The Darkest Hour (Warriors 2)

CHAPTER 29

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 seem e d 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.

CHAPTER 30

The clearing fell silent. Blood glistened on the grass as cold sunlight sliced through the trees. Cloudtail struggled to his paws and staggered over to stand beside Firestar, looking down at Scourge’s lifeless black body.

“You did it, Firestar,” he panted. “You saved the forest.”

Firestar gave the young warrior a lick. “We all did,” he meowed. He thought back to the trouble his kin had caused when he first arrived in the forest. In those days, Firestar would never have imagined he could have felt so proud of his wayward nephew. “Go and find Cinderpelt, and get yourself something for those wounds.”

Cloudtail nodded and limped off across the clearing.

Looking around, Firestar saw that warriors from each of the four Clans were gathering around their medicine cats at the edge of the clearing. One had become four again; LionClan was no more.

At first he couldn’t see Sandstorm, and he felt panic welling up inside him. He was not sure he could bear it if he had lost her. Then he saw her stumbling wearily across the clearing. The fur along one flank was stiff with drying blood, but Firestar could see that her injuries were not serious.