerclaw's grip on him. Fireheart rolled away, narrowly avoiding a killing bite to his neck.

“Kittypet!” Tigerclaw taunted, flexing his haunches to pounce again. “Come and find out how a real warrior fights.” He threw himself at Fireheart, but at the last moment Fireheart darted aside. As Tigerclaw tried to turn in the narrow den, his paws slipped on a splash of blood and he crashed awkwardly onto one side.

At once Fireheart saw his chance. His claws sliced down to open a gash in Tigerclaw's belly. Blood welled up, soaking into the deputy's fur. He let out a high-pitched caterwaul. Fireheart pounced on him, raking claws across his belly again, and fastening his teeth into Tigerclaw's neck. The deputy struggled vainly to free himself, his thrashing growing weaker as the blood flowed.

Fireheart let go of his neck, planting one paw on Tigerclaw's outstretched foreleg, and the other on his chest. “Bluestar!” he called. “Help me hold him down!”

Bluestar was crouching behind him in her moss-lined nest. Blood trickled down her forehead, but that did not alarm Fireheart as much as the look in her eyes. They were a vague,
cloudy blue, and she stared horror-struck in front of her as if she was witnessing the destruction of everything she had ever worked for.

When Fireheart spoke, she jumped like a cat woken suddenly from sleep. Moving with dreamlike slowness, she crossed the den and pinned herself across Tigerclaw's hindquarters, trapping him. Even with wounds that would have stunned a lesser cat, Tigerclaw still fought to free himself. His amber eyes burned with hatred as he spat curses at Fireheart and Bluestar.

A shadow fell across the entrance to the den and Fireheart heard hoarse, ragged breathing. He turned his head, expecting to see one of the invaders, but it was Graystripe. Dismay flooded over Fireheart at the sight of his friend. He was bleeding heavily from his flank and one foreleg, and blood bubbled from his mouth as he stammered, “Bluestar, we—” He broke off, staring. “Fireheart, what's happening?”

“Tigerclaw attacked Bluestar,” Fireheart told him quickly. “We were right all along. He is a traitor. He brought the rogues to attack us.”

Graystripe went on staring, and then shook himself as if he had just climbed out of deep water. “We're losing the fight,” he meowed. “There are too many of them. Bluestar, we need your help.”

The leader looked at him but did not reply. Fireheart could see that her eyes were still dull and unseeing, as if the discovery of the truth about Tigerclaw had bruised her spirit beyond repair.

“I'll come,” Fireheart offered. “Graystripe, can you help Bluestar hold on to Tigerclaw? We'll deal with him when the battle's over.”

“You can try, kittypet,” Tigerclaw sneered through a mouthful of sand.

Graystripe limped across the den and took Fireheart's place, planting his claws on Tigerclaw's chest. For a heartbeat Fireheart hesitated, uncertain that wounded Graystripe and Bluestar in a state of shock would be a match for Tigerclaw. But the deputy was still losing blood, and his struggles were definitely getting weaker. Swiftly Fireheart turned and raced outside again.

At first glance the clearing seemed to be filled with rogues, as if all the ThunderClan warriors had been driven out. Then Fireheart caught a glimpse of familiar shapes here and there—Longtail squirming underneath a huge tabby tom; Patchpelt scrabbling just out of reach of a skinny gray outlaw, whirling around to rake his nose with outstretched claws before he hurled himself at the rogue's belly.

Fireheart tried to collect his strength. The fight with Tigerclaw had exhausted him, and the wounds where the deputy had clawed him burned like fire. He did not know how long he could keep on. He rolled over instinctively as a ginger she-cat tried to drive her claws into his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a lithe, blue-gray body racing across the clearing, yowling a challenge.

Bluestar! he thought in astonishment, and wondered what had happened to Tigerclaw. Then he realized that the warrior
he had seen was not Bluestar. It was Mistyfoot!

