The clearing heaved with struggling cats, but as Fireheart poised himself to rejoin the fray he realized something that sent an even colder pang of fear along his spine. Where was Bluestar?
In a heartbeat, Fireheart realized that he couldn’t see Tigerclaw either. Every instinct told him that danger was looming. He dodged around Willowpelt, who was clinging to the back of a much bigger rogue, her teeth fastened in his ear, and made for Bluestar’s den. To his relief, as he approached the entrance he heard Bluestar meow from inside, “We can worry about that later, Tigerclaw. The Clan needs us now.”
For a few heartbeats there was no reply. Then Fireheart heard Bluestar’s voice again, surprised. “Tigerclaw? What are you doing?”
An answering snarl. “Remember me to StarClan, Bluestar.”
“Tigerclaw, what is this?” Bluestar’s meow was sharper now, edged with anger, not fear. “I’m the leader of your Clan, or have you forgotten that?”
“Not for much longer,” Tigerclaw growled. “I’m going to kill you, and kill you again. As many times as it takes for you to join StarClan forever. It’s time for me to lead this Clan!”
Bluestar’s answering protest was suddenly cut short by the sound of paws thudding against the hard floor of the den, followed by a dreadful snarling.
CHAPTER 28
Fireheart sprang forward and burst through the curtain of lichen. Tigerclaw and Bluestar were writhing on the floor of the den. Bluestar’s claws scored again and again across Tigerclaw’s shoulder, but the deputy’s greater weight kept her pinned down in the soft sand. Tigerclaw’s fangs were buried in her throat, and his powerful claws raked her back.
“Traitor!” Fireheart yowled. He flung himself at Tigerclaw, slashing at his eyes. The deputy reared back, forced to release his grip on Bluestar’s throat. Fireheart felt his claws rip through the deputy’s ear, spraying blood into the air.
Bluestar scrambled to the side of the den, looking half stunned. Fireheart could not tell how badly hurt she was. Pain lanced through him as Tigerclaw gashed his side with a blow from his powerful hindpaws. Fireheart’s paws skidded in the sand and he lost his balance, hitting the ground with Tigerclaw on top of him.
The deputy’s amber eyes blazed into his. “Mousedung!” he hissed. “I’ll flay you, Fireheart. I’ve waited a long time for this.”
Fireheart summoned every scrap of skill and strength he possessed. He knew Tigerclaw could kill him, but in spite of that he felt strangely free. The lies and the need for deceit were over. The secrets—Bluestar’s and Tigerclaw’s—were all out in the open. There was only the clean danger of battle.
He aimed a blow at Tigerclaw’s throat, but the deputy swung his head to one side and Fireheart’s claws scraped harmlessly through thick tabby fur. But the blow had loosened Tigerclaw’s grip on him. Fireheart rolled away, narrowly avoiding a killing bite to his neck.
“Kittypet!” Tigerclaw taunted, flexing his haunches to pounce again. “Come and find out how a real warrior fights.” He threw himself at Fireheart, but at the last moment Fireheart darted aside. As Tigerclaw tried to turn in the narrow den, his paws slipped on a splash of blood and he crashed awkwardly onto one side.
At once Fireheart saw his chance. His claws sliced down to open a gash in Tigerclaw’s belly. Blood welled up, soaking into the deputy’s fur. He let out a high-pitched caterwaul. Fireheart pounced on him, raking claws across his belly again, and fastening his teeth into Tigerclaw’s neck. The deputy struggled vainly to free himself, his thrashing growing weaker as the blood flowed.
Fireheart let go of his neck, planting one paw on Tigerclaw’s outstretched foreleg, and the other on his chest. “Bluestar!” he called. “Help me hold him down!”
Bluestar was crouching behind him in her moss-lined nest. Blood trickled down her forehead, but that did not alarm Fireheart as much as the look in her eyes. They were a vague, cloudy blue, and she stared horror-struck in front of her as if she was witnessing the destruction of everything she had ever worked for.
When Fireheart spoke, she jumped like a cat woken suddenly from sleep. Moving with dreamlike slowness, she crossed the den and pinned herself across Tigerclaw’s hindquarters, trapping him. Even with wounds that would have stunned a lesser cat, Tigerclaw still fought to free himself. His amber eyes burned with hatred as he spat curses at Fireheart and Bluestar.
