Legends of the Saloli: Vengeance and Mercy (7 page)

Without another word, Blaze raced down the tree trunk and began to search the camp for his friend. Unsurprisingly, he found him at the center of camp, where Newthorn’s corpse had been moved. Slowing to a calm walk, he approached the mourning saloli quietly, not wanting to interrupt the solemn moment. Smallthorn did not even look up as he was joined by his friend. Blaze wanted desperately to say something that would comfort his friend, show that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed, but kept his mouth shut. Speaking would only make things worse. They remained still for ten minutes, then Smallthorn spoke.

“Thank you.” He said.

“For what?” Blaze asked, confused.

“For helping me avenge her. If you hadn’t rescued me, I would have been swept over the waterfall along with Razor. I swore I would kill that filthy traitor, but I guess Valde Abbas wanted to do it himself.”

Blaze was tempted to tell his friend that it wasn’t solely for his sake that he’d fought the traitor, but decided to keep his mouth shut. It would only do harm to say so. Right now, Smallthorn needed comfort and a shoulder to cry on, and Blaze was determined to provide both.

“Wherever she is now, I’m sure she’s happy,” Blaze said.

With a sniffle, Smallthorn finally looked at his friend, “I know,” he replied, his voice a hoarse whisper, “but I won’t be. Not until I meet her again up there.”

Sadness chewed at Blaze’s heart. He felt torn now. Torn between pitying his friend for his loss, and worry that their friendship would never be the same after tonight. Though he felt bad for thinking it, he had to question his own desire to be best friends with a saloli who never felt happiness. Wait, there was one reason that Smallthorn could still be happy!

“What about Springthorn?” Blaze asked, “He’s missed you very much.”

Smallthorn flinched visibly, “I. . . I. . .” He sighed, “I’ll handle it.”

Before Blaze could question what he meant by “handle it,” Rust came to their side, “It’s time,” he said softly.

Smallthorn nodded solemnly, and backed away. Rust leapt onto the speaking stone, and gathered the tribe, “Icefire!” he called, “tonight we gather to mourn the loss of a great saloli. Newthorn was brave, strong, and loyal to her friends and family. She leaves behind a mate, a son, a brother, and a tribe full of friends. Her untimely death was brought upon her by the traitor Razor, who poisoned her. The poison caused her body to go beyond her control, and she attacked Blaze. Regrettably, she had to be killed by her own mate, Smallthorn. But know this: I will not have any saloli in Icefire believe that Newthorn was evil. She was one of the kindest, most loving saloli I ever met. The reason she was poisoned was because she diverted Razor’s attention as he was about to kill Blaze. Though she did not know it, she had just given her life for another Icefire saloli. I am certain that, for that, she is proud.”

Bowing his head in respect, Rust leapt down from the stone. A group of saloli surrounded Newthorn’s body and placed white flower petals on the ground around her. A line was formed, with Smallthorn in the front, followed by Blaze. Smallthorn came forward, and placed his paw on Newthorn’s brow. He paused for a minute, his eyes shining with grief and love, and then forced himself to move on. Blaze quickly followed suit, allowing all the happy memories of their friendship to pass through his mind. Then he, too, moved on. It took nearly an hour, but all of Icefire eventually had paid their respects to their fallen comrade. Faith then came forward, carrying a smoldering stick in her jaws, and touched one end to the flower petals. Immediately, they ignited, rising up in a ring around Newthorn. They began to swirl around the dead saloli, creating a tornado of fire. Time passed, and the saloli of Icefire watched in grieving silence. Finally, the spinning slowed, and the flames began to dull until they were nonexistent. Newthorn was gone, her physical body unmade so that she could enter Valde Abbas’ castle beyond the sunrise.

It was obvious that Smallthorn was restraining himself, so that he would not howl in anguish. Blaze desperately wanted to comfort him, to say something that would make all his pain go away, but he knew that anything he said right then would only make it worse. The rest of Icefire dispersed in silence, but the two friends remained where they were. After a few minutes of silent grieving, Rust approached them.