With a massive effort Fireheart tore free of the ginger cat and scrambled to his paws. RiverClan warriors were pouring out of the tunnel. Leopardfur, Stonefur, Blackclaw…After them came Whitestorm and the rest of his patrol. They were strong and full of energy, and they fell on the invaders with claws outstretched and tails lashing in fury.

Terrified by the sudden appearance of reinforcements, the rogue cats scattered. The ginger she-cat fled with a shocked howl. Others followed her. Fireheart staggered a few paces in pursuit, hissing and spitting to speed them on their way, but there was no need. Surprised when they thought their victory was certain, and leaderless now that Tigerclaw had been caught, the rogues had no fight left in them.

Within a few heartbeats, they were gone. The only enemy remaining was Brokentail, bleeding badly from head and shoulders. The blind cat scrabbled on the ground, mewling faintly like a sick kit.

The RiverClan cats were gathering together again with murmurs of concern as Fireheart limped across to them. “Thank you,” he meowed. “I've never been so glad to see any cat in my life.”

“I recognized some of the old ShadowClan warriors,” Leopardfur told him gravely. “The ones who left with Brokenstar.”

“Yes.” Fireheart didn't want to say anything yet about Tigerclaw's involvement. “How did you know we needed help?” he asked, puzzled.

“We didn't,” replied Mistyfoot. “We came to talk to Bluestar about—”

“Not now,” Leopardfur interrupted, though Fireheart guessed that Mistyfoot was going to say, “about the kits.” “ThunderClan needs time to recover.” She dipped her head graciously toward Fireheart. “We are glad to have helped. Tell your leader we will return soon.”

“Yes, I will,” Fireheart promised. “And thanks again.” He watched the RiverClan cats leave, then looked around, feeling his shoulders sag with tiredness. The clearing was littered with blood and fur. Yellowfang and Cinderpaw were beginning to examine the injured cats. Though Fireheart hadn't noticed them in the fighting, they both bore the marks of enemy claws.

He took a deep breath. It was time to deal with Tigerclaw, but he did not know if he could summon the strength. His wounds throbbed with pain, and every muscle in his body shrieked a protest with each step. As he limped toward Bluestar's den, a voice sounded behind him. “Fireheart! What happened?”

He turned to see Sandstorm, newly returned at the head of her hunting patrol, with Cloudpaw panting just behind her. She was staring around the clearing as if she couldn't believe what she saw.

Fireheart shook his head wearily. “Brokentail's outlaws,” he grunted.

“Again?” Sandstorm spat with disgust. “Maybe Bluestar will think twice about sheltering Brokentail now.”

“It's more complicated than that.” Fireheart felt unable to explain right then. “Sandstorm, will you do something for me, and not ask questions?”

Sandstorm gave him a suspicious look. “Depends what it is.”

“Go to Bluestar's den and deal with what you find there. Better take another warrior too—Brackenfur, will you go? Bluestar will tell you what to do.”

At least, I hope so, Fireheart added to himself as Sandstorm, still frowning, jerked her head at Brackenfur and headed for the Highrock. Out of everything that had happened, what disturbed Fireheart most was how Bluestar seemed to have lost her will to lead her Clan.

Fireheart stood numbly in the center of the clearing, watching as Yellowfang examined Brokentail and then began half pushing, half dragging him toward her den. The former ShadowClan leader was barely conscious, and a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. She obviously still cares for him, Fireheart thought in confusion. Even after all this, she can't forget he was once her kit.

Turning away from Yellowfang, Fireheart saw Sandstorm emerging from the den beneath the Highrock. She was followed by Tigerclaw, who struggled forward with an odd, lurching gait. His fur was matted with dust and blood, and one eye was half closed. He stumbled to a halt and collapsed in front of the rock.

Brackenfur trailed him closely, alert for any sign that the deputy intended to attack or flee. Behind him came Bluestar.
Her head was drooping and her tail dragged in the dust. Fireheart's worst fears flooded back. The strong leader Fireheart had respected seemed to have vanished, leaving instead this frail, wounded cat.

