Warriors: Power Of Three 4 - Eclipse (29 page)

The ThunderClan cats padded to one side of the clearing, keeping close together.

“Everyone’s keeping to themselves,” Hollypaw observed.

Jaypaw tasted the air. She was right: There was no mingling of scents. RiverClan sat upwind in a tight group. WindClan paced restlessly near them, but didn’t break ranks.

“I’m surprised R iverClan and WindClan aren’t sharing tongues,” Lionpaw muttered. His muscles were tight as though ready for battle.

“Where are ShadowClan?” Poppyfrost mewed anxiously.

“I hope they come soon,” fretted Honeyfern.

A growl suddenly rumbled in Lionpaw’s throat.

“Quiet!” Ashfur snapped.

Lionpaw fell silent, but Jaypaw could sense rage pulsing from his brother’s pelt, hot as the sun.

He narrowed his eyes, focusing his other senses on Lionpaw. He sensed hatred shooting from his brother like a shaft of light, and, concentrating harder, he realized he could follow its path into the defensive cluster of WindClan cats.

It ended at Heatherpaw; Jaypaw recognized the tone of her mew and her faint honey scent. He flicked his tail in surprise.

Lionpaw’s hatred was so strong he was surprised Heatherpaw couldn’t feel it burning her pelt. But the WindClan apprentice certainly sensed something; she was weaving self-consciously among her Clanmates, betraying unease with every step.

Bushes rustled at the far edge of the clearing. ShadowClan must be arriving. Jaypaw tasted the air, and was startled by the scent. This wasn’t a full-size Gathering patrol. It was just—

“It’s just Blackstar and Sol!” Hollypaw’s mew was barely more than a whisper.

“Where are the rest of them?” hissed a WindClan cat from the far side of the clearing.

“And who in StarClan’s name is that?” came a murmur from the RiverClan cats.

All the Clans shifted anxiously as the ShadowClan leader padded to the center of the clearing. Sol followed, trotting lightly over the sandy earth.

Jaypaw was surprised by the sense of calm flowing from Blackstar’s pelt. The ShadowClan leader had seemed so lost and worried when they’d seen him in the camp. What had happened?

“I bring news,” Blackstar began.

“I hope ShadowClan’s all right,” Hollypaw whispered.

“Shh!” Brackenfur silenced her as Blackstar went on.

“ShadowClan will no longer attend Gatherings.”

An astonished silence fell on the clearing. Whatever the other cats had been expecting, this wasn’t it.

“We no longer believe that StarClan hold all the answers.

It was living cats who found the lake. It is living cats that hunt prey to keep themselves alive, and it was a living cat who predicted that the sun would vanish.”

He means Sol.

Onestar was stunned. “He predicted the sun would disappear?”

Amazement flooded through the cats like water washing through grass.

“I did no more than warn it would happen.” Sol’s mew was humble.

“How did you know?” Leopardstar demanded.

“How did you not know?” Sol answered. “You, after all, are the ones who share with StarClan.”

Barkface stepped forward. “They didn’t warn us.”

“And they didn’t warn me,” Sol meowed. “I merely followed my instinct and listened to my own voice of experience. You, of course, are entitled to believe in whatever you want. . . .”

“What’s he saying?” Hollypaw gasped. “Does he think beliefs can be chosen like prey from the fresh-kill pile?” Her pelt seared Jaypaw’s where they touched. He flinched from her, lost in his own disappointment.

Sol was meant to be helping us! What is he doing with ShadowClan?

There was the sound of soft paw steps padding over the dry ground.

“They’re leaving.” Lionpaw sighed. “I guess that means Sol isn’t going to help us after all.”

As Blackstar and Sol swished away through the ferns, frightened whispers broke out among the Clans.

“Who was he?”

“Where did he come from?”

“Can it be true?”

Jaypaw felt his own Clan move restlessly around him, their pelts sparking with fear as they brushed against one another.

Firestar had padded to the middle of the clearing. “We must stay calm,” he called to all of them.

“Calm?” Onestar’s mew was filled with contempt. “Even you can’t change this, Firestar.”

Firestar bristled with anger. “I never said I could!”

“We mustn’t quarrel.” Leopardstar stepped in. “This is too important. We are three Clans now.”

“Three Clans!” Ashfoot gasped. The WindClan deputy paced around the leaders. “But there have always been four.”

“If ShadowClan rejects StarClan,” Mistyfoot ventured,

“does that mean they can no longer be warriors?”

