The Darkest Hour (25 page)

“No!” he yowled, and he hurled himself at Bone with Graystripe hard on his paws.

Bone sprang backward, only to cannon into Bramblepaw and Ashpaw, who came charging across the clearing at the same moment. Firestar saw his apprentice leap onto the huge deputy's back, while Ashpaw bit down into his hind leg.

Confident that Bone would be distracted for a while, Firestar crouched beside Whitestorm, almost oblivious to the battle that surged around them. Recognition glimmered in the white warrior's eyes when he saw Firestar, and the tip of his tail twitched. “Good-bye, Firestar,” he rasped.

“Whitestorm, no!” Firestar felt a wail of agony building up inside him. He should never have brought his deputy into this battle, when all along the white warrior had seemed to know that it would be his last. “Graystripe, find Cinderpelt.”

“Too late,” Whitestorm breathed. “I go to hunt with StarClan.”

“You can't—the Clan needs you! I need you!”

“You will find others….” The white warrior's gaze, growing rapidly dimmer, flickered to Graystripe and back again. “Trust your heart, Firestar. You have always known that Graystripe is the cat StarClan destined to be your deputy.”

Letting out a long sigh, he closed his eyes.

“Whitestorm…” Firestar wanted to mewl his grief like a tiny kit. For a heartbeat he pushed his nose into his deputy's
blood-soaked fur, the only mourning ritual that the battle allowed.

Then he turned to Graystripe, who was staring in shock at the old warrior's body. “You heard what he said,” Firestar meowed. “
He
chose you.” Rising to his paws, he lifted his voice above the tumult of battle. “I say these words before the body of Whitestorm, that his spirit may hear and approve my choice. Graystripe will be the new deputy of ThunderClan.”

A yowl of agreement from behind startled him, and Firestar turned to see Sandstorm and Dustpelt pausing to nod briefly at Graystripe before dashing back into the battle again.

Graystripe had not moved, his yellow eyes fixed on Firestar. “Are you…are you sure?”

“Never surer,” Firestar growled. “Now, Graystripe!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the BloodClan deputy struggling free from Bramblepaw and Ashpaw. Before Firestar could spring at him, a screech of defiance sounded above the noise of battle and several more apprentices hurtled across the clearing. Bone was barely visible under the writhing heap of furious young cats. Bramblepaw and Ashpaw were there, with Featherpaw and Stormpaw and, yes, Tawnypaw, fighting beside her brother. Within a few heartbeats Bone had stopped trying to defend himself; his body went into a series of spasms, ending in his twitching tail, and as Firestar watched the twitching stopped. Ashpaw let out a hoarse cry of triumph.

At the same instant Jaggedtooth appeared out of nowhere.
Firestar felt his fur stand on end. Once a rogue, then a member of ShadowClan, and now part of the insult to the warrior code that was BloodClan. The massive warrior flung himself on the apprentices and fastened his teeth in the nearest—Bramblepaw—dragging him off Bone's body. At once Tawnypaw launched herself at the rogue cat. “Let go of my brother!” she spat. The rest of the apprentices sprang forward with her, and Jaggedtooth abruptly dropped Bramblepaw, turning tail and fleeing across the clearing with all the apprentices in pursuit.

Breathing hard, Firestar glanced around, and his stomach turned over as he tried to judge how the battle was going. Though Darkstripe and Bone were dead, and Jaggedtooth had been driven off, the clearing still seemed full of BloodClan warriors, and yet more were racing down the slope. ThunderClan had lost Whitestorm, and between the battling cats Firestar caught a glimpse of Torn ear from WindClan lying motionless. Brackenfur and Mousefur fought on side by side, but Brackenfur was limping and Mousefur had deep claw marks stretching all along one side. At the edge of the clearing Frostfur was dragging herself into the bushes, with Fernpaw helping her, and not far away Runningnose, the ShadowClan medicine cat, was pressing cobwebs on a wound in Blackfoot's shoulder, until the ShadowClan deputy shook him off and threw himself back into the fray. Leopard star appeared briefly, yowling hoarse encouragement to her warriors, before she vanished again in a surge of BloodClan cats.

We're losing
, Firestar thought, fighting panic.
I must find Scourge!

With the BloodClan leader's death, he knew the battle would be over. The cats from Twolegplace had no sense of tradition or loyalty to the warrior code. Scourge held them together, and without him they would be nothing.

Firestar felt his fur begin to bristle as his gaze found Scourge at last. The small black cat was crouched at the base of the Great Rock, his claws slicing at a warrior he had trapped there. Firestar's belly lurched as he recognized Onewhisker.

With a yowl of defiance he leaped across the clearing. Scourge whipped around, leaving Onewhisker to crawl away, bleeding.

The BloodClan leader bared his teeth in a snarl. “Firestar!”

