Veil Of Shadows

Chapter 19

Shadowsight slid into shelter under a bush at the edge of the exiles’ camp. Every day since the Gathering had been dark and dreary, with hardly any respite from the inexorable wind and rain. Now, as darkness fell, the clouds seemed to be breaking up, but the waning moon was weak and pallid, shedding hardly any light over the clearing.

Cats filled the camp: most of ShadowClan, all the exiles, and the surviving members of the rebel group. Shadowsight drank in their mingled scents, but he could see little more than their dark shapes and the occasional gleam of eyes.

Tigerstar was standing on a flat rock beside the stream, his head raised as he addressed the crowd. “I’ve spoken to Puddleshine,” he announced, “and he told me what happened at last night’s half-moon meeting. Puddleshine, I think we all need to hear this.”

I wish I’d been there, Shadowsight thought wistfully, knowing that he wasn’t strong enough yet to travel as far as the Moonpool.

The medicine cat, who was sitting at the base of the rock where his Clan leader stood, rose to his paws. “I don’t believe Flipclaw even knew he should come. But at the meeting, Kestrelflight and Willowshine both promised to let their leaders know about Rootspring’s seeing Bramblestar’s ghost, how he showed us a blurry form that might have been that ghost, and what Shadowsight claims he saw while he was between worlds,” he announced.

“What about the way Alderheart was exiled and Flipclaw was forced to take his place?” Frecklewish asked.

“Yes, that too,” Puddleshine meowed. “So earlier today they paid me a visit to tell me how their leaders took it.”

“That’s good,” Crowfeather commented. “What happened?”

“According to Kestrelflight and Willowshine,” Puddleshine replied, “Mistystar and Harestar both had . . . spirited discussions with their deputies and their most trusted warriors.”

Crowfeather let out a snort of wry amusement. “Spirited, hmm? So how much fur was flying?”

Tigerstar batted at Crowfeather with his tail, though the WindClan cat was too far away for the slap to connect. “That’s not helping,” Tigerstar growled.

“Tigerstar, let me explain,” Puddleshine mewed swiftly. “Apparently Mistystar decided that all the evidence was coming from cats she didn’t know well enough to trust, and she couldn’t turn on another leader without StarClan’s guidance. In the end, she still believes that Bramblestar knows the most about how to get StarClan back.”

“And Harestar?” Crowfeather asked.

“He said Rootspring and Shadowsight had always been a bit odd—”

“No argument there,” some cat murmured out of the darkness.

Shadowsight didn’t know whether to be amused—because he had to admit there was some truth in what Harestar had said—or indignant that his pain and the risks he had taken were being brushed aside like flies hovering over fresh-kill.

“Then Harestar said there were few cats he trusted more than Bramblestar,” Puddleshine continued. “And he desperately needs StarClan’s favor to return prey to the moor. Both he and Mistystar will still support Bramblestar.”

“But what about Alderheart and Flipclaw?” Squirrelflight asked. “Didn’t that mean anything to Kestrelflight and Willowshine?”

“They were both shocked by it,” Puddleshine told her. “I think that’s what made them decide to pass on all the news to their leaders. But it didn’t make any difference to Harestar or Mistystar.”

“Great StarClan, what will it take?” Crowfeather snarled, while murmurs of frustration and disgust rose up from the other cats.

“That’s the problem,” Tigerstar meowed, raising his tail for silence. “RiverClan and WindClan believe that their only hope of seeing StarClan again lies with Bramblestar, so they will never see the bad in him. There’s no hope of winning more allies to our side.” He paused for a heartbeat, then added, “It’s time to attack—even if we are outnumbered. We have to kill Bramblestar.”

“No!” Shadowsight instinctively let out the cry of protest. “How could we kill him?” he continued, as every cat, including Tigerstar, swiveled to stare at him. “Bramblestar isn’t just some bad cat. He isn’t himself. There is something inside him, something evil. But we know from Rootspring that Bramblestar’s ghost is still around here somewhere.”

Now every cat looked toward Rootspring. Shadowsight expected support from him, but the young warrior avoided his gaze, shaking his head sadly.

