Darkwing

  “Conscientious objectors,” Icaron said.

  “A name changes nothing!” said Gyrokus sternly, and Dusk flinched. Would his father rear back and flare his sails, as he’d done when Nova contradicted him? No. Everything was different now. His father wasn’t leader here.

  “A name changes nothing, you’re right,” said Icaron. “But we weren’t traitors. We served the Pact well, until we felt we could serve no longer. We had no wish to desert our colony, but, as you say, we were expelled for our beliefs.”

  “Because they harmed all of us,” said Gyrokus.

  “Many of us have regretted our choice,” Nova blurted out. “Icaron doesn’t speak for all of us.”

  “A leader speaks for all his colony,” Gyrokus barked at Nova. “Let me hear no more from you!”

  Dusk was amazed at Gyrokus’s ferocity—not even his father would have been so easily angered.

  “You shirked your responsibilities to all beasts,” Gyrokus said, turning back to Icaron. “And to your own kind especially. And now you return to a safer world that you did nothing to achieve.”

  “The world does not seem so safe,” Icaron replied. “Former allies just murdered almost forty members of my colony.”

  “Perhaps if you hadn’t hidden yourselves away on the island, isolated and forgotten, you would not have been so vulnerable! They preyed on you because they thought no one would ever notice!”

  “Is he saying we deserved to be slaughtered?” Dusk whispered angrily to Sylph. “Sounds like it,” she muttered.

  “Could we ever welcome you into our colony?” Gyrokus asked with chilling calm. “Who’s to say you wouldn’t abandon us again in our next time of need?”

  “Our newborns had no part in our decisions to repudiate the Pact,” Nova insisted. “Don’t punish them for our decisions.”

  “Every generation of newborns has no doubt been reared on your deformed principles,” said Gyrokus disdainfully. “You are all tainted.”

  “Would you turn us away in our time of need?” said Barat. Gyrokus said nothing for a moment.

  “I am not so unkind,” he said. “But if I’m to accept you into our colony, I must have you renounce your past, and then I may know that you are trustworthy.”

  “You would have me admit my wrongdoings?” said Icaron calmly.

  “It’s a simple thing, and only right,” said Gyrokus, and some of his hearty warmth returned. “My friend, you obviously care deeply for your colony, and that’s an excellent quality in a leader. Now you need to care for them by giving them a new home, a safe haven. Join us. But first, tell me and all assembled that you regret your traitorous decision to abandon the Pact, and I will know that I can trust you.”

  “Just do it,” breathed Sylph.

  Dusk could feel her desperation rising up from her fur like vapour from hot bark. “I will do no such thing,” said Icaron. “I cannot.” Dusk felt a fierce throb of pride.

  “Then I cannot help you,” said Gyrokus, his voice hardened with anger. “Be on your way. Wander far. No chiropter colony will accept you, once they know who you are and what you’ve done. I’ll make sure of that. You have made refugees of yourselves.”

  “This is unjust!” Nova exclaimed, and at first Dusk thought her outrage was directed at Gyrokus. But she whirled on Icaron. “You’re sentencing all of us to your fate because of your foolish ideals.”

  “They’re not foolish ideals,” Sol said angrily. “And they aren’t Icaron’s alone. I share them. Barat shares them. You once held them dear.”

  “We were offered a home!” said Nova.

  “We don’t need someone else’s home,” said Icaron. “We’ll find our own.” He turned to Gyrokus. “I thank you for sheltering us. We will be on our way immediately.”

  Carnassial watched as Patriofelis advanced across the sand bridge with his forty-five soldiers. He wondered how they would fare in combat. They were strong, but they had never hunted; they had never torn. Would they be willing to attack and kill their own kind? For that matter, he wondered if his own prowl would.

  Patriofelis’s cohort reached the island and fanned out across the beach, blocking the bridge. Carnassial’s eyes lingered on Panthera. She wouldn’t meet his gaze. Her presence here made it obvious she felt no loyalty towards him, and yet he was still glad to see her.

  “Carnassial,” said Patriofelis. “So this is where you have fled.”