A shadow fell across the entrance to the den and Fireheart heard hoarse, ragged breathing. He turned his head, expecting to see one of the invaders, but it was Graystripe. Dismay flooded over Fireheart at the sight of his friend. He was bleeding heavily from his flank and one foreleg, and blood bubbled from his mouth as he stammered, “Bluestar, we—” He broke off, staring. “Fireheart, what’s happening?”
“Tigerclaw attacked Bluestar,” Fireheart told him quickly. “We were right all along. He is a traitor. He brought the rogues to attack us.”
Graystripe went on staring, and then shook himself as if he had just climbed out of deep water. “We’re losing the fight,” he meowed. “There are too many of them. Bluestar, we need your help.”
The leader looked at him but did not reply. Fireheart could see that her eyes were still dull and unseeing, as if the discovery of the truth about Tigerclaw had bruised her spirit beyond repair.
“I’ll come,” Fireheart offered. “Graystripe, can you help Bluestar hold on to Tigerclaw? We’ll deal with him when the battle’s over.”
“You can try, kittypet,” Tigerclaw sneered through a mouthful of sand.
Graystripe limped across the den and took Fireheart’s place, planting his claws on Tigerclaw’s chest. For a heartbeat Fireheart hesitated, uncertain that wounded Graystripe and Bluestar in a state of shock would be a match for Tigerclaw. But the deputy was still losing blood, and his struggles were definitely getting weaker. Swiftly Fireheart turned and raced outside again.
At first glance the clearing seemed to be filled with rogues, as if all the ThunderClan warriors had been driven out. Then Fireheart caught a glimpse of familiar shapes here and there—Longtail squirming underneath a huge tabby tom; Patchpelt scrabbling just out of reach of a skinny gray outlaw, whirling around to rake his nose with outstretched claws before he hurled himself at the rogue’s belly.
Fireheart tried to collect his strength. The fight with Tigerclaw had exhausted him, and the wounds where the deputy had clawed him burned like fire. He did not know how long he could keep on. He rolled over instinctively as a ginger she-cat tried to drive her claws into his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a lithe, blue-gray body racing across the clearing, yowling a challenge.
Bluestar! he thought in astonishment, and wondered what had happened to Tigerclaw. Then he realized that the warrior he had seen was not Bluestar. It was Mistyfoot!
With a massive effort Fireheart tore free of the ginger cat and scrambled to his paws. RiverClan warriors were pouring out of the tunnel. Leopardfur, Stonefur, Blackclaw…After them came Whitestorm and the rest of his patrol. They were strong and full of energy, and they fell on the invaders with claws outstretched and tails lashing in fury.
Terrified by the sudden appearance of reinforcements, the rogue cats scattered. The ginger she-cat fled with a shocked howl. Others followed her. Fireheart staggered a few paces in pursuit, hissing and spitting to speed them on their way, but there was no need. Surprised when they thought their victory was certain, and leaderless now that Tigerclaw had been caught, the rogues had no fight left in them.
Within a few heartbeats, they were gone. The only enemy remaining was Brokentail, bleeding badly from head and shoulders. The blind cat scrabbled on the ground, mewling faintly like a sick kit.
The RiverClan cats were gathering together again with murmurs of concern as Fireheart limped across to them. “Thank you,” he meowed. “I’ve never been so glad to see any cat in my life.”
“I recognized some of the old ShadowClan warriors,” Leopardfur told him gravely. “The ones who left with Brokenstar.”
“
Yes.” Fireheart didn’t want to say anything yet about Tigerclaw’s involvement. “How did you know we needed help?” he asked, puzzled.
“We didn’t,” replied Mistyfoot. “We came to talk to Bluestar about—”
“Not now,” Leopardfur interrupted, though Fireheart guessed that Mistyfoot was going to say, “about the kits.” “ThunderClan needs time to recover.” She dipped her head graciously toward Fireheart. “We are glad to have helped. Tell your leader we will return soon.”
“Yes, I will,” Fireheart promised. “And thanks again.” He watched the RiverClan cats leave, then looked around, feeling his shoulders sag with tiredness. The clearing was littered with blood and fur. Yellowfang and Cinderpaw were beginning to examine the injured cats. Though Fireheart hadn’t noticed them in the fighting, they both bore the marks of enemy claws.
He took a deep breath. It was time to deal with Tigerclaw, but he did not know if he could summon the strength. His wounds throbbed with pain, and every muscle in his body shrieked a protest with each step. As he limped toward Bluestar’s den, a voice sounded behind him. “Fireheart! What happened?”