Last of all, Graystripe limped out of the den and sank down on his side in the shade of the Highrock. Cinderpaw hurried over to him and began to inspect his wounds with an anxious frown.

Bluestar raised her head and looked around. “Come here, all of you,” she rasped, beckoning with a flick of her tail. While the rest of the Clan were gathering, Fireheart padded over to Cinderpaw. “Can you give Tigerclaw anything for his wounds?” he asked. “Something to ease the pain?” He thought he had wanted to defeat Tigerclaw more than anything, but now he found he could not bear the sight of the once-great warrior bleeding to death in the dust.

Cinderpaw looked up from her examination of Graystripe. To Fireheart's relief, she didn't challenge his request for her to treat the treacherous deputy. “Sure,” she meowed. “I'll fetch something for Graystripe as well.” She limped away in the direction of Yellowfang's den.

The Clan cats had taken their places by the time she returned. Fireheart could see them looking at one another, uneasily wondering what all this might mean.

Cinderpaw limped over with a wad of herbs in her mouth. She dropped some of them beside Tigerclaw, and gave the rest to Graystripe. The deputy sniffed the leaves suspiciously and then began to chew them.

Bluestar watched him for a moment and then began to speak. “I present you with Tigerclaw, now a prisoner. He—”

A chorus of worried murmurs interrupted her. The Clan cats were looking at each other in shock and dismay. Fireheart could see they did not understand what was happening.

“A prisoner?” Darkstripe echoed. “Tigerclaw's your deputy. What has he done?”

“I'll tell you.” Bluestar's voice sounded more even now, but Fireheart could see the effort it was costing her. “Just now, in my den, Tigerclaw attacked me. He would have killed me if Fireheart hadn't arrived in time.”

The sounds of protest and disbelief swelled even louder. From the back of the crowd, an elder let out an eerie wailing. Darkstripe got to his paws. He was one of Tigerclaw's strongest supporters, Fireheart knew, but even he was looking uncertain. “There must be some mistake,” he blustered.

Bluestar raised her chin. “Do you think I can't tell when a cat tries to murder me?” she enquired dryly.

“But Tigerclaw—”

Fireheart sprang up. “Tigerclaw is a traitor to the Clan!” he spat. “He brought the rogue cats here today.”

Darkstripe rounded on him. “He'd never have done that. Prove it, kittypet!”

Fireheart glanced at Bluestar. She nodded and beckoned him forward. “Fireheart, tell the Clan what you know. Everything.”

Fireheart padded slowly to her side. Now that the moment for revealing everything had come, he felt strangely reluctant.
It was as though he were pulling down the Highrock, and nothing would ever be the same again. “Cats of ThunderClan,” he began. His voice squeaked like a kit's, and he paused to control it. “Cats of ThunderClan, do you remember when Redtail died? Tigerclaw told you that Oakheart killed him, but he was lying. It was Tigerclaw who killed Redtail!”

“How do you know?” That was Longtail, with the usual sneer on his face. “You weren't at the battle.”

“I know because I talked to someone who was,” Fireheart replied steadily. “Ravenpaw told me.”

“Oh, very useful!” growled Darkstripe. “Ravenpaw's dead. You can tell us he said anything, and nobody can prove you wrong.”

Fireheart hesitated. He had kept the truth about Ravenpaw's escape a secret to protect him from Tigerclaw, but now that Tigerclaw was a prisoner, there could be no more danger. And he needed to reveal everything. “Ravenpaw isn't dead,” he explained quietly. “I took him away after Tigerclaw tried to kill him for knowing too much.”

More uproar, as each cat yowled their questions and protests. While Fireheart waited for them to settle down again, he glanced at Tigerclaw. As Cinderpaw's herbs did their healing work, the huge tabby had begun to recover some of his strength. He pushed himself onto his haunches and sat staring out over the crowd with eyes like stones, as if he were challenging any cat to come too close. The news about Ravenpaw must have shocked him, but he did not show it by a single twitch of his whiskers.