Shadows on the Mountain, page 22
Map
Contents
Cover
Map
Title Page
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
About the Author
Books by Erin Hunter
Back Ads
Copyright
About the Publisher
Prologue
Currents of warm air lifted Freewing the martial eagle, raising her so far above the plains of Bravelands she could see it all: the distant mountains in the west, the forests that wound with the silver rivers, the eastern lakes that bordered the sweeping grass plains. The sky was cloudless today, the air crystal-clear, and the golden land below Freewing was clear to her keen dark eyes. The herds thrived; masses of wildebeests, buffalo, and zebras moved below her, following their ancient migration paths. Rivers and lakes glittered in the high noonday sun. Freewing saw the smudged gray line of an elephant family trekking northward and a spattering of yellow dots that were a grazing herd of gazelles.
But she would not find her prey on the plains, not today. She had cared for her chick for long weeks, rarely leaving their nest of sticks high in a solitary fever tree. Now Stormrider’s baby down was almost gone, replaced by feathers, and it would not be long till he began to stretch his young wings and grow into his name. It was Freewing’s time to hunt again, and she had taken gladly to the skies. Her mate, Strongbeak, would guard both nest and chick until she returned with her promised treat: a monitor lizard.
There was only one place she knew where such a prize was guaranteed: the slopes of the Rock That Touches the Sky. Tilting her feathertips, Freewing gazed toward the great eastern mountain, towering misty blue in the distance over the savannah. As she soared toward it, its color became darker, greener, till she could make out each individual tree in the forests that swathed its peaks and gullies. Ridges of pale rock jutted from its thick shroud of foliage, and sloping boulders. It was on one of them that she saw what she was searching for.
The spotted brown lizard basked on the flat stone in a patch of sun, between a narrow creek and a dark cave in the rocks. Its tongue flicked lazily. Not the largest lizard Freewing had ever caught, but more than big enough to feed hungry eagles, and she would carry this one home easily to her mate and her chick. Thanks be to the Great Spirit!
She was very high still; the lizard would never know what killed it. Tightening her wings closer to her body, adjusting her tail feathers, Freewing swooped out of the sun.
How good it felt, this headlong downward dive, the cool wind racing across her feathers. She was close now, and the flat rock was rushing toward her. She extended her talons to grasp her sleepy prey—
—And was engulfed in a cloud of blackness that sent her spiraling out of control. She flapped desperately, trying to regain her balance, as a multitude of tiny creatures whirled around her. There were so many of them, she could no longer see rock or tree or creek, let alone lizard. The air itself seemed to churn, sparking panic in her breast. She gasped, trying to dodge free of the shrill, squeaking horde.
Bats. How she hated them, and that abomination of a language—Skytongue warped by hissing Grasstongue! In the chaos of the air around her, it took Freewing long moments to find her composure. At last, beating her wings strongly, she burst out of the throng and flapped toward the nearest branch.
She perched there, trembling with fury, as the storm of tiny black wings passed. Of course the bats were not attacking her. They were not even interested in her. But what had possessed them to flee their dingy tunnels in the daytime? Freewing caught only snatches of their squeaking hisses, but there was little to be learned anyway; there was only fear and desperation in their voices.
“Fly fly! Quick quick!”
“Be sssswift, Silverfang!”
“Ssswift and far, ssssoar away far!”
Bewildered, Freewing watched as the cloud of bats dwindled in the distance beyond a forested ridge of the mountain. Doubting even her own eyes, she glanced at the sky.
No, the sun was still high. What could drive them into the midday sunlight? What were they so scared of?
She turned her head and gazed with curiosity at the cave mouth by the rocks. But even her powerful eyes could not penetrate that blackness. As she stared, the very stillness of the black maw made a new trepidation stir inside her. Something cold rippled through her body, and for a moment she could not move.
Freewing turned back to the lizard. It had not been frightened away by the bats, nor by Freewing herself—even though it now clearly knew that she was there. Its yellow eyes met hers, and they were filled with . . . what was that look? Was it mockery?
Something in the lizard’s nonchalant gaze chilled Freewing’s blood. It should have fled at first glimpse of her, yet it perched there unafraid, almost daring her to attack. . . . The heavy dread was swamped by fear, and she spread her wings and flapped into the air once again.
Besides, even if that lizard offered itself to her belly up, she would not return for it. Freewing shuddered as she flew higher and faster into the sky.
Something lurked in that black cave. It must never emerge: Freewing knew that with the deepest instincts in her body. She would find today’s prey on the savannah after all—far from that unseen presence, and the dark, oozing evil it breathed into the air of Bravelands.
Chapter One
Bramble Greenback, sitting on the branch of an ironwood tree, rubbed his back lazily against the fissured bark behind him. It was an idle sort of day, but then all Bramble’s days were idle. That was just how he liked it. It was easy for a young gorilla to pass his time in the forest. There were so many distractions to enjoy, so many pranks to play, beneath the cover of the dense green canopy.