He turned to see Sandstorm, newly returned at the head of her hunting patrol, with Cloudpaw panting just behind her. She was staring around the clearing as if she couldn’t believe what she saw.
Fireheart shook his head wearily. “Brokentail’s outlaws,” he grunted.
“Again?” Sandstorm spat with disgust. “Maybe Bluestar will think twice about sheltering Brokentail now.”
“It’s more complicated than that.” Fireheart felt unable to explain right then. “Sandstorm, will you do something for me, and not ask questions?”
Sandstorm gave him a suspicious look. “Depends what it is.”
“Go to Bluestar’s den and deal with what you find there. Better take another warrior too—Brackenfur, will you go? Bluestar will tell you what to do.”
At least, I hope so, Fireheart added to himself as Sandstorm, still frowning, jerked her head at Brackenfur and headed for the Highrock. Out of everything that had happened, what disturbed Fireheart most was how Bluestar seemed to have lost her will to lead her Clan.
Fireheart stood numbly in the center of the clearing, watching as Yellowfang examined Brokentail and then began half pushing, half dragging him toward her den. The former ShadowClan leader was barely conscious, and a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. She obviously still cares for him, Fireheart thought in confusion. Even after all this, she can’t forget he was once her kit.
Turning away from Yellowfang, Fireheart saw Sandstorm emerging from the den beneath the Highrock. She was followed by Tigerclaw, who struggled forward with an odd, lurching gait. His fur was matted with dust and blood, and one eye was half closed. He stumbled to a halt and collapsed in front of the rock.
Brackenfur trailed him closely, alert for any sign that the deputy intended to attack or flee. Behind him came Bluestar. Her head was drooping and her tail dragged in the dust. Fireheart’s worst fears flooded back. The strong leader Fireheart had respected seemed to have vanished, leaving instead this frail, wounded cat.
Last of all, Graystripe limped out of the den and sank down on his side in the shade of the Highrock. Cinderpaw hurried over to him and began to inspect his wounds with an anxious frown.
Bluestar raised her head and looked around. “Come here, all of you,” she rasped, beckoning with a flick of her tail. While the rest of the Clan were gathering, Fireheart padded over to Cinderpaw. “Can you give Tigerclaw anything for his wounds?” he asked. “Something to ease the pain?” He thought he had wanted to defeat Tigerclaw more than anything, but now he found he could not bear the sight of the once-great warrior bleeding to death in the dust.
Cinderpaw looked up from her examination of Graystripe. To Fireheart’s relief, she didn’t challenge his request for her to treat the treacherous deputy. “Sure,” she meowed. “I’ll fetch something for Graystripe as well.” She limped away in the direction of Yellowfang’s den.
The Clan cats had taken their places by the time she returned. Fireheart could see them looking at one another, uneasily wondering what all this might mean.
Cinderpaw limped over with a wad of herbs in her mouth. She dropped some of them beside Tigerclaw, and gave the rest to Graystripe. The deputy sniffed the leaves suspiciously and then began to chew them.
Bluestar watched him for a moment and then began to speak. “I present you with Tigerclaw, now a prisoner. He—”
A chorus of worried murmurs interrupted her. The Clan cats were looking at each other in shock and dismay. Fireheart could see they did not understand what was happening.
“A prisoner?” Darkstripe echoed. “Tigerclaw’s your deputy. What has he done?”
“I’ll tell you.” Bluestar’s voice sounded more even now, but Fireheart could see the effort it was costing her. “Just now, in my den, Tigerclaw attacked me. He would have killed me if Fireheart hadn’t arrived in time.”
The sounds of protest and disbelief swelled even louder. From the back of the crowd, an elder let out an eerie wailing. Darkstripe got to his paws. He was one of Tigerclaw’s strongest supporters, Fireheart knew, but even he was looking uncertain. “There must be some mistake,” he blustered.
Bluestar raised her chin. “Do you think I can’t tell when a cat tries to murder me?” she enquired dryly.
“But Tigerclaw—”
Fireheart sprang up. “Tigerclaw is a traitor to the Clan!” he spat. “He brought the rogue cats here today.”
Darkstripe rounded on him. “He’d never have done that. Prove it, kittypet!”
Fireheart glanced at Bluestar. She nodded and beckoned him forward. “Fireheart, tell the Clan what you know. Everything.”
