Ratha's Courage (30 page)

Thakur looked at the ground between his paws, already missing Ratha deeply. “The usurpers won’t be scared off. For one thing, they have the Red Tongue. For another, they have Fessran and other Firekeepers. New Singer can force the females to fight back with torches, so we’d be facing our own sisters, daughters, and mates.”

A discouraged silence fell over the group.

“What about treelings?” asked Ashon. “Treelings can hold torches, and they can throw things. They can climb trees and drop rocks.”

“We could use the tree-creatures if we have to,” rumbled Cherfan, giving Bira’s treeling a lick that nearly soaked Cherfaree. “We don’t have that many, though. I’d hate to see them get hurt or killed.”

Thakur nuzzled Aree and agreed with Cherfan, adding that he didn’t feel it was right to risk their little companions in such an attempt.

“Well, if the Red Tongue and treelings are out, what else do we have?” Cherfan asked grumpily.

“Herdbeasts!” came a squeak from an unexpected corner.

Mondir made a disgusted grimace and several other males got dismissive looks on their faces. “Oh, that’s just Mishanti,” someone said.

“I thought he was supposed to be sleeping with the cubs,” someone else said, and others added that this was clan business and no place for a half-grown runt who had no right to be in this gathering, much less to speak out.

“He does have a right to speak,” Thakur interrupted, and turned to Cherfan. “You are leader now. Decide.”

“Let my friend have his say,” Bundi said. “Sometimes he’s pretty smart.”

Cherfan raised himself up. “Mishanti, let’s hear you.”

Bundi pushed Mishanti to the center of the gathering.

“Herdbeasts,” Mishanti said, with less of a squeak in his voice. “You told me how the last part of the herd nearly got trapped. Thakur made the animals trample the enemy guards. You got the herd out safely.”

“A stampede?” Cherfan peered at Mishanti.

“Right through the center of clan ground. Knock those belly-biters right off their paws.”

“I should have thought of that myself,” Thakur answered.

“Thistle did it, too, when she rescued her water-horses. When I lived with her. Remember?”

Thakur paused, thinking. A mass of galloping herdbeasts could be unstoppable, especially if they appeared in the enemy’s camp without warning. Effective, possibly, he thought, but difficult to control and direct.

“It would be pretty powerful, especially if we put our face-tails at the front.” This was from Mondir.

“If the stampede gets out of control, the beasts could trample the fire-den and kill the females,” Khushi said.

“He’s right about that, especially if the face-tails were in front,” Cherfan said in an aside to Thakur.

“If it failed, we’d lose the beasts we just recaptured,” someone
else wailed. “Not even putting face-tails at the front
would save the herd. Those hunters know how to kill face-tails.”

The discussion continued, agitated and noisy. What we need, Thakur thought, is a beast that the raiders can’t kill and that we can control.

Mishanti had crawled back over to Bundi, seeking shelter from the storm of talk around him.

“Clan leader,” said Bundi to Cherfan, “Mishanti has something else to say.”

An idea popped into the herding teacher’s mind as the cub began to speak in a squeaky voice.

“Raiders can’t kill our rumblers. Use them!”

The reaction began, louder than before.

“Those things?”

“They aren’t herdbeasts, they’re disasters.”

“That’s the stupidest idea I ever heard.”

“Mishanti, the herders don’t know how to manage them. Or if they can even be controlled,” said Thakur, wishing that the youngster had indeed come up with a workable solution.

The uproar began again, but this time Bundi’s voice broke through.

“Wait. It will work. Listen.”

Cherfan quelled the noise with the lift of a heavy paw as Bundi said, “Mishanti and me make the rumblers go where we want by sitting on their heads and pushing their ears.”

The chatter died as the Named males stared at one another.

“Bumbling around in the forest is one thing,” Mondir said scornfully. “We’re taking about a stampede, stripling.”

“We do ride them fast,” Mishanti piped up. “Remember when they wrecked the dens? We got them out of there fast. Still got in trouble, though.”

“Herding teacher,” said Cherfan, turning to Thakur, “you’re the expert. Could it be done?”

Thakur was already rising to his feet, lifted by a sudden hope. “Mishanti, Bundi, show me how you ride your rumblers. Mondir, come with me and bring a torch, but don’t get too close to the creatures. The rest of you stay here.”