“Have they given up the warrior code?” Hollypaw’s breath was coming in fast gulps.

They’ve given up more than the code. Jaypaw glanced at the sky.

“Is the moon still shining?”

“It’s bright and clear,” Lionpaw assured him.

What is StarClan doing? Don’t they care what has happened?

“These are troubling times,” Leopardstar meowed. “We cannot even trust the sun to shine. Is it so surprising that Blackstar has lost faith in StarClan?”

Her words seemed to fill the clearing with an icy chill. No cat challenged her, tried to say that she was wrong, that their faith was worth fighting for. Sol warned that the sun would disappear, and it did. Where did that leave StarClan? Whispering to one another in frightened mews, the cats began to melt into the undergrowth.

“Come on.” Lionpaw was nudging Hollypaw. ThunderClan was leaving.

Hollypaw stumbled forward as if she had forgotten how to walk. Jaypaw pressed against her, guiding her path through the ferns.

“Are ShadowClan really not warriors anymore?” Poppyfrost asked.

“I suppose that’s for StarClan to decide,” Birchfall told her.

As Jaypaw waited for his turn to cross the tree-bridge, he tried not to let the urgent mews of his Clanmates unsettle him. He had to think this through. But they chattered on, crowding his thoughts.

“If StarClan hid the sun when we fought,” Dustpelt growled, “what will they do now that Blackstar has turned their back on them?”

“They haven’t covered the moon,” Brackenfur pointed out.

Thornclaw leaped onto the bridge. “Perhaps they’ll turn their backs on us all!”

As Jaypaw crossed the fallen tree, the warrior’s words buzzed like bees in his mind. StarClan had said nothing about the sun, or Sol. Perhaps they had given up on watching over the Clans below.

Jaypaw felt Lionpaw’s tail touch his shoulder as they padded along the WindClan shoreline. “Slow down,” he whispered.

Jaypaw eased his pace and let his Clanmates push on ahead until they were out of earshot. Hollypaw hung back with him, her paws dragging over the shingle.

“I thought Sol had come to help,” Lionpaw hissed. “But he’s just made things worse.”

Hollypaw was still in shock. “He’s stopped Blackstar from believing in the warrior code,” she mumbled tonelessly.

“Perhaps Blackstar would have stopped anyway,” Jaypaw suggested.

“No. It was Sol.” Lionpaw was adamant. “He’s said something to convince Blackstar that StarClan are worthless.”

Hollypaw kicked suddenly at the shingle. “I don’t care what Sol says.” Her mew was shrill. “They can’t stop believing in StarClan. That’s what Clans do! The warrior code brought us here; it gives us food and shelter.” Her fear had turned to rage.

“It keeps us safe!”

“But Sol predicted the vanishing sun,” Lionpaw reminded her. “StarClan didn’t.”

“Does that mean you’re going to give up StarClan too?”

Fury f lashed from Hollypaw so fiercely that Jaypaw wondered for an instant if she were going to lunge at Lionpaw. But she only stalked ahead, her breath rasping with emotion.

Lionpaw hurried after her. “That’s not what I meant.”

Jaypaw let them go. The shingle was soft here, dimpling around his paws. The lake whispered on the shore. A cool breeze blew off the water, and Jaypaw turned his head, feeling it ruffle his whiskers.

Broken moonlight shimmered on the surface of the lake.

He could see it.

I must be dreaming.

The shingle shifted beside him. A cat was walking with him.

Yellowfang.

Her breath fouled the air, but Jaypaw was pleased she had come. “Did you see what happened?” he mewed.

“Of course.”

Jaypaw’s heart quickened. “What are you going to do?”

Yellowfang’s paws scrunched on the shingle. She sighed, and when she spoke again, she sounded old and tired. “We must choose our battles carefully.”

Was StarClan admitting defeat without even trying to fight for ShadowClan? Jaypaw turned to her, panic coming in waves. But Yellowfang had faded from his sight. Everything had clouded over, and soon the world was black once more.

He could hear the voices of his Clanmates ahead, and pushed on after them.

His thoughts whirled and collided like leaves caught in a storm. At last Yellowfang had told him what he needed to know.

StarClan has surrendered. Their end is drawing near.

Jaypaw, Lionpaw, and Hollypaw would fulfill their destiny at last.

Lionpaw was dreaming.

Blood flooded over him, around him, washing through his fur, thick and warm, filling his nostrils, tumbling him onward until he was buffeted against rough stone walls.

Help!

