Клэр Белл - The Named - The Complete Series

“Thakur,” she said to him softly, “meet Fessran and make sure everyone is all right.”

The herding teacher was away almost before she had finished. She turned to face Quiet Hunter. His expression was also solemn, almost stern.

“True-of-voice tells this one that female hunters had trapped face-tails in this canyon. Then the Red Tongue appeared and filled the canyon. The female hunters did not come back.”

Ratha swallowed, trying to ease the dry scratchiness in her throat.“Did True-of-voice send any searchers? Is there a chance those females escaped?”

“No. The song was torn by their death-screams. The Red Tongue has eaten them.”

“One hunter? Two? A few?” Ratha forced herself to ask.

In answer, Quiet Hunter sat, lifted both paws and spread the toes.

Again Ratha turned her head to the canyon’s entrance. She could see flames leaping over the rocky walls. The air above shimmered with waves of heat. Soon there would be nothing alive in the canyon, nothing moving except ash settling and dying coals breaking apart.

Ratha caught sight of Fessran butting her way through other clan members.

“It was him,” she panted, when she reached Ratha. “We followed his tracks here. That whelp of a belly-biting hyena let the Red Tongue loose.”

“Fessran, Quiet Hunter says that many of the other tribe’s hunters died in this fire.”

“I smelled burned face-tail hide,” the Firekeeper answered. “I wondered why the beasts would be in a canyon. So they were driven in there by hunters and then that black devil started the fire?”

“Accidentally or deliberately, yes.”

“Rrrr, if I was True-of-voice, I’d be spitting mad.”

“Well, I hope he isn’t, since I need to talk to him and tell him what happened.”

As she turned away to summon Quiet Hunter and Thistle, she heard Fessran growl,“Night-who-eats-stars, rahrrr! It’s more Night-who-lacks-brains.”

I’m afraid it’s the opposite, Fess. If anything, Night-who-eats-stars has too many brains. If he didn’t, we wouldn’t be in this mess. Who, by the Red Tongue’s flame, is he?

With cinders filtering through her fur and still uncomfortably hot under her feet, Ratha sat, surrounded by the Named. More of the clan were present, for she had sent a messenger to fetch those who could be spared from the herdbeasts and the cubs. The firestorm had died down, but the smoke and ash were thicker than ever. It would not burn beyond the canyon, for the in-rushing wind now forced it deeper into the rocky cleft.

She had not seen the Red Tongue rage like this since the forest fire that had brought“ her creature” to the clan. It made her realize how unpredictable and dangerous it was, and how familiarity with it had made the Named careless.

Ratha looked the other direction, through haze, to where True-of-voice sat surrounded by his tribe. Close by were Thistle and Quiet Hunter, eyes closed, noses lifted, speaking wordlessly to True-of-voice through the mystery called only“ the song.”

I gave birth to her, Ratha thought, yet I am totally deaf to whatever she can hear. How can that be? Her gifts must have come through Bone-chewer‘s line, not mine. If he were still alive, would he be able to reach True-of-voice?

Part of her wanted to snort with derision. If there ever was an independent, irreverent son of a rutting three-horn, it was her first mate. She remembered all too well that copper-dark face with amber eyes. It resembled Thakur’s, for the two were brothers. But Thakur never had Bone-chewer’s sardonic expression which was softened only briefly by caring and passion.

Even though she let the thought run only briefly, it opened the old ache in her belly. How she had loved Bone-chewer, raider and loner that he was, and how wrenching it had been to lose him. He was slain in the long-ago battle between the clan and the Un-Named.

It was then that Thakur had placed the flaming branch in her teeth, though she would have refused it if acceptance had not meant survival for her people. And now she was learning anew what the choice meant.

Again her gaze sought out Thistle and Quiet Hunter. Her daughter still had her eyes closed and her muzzle raised. Now she was shivering. So was Quiet Hunter. What was True-of-voice telling the two?

Ratha set her teeth, feeling the top fangs slide over the lower ones, the small teeth between the fangs scissor together. Her strong will brought her through so many trials — it would get her through this as well.

Thistle and Quiet Hunter were getting up, touching noses with True-of-voice, turning, looking to her, coming back. She forced herself to wait until the pair reached her. Both looked shaken. Thistle gave intermittent shivers. Stolid Quiet Hunter was not shivering, but the fur ridged along his back and tail. He also looked baffled.

He spoke first, in answer to Ratha’s expectant look. “This one, this … I … asked True-of-voice about the black eater of stars. The reply was strange.”

“How?”

“The song said that the star-eater was known, but is no longer. It does not sing of that one. It will never again sing of him. He is gone from the song.”

“Claw-rip the song!” Ratha hissed. “Did you ask if True-of-voice would find the renegade so that we can take the Red Tongue back? Then he can do what he likes with that black fawn-killer.”

“I tried,” Quiet Hunter said calmly. “This is the only reply. To True-of-voice, the black hunter no longer exists, so he can do nothing.”

“No longer exists? You mean the renegade is dead?”

“No, although he could be. It means only that True-of-voice cannot reach him.”

“Then we have to find him ourselves. Arrr!” Ratha felt her tail wanting to lash and put a firm forefoot on it.

“Something we have to do first.” The lighter voice was Thistle-chaser’s. Ratha stared at her daughter, and then dropped her gaze to avoid implying challenge. “What?”

“Red Tongue in the canyon — soon it will die. True-of-voice asks something hard.”

Ratha waited. Thistle hardened her voice to stop it from trembling.“Wants us to stay, help find dead ones, give them to …” She halted, the fur between her eyebrow whiskers wrinkling. “Hard to understand. Maybe Thistle-mistake. Says he wants us to help give them to … the air?”

Ratha wanted to throw her head back and forth and howl with frustration. She felt as though she were being shrouded with this maddening mystery, as though threads were wrapping around her until she was immobilized, cocooned. She wanted to act, to leap, to claw, to bite, to shred…

“Easy, yearling.” It was Thakur’s shoulder against her, his words calming her.

“This is like trying to bite mist,” she growled. “I can’t get hold of it.”

She caught Thistle glancing up at her.“Having hard time, too. Like getting across fast-running water, but am finding rocks to step on. One rock is, True-of-voice wants dead ones found and brought. By his people … and us.”

“Dead ones? You mean bodies? Thistle, there won’t be anything left! You saw how the Red Tongue’s wildness blew the trees completely apart. What could remain after that?”

“Of some hunters, nothing. But others not burned up. Climbed canyon walls. Up trees. Died from heat, from smoke,” Thistle said. “Wait with True-of-voice. When Red Tongue finally lies down, must search.”

“We have to find the renegade. Or make sure he is dead. We can’t chase our tails scuffing in the ashes to find …” Ratha couldn’t go on. The images in her mind were bad enough, and she dreaded that the reality would be worse.

She looked away from Thistle to Quiet Hunter. His calm gaze was soothing rather than disturbing, but it held the same message. He answered,“This one, at least, must join in the search. I must help those who were, and still are, my people.”