In a flash he was out of the refuge, followed by Mishanti and Bundi, Mondir was last, bearing a torch and keeping his distance.

Thakur galloped as fast as he could without leaving Bundi and Mishanti behind. He had to find out quickly if the idea would work.

A waxing moon lit the pasture where the rescued herdbeasts had been settled. Standing in their midst were the two rumblers, Grunt and Belch. The enormous but placid creatures mixed peaceably with the three-horns, stripers, and dapplebacks. Their heads swiveled on their huge long necks, acting as lookouts for the smaller herdbeasts. As the rumblers moved, the rest of the herd followed.

Thakur felt an upsurge of real hope. If the herdbeasts would trust and follow the rumblers, the idea might work. Without slacking pace, Mishanti and Bundi called to their two enormous mounts. The rumblers’ horselike ears stood up and their eyes brightened. Clearly they had missed the attention they used to get from their companions.

Running ahead of Thakur, Mishanti and Bundi dashed through the herd to the rumblers. Both leaped onto the towering forelegs and scaled the creatures as if they were trees.

Once settled on the blocky heads and suitably greeted by the long tongues, both rumbler-riders showed Thakur how the ear-control worked. The rumblers were startlingly obedient and surprisingly agile. Thakur feared that some dapplebacks might get trampled when Bundi pivoted Belch around, but the rumbler deftly avoided stepping on anything that moved. The herdbeasts appeared to know that the rumbler wouldn’t harm them. Even though they got out of the way, none of the animals seemed panicked, or even terribly worried. They trailed after the rumblers like cubs after a mother.

Mishanti took his rumbler for a moonlight canter. Although the big limbs moved slowly, each stride covered a surprising amount of distance. At Thakur’s request, each rumbler-rider demonstrated his abilities. When Bundi or Mishanti pushed or batted the big ears forward, the beast moved ahead. Push an ear to the side and the mount turned. Pull both back and the creature carefully reversed.

Thakur was impressed, not only with the performance of the two steeds, but at Bundi’s and Mishanti’s ability to stay aboard. “Their skin is so thick on their heads that they don’t feel our claws,” Bundi yelled down. “We’ve learned how to balance so that we don’t have to use claws as much.”

By swatting both ears down, Bundi and Mishanti asked both rumblers to lower their heads so that the riders could hear and speak to Thakur.

“I think we have a chance,” the herding teacher yowled, rearing up on his hind legs. He asked Mondir to fetch the rest of the clan males to witness an astonishing demonstration.

All weren’t as impressed as Thakur but agreed that it was worth trying. When Thakur communicated that response up to the two rumbler-riders, both gave yowling cheers.

“Yeoowwroo!” crowed Mishanti. “Wait until Ratha sees this!”

“There won’t be much waiting,” Thakur howled back. “We’re going to try it tonight. Are you sure you can stay on?”

After some discussion, both rumbler-pilots agreed to have treelings tie them onto their huge mounts. It would keep them from falling off, even if a rumbler tripped.

Thakur felt his excitement rise as Cherfan guided the rest of the Named males in preparations for the guided stampede. Mishanti was right. When Ratha saw this, she wouldn’t believe her eyes. Not until the wave of herdbeasts washed New Singer and his gang away. Then he, Cherfan, and the other clan males would charge in, sweeping Ratha and her companions to freedom.

Despite all the possible pitfalls, Thakur felt that the controlled stampede would work. It had to, for the Named had no other hope.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The increasing eagerness in the musk of the encircling males had an intoxicating effect on the Named females, enhancing their senses and making them even more hot and itchy.

A large brindled male with gray tear-lines stepped out, neck arched, tail swishing. Another followed him.

Instantly the first turned and lunged at the second, bringing down his front paws in a stamp Ratha could hear. Both reared and boxed one another, dancing back and forth, forepaws moving furiously, heads weaving and snaking.

The females scattered, getting out of their way.

New Singer’s growl brought both rivals back to the circle. A short while later, three hunter males, enticed into the center by the females’ odor, reared and boxed one another. The fight, starting as a sparring match, quickly grew intense. Feints became swats, then bared-claw strikes at faces and shoulders. The metallic tang of blood added to the heady scents roiling in the enclosure.