He fought the crimson tide, churning his paws, his muscles screaming as he struggled against the weight of the flood.

His lungs were bursting, and the iron tang of blood filled his mouth.

The wave dragged him across jagged rocks, then swept on without him, leaving him soaked and gasping for breath. He blinked open his eyes and saw a stone roof arching high above him. Silvery light filtered through a crack, dimly lighting the stone walls of the cave. Lionpaw struggled to his paws, his sodden pelt heavy. He stared at the blood pooled in the cracks and crevices of the wide stone floor and glimpsed a shape—a body—lying awkwardly on the stone floor, paws twisted, tail limp, head thrown back, blood dripping from its whiskers.

Heatherpaw!

Lionpaw stumbled toward her, rage surging beneath his pelt. Growling, he pawed at her, but she lay heavy and motionless.

She was already dead.

He glared at her, satisfaction welling in his belly.

You deserve it!

She had caused the battle that had made the sun vanish.

And now the Clans were falling apart, turning away from StarClan as StarClan turned away from them.

His claws slid out, curling from his paws, longer and sharper than blackthorns. They scraped the cave floor, gouging furrows in the stone. Blood pounded in his ears, heat surging through him as though he were in battle. No enemy could beat him; no foe could spill his blood.

Let the battles come. Nothing can harm me. I am more powerful than StarClan!

“Get off!” Foxpaw’s indignant mew woke him. “You’re digging your claws into my back!”

Lionpaw rolled away and stumbled out of his nest. “Sorry.”

His mind was fuzzy with sleep, but the dream still haunted him. He staggered out of the den, feeling sick.

I was glad she was dead!

Horrified, he padded into the clearing.

I loved her once.

The morning sun streamed onto his pelt, but he shivered.

Fear spread like ice through his bones. He licked at his chest, relieved to find it didn’t taste of blood and his fur wasn’t stained red.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” Hollypaw was carrying moss to the elders’ den.

Lionpaw didn’t reply. He kept washing. He felt his dream had tainted him. Did he really want to become more powerful than StarClan if it meant spilling so much blood?

Cloudtail was putting Cinderpaw through her paces below Highledge. “Jump, duck, and roll,” he ordered.

She practiced the battle move, landing perfectly on all four paws.

“How did your leg feel?” Cloudtail prompted.

Cinderpaw purred. “Like all my other legs!” She trotted around her mentor with her tail in the air. “Absolutely fine.”

Millie was coughing in the nursery, her kits mewling while Daisy tried to soothe them. “It’s all right, my sweets. Try feeding again.”

Sandstorm began rattling the branches of the apprentices’

den. “Wake up, Foxpaw, you dormouse!”

The thorn barrier shivered as Graystripe pounded into camp.

Cloudtail looked up. “Any sign of WindClan?”

“No,” Graystripe answered. “The borders are freshly marked, but no cat’s crossed them.”

Dustpelt and Whitewing followed him in and padded to the fresh-kill pile.

Whitewing picked through the prey left from last night.

“Has the hunting patrol left?”

“Not yet,” Sandstorm called. “We’re heading out shortly.”

She rattled the apprentices’ den once more. “Once I can get Foxpaw out of his nest. He thinks he’s allowed to miss all his duties while Squirrelflight’s sick.” She looked at Lionpaw. “Do you want to come hunting?”

Lionpaw paused in his washing. “Yes.” Perhaps a run in the woods would clear his mind. He could pretend he was like any other apprentice—for a short time, at least.

Leafpool slid out of her den. Jaypaw padded after her, yawning.

“We need more marigold,” she mewed. “Squirrelf light’s wound is healing nicely, but I want to be ready for any late infections. We can’t risk taking anything for granted.” She glanced nervously up at the sun, rising over the trees at the rim of the hollow.

“I’ll fetch some this morning,” Jaypaw offered. He stretched, his tail quivering with the effort. “There’s a patch beside the shore.”

“It’ll be the last of the season, I expect.” Leafpool sighed.

“Then I’ll get as much as I can.”

Grit sprinkled down from Highledge. Firestar was sitting outside his cave, washing. His orange pelt turned to fire as the morning light caught it. He gave each ear a quick rub, then gazed down at the camp. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather together!” he called.

Sandstorm looked up, surprised.

Lionpaw straightened. What about the hunt?

The warriors’ den shivered as Brackenfur and Birchfall padded out. Poppyfrost and Berrynose followed, their eyes bleary with sleep. Foxpaw stumbled dozily from the apprentices’ den.