  “We didn’t flee anywhere,” said Carnassial. “We’re seeking a new homeland.”

  Patriofelis seemed to be taking a tally of his numbers. “Where is Miacis?” he asked.

  “Dead.”

  Carnassial could hear a collective whine of surprise from among his own prowl. “What happened to her?” Katzen asked.

  Carnassial ignored him, his eyes narrowed hatefully at his old leader.

  “Dead!” Patriofelis repeated loudly so all could hear. “What a shame to lose one of your strongest. What a perilous life you’ve chosen. But you were right in one respect, Carnassial. The world is changing and becoming more dangerous. There are rumours that new creatures are approaching from the east, and no one knows if they will be friend or foe. The birds have become more aggressive too, no doubt due to the nests you’ve been savaging. We beasts must stand united. And you, sadly, have become a dangerous threat to any new alliance. We will not allow you to throw our world out of balance.”

  “We’ve committed no crime,” said Carnassial. “We feed like any other creature, only our prey is not the same as yours. Who’s to say what is right or wrong? Our craving for meat is as real as yours for grubs or seeds.”

  “No more of this talk,” Patriofelis said disdainfully. “I come to offer you one last chance of amnesty.” He addressed the felids ranged behind Carnassial. “Any of you who choose to return to the prowl, come forward now. It’s not too late. All will be forgotten and forgiven, and we can carry on in harmony with the other beasts.”

  “He asks you to deny yourselves,” Carnassial told his felids. “He asks you to deny your natural appetites. Would you be content to serve such a leader?”

  “My offer is open to you as well, Carnassial.” Carnassial growled dangerously, and saw Patriofelis and his cohort flinch.

  “I reject your offer!”

  “That is unfortunate,” said the old felid, “since the alternatives are far less pleasant. If you persist in your abominable ways, this island will be your home for the rest of your lives. The beasts will not allow you to roam the world, murdering. You are exiled here, Carnassial. You and all your deviant prowl.”

  Mere hours earlier, the prospect of a life on the island would not have seemed so dire. Now, with the sudden appearance of the predator birds, it was likely a fatal punishment.

  “We will not be bound by your laws,” Carnassial spat.

  “We’ll be watching the island. Any who set foot on the mainland will be killed.”

  “You’d kill your fellow felids, Patriofelis?”

  “Yes, to prevent even more killing.”

  “I doubt your resolve,” he said mockingly.

  “That is unwise,” Patriofelis said. “Now, who among you wishes to renounce your past crimes and rejoin your true prowl. Come forward now.”

  Carnassial surveyed the members of his prowl. From the trees behind them he heard a mournful hoot, and an answering call. Katzen glanced at him furtively and then quickly stepped towards Patriofelis. “Well done, Katzen, you’ve chosen wisely. Are there no more?”

  To Carnassial’s surprise and shame, five more of his felids crossed over. “How your numbers dwindle,” Patriofelis said.

  Carnassial looked at Panthera, who still would not meet his gaze. As the day’s light strengthened, the sea water lapped impatiently at the sand bridge.

  “For the rest of you,” Partiofelis said, looking pointedly at Carnassial, “the best I can wish for you is a quick death.”

  A vast shadow fell across the old felid, and seconds later, feathered wings enveloped his head and tors
o. A ghastly scream issued from Patriofelis as he bucked and twisted, trying to throw off the predator. But Carnassial knew those claws and how deep they bit, and the bird held tight.

  Panthera bounded to her leader’s side, sank her teeth into the raptor’s tail, and pulled. The bird swivelled its head, facing almost backwards, and lunged with its hooked beak. Panthera fell back as the raptor lifted Patriofelis off the ground and flapped him into the forest.

  The air was suddenly filled with wings as more birds came slanting down at them. The felids scattered in terror.

  “Come with me!” Carnassial shouted to his prowl. In the ensuing chaos, he saw a chance, and would not let it pass. The sand bridge was within reach, only just now disappearing under a skin of water. He shoved and snarled and snapped his way through Patriofelis’s remaining guard. Suddenly leaderless, the soldiers panicked, some retreating back across the sand bridge, others racing for the cover of the island forest.