Ratha concentrated on keeping the females distant from the contesting males, but it was difficult, for she couldn’t tell where a fight would erupt. The Named females were often bowled over and knocked aside.

What was worse, some females were being overcome by the hypnotic effect of the scents, the sounds, and especially the fights. Ratha found herself imagining how Thakur would rear to fend off a rival, his nape and ruff lifting, his paws striking in a blur, his teeth flashing.

She had to shake herself out of the daydream. What was happening to her affected others. A change in Bira’s scent directed Ratha’s stare to the young Firekeeper. With a yowl, Bira threw herself on the ground. She wriggled on her back, sweeping her tail up across her belly to her jaws. Though she started rolling and moaning, Bira clung to her tail tip, biting down hard.

“Stop that!” hissed Fessran.

“I can’t. The smells are too strong,” Bira moaned, through a mouthful of her own fur. “So hot, itch all over . . .”

“Try,”—Fessran bared her teeth—“or
I’ll
scratch your itch.”

Moaning and whimpering, Bira rolled onto her front, her tail still between her teeth.

Ratha gave Fessran a warning spit. She laid a comforting paw on Bira, although the heat waves through her vision made it hard to see beyond her nose.

Nearby, Thistle-chaser curled up into a shivering ball. Ratha herded Thistle and Bira together, guarding them both against another fight between suitors that exploded from the circle.

“Wish Quiet Hunter was here.” Thistle buried her nose in
her tail and closed her eyes. “Want him, want him so much . . .”
Licking Thistle’s nape, Ratha saw her daughter’s ears flatten. “Want him, but better he’s not here. If caught by New Singer’s song, might try to kill us . . . like cubs in nursery.” Thistle’s voice caught. “Still miss him, want him . . .”

“I’m sure Quiet Hunter has gone to Thakur.” Ratha tried to soothe the shaking Thistle. “He’ll be with the others when they rescue us, Thistle. Just stay here. I’ll keep the raiders away from you.”

“Don’t like feelings. Too hot, too dizzy . . . Body going crazy . . . Must be something wrong with me . . . Don’t want to want . . . Not them . . . Hate this!”

“Thistle, what you feel is happening to all of us. It draws us to our mates. There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s just . . . happening at a bad time.”

“Don’t want this heat-thing ever again!” Thistle growled, making Ratha’s belly twist. If this scars Thistle, she might never take a mate, not even Quiet Hunter.

Ratha did not know what else to say. She crouched down over Thistle, shielding her daughter with her body. The males would have to rip her apart to get to her cub.

Thistle shifted under her. “One thing good,” said the small voice from beneath her belly. “You’re with me.”

The mother-rage surging through Ratha kept her heat from seizing her completely, but her head was swimming. She fought back, raising every hair on her body until she thought she must look like a porcupine, but it only made her skin tingle and flush.

She found her head turning, seeking one particular scent in the heady mixture. It came from the pair of moon-glow eyes, the male that had last entered the circle. He was young, slender, enticing, and he looked so much like Thakur. . . .

“Thistle, poke me,” she hissed.

She heard her daughter’s indrawn breath and then a tentative scratch behind her foreleg.

“Harder! Don’t let me get drawn into this.”

She was rewarded with the sting of claws. Ratha would do what she had to. Briefly she ducked and nuzzled the top of her daughter’s head.

I will get you through this.

She lifted her head to the sound of Fessran’s voice. It
sounded slow and fuzzed-out, resonating strangely in her ears.

“Look at Bira,” she heard Fessran say. “A tail-wave ago, she had her tail in her mouth, now she’s down on her forepaws and calling like a randy queen.”

Other sounds drew Ratha’s attention: moaning and yowling. They were not just coming from the males. Again Ratha found her nose turning toward those intensely glowing eyes and this time she had to stop a moan from escaping her own jaws.

“I hate to say this,” Fessran said, her voice laced with desire and dread, “but that big male in the center is smelling awfully good to me.”

Dragging her attention back from the moon-eyed shape in the circle, Ratha forced her rippling gaze back to her friend. Now Fessran and all the others had acquired a warm, glowing halo. Even the males in the circle were starting to look fuzzier and friendlier. Ratha had to struggle to make her tongue form words. “Fess, listen to me. Whatever happens, don’t blame yourself or any of the others.”

“For what?” the Firekeeper purred. “For bringing us all these lovely big toms?”