Fireheart padded slowly to her side. Now that the moment for revealing everything had come, he felt strangely reluctant. It was as though he were pulling down the Highrock, and nothing would ever be the same again. “Cats of ThunderClan,” he began. His voice squeaked like a kit’s, and he paused to control it. “Cats of ThunderClan, do you remember when Redtail died? Tigerclaw told you that Oakheart killed him, but he was lying. It was Tigerclaw who killed Redtail!”
“How do you know?” That was Longtail, with the usual sneer on his face. “You weren’t at the battle.”
“I know because I talked to someone who was,” Fireheart replied steadily. “Ravenpaw told me.”
“Oh, very useful!” growled Darkstripe. “Ravenpaw’s dead. You can tell us he said anything, and nobody can prove you wrong.”
Fireheart hesitated. He had kept the truth about Ravenpaw’s escape a secret to protect him from Tigerclaw, but now that Tigerclaw was a prisoner, there could be no more danger. And he needed to reveal everything. “Ravenpaw isn’t dead,” he explained quietly. “I took him away after Tigerclaw tried to kill him for knowing too much.”
More uproar, as each cat yowled their questions and protests. While Fireheart waited for them to settle down again, he glanced at Tigerclaw. As Cinderpaw’s herbs did their healing work, the huge tabby had begun to recover some of his strength. He pushed himself onto his haunches and sat staring out over the crowd with eyes like stones, as if he were challenging any cat to come too close. The news about Ravenpaw must have shocked him, but he did not show it by a single twitch of his whiskers.
When the turmoil showed no sign of dying down, Whitestorm raised his voice. “Quiet! Let Fireheart speak.”
Fireheart dipped his head in thanks to the older warrior. “Ravenpaw told me that Oakheart died when rocks fell on him. Redtail fled from the rockfall, and ran straight into Tigerclaw. Tigerclaw pounced on him and killed him.”
“It’s true.” Graystripe raised his head from where he still lay in the shade, with Cinderpaw pressing herbs to his wounds. “I was there when Ravenpaw told Fireheart all this.”
“And I’ve spoken to cats from RiverClan,” Fireheart added. “They tell the same story, that Oakheart died in a rockfall.”
Firehe
art expected more noise then, but it never came. An eerie hush had fallen on the Clan. Cats were staring at one another as if they could find a reason for these terrible revelations in the faces of their friends.
“Tigerclaw expected to be made deputy then,” Fireheart went on. “But Bluestar chose Lionheart instead. Then Lionheart died fighting ShadowClan, and at last Tigerclaw achieved his ambition. But being deputy wasn’t enough for him. I…I think that he even laid a trap for Bluestar beside the Thunderpath, but Cinderpaw was caught in it instead.” He glanced at Cinderpaw as he spoke, to see her eyes widen and her jaws open in a gasp of surprise.
Bluestar too looked astonished. “Fireheart told me his suspicions,” she murmured. Her voice shook. “I didn’t—I couldn’t—believe him. I trusted Tigerclaw.” She bowed her head. “I was wrong.”
“But how could he expect to be made leader if he killed you?” asked Mousefur. “The Clan would never support him.”
“I think that’s why he planned this attack the way he did,” Fireheart ventured. “I guess he meant us to think that one of the outlaws killed Bluestar. After all”—Fireheart’s voice grew hard—“who would expect Tigerclaw, the loyal deputy, to lay a claw on his leader?” He fell silent. His whole body was quivering and he felt as limp as a newborn kit.
“Bluestar,” Whitestorm spoke up. “What will happen to Tigerclaw now?”
His question set off a crescendo of furious yowling from the Clan.
“Kill him!”
“Blind him!”
“Drive him out of the forest!”
Bluestar sat motionless, her eyes closed. Fireheart could feel the pain coming off her in waves, the bitter shock of betrayal as she discovered that the deputy she had trusted for so long was black at heart. “Tigerclaw,” she meowed at last, “have you anything to say in your defense?”
Tigerclaw swung his head around and fixed her with a yellow glare. “Defend myself to you, you gutless excuse for a warrior? What sort of a leader are you? Keeping the peace with other Clans. Helping them! You barely punished Fireheart and Graystripe for feeding RiverClan, and you sent them to fetch WindClan home! I would have never shown such kittypet softness. I would have brought back the days of TigerClan. I would have made ThunderClan great!”