The Named: The Complete Series

CHAPTER FOUR

Blue wings fluttered in the boughs above the trail. A volley of squawks broke lose and the two quarreling jays chased each other in and out among the branches. Startled, Ratha glanced up, catching only the flash of white tail feathers as the two combatants disappeared. She had forgotten that birds could be so noisy. The owls and nightjars she saw floating over the meadow at night were utterly silent.

The warm tongue of sunlight washed her back as she emerged from beneath the trees. She felt the heat sink through her fur to her skin and she yawned, feeling lazy. How long had it been since she had seen the full sun of day and heard birds singing? Ever since the first raid, it seemed. Other clan herdfolk had also learned to live by night, guarding their animals from sudden attacks by raiders.

Even their best efforts could only slow the loss of herdbeasts to the enemy. This season was the first time that the number of animals killed exceeded the number of young born, and the clan knew that unbalance could not continue for long. The need for more herders was so great that cubs who had only partially completed their training were taken to guard the herds. Among them was Ratha. She was eager to leave Thakur’s tutelage, for ever since the night of the first raid, she had made little progress and knew that it was because she no longer trusted him. He had refused to answer her questions about the clanless ones and denied that the Un-Named could speak. Later he said he had never hinted that they could. Ratha knew this lie was intended for Meoran’s ears and did not fault Thakur for that. Even when they were alone, he refused her the truth, even as his eyes betrayed his words.

She sensed that there was another fear keeping him silent. When she pressed him to explain, he lost his temper and mocked her. What she had heard, he said, was her own imagination or the sound of the wind in the grass. Only a cub could believe that the Un-Named One spoke. Only a cub.

She knew it was Thakur who had encouraged her, fought for her and had even stood up against her father and the clan leader so that he could train her. At times, her resentment weakened in the face of this knowledge, but she was a clan herder now, with many responsibilities and little time, and Thakur had many new cubs to train. They seldom saw or spoke to each other.

Ratha ambled along the path, her tail swinging, enjoying the morning.

She had already worked the previous night, but when one of the herders who took the day watch fell ill, she had asked to take his place for the sake of a ramble in the sunshine. And, although she wouldn’t admit it to herself, for the chance of seeing Thakur.

She hopped over the stream at the meadow’s edge. The dapplebacks grazed in the shade on the far side. Fessran was there too, showing three fat spotted cubs how to dodge kicks from the feisty little horses. Ratha waved her tail at Fessran and the other herder paused in her lesson.

“Ho, Fessran? Where’s your randy little stallion? I don’t see him.”

“In the thicket, with a mare, as usual,” Fessran answered. “If it weren’t for him, the Un-Named would have eaten all of my flock long ago.”

“What’s he doing?” one of the cubs piped up.

“Making more dapplebacks,” said Fessran.

“Oh.” The youngster looked thoughtful. “Will we see them when he comes out?”

The cub’s teacher grimaced. Ratha gave Fessran a wide-mouthed grin and lolled her tongue out.

“That isn’t the way it happens, Mondir,” said a voice next to the question-asker. Stung, Mondir shoved his muzzle against the other’s nose. “Since you know everything, Bira, you tell me how it happens.”

“I don’t know everything,” the female cub said, wrinkling her nose and sitting down on her tail. “But my lair-mother did tell me it’s something I will do when I am big. And you will too.”

“What? Make dapplebacks?” Mondir protested loudly and then wilted when he saw four tongues lolling at him.

“Yarr! Don’t the lair-mothers teach you litterlings anything?” Fessran grumbled. “Away with you, Ratha!” she growled. “I have cubs to train.”

Ratha grinned at her and jogged away. As she left, she heard Fessran soothing Mondir, who had begun to whimper.

“No, litterling. You won’t make dapplebacks when you grow up. I’ll explain it to you when the lesson is over….”

Ratha trotted toward a flock of three-horned deer and cud-chewers, her charges for the day. It was going to be a lazy morning and an even lazier afternoon. None of the raiders would show their whiskers before dusk. Perhaps she could even cajole one of Fessran’s students into watching the herd while she took a short nap in the sun.

Ratha found the group she had been assigned, circled them once and flopped down on her side, her eyes half-closed, listening to the three-horns tearing up grass. The sounds of grazing were punctuated every once in a while by a rumble or a belch from one of the cud-chewers. Ratha’s whiskers twitched. Those animals were disgusting, but they were also very tasty. One always had to make compromises.

