Клэр Белл - The Named - The Complete Series

“Form a line so none of them can get through,” Ratha said and her pack spread themselves out, guarding the woodpile. Nyang and several other Firekeepers approached, but they soon retreated from the menacing growls and bared fangs of the defenders.

She paced across in front of her own line and faced Shongshar. He looked at her and said nothing as she sat and curled her tail across her feet.

“You may eat, Firekeepers,” she said, turning her gaze toward them, “but this will be your last meal in this cave by the Red Tongue’s light.”

Her words were met with snarls and jeers. Soon, however, the Firekeepers grew tired of taunting her pack and turned their attention to the kill, dragging it around on the cave floor as they wrenched chunks of flesh loose and gulped them down. They did not seem to notice that the fire had already begun to fall and that their shadows were growing longer. Only Shongshar did not eat with them. He sat and watched the herders through slitted eyes.

When the carcass was stripped, the Firekeepers again amused themselves by throwing insults at the herders and trying to break through their line, but Ratha could see that the effort was half-hearted. The grim response the herders gave them quickly discouraged any idea that this was fun.

Shongshar continued to watch, and Ratha sensed that he was waiting. For what, she didn’t know, and she grew uneasy. His strength was waning with the falling fire, yet he made no attempt to launch an attack. He only sat and studied the herders’ faces with an acuteness that made them show their fangs and then try to look away from him.

The Firekeepers groomed themselves, or lay and slept as if the herders weren’t there. Shadows crept in from the sides of the cave and the dying fire’s light turned ruddy. The fire began to smoke and flicker. The flame no longer drew the wind from outside, and the cave started to fill with smoky haze.

Ratha was stiff from sitting and was about to get up and move to ease her legs when she heard Shongshar’s voice. It had grown so dim in the cave that she could see only his eyes, which now burned brighter than the fire.

“Let it die, then, clan leader,” he hissed. “Let it die and give this den back to darkness. It is better that we have nothing to crouch down before or nothing to dance to in wild joy. It is better that we of the Named turn our backs on something as great as this, for we are too weak to hold it within our jaws.”

Ratha heard whispered mutters behind her and the looks she received were shadowed by doubt. Even Cherfan seemed lost and gazed at Shongshar as if he might find a refuge in his words.

She had no answer for Shongshar except stern silence, and soon his voice came again.

“Watch this creature die, you of the clan, and see the death of all you could be. The Named could rule far beyond clan ground and be so fierce and terrible that all who once preyed on us would either flee or throw themselves at our feet. That is the power you are throwing away if you obey her.”

Again voices buzzed behind her, and eyes grew bright with visions of such a future.

“Be silent!” she hissed, as much at them as at Shongshar. The flame sank into its bed of ashes and tumbled coals. Slowly the fierce red glow faded.

Ratha felt herself start to tremble with the triumph of her victory. The cave-fire was dead and Shongshar’s power crippled. She waited, feeling the air around her grow cool.

“It is over,” she said, rising. “Firekeepers, leave the cave.”

One by one, they passed in front of her, with lowered heads and dragging tails until only one was left. Shongshar.

“Do you come, or do I have you dragged out?” she growled.

The two orange slits glared at her from the blackness. His form was a deeper darkness than that of the cave and she tensed, fearing that he would use the instant that he passed her to strike out at her.

Suddenly the eyes were gone. She saw them again as she heard coals break under the slap of his paw.

“You of the clan!” he roared. “Look! It lives!”

A tiny flame burst from the broken embers and grew as he breathed on it. Then she heard the sound of running feet, and before she could fling herself toward the fire to scatter it and beat out the remaining life, she saw that someone had broken from the herders’ ranks, bringing Shongshar wood and tinder.

Her roar of rage filled the cave and she charged him, but several more herders had already joined him and they threw her back She struck hard, rolled over, and when she staggered to her feet again, the flame was rekindled, surging up with new strength.

Shongshar’s roar called the Firekeepers back into the cave. They mingled with the deserting herders until Ratha could no longer tell them apart. Even those herders that tried to stay with her were seized and dragged away from their positions by the woodpile. She saw Cherfan’s despairing look as he was surrounded by Firekeepers and forced to the back of the cave.

The fire crackled with malicious energy as it consumed the new offerings of wood that were laid upon it. Ratha saw by the harsh light that only Thakur stood beside her, his nape and tail flared, his lips drawn back from his fangs.

“Take the herding teacher,” Shongshar commanded, standing near the flames. “He is the one who would mock us by giving the keeping of the Red Tongue to treelings. Bring him here and have him bare his throat.”

Nyang led the eager pack that fell on Thakur. Ratha leaped on them, raking their backs and their ears, but again she was flung aside and could only look on as Thakur fought with savage desperation. He bloodied several pelts before they subdued him. Teeth fastened on his scruff, his forelegs, his tail; someone got their jaws around his muzzle to keep him from biting.

Slowly they dragged him, writhing and kicking, toward the fire. His claws, dragging on the rock, made a sound like the death shriek of a herdbeast. There was a gasp that made Ratha glance toward Fessran and she saw the Firekeeper’s eyes grow wide with horror and helplessness.

Once more she flung herself at Thakur’s captors, but another pack pulled her off and held her. They brought her close and forced her to watch.

“Now, herding teacher,” said Shongshar, leering at Thakur. “Bare your throat to the Red Tongue.”

Again Thakur fought, but again he was stilled. His captors pulled him closer to the flames and forced his head back so his throat lay open and exposed.

“I bare it, but it is to you I bare it, Shongshar,” he growled between his teeth. “This talk of serving the Red Tongue’s power is nothing but a lie.”

They shook him to silence him. Ratha thought then that Shongshar would slash Thakur’s throat with his long fangs, but he stepped back from the herding teacher with satisfaction on his face.

“Good. He has begun to show his loyalty. Hold him. We will need him to guide us to the renegade Firekeeper Bira and the treelings.”

He turned, fixing his eyes on Ratha, filling her with an icy fear that she could not overcome with anger. He began to pace toward her, seeming to grow with each step.

The Firekeepers that held Ratha drew back, leaving her alone facing him.

“You are worthy of my fangs, clan leader,” he said softly. “You know I can’t leave you alive. If you lie still, I will be quick.”

Ratha dodged his first strike. They circled each other, ears flat, tails lashing. She forced her trembling legs to tighten for a spring and she leaped onto his back, driving her teeth into the side of his neck. He shuddered, but did not fall, even as she threw her weight out to drag him off balance. His blood welled into her mouth, but she knew her strike was not a killing wound.

He shook her to the side and rolled on her, but she kept her jaws locked, despite his crushing weight. Her teeth sank deeper, and she flung her forelegs around his neck, adding their pull to the strength of her straining jaws. He wrenched his head back and forth, but he could not break free, and she thought for an instant that she might be able to keep her hold until loss of blood weakened him.