  “Go!” he shouted to his prowl. “Cross!”

  He let his felids go first along the sand bridge, protecting their rear should any of Patriofelis’s soldiers try to attack from behind. The birds rained down on them. In horror he saw one drop towards Panthera. She twisted nimbly out of the way, but the predator still sank a set of claws into her haunches. She cried out, twisting and clawing at the bird that hovered above her, battering her with its wings.

  Her companions were too terrified to offer any help. Carnassial did not even hesitate. He ran back and launched himself at the bird, knocking it off Panthera. On the ground he sank his teeth into its neck. Blood and flesh and greasy feathers filled his mouth. The bird swivelled its mottled, horned head and impaled him with its terrifying eyes. Its beak opened and gored his right foreleg before he could spring away, yowling. The bird lifted off, shrieking its own pain, and flapped back to the forest.

  Carnassial looked at Panthera, and this time she met his gaze.

  Birds still wheeled overhead, dropping down on the few felids that remained out in the open. Panthera said nothing, but followed Carnassial as he leapt onto the submerged sand bridge and started splashing towards the mainland. The water slapped against his knees and was achingly cold, but at least it numbed the pain in his foreleg. Up ahead the last of his own felids slogged their way across. Some were already scrambling up the rocky shore to the heights above. He kept glancing back to make sure Panthera was still behind him. She was, and each time he glimpsed her he felt stronger.

  Halfway across he looked up and saw a dark shape soaring down on them.

  “Into the water!” he shouted, hoping Panthera would trust him. He threw himself from the bridge. In the moment before his head went under he saw a pair of wickedly angled claws overshoot his skull, and felt the wind from the bird’s great wings. And then his entire body was submerged. Cold pounded at his temples. He thrashed his legs and came up, gasping, his fur sodden. Panthera churned the water beside him, and they hauled themselves back up onto the sand bridge, not even taking the time to shake themselves dry. They struggled for the mainland, knee deep in water now, their limbs numb.

  At the shore, Carnassial dragged himself shivering onto a rock, and craned his neck to check for any more raptors. He saw a few circling the island’s beach, but no more over the water.

  With Panthera at his side, he scrabbled up the steep slope to the trees and there found his felids assembled in the low branches, growling uneasily at eight of Patriofelis’s guard.

  “Back to the island!” barked Gerik, whom Carnassial could only guess had assumed control.

  “We will not,” said Carnassial quietly.

  Gerik saw him for the first time, and involuntarily took a step back.

  “We have our orders,” he said.

  “Your orders were to kill any who left the island,” Carnassial reminded him. “Who will fight me? Will it be you, Gerik?”

  He remembered playing with Gerik when they were newborns, the hunting and fighting games that had prepared them for adulthood. Carnassial was the smaller of the two now, but he doubted Gerik’s courage, especially with so few reinforcements. Most of his warriors were still cowering on the island, unable to cross until the morning. Gerik was outnumbered, and he knew it. Carnassial watched as his confused eyes slid to Panthera.

  “Why do you stand beside him, Panthera?” he demanded. She said nothing.

  “You can’t keep things the way they were, Gerik,” Carnassial told him. “Your leader’s dead. There are birds that can kill us now. Patriofelis said there might be new beasts who can do the same. The old alliances will soon be meaningless. My prowl can’t be the only one to discover a taste for flesh. Live the old way, if you want, but don’t hinder us. We’ll do what we must to stay strong and live.”

  “No,” said Gerik.

  “You can join us,” Carnassial said.

  The other felid took a step back, shaking his head in revulsion. “I will not. And I will not let you pass.” He leapt.

  Carnassial was ready, and threw himself at Gerik. They crashed together and skidded across the earth, clawing and biting. Gerik was heavier, stronger, and unwounded, but his bites lacked deadly intent. Carnassial saw his chance and sank his teeth deep into Gerik’s left haunch, ready to tear. He felt his opponent falter. Carnassial didn’t want to mortally wound a fellow felid, but he would if necessary. Gerik seemed to sense this, and went limp. He lay still, whimpering in submission. It was hard for Carnassial to release his jaws, for his blood pounded and the desire to fight pumped through every one of his veins. He finally let go and stood glaring down at Gerik, whose eyes rolled fearfully.