“I haven’t seen Bramblestar’s ghost for a full moon now,” he confessed. “I’m afraid he’s . . . faded.” At last he looked Shadowsight in the eye, and went on. “I’m very sorry to say this, but I’m not sure there is a real Bramblestar anymore. Our chance to save him may have passed.”

Shadowsight stared back at Rootspring, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. He wanted to protest, to yowl out his fervent belief that there still was a chance to restore the real Bramblestar.

But before Shadowsight could utter a sound, the scene in front of him changed. Flames roared upward, cutting him off from the rest of the cats, consuming everything. He recognized the same vision he had received before he killed Bramblestar’s body, the one that had convinced the other medicine cats that his visions were real.

In that vision, fire had divided all the Clans. This time, Shadowsight began to move with the flames, through the forest and up onto the moors. He paused, looking down at the Moonpool. As he set paw on the spiral path, the flames around him died, and he let out a gasp as he found himself back in the exiles’ camp.

None of the other cats seemed to have noticed anything. Squirrelflight had sprung up beside Tigerstar on the flat rock, arguing with vehement gestures of her tail. “I’m telling you that Bramblestar can be killed,” she insisted. “Or at least his body can. And then what will happen to the real Bramblestar’s spirit?”

“I don’t know,” Tigerstar growled in response. “What concerns me is the thing inside him. That has to be stopped, once and for all, before it destroys the Clans. We must attack. We have no other choice.”

“I understand, Tigerstar,” Squirrelflight mewed. “But please—could you just capture Bramblestar, and not kill him? As a prisoner, he couldn’t do any more damage, but it would give us a chance to find the real Bramblestar and reunite him with his body.” As she finished speaking, Squirrelflight’s figure seemed to sag and she let out a long sigh.

It pained Shadowsight to see the brave and determined she-cat so discouraged. He realized that she, too, was beginning to lose hope that the real Bramblestar would ever come back. It made his own hope start to wither like a seedling under the fierce sun of greenleaf.

“Maybe we could take him prisoner,” Lionblaze agreed. “But are we right to attack at all? Can we be sure that we’re strong enough to defeat the impostor?”

“We’re strong enough,” Crowfeather growled, narrowing his eyes at his son. “Just let me get my claws in him!”

“But if we fail,” Lionblaze argued, “then our entire rebel group will be wiped out. There would be nothing to stop the false Bramblestar controlling all the Clans.”

Instantly cats began to raise their voices in support of one warrior or the other, and for a moment Shadowsight was afraid that the meeting would break up into groups of squabbling cats. Then Tigerstar let out a loud caterwaul.

“Silence!” he ordered. “The time has come to attack! Getting rid of that mangy interloper is worth the risk. We can never be sure we’re strong enough, but this is the right thing to do, even if we may not win! We are warriors! Are we afraid of a cat who doesn’t even have his own body?”

Yowls of “No! No!” came from the ShadowClan cats around him. The cats from other Clans seemed surprised by Tigerstar’s fervent speech, but inspired enough to join in. Even Shadowsight was impressed, though he still felt uneasy about the attack.

Will it feed the flames of my vision, dividing the Clans? he wondered. Or will it stop them?

“We are agreed, then?” Tigerstar continued in a quieter voice, once the clamor had died down. “We will attack in two sunrises. And,” he added, with a glance at Squirrelflight, “if possible we will take Bramblestar prisoner.”

Squirrelflight nodded. “In two sunrises,” she repeated, though Shadowsight could see the fear and misgivings in her eyes.

Fire blazed up around Shadowsight, though he couldn’t feel any heat from the flames. He knew that he was lying curled up in his nest in the medicine cats’ den, but he also seemed to be hovering over the lake with the Clans’ territories spread out beneath him.

Just as in his first vision of fire, the flames were encroaching on the Clans, slowly devouring them. Shadowsight could hear the despairing wails and shrieks of agony of cats trapped in the blaze. The water level fell in the lake, as if some gigantic mouth were sucking it down, and a cloud of steam billowed up, obliterating Shadowsight’s vision.

“Help! Help!”

Shadowsight stiffened as he heard the voice, weak and faint as if it had reached him from an immense distance. Somehow he knew it was coming from the Moonpool.

It’s . . . it’s Bramblestar!

At that moment Shadowsight startled awake in his own nest. Puddleshine was asleep at the far side of the den, letting out gentle little snores. Everything seemed peaceful, but Shadowsight knew that he had been given a task.

