Клэр Белл - The Named - The Complete Series

She eyed them both, the tip of her tail flicking irritably.“This is a bad time to try to fool me with …”

Her voice died. Both partners were shaking so hard they could barely stay on their feet. Their pupils had gone to slits, and their scent was acrid with fear.

“Not fooling,” quavered Mishanti, his faintly spotted fur bristling as Bundi panted, “Invaders, maybe hunters, maybe Un-Named. I don’t know.”

The sharp scent of Named blood made Ratha search beyond the two. Another form staggered toward her, head down and weaving. She had to look twice before she recognized Fessran’s older son Khushi under all the slashes and scratches. His usually amiable face looked exhausted and grim, and his ribs heaved. Bundi and Mishanti ran out and did their best to keep him on his feet as he lurched toward her.

“Surprised us,” he rasped. “Came from behind while we were scouting … ”

“Where’s your partner?” Ratha asked, her dry mouth making it hard to speak. She knew that Fessran had sent the scouts out in pairs.

“Dead. Throat-bite. I escaped and ran to warn you,

but. too late.”

“No, you did well, Khushi. Help him to the stream, you two,” Ratha told Bundi and Mishanti.

A commotion in the meadow drew her gaze. Fessran was galloping toward her, followed by other Firekeepers. She didn’t see Bira.

The flame-tenders had torches in their jaws. Fessran didn’t have a torch, but she looked furious.

A streak of ice shot down Ratha’s back, and her legs went stiff with shock. This was no cub-game.

She felt her treeling crouch low on her back, readying herself. Even Ratharee knew. The only one to be caught napping was the clan leader.

An attack? How could that be, a part of her argued, even while she ran to meet the Firekeepers. For several days she had been hearing, not just from Fessran but from others as well, that New Singer’s rogue band was coming apart — that they were in no shape to attack either the Red Tongue or clan herds.

Could it be True-of-voice again? How could he, after she had worked so hard to overcome the first mistakes? Yes, Thakur said that the Named didn’t understand how the hunter leader thought, but surely True-of-voice wouldn’t destroy the fragile alliance the clan had started to build.

Or was this a sudden assault from the previously quiet Un-Named? Ratha tumbled the possibilities around in her mind as her feet flashed over the meadow grass. She didn’t have time to curse herself for being taken by surprise. That would have to come later.

“It’s New Singer, may worms eat his eyes,” Fessran panted. “He fooled both of us and we believed him. Fooled us like we were cubs! I thought his gang of belly-biters was breaking up, but—”

“Fess, yowl about it later,” Ratha snapped. “Defend the fire-den and the guard flames. We can’t lose the Red Tongue.”

“It’s not just the Red Tongue they’re after,” Fessran snarled. “They’re attacking the herders. I saw Thakur, Mondir, and Cherfan leading the fight. I ran to get the Firekeepers.” She broke off, looking toward the stumbling figure between the two smaller ones. “My son Khushi. Thank the Red Tongue that he made it back.”

“The other scout didn’t,” Ratha said. “Go to Khushi. I’ll lead the Firekeepers.”

With a grateful look, Fessran sprang away after her wounded son. Ratha took her place and leaped into a gallop, hearing the thunder of feet and the rush of fire behind her. There was no torch between her teeth for she needed her jaws free to command.

Gathering her hindquarters beneath her, she sprinted ahead, ears straining for the sounds of battle, nose flaring for the scents of fighting. The tang of savage desperation on her tongue made Ratha stretch her run until she felt as though she were flying. Ratharee was huddled between her shoulders, arms halfway embracing her neck, legs straddling her spine, toes and fingers wound tightly in her fur.

Ratha knew she should stop and hide the treeling, but she couldn’t. The herders’ lives might depend on her speed and the Firekeepers’ torches.

Guard-fires, defending the perimeter of clan ground, still flamed and blazed high in the wind made by the Firekeepers’ passing.

Now she could hear the fight — the wailing snarls, the wild, spitting yowls and screeches. A tangle of low brush lay ahead with dust boiling up beyond it. In the haze, she saw backs heaving, twisting, heads striking like snakes, teeth reddened.

Not pausing in her stride, she cleared the brush, the Firekeepers following in a river of angry fur and fire. They spread out to either side of her, charging into the enemy, swinging their firebrands. As Ratha reared and pivoted, howling orders, she caught sight of New Singer’s white-and-dark gray pelt amid the swirling mass of the fight.

Ratha saw instantly that the herder Cherfan was New Singer’s main opponent. The rogue hunter leader leaped, snarling, at the big herder. Cherfan reared to meet him, teeth and claws flashing white against the heavy brown of his coat, black-tipped ruff bristling like a mane.

Even the sight of the Firekeepers attacking the enemy with their torches quailed against the majestic battle between New Singer and Cherfan.

Over the deep roaring, Ratha heard the smack of flesh as the two powerful males collided. This was no sparring or paw-boxing. On hind legs, they raked and bit one another in a devastating flurry, then fell apart only to rear and clash again. Fur and blood spray flew with the dust kicked up by combat.

Cherfan was heavier, New Singer quicker; but both moved at a speed that blurred them before Ratha‘s eyes. Claws and teeth struck, and she heard the rip of fur-covered skin. Now one seized the other’s throat but was hurled away to land with a thud, only to streak in again. Now one dealt the other a massive blow with a forepaw to send him dancing back, reeling, tail lashing for balance. Again and again the hunter and the herder threw themselves together, rebounding off one another with heavy grunts and quivering flesh.

Other fights had erupted around the two, but it was the two heavyweights that stole Ratha’s attention even as she howled orders to the Firekeepers.

She squashed her impulse to leap between the two huge males, knowing that she had no place in this fight. Either one could swat her aside like a cub.

With a thundering roar, Cherfan belted New Singer away from him so hard that the other cartwheeled over and fell on his side. The force of the big herder’s blow overbalanced him, too, and he went down on his chest. Both scrambled to their feet, shoulders hunched, facing one another, muzzles crumpled by snarls that showed the full length of teeth.

At this pause in the battle, another hunter tore away from his opponent to fling himself onto Cherfan’s hindquarters, clawing his way up the herder’s spine while New Singer tried again for Cherfan’s throat. Arching his back, twisting, clawing, Cherfan threw them both off. Another hunter dashed into the fight. Three opponents now covered Cherfan. Their strikes were swift, deadly. With anotherchilling shock, Ratha saw that the enemy wasn’t trying to get the clan males out of the way so that they could prey on the herd. Their intent was not to injure or to put to flight, but to drag down and kill.

With a roar almost as impressive as Cherfan’s, the herder Mondir launched himself at New Singer, banging him aside. Light brown fur joined the cloud of darker brown and brindled gray. Mondir was no older than Ratha, but he had the Named male’s heavier bones and more powerful shoulders, and he had matured to his full strength in the lastseason. He was nearly as formidable as Cherfan, had the lightning quickness of youth, and used it savagely against New Singer, tearing the hunter leader’s shoulder open.