“Smallthorn,” he said, “I understand your pain. If you feel you need to take some time off from your duties, then do so for as long as you need.” Smallthorn nodded curtly, not in any state to speak. “Blaze,” Rust said, “may I speak with you?”

Wondering what his chief could have to say to him at a time like this, Blaze followed him away from the center of camp.

“There are things you need to know, Blaze.” Said Rust, “Everyone else in Icefire does, and it’s time you did as well.”

Blaze perked his ears up, intent on what his chief was about to say. He wouldn’t have summoned him on the night of a funeral for something that wasn’t important.

“This occurred years ago, just before I became chief.” Rust began, “I was in love then, I’ve told you this. Ginger was everything any saloli could want in a mate, and more. She was beautiful, kind, and gentle, but also brave, valiant, and a skilled fighter. We were to be married, and we couldn’t be happier.” Rust paused and looked away, a pained look on his face, “It was the day of the ceremony. Ginger had left with my brother on a last minute food expedition. The wedding was to be held within the hour, and she was nowhere to be found. We began to grow worried. Ginger would never willingly miss her own wedding ceremony! It was then that my brother ran back into the camp, a terrified look in his eyes. He came straight to me and told me that Ginger was dead.”

Blaze averted his eyes, not able to look at his chief in this state. Rust had his eyes clenched shut, and tears were running down his cheeks, almost making him resemble Smallthorn.

“He said that a human had begun to chase them. It cornered Ginger, and stepped on her, snapping her spine. She died instantly.”

Blaze gasped. The thought was just too brutal to comprehend. What sort of monster would do that to such a helpless creature?

“I’m sorry,” he told his chief.

“Don’t be,” Rust asserted, I’ve spent more than my share of time grieving for her.” Rust began to use a paw to wipe away his tears. A thought occurred to Blaze then.

“Rust, I never knew you had a brother.”

“That is why I’m telling you this. I had, or should I say
have,
a brother. He was the strongest saloli in Icefire at the time. Everyone knew he would one day do great things.” Rust paused, as if for effect, and looked Blaze in the eye, “His name is Goliath.”

This revelation nearly knocked Blaze off of his paws. Goliath? Rust’s Brother? He couldn’t be. It was impossible!

“It’s true,” Rust assured him, “shameful as it is, I share blood with the wickedest creature in this forest.”

Blaze shook his head, forcing himself to think straight, “But what exactly did he do? Everyone keeps telling me how evil he is, but not what he did.”

Rust sighed, “It was the most evil, wicked thing any creature could do. There is nothing wrong with a saloli aspiring to be chief one day, unless he does so through the Blood Way.”

“What’s the Blood Way?”

“The Blood Way is one of the saloli’s most ancient laws, from back when we were less civilized than we are now. It is from the same time as the Challenge of Determination. The Law of Blood stated that the strongest saloli should lead the tribe, and the right to do so could be won through means of violence. In short, if you killed the old chief, you became the new chief. It’s a terrible law that should be forgotten, but it is ingrained too deeply into our culture to do so.

“It was an unspoken understanding that Goliath would be the successor to, Iron, the saloli who ruled us at the time. However, Goliath was not content to wait. He challenged Iron and, by luck alone, was defeated. Iron, disgusted by Goliath’s bloodlust, but not willing to kill him, banished him from the tribe. Only one saloli followed him, the one who had always idolized him for his strength: Ratty.”

“And then he went to Darkcover?” Blaze predicted.