Without warning, he leaped. Firestar rolled with the impact and landed on top of the smaller cat, planting one paw on his neck. But before he could bite down, Scourge wriggled away with the speed of a snake. The dogs' teeth on his claws flashed as he raked them across Firestar's shoulder.

Excruciating pain lanced through Firestar's body. He forced himself not to flinch but leaped forward again, sending Scourge flying back against the Great Rock. Briefly the black tom was stunned, and Firestar managed to bite down on his foreleg. Pain like fire seared through him again with another blow from the BloodClan leader's claws, and in the shock of it Firestar lost his grip on Scourge.

The BloodClan leader reared back, his paw raised for the death blow. Firestar scrabbled to get away, but he was not fast enough. Agony exploded in his head as the reinforced claws
struck down. flame washed over his eyes, fading to leave nothing but darkness. A soft, black tide was rising to engulf him; he made one final effort to get up, but his paws would not support him, and he fell back into nothingness.

Firestar opened his eyes. He was
lying on the grass of Fourtrees with moonlight washing around him and the rustle of leaves above his head. For a few heartbeats he relaxed, reveling in the warm air of greenleaf.

Then he remembered Fourtrees as he had last seen it, the branches black and stark in the depths of leaf-bare and the clearing thronged with screeching, warring cats.

Abruptly he sat up. He was not alone. The warriors of StarClan lined the clearing, illuminating it with the shimmer of their pelts and the gleam in their eyes. In the front rank Firestar could see the cats who had given him his nine lives: Bluestar, Yellowfang, and Spottedleaf, Lionheart…and a newcomer, Whitestorm, restored to his youthful strength, with starlight glimmering in his thick fur.

“Welcome, Firestar,” meowed the white warrior.

Firestar scrambled to his paws. “Why…why have you brought me here?” he demanded. “I should be back there, fighting to save my Clan.”

It was Bluestar who replied. “Look, Firestar.”

Firestar saw there was a space beside her. At first he thought
it was empty, but suddenly he realized that it was filled by the faintest outline of a flame-colored cat. His green eyes glowed so pale they barely reflected the starlight that filled the hollow, but Firestar recognized him at once.

“You have lost your first life,” Bluestar meowed gently.

A shiver ran through Firestar. So this was what it felt like to die. He stared in mingled curiosity and fear at the pale copy of himself in the middle of the clearing, and as his gaze locked with the ghost cat's he suddenly saw himself, hunched and bleeding, his fur ragged and the light of desperation burning in his eyes.

Firestar wrenched his head aside to break the contact. There was no time for this. Surely the whole point of having nine lives was so that he could keep going?

“Send me back,” he begged. “If we're losing the battle, BloodClan will rule the forest!”

Bluestar stepped forward. “Patience, Firestar. Your body needs a moment to recover. You will go back soon enough.”

“But it might not be in time! Bluestar, why are you letting this happen? Will StarClan not help us, even now?”

The former ThunderClan leader did not reply directly. Instead she sat down, her blue eyes glowing with wisdom. “No cat could have done more than you for ThunderClan,” she meowed. “Even though you are not forest-born, you have the heart of a true Clan cat…more than ever Tigerstar or Darkstripe did, for though they taunted you with being a kittypet, they both ended up betraying the Clan of their birth for the sake of their own ambition.”

Firestar's paws worked impatiently in the grass. What was the use of empty praise? He could not tear his mind away from what was happening in that other clearing, where loyal cats were fighting and dying. “Bluestar—”

The she-cat raised her tail to silence him. “Perhaps your quarrel with Tigerstar gave you the strength you need,” she went on. “All along, you did what you thought was right, even when your Clan mates disagreed with you. You suffered loneliness and uncertainty, and that has made you what you are now…a gifted, intelligent leader with the courage to lead your Clan in its darkest hour.”

“But I'm
not
leading them!” Firestar hissed. “And I can't save them—I'm not strong enough. We're going to lose the battle. Bluestar, this
can't
be the will of StarClan! We've always believed our warrior ancestors wanted there to be four Clans in the forest. Have we been so wrong?”

There was a ripple of movement from the front rank of the starry warriors. Bluestar rose to her paws as she was joined by the other eight cats who had given Firestar a life at the ceremony beside the Moonstone. All nine of them encircled the young cat who stood defiantly in the center of the clearing.

A voice spoke—not Bluestar this time, but an echo vibrating inside Firestar's head as if all nine cats were speaking to him at once. “Firestar, you are wrong. There were never four Clans in the forest.”

As Firestar stared, rigid with shock, the voice went on: “There were always
five
.”

Firestar felt nine pairs of eyes, alight with wisdom, rest on him. “Fight bravely, Firestar. You may return to the battle now, and the spirits of StarClan will go with you.”