I have to find the real Bramblestar. But how do you find a ghost?

He closed his eyes and concentrated. Bramblestar’s voice had come from the Moonpool. What did that mean? Was Bramblestar there? What did it mean, to be at the Moonpool as a ghost? Wherever Bramblestar was, he needed help.

A heartbeat later, Shadowsight knew what he had to do.

Shadowsight searched among Puddleshine’s herb stores until he found what he needed. For a moment he hesitated, thinking of Tigerstar and Dovewing, and what they would say if they knew what he meant to do. Then he looked at Puddleshine, so close to him, and he remembered his other Clanmates, and the cats of the other Clans, all of them in desperate need. With his resolve strengthened, he chewed and swallowed.

Shadowsight was shocked by how fast the berry worked. Almost at once he felt waves of heat sweeping through him. His throat tightened and he choked, struggling to breathe. Darkness swirled around him, and he felt himself falling.

Shadowsight opened his eyes to find himself in the forest; a pale glow surrounded him, like a bubble of mist. There was no sound or scent of any other cats, and nothing to tell him exactly where he was.

He had been afraid that he would have to make the long trek to the Moonpool, but as soon as he visualized the waterfall cascading down the rocks and into the pool, he found himself standing at the top of the spiral path.

Good, he thought. It worked!

Shadowsight padded down the path and approached the water’s edge, leaning over to stare down into the pool. What was my dream trying to tell me? he asked himself.

Crouching down, he closed his eyes and pressed his nose to the icy surface of the water. At once he could hear the weak voice again. “Help! Help!”

Shadowsight opened his eyes and gasped at what he could see, deep, deep beneath the surface of the water: Bramblestar’s hazy amber eyes, staring at him with a look of desperation. “Help!” the voice came again.

“I must have bees in my brain to be doing this,” Shadowsight muttered to himself as he rose and stood poised at the very edge of a rock that overhung the pool. He wasn’t a RiverClan cat, and he knew he couldn’t swim.

But I’m between worlds. . . . Maybe my ghost can swim? Or maybe a ghost can’t drown?

Before his fear could overwhelm him completely, Shadowsight leaped into the waters of the Moonpool. He sank down, down, farther down, his ears filled with the sound of rushing water.

He couldn’t see Bramblestar’s eyes any longer, and darkness was growing all around him. Was it all a trick? Shadowsight wondered. What if I’m just dying?

Then, through the darkness, Shadowsight made out something below him: branches growing up from the bottom of the Moonpool, tangled with vines and bramble tendrils. Unable to stop himself, he plunged into the middle of them and felt the vines winding themselves around his legs and tail. When he fought to free himself, the bramble thorns tore at his fur.

Even though in his spirit form Shadowsight didn’t need to breathe, panic overtook him and he began to struggle. But his thrashing only weakened him, tangling him further in the thorns. He knew that he ought to go on fighting, but his whole body was crying out for rest. His strength ebbing, he closed his eyes. His body grew limp, and he did not move again.

As he came to himself, Shadowsight realized that he was no longer in the waters of the Moonpool. He was lying on something soft; the tangling vines and tearing brambles were gone. He opened his eyes and staggered to his paws.

All around Shadowsight stretched massive trees, as far as he could see. Grass covered the ground, with thickets of fern and bramble here and there; in the darkness they looked like huge, crouching animals waiting to pounce.

When Shadowsight raised his head, he could see nothing but blackness beyond the interlacing branches; there was not even a glimmer of light from the moon or stars.

And there never will be, Shadowsight thought, a deep shudder running through his body from ears to tail-tip, for he realized now where he was. This is the Dark Forest . . . the Place of No Stars.

Terror swelled inside him as he took in his surroundings. The only light came from thick fungus growing on the trunks of the trees, which let out a sickly, pale glow. The sweetish scent of rotting crow-food filled the air; Shadowsight swiped his tongue over his jaws in a vain attempt to get rid of the taste.

How do I get out of here? he thought. Then he braced himself. He knew that he had been led here for a purpose; all he had to do was discover what that purpose was.

He remembered what the false Bramblestar had said about connections between worlds . . . if a cat was clever enough to find them. Is this how the impostor got to the lake?