The day’s warmth faded briefly and she opened one eye to see the sun slip behind a cloud. She waited for the cloud to pass and soon felt the warm rays on her coat again. She flicked an ear and glanced up at the shadowed cloudbank gathering on the opposite side of the sky. The rainy season had ended early and spring had been dry. The forest floor had lost its dampness and dried sticks cracked underfoot wherever one went. A little rain might be welcome, if rain was all these clouds would bring, Ratha thought, not particularly liking the look of them.

The clouds began to mass and march across the sky. The air grew still and tense. Ratha stood up. The herdbeasts smelled the oncoming storm and crowded together, jostling each other.

Across the meadow, Ratha could see other herders raising their muzzles to the sky as they stood among the beasts they guarded. Even Fessran had stopped teaching and was shooing her young students back to their mothers’ dens.

The day darkened as the low clouds scudded over the sun. Heat lightning cracked the sky. Thunder grumbled.

Ratha trotted around her charges, glancing from time to time at the other herders and their animals. The herdbeasts milled together, their trotting legs and barrel bodies eclipsing the low, slender forms of their guardians.

Several more clan herders appeared at the trail head and galloped into the meadow. With a twinge of pain, Ratha recognized a familiar coppery coat. She had little time to think about Thakur. The deer and cud-chewers broke into short, nervous runs, and Ratha galloped back and forth, trying to keep the herd together. She loped around with her tongue hanging out, flattening her ears and flinching whenever lightning flashed and thunder boomed above the animals’ bawling.

An old pine had poked its top through the forest canopy near the meadow. Ratha caught a glimpse of the tree before she was blinded by a burst of light; deafened and knocked over by the shock. Ratha rolled to her feet. Nearby, several three-horns had fallen and were staggering up, their eyes wild. Ratha’s gaze swept the meadow. Beasts were running in front of her. Above the thunder came another sound, the sharp crackle of flames. The old pine was burning.

The herders stood with raised hackles as their animals ran past them.

The old tree shot sparks and dropped burning branches, setting the forest alight. The flames rushed and roared, leaping from tree to tree until the fire reached the meadow and the grass began to burn.

“To the creek!” a voice cried, jarring Ratha out of her stupor. Thakur galloped past her, snarling and snapping at the panicked three-horns. “Keep them together, Ratha! Drive them to the creek!”

Other herders bounded to join them. With their help, Ratha and Thakur turned the flock and drove the deer toward the stream at the trail head.

“It isn’t deep enough, Thakur!” Ratha panted, alongside him as they raced after the deer.

“I know, but we can follow it to the river. String them out!” he called to the other herders as the lead animals splashed into the creek. “Keep them in the water!” Herders on both sides of the stream forced the three-horns to wade at the center. Soon there was a line of deer bounding and splashing down the creek. Thakur braked to a stop, balancing himself with his tail. “Next, the dapplebacks,” he said to Ratha. “Come on.”

Together they galloped back to Fessran. The herder was hissing at the horses. Ratha could see that she was terrified by the fire and enraged by her charges’ stupidity.

“They don’t have the sense to run away,” Fessran gasped, coughing. “They run toward it!”

The fire reached into the meadow. It swept after the fleeing creatures, driven and fed by a fitful wind. It blinded them with smoke, choked them with ash and threw cinders on their coats. Ratha joined Fessran and Thakur, helping to drive the dapplebacks into the stream after the deer. The little stallion, maddened by the flames, fought the herders for control of his mares.

Ratha leaped over a low swath of orange fire, nearly singeing her belly. The dappleback stallion broke away from the herd and raced around her. She darted after him, then skidded to a stop, afraid that the rest of the herd would scatter.

“Get him!” Fessran appeared, her eyes watering, her cheek fur smoke-blackened. “I’ll keep the rest of them moving.”