The shapes of the StarClan warriors seemed to dissolve into light. Firestar felt their strength flooding through him as water soaked into the thirsty ground, and he knew the courage that came with faith restored.

He opened his eyes. The sounds of battle rushed into his ears and he sprang to his paws. Straight in front of him he saw Cloudtail battling with Scourge. The young white warrior was on the ground, blood flowing freely from his wounds as Scourge shook him by the scruff and raked claws across his flank. But Cloudtail had his teeth fastened in Scourge's leg, and even though he was terribly injured he would not let go.

“Scourge!” Firestar yowled. “Turn and face me!”

The small black cat whipped around, letting go of Cloudtail in his shock. “How…I
killed
you.”

“You did,” Firestar spat back at him. “But I am a leader with nine lives who fights alongside StarClan. Can you say as much?”

For the first time he thought he saw a flicker of uncertainty in Scourge's cold eyes, and at last Firestar understood what Barley had told him. Scourge's lack of belief in StarClan was his greatest weakness. Without belief, without the laws and customs of the forest Clans, Scourge did not have the nine lives of a true leader. When he died, he would be dead forever.

The BloodClan leader's uncertainty lasted no more than a
heartbeat. He aimed a final blow at Cloudtail, dislodging the weakening warrior and tossing him up against the Great Rock.

Firestar launched himself at his enemy. And with every stride, he was aware of the StarClan warriors racing alongside him, matching his pace: Lionheart's golden strength; the lithe, muscular body of Runningwind; Redtail's dark fur, his bushy red tail streaming out behind him; Yellowfang with her claws outstretched; Spottedleaf, swift and determined; Bluestar with all her strength and skill in battle restored.

Firestar seemed to cover the ground on winged paws. His claws raked along Scourge's side and he dodged a blow to the head like the one that had claimed his first life.

But Scourge was fast. He flung himself between Firestar's outstretched paws and aimed for his belly, trying to rip him open with the same flick that had destroyed Tigerstar.

Firestar barely drew back in time. Now he was on the defensive, trying to avoid the gashing claws and still get close enough to Scourge to land a blow of his own. He managed to grip the BloodClan leader near the base of his tail, and the two cats rolled over and over on the grass, a shrieking whirl of teeth and claws. When they broke apart Firestar saw his own blood spattering the grass, and knew he had to finish this fight quickly before he weakened again.

When the old trick came back into his mind he scarcely believed it could work against a fighter like Scourge. But he could think of nothing else. He dug his front paws into the bloodstained turf, and crouched in front of his enemy as
if he were giving in, every muscle tensed in readiness.

Scourge let out a yowl of triumph and leaped at him. In the same heartbeat, Firestar hurled himself upward, crashing into Scourge's belly and thrusting him backward onto the ground. His claws slashed through Scourge's pelt and his teeth met in the black cat's throat until he tasted the gush of warm blood. Firestar was dimly aware of Scourge's claws flailing viciously at his shoulders but he held on, raking his enemy's belly with his hind paws until the blows that were falling on him grew weaker.

Firestar shook his head, scattering thick drops of blood from his eyes. He released Scourge's throat and drew back to deal the death blow from an upraised paw. But there was no need. Scourge's eyes were fixed on him, dark pits of hatred, and his body jerked convulsively. He tried to snarl defiance, but the only sound was blood bubbling in his torn throat. His twitching limbs grew still and his eyes stared sightlessly at the sky.

Flanks heaving, his breath coming in agonizing gasps, Firestar gazed down at his dead enemy. Who knew where this cat's spirit was heading? Not to the ranks of StarClan, that was for sure.

A skinny black-and-white BloodClan cat was battling with Tallstar a couple of tail-lengths away. When he caught sight of Scourge's lifeless body, the BloodClan warrior froze, staring, and scarcely seemed to notice when Tallstar raked his claws down the side of his head. “Scourge!” he gasped. “No—no!”

He backed away, then turned and fled, blundering into another BloodClan warrior as he made for the bushes. The second warrior spat furiously and launched himself at Firestar, but before he could attack he too saw the body of his dead leader.

A terrible wailing broke from him. “Scourge! Scourge is dead!”

As the cry rose above the screeches of battling cats, Firestar saw the warriors of BloodClan falter and stop fighting. As they realized that they had lost their leader, they turned and fled. To Firestar's dazed eyes, the Twolegplace cats seemed to have shrunk. They were no longer fearsome warriors, but ordinary cats who had no place in the forest: slower than WindClan, duller than RiverClan, scrawnier than ShadowClan. All their menace was gone, and with a cry of triumph the forest cats surged after them and chased them out of the hollow.

Numb with exhaustion, Firestar hardly had the strength to understand that his cats—LionClan—had won. The forest belonged to StarClan once again.