  “Get up,” Carnassial told him. “Go. And don’t come after us.” Gerik scrambled to his feet and led his soldiers away along the coastline. Panthera stayed behind.

  “Will you come with us?” Carnassial asked her.

  “I always feared you,” she said. “Your craving for meat: I saw it as destructive, unnatural.”

  With a pang, he remembered her expression of horror when she’d caught him eating his kill back in the old forest.

  “And I feared I might wake up one morning with such cravings,” she said.

  “And have you?”

  “I have.”

  Carnassial growled softly with delight. “Come with me,” he asked her again, his heart thumping.

  She stepped closer and licked at his wounded foreleg. “Yes,” she said.

  CHAPTER 16

  TREE RUNNERS

  “Isn’t it obvious,” the pointy nosed beast said angrily, “that there isn’t enough food for so many mouths?”

  Dusk looked on in dismay as the irritable creature told Dad and the elders that they couldn’t make their home here. When they’d first come across this little patch of forest, the trees hadn’t looked occupied. But only minutes after they’d settled on the branches and surveyed the hunting grounds, a huge clan of pale-furred alphadons materialized as if from thin air, hopping through the boughs, using their long skinny tails to swing themselves from twig to twig.

  “Surely this forest can accommodate both of us,” Sol said. “Your diet is fruit and seeds—”

  “—and insects,” the alphadon interrupted, its wet pink nose twitching. “Which your lot will pilfer from the air, leaving none for us. Now move on! This is our territory.”

  “In the past we weren’t so ungenerous with one another,” Icaron said.

  “Take a look around you, chiropter,” said the alphadon, “the world’s a crowded place now. If you want to eat, you’ve got to protect what’s yours.”

  “I’d like to bite its tail,” Sylph whispered to Dusk.

  Dusk wasn’t so sure he’d risk it, given the alphadons’ state of high agitation. He’d thought them meek-looking things when they first appeared, but now they began to crowd in on the chiropters, their narrow mouths parted slightly, hissing. Nuts and pine cones suddenly began to rain down, hurled by alphadons higher in the trees.

  Dusk looked over at his father, and saw him shake his he
ad in resignation.

  “We set sail once more!” he called out to his colony, and the air filled with hundreds of gliding chiropters.

  It had been three days since they’d left Gyrokus, three days of searching for a new home without any success. Not all the beasts they’d encountered had been as unpleasant as the alphadons, but the message was always the same: they were unwanted.

  Dusk glided beside Sylph. He wished he could fly at least, but Dad had asked him to wait, worried that his flapping might make the other beasts hostile—though Dusk couldn’t imagine them getting much more hostile than they already were. He did what Dad asked anyway, and as he laboured up tree after tree, tried to remember his father’s promise that he would fly again, just as soon as they found a home of their own.

  “We should’ve stayed with Gyrokus,” Sylph muttered as they slogged up another trunk.

  Dusk looked over at her sharply.

  “I’m not the only one who thinks so,” she said. “And I’m not just talking about Nova. I hear things. Plenty of chiropters are getting tired of this.”

  Sylph would know. Since leaving Gyrokus’s colony, she’d been spending more time away from him and Dad, gliding and hunting with other newborns, including Jib. Once, Dusk had even seen her talking briefly to Nova. He couldn’t help feeling his sister was being disloyal. With Dad’s wound still not healed, and things so uncertain, Dusk wanted her close by now.

  “We’re all tired of it,” he said. “But Dad’s going to find us a new home.”

  “We had a perfectly good one offered to us.”

  “Dad did the right thing.”

  “He should’ve just told Gyrokus what he wanted to hear,” Sylph whispered. “Even if he didn’t mean it.”

  “Was that Jib’s idea?” Dusk demanded. “Or maybe Nova’s?”

  “They’re just words,” Sylph persisted. “They’re not just words. They mean something.”

  “Do they?”

  “Dad and Mom did something great when they left the Pact. It made them different. It made them … better. It did.”