Ratha bounded after the dappleback, now visible only as a shadow in the acrid haze hanging over the grass. A gust of wind cleared the air for a moment and she sighted her quarry. The little stallion reared, squealing and striking out with its four-toed feet. Ratha saw Thakur duck and spring, catching the dappleback’s foreleg in his jaws. He hung on as the horse jerked and wiggled, raking its leg to ribbons against his teeth. Ratha saw him plant his paws in the smoldering ash and drag the crying stallion forward. Thakur’s fur was bristling and his eyes large and wild, but his jaws were locked around the dappleback’s foreleg and he wouldn’t let go. The horse jumped and bucked, pawing at him with its free foot. Behind them, the fire surged, boiling black smoke.

The wind shifted, turning Thakur and the dappleback into shadows in the smoke. Ratha grabbed a breath of clear air and plunged through the haze. The stallion backed, pulling its leg through Thakur’s teeth until its foot was in his mouth. Tongues of flame leaped out. Ratha’s sight blurred, her eyes watering. She heard a high ringing scream from the dappleback’s throat. The horse broke free and toppled backwards into the flames. Ratha saw it rear up again, its back covered with fire. It shrieked once more and fell writhing on its side. Again Thakur darted at it, seized a foreleg and dragged the burning animal through the grass.

“Thakur, leave him!” Ratha called, the hot air searing her throat so that she could barely croak out the words. She galloped after him. He had abandoned the carcass; it lay, its skin curling beneath the flames. She looked for Thakur again, but she couldn’t see anything through the haze. The fire sounded close. Dancing orange surrounded her in all directions and the roar deafened her.

“Cub! This way.”

Ratha wheeled and leaped at the voice, almost landing on top of Fessran. The other herder butted Ratha ahead. The ground dropped away beneath her paws. Water rushed against her chest and dragged at her legs as she floundered in the stream. A splash and Fessran landed beside her.

“Where’s Thakur?”

“I don’t know.”

Ratha’s feet touched the bottom as the downstream current pulled at her sides. The water reflected flame colors from the fire dancing on the shoreline. Cinders shot into the water and died with a hiss.

Ratha slid over a little fall into a pool, bruising her flank on a stone. Fessran slithered down after her and they began to swim, holding their heads above the water. Ahead was the flock of dapplebacks, their wet coats gleaming as they waded in the graveled shallows. A burning twig fell into the stream near Fessran and she veered to one side as it sputtered and sank.

Ratha swam ahead of Fessran, paddling fiercely to keep her head above the water. Her toes scraped gravel and she grounded in the shallows. She pulled herself out, caught up with the wading dapplebacks and wove her way through them. Fessran stayed with the horses and Ratha saw the other herder lift a dripping tail in farewell as she left her behind.

Past the shallows, the stream narrowed and coursed over rocks and boulders. Ratha clambered across the water-worn stones, her pads slipping on algae and moss. As she worked her way downstream, she passed other clan members who hadn’t been in the meadow when the lightning struck. Gray patriarchs, frightened yearlings and mothers with squalling cubs in their jaws swam and waded beside the grim herdfolk as the fire devoured the forest behind them. Rags of flame fluttered on the pines that lined the stream bank and crawled along branches overhead.

Soot filled the air and the fire’s wind seared throats already raw from running. Ratha drew her paws up to her body and submerged herself except for the top half of her head. She tasted muddy water running past her lips and dragging at her whiskers. She let the current carry her, only using her aching legs to pull herself over stones or to claw at the muddy bottom as the stream spilled through rapids.

The creek deepened and quickened, carrying the weary swimmers and their beasts beyond the fire. The air grew cooler above the water and Ratha sucked it into her burning lungs. She could no longer see the herd of three-horns ahead. Some of the forms that drifted past her were moving limply wherever the current pushed them. Frightened, Ratha struck out for shore, but the current was strong and the banks had become muddy cliffs.

The sun glowed red through the gray pall that hung among the trees, staining the stream with blood-color. Ratha felt herself sinking. Water filled her mouth. She strained her head upright, coughing and spitting. The current swept her over a rocky weir and plunged her into a cauldron that spun her around. A new and stronger flow snatched her away from the stream current. Dimly she felt teeth seize her tail and then her ruff, dragging her back against the river’s pull. She floated weakly on her side, her tongue trailing and river water filling her mouth. Her flank bumped something and she felt her wet coat grate on sand as she was hauled onto the beach. Paws and noses nudged her onto her stomach. Her whole body convulsed as she vomited muddy water. She sank back onto her side again, feeling her senses slip away into the darkness.