“No, Goliath had other plans. He would not have been content ruling a single tribe. He wanted them all. Spreading a false message, he enticed all four chiefs to the center of the forest, where the territories meet, where he would slaughter them all, inciting the Blood Way on all four tribes at once. Iron was the first to arrive. Goliath engaged him, and this time managed to kill him. Goldenrod came next, and Goliath inflicted a wound on her that should have been fatal. It was by Valde Abbas’ will alone that she survived. Patch and Halo came next, and my brother was about to attack both at once. It was then that I happened by the area, on a patrol. I saw Goliath and reacted immediately. We had trained together all our lives, and I knew how to defeat him. My patrol took him captive, and led him back to camp. There, they told the tribe of how I avenged the death of our former chief, and therefor the Blood Way had passed on to me. They elected me chief that very night, which made it my duty to execute Goliath. I waited the customary three days, and then took Goliath to the ceremonial execution place to do what Iron could not.”

Rust hung his head in shame now, “I was weak, though. I could not stand the thought of killing my own brother. Instead of executing him, I released him and banished him once more, telling him that if he ever showed his face here again, I would tear it off and feed it to the crows. He sneered, and promised that he would, indeed, return. I ignored him. That, Blaze, was the biggest mistake of my life. If I had just been strong enough to end his life, none of this would have happened. All this pain, this suffering, it’s all my fault.”

“Don’t say that,” Blaze interjected, “It’s nobody’s fault but Goliath’s. You showed him mercy, not taking advantage of it was his own mistake.”

“But I could have prevented this!”

“Yes, but now you have the chance to fix it. Do you know how?” Blaze stared deep into his chief’s eyes, seeing the fires of determination and loyalty that had always burned within his soul, “You have to kill your brother this time.”

Without another word, Rust nodded his head. Blaze knew then, without a doubt, that his chief had accepted his task, and would not back down again. The next time he saw his brother, blood would be spilled.

Chapter T
welve

When Blaze awoke the morning after the funeral, he was surprised to find Smallthorn not lying next to him on their branch in the Common’s Tree. Looking around, though, he saw his friend standing on the ground near the edge of camp, looking out into the woods. Confused as to what he could be doing, Blaze got up and climbed down the tree, then slowly made his way over to his friend. When he arrived, he found Smallthorn’s eyes and face wet with tears, and short, and ragged sobs came from his throat. Blaze stopped a few feet away, not sure whether he should make his presence known or not. He was saved from this indecision, though, when Smallthorn looked up and saw him, eyes bleary and red. For a moment, the two of them simply stared at each other. Finally, Smallthorn spoke.

“What am I going to do now?” he asked, his voice choked with grief.

“Well. . .” Blaze began, but was interrupted.

“I’ve lost the love of my life! I have nothing more to live for.”

Shocked by these words, Blaze immediately attempted to console his friend, “How can you say that? You’ve got friends who love you, a tribe that needs you, and a son that depends on you.”

Once again, Smallthorn visually flinched at the mention of his son, a fact that was not lost on Blaze.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” Smallthorn replied, much too quickly for it to be true.

“Smallthorn, you’ve been through more than any of us these past few weeks, far more than any single creature should have to endure. If something is going on, I want to help you.”

Smallthorn hesitated, and then shook his head, “I’m fine,” He said again.

Knowing that he would get no further at the moment, Blaze reluctantly turned and left his friend to be alone, but his thoughts remained on helping him. He had to do something to remind Smallthorn of what an amazing life he had, even if he had lost his mate. But how?

As these thoughts drifted through his mind, Blaze absentmindedly made his way to the food pile, where he hoped to fill his stomach with a little breakfast. Plucking an acorn from the pile with his front paws, he began to gnaw at the outer shell until it split open with a satisfying
crack!
Discarding the inedible shell, Blaze bit off a sweet chunk of the delectable nut. Chewing it slowly, Blaze saw a saloli returning from a patrol. He was alone. This detail caught Blaze’s attention. Very rarely did patrols go out with fewer than five saloli in them, and never did they go alone. Even when a trainee made their first patrol, the chief and their trainer would always be there to watch them and intervene. The lone saloli immediately found Rust and began speaking urgently to him. Rust nodded, said something, and the saloli ran back into the woods. Putting down his unfinished nut, Blaze slowly walked towards Rust, curious as to what was going on. Rust saw him coming.