Grinning, he parted the twigs with his fingers and peered down through the glossy green leaves. Yes, Groundnut Blackback was still sitting there at the foot of the ironwood, glancing in perplexity from side to side and looking grumpy. Groundnut wasn’t that bright, for a senior gorilla. He should have worked out long ago where the tiny missiles were coming from.
Bramble pulled another fistful of little black fruits from their stalk. Nibbling his tongue in concentration, he leaned down and dropped them.
Bang! They hit the crown of Groundnut’s head perfectly. The old gorilla gave a growl of frustration and rubbed his head, craning back to peer angrily into the tree. But Bramble had already shrunk behind the foliage, barely able to keep from stifling giggles.
The branch beneath Bramble jerked and swayed a little, and he glanced up to see his half sister, Moonflower, had swung over from the neighboring tree. She approached him carefully, a mango clutched in her hand as she negotiated the leafy boughs. “Bramble, what are you up to now?”
“I can’t think what you mean,” said Bramble, widening his eyes in shocked innocence.
“You know perfectly well. Don’t you ever get tired of teasing poor Groundnut?”
“Never.” Bramble grinned mischievously. “Don’t be mad at me, Moonflower. I’m very good at making my own entertainment.” His eyes drifted to the mango in Moonflower’s grip, so velvety and red and gold that he couldn’t help licking his lips.
“I can’t ever be too mad at you.” She offered the mango, smiling indulgently. “You want it, little brother?”
“Yes, I do!” Bramble reached out to take it from her, and she dropped it into his waiting palm.
Or she tried to. Bramble, half his focus still on the grumbling Groundnut below, wasn’t paying enough attention. The mango slipped from his palm.
“Oh no!” he gasped, snatching wildly for the lost mango. But it was no use. It bounced down through the foliage, falling jerkily toward the earth. He stared down, feeling his loss grow along with his anxiety as it plummeted farther and farther. It won’t hit Groundnut. . . . It won’t. . . .
With a last wild bounce from a forked branch, the mango dropped straight onto Groundnut’s patchy-furred head. It shattered on impact.
“Well, that was a ripe one,” remarked Moonflower.
Groundnut surged up from the ground, roaring in anger and thumping his chest. He spun around and reared upright to stare into the tree. Yellow pulp slid and dripped down the big gorilla’s face and snout, but Bramble didn’t even have time to snigger. There certainly wasn’t time to hide. Groundnut’s glittering eyes had already locked with his.
“Oh no,” groaned Bramble.
“You!” bellowed Groundnut. Reaching up, he seized branches in both fists and shook them violently. The whole tree began to sway as he tore and yanked at its lower boughs.
“Whoa!” exclaimed Moonflower, tottering where she stood.
“We’re doomed,” blurted Bramble. He grabbed at a branch, missed, and toppled sideways.
She jumped to her feet, unhurt, and grabbed his arm. “Run!”
Twisting, she slammed her hands knuckle-first into the soft forest loam and loped away on all fours. Bramble had to duck before he could run—to dodge Groundnut’s wild grab—but as soon as he was free and clear, he bolted after Moonflower. The big gorilla gave chase, but half-heartedly, and he halted after a few bounding paces, panting.
“You insolent little monkey!” bellowed Groundnut, slamming his fists into the ground. “I’ll tell your father Burbark Silverback about this. Just you see if I don’t!”
“Tell him whatever you like!” yelled Bramble cheekily. “I’m not scared!” He kept loping at top speed all the same, following Moonflower as she charged through a group of peacefully grooming Goldbacks. The females glanced up in irritation but made no attempt to stop the two youngsters.
“He’s given up!” barked Bramble to his half sister when they were clear of the Goldbacks. “Groundnut gave up ages agoooooh!”
A huge fist clamped around his hind foot, swinging him up into the air. His heart lurched as the forest flipped upside down, but it wasn’t Groundnut who held him by the ankle.
“Cassava Brightback! Let me go!” Bramble wriggled and flapped his arms ineffectually. “Put me down, you big lunk!”
“Not till you tell me what you’ve been up to, you young scoundrel.” Cassava’s face was fierce and stern, as befitted the heir to the troop’s leadership—but his eyes twinkled; they always did.
“Absolutely nothing at all.” Still upside down, Bramble folded his arms and pouted at his older brother.
Gently, Cassava set him down, upright, on the forest floor. “Well, behave yourself. You’re three years old, young gorilla—you should be learning responsibility!”
“I’m very responsible,” Bramble insisted.
“Yes, you’re responsible for all the mischief around here,” growled Cassava. “Go on then, get along with you. And don’t venture far from the nests at this time of the evening!”
“Don’t worry about me.” Bramble reared up and pounded his chest grandly with his fists. “I’m as strong as any creature on this mountain. Haven’t you seen the silver hairs coming through on my back?” He twisted and pointed over his shoulder to show Cassava.
There was silence behind him. Bramble craned his head around to look at his brother, who had leaned close to peer and frown and scratch his head. As Bramble gave an indignant grunt, Cassava leaned even closer, pressing his snout right against Bramble’s back.
“Nope,” came Cassava’s muffled voice. “Can’t make ’em out at all.”
Moonflower laughed as Bramble slapped his brother away. Cassava was grinning.
“Moonflower, your mother was looking for you,” said the older gorilla.
“Was she? I’ll go find her.” Moonflower smiled. “Bye, you two!” She loped off through the trees.
“Oh, thanks very much, Cassava,” grumbled Bramble. “Moonflower and I were having great fun. We were livening up everyone’s day, that’s all!”
“Nobody needs their day livened like that. Just thank the Great Spirit for a quiet life.” Cassava swiped affectionately at the top of Bramble’s head. “You could have all the excitement of the plains instead—you know, starvation, floods, being chased by crocodiles or eaten by lions. . . .”
“I could handle a lion,” sniffed Bramble.
“Ha! Have you ever seen one?”
Bramble glowered at his brother. “Well, no.”
“They’re terrifying.” Cassava’s eyes widened and he spread his paws wide, his fingers hooked into pretend claws. “Golden like the sun, and twice the size of gorillas. They have manes of black fur, and tails that sting. And burning red eyes, and long pointed tusks!”
Bramble shuddered. He wasn’t so sure anymore that he really wanted a showdown with a lion. “Tusks and a stinger?”
“Yup.” Cassava nodded. “They’re dangerous at both ends.” He rubbed Bramble’s head affectionately. “If you want something useful to do, young gorilla, you could go see our father at his nest and take him some fruit.”
“Isn’t he busy?” Bramble wrinkled his snout. “He doesn’t like being interrupted when he’s busy. . . .”
Cassava shook his head, looking suddenly more serious. “Father hasn’t been himself lately. I think he’d appreciate your company.” He passed Bramble a bunch of green bananas, then winked knowingly. “But no dropping them on his head, okay?”
Bramble grinned ruefully. “I won’t.”
He crept through the trees toward his father’s nest. Bramble loved his father, of course, but he was in awe of him, too. When Burbark was in a good mood and feeling tolerant, there was nobody Bramble would rather talk to. But Bramble had had many a snap or a swiped paw when he’d disturbed Burbark at the wrong moment.
As Bramble pushed through the last veil of foliage, he saw that his father had his back turned. Burbark was staring out into the forest, his massive shoulders hunched slightly. Bramble would never stop being impressed by the vastness and strength of that muscular back, with its gleaming silver hair.
Bramble came to a halt, digging his knuckles into the forest litter; he felt pride swell in his chest. He might not be the Brightback and heir, future protector of the troop, as Cassava was, but he was still the son of this magnificent leader.
Burbark seemed very still and focused, and as Bramble crept closer he heard his father muttering to himself under his breath. He wasn’t sure Cassava had been right; maybe he should turn around and go back the way he’d come. . . .
No, that was ridiculous. His father was alone, so he clearly wasn’t preoccupied with troop business or discussions.
“Father?” Bramble said.
Burbark did not immediately turn, and Bramble frowned in uncertainty. Usually, Burbark would shout in delight and give his younger son a grin—even while scolding him for the disturbance.
After long moments, Burbark’s shoulder twitched, and the muttering stopped abruptly. Burbark twisted his head and blinked at Bramble. Then he swung around.
His dark eyes were glazed and distant, and he said nothing. Suddenly nervous, Bramble crept forward and laid the green bananas at his father’s feet. Still Burbark did not move; he just scratched at his wrist, where a small snake had bitten him a few days before.
“How is the troop?” asked Burbark vaguely.
On another day, Bramble might have mentioned the incident with the mango, but his father seemed in no mood for jokes now. He barely seemed there at all.
I guess he has important business on his mind after all.
“They’re well,” he replied. “I brought you something to eat, Father.”
Burbark cast an eye at the bananas, but then looked away, scratching his arm once more.
The flesh looked raw and painful, and Bramble was surprised that it hadn’t yet healed. It was a sore that had done in his mother, starting as a nasty gash from a splintered branch, but worsening until she could no longer keep her food down. His father and older brother hadn’t let him see her near the end, but he remembered her groans of pain through the trees as the Goldbacks tended to her. He’d tried to talk to the Great Spirit, to beg for his mother’s life, but she had died anyway.
“Why don’t you ask one of the Goldbacks to look at your arm?” he said.
“Hunh. A Silverback can’t go running to the Goldbacks like an infant every time he gets a scratch.” Burbark scowled. “I must show myself to be strong, for the sake of the troop. You’ll learn that one day.”
Feeling a trickle of hot shame in his gut, Bramble nodded. “Yes, Father. I know. You’re right.”
Burbark at last cracked half a smile. “I am always right, Bramble.”
Yes, he always was, thought Bramble. And despite his boasts to Cassava and Moonflower, Bramble couldn’t imagine ever being a powerful and confident Silverback like his father.
Burbark was still watching him in silence; he was clearly not in the mood for a chat, whatever Cassava had said. Bramble dipped his head. “I’ll be going, then.”
Burbark nodded. He turned again to stare into the forest, but as Bramble began to turn away, he glanced back over his shoulder.