Shadowsight began to explore, taking a random path among the trees. Out of the corner of his eye he could glimpse dark flickers, but when he turned to confront the movement, there was nothing there. Distant echoes reached his ears, as if he could hear the voices of cats stranded here. But he couldn’t see them; they felt just out of reach.

Once, this place must have been full of cats, Shadowsight thought, remembering the stories the older warriors told of how the first Tigerstar had trained the Dark Forest cats for a battle against the living Clans. Many of those warriors had died in the battle, and now the forest was almost deserted.

But not quite. Shadowsight shivered. Are any of the survivors here now? Are they watching me? His pelt prickled with apprehension, but as he padded on, no cat appeared to challenge him. Gradually he grew calmer.

Then through the trees he spotted what at first he thought was a particularly large bramble thicket. As he drew closer, he saw that it was made out of thorn branches and the whippy shoots of saplings, interlaced with vines and bramble tendrils.

It’s like a den. . . . Is this where the Dark Forest cats live?

Shadowsight’s immediate instinct was to stay far away from the den or mound or whatever it was. It reeked of danger. But then he realized that this might be what he had been sent to find. At the very least, he needed to investigate it.

To begin with, keeping a safe distance, he padded all around the thing in a wide circle. “It can’t be a den,” he murmured. “There’s no entrance.”

Venturing closer, he tried to peer through the branches to see if there was anything inside. To his amazement, he spotted the glint of water. There’s a pool in there! Why would any cat build this thing over a pool?

The chinks in the interwoven branches at ground level were too small to give Shadowsight a good view. Padding around the outside again, he noticed a larger gap a few tail-lengths farther up; letting his spirit form float upward, he hooked his claws onto the branch below the gap and tried to peer through.

An ivy tendril was blocking his view, and without thinking Shadowsight raised a paw to brush it aside. To his surprise, the tendril moved easily, and he was able to drape it over a nearby jutting twig.

Interesting, he thought. So even though I’m a spirit, I can move things here.

With the obstacle out of the way, Shadowsight could see the surface of the pool, and he let out a gasp of wonder and amazement. From side to side the whole of the water was glittering with innumerable stars. For a moment he thought it was reflecting a cloudless starry night, but there were no stars above, only the dark tangle of interwoven branches.

“What is that?” Shadowsight meowed aloud. “Is it StarClan?”

Then he realized that if he could truly see StarClan shining from the pool, then the mound he was clinging to must be a barrier.

And if it is . . . is this what is keeping StarClan away from the living Clans? Did a cat build this?

He pushed his paws against the woven branches, then braced himself and heaved at them with his shoulder, but they wouldn’t move, and the gap was far too small for him to climb through. At last, exhausted, he gave up, resting his head against the branches that framed the gap. For a few heartbeats more Shadowsight let his gaze rest on the beauty of StarClan. “I will release you,” he promised. “I don’t know how, yet, but I will do it.”

Then he let himself drop from the side of the barrier and turned back to the forest, eager now to find a way out.

With no idea which direction he should follow, Shadowsight let his paws take him where they wanted, weaving aimlessly through the trees. He tried not to look too deeply into the shadows, or try to imagine what might be waiting to drop onto him from the branches above.

He had lost count of how long he had been wandering in the pallid light of the fungi when he thought he heard a faint cry coming from somewhere ahead. He halted, angling his ears forward to listen.

The cry came again, and now Shadowsight could distinguish the words. “Help! Help me!”

Bramblestar was calling me from the Moonpool, he thought with quickening excitement. That could be his voice!

Without hesitating, Shadowsight set off toward the sound, picking up the pace until he was racing along with his tail streaming out behind him and his belly fur brushing the grass. The cries grew louder, and at last he could work out where they were coming from: a vast oak tree covered in fungus and lichen, with vines hanging from its branches like the tails of crouching predators.

Shadowsight halted, his chest heaving for breath as he stared at the tree. His first thought had been that he must free any cat in danger under this starless sky, but now he wondered whether the voice was a trap.

How could Bramblestar’s spirit have ended up here? he asked himself.

More cautiously now, he prowled forward, encircling the tree from a few fox-lengths away. On the far side he spotted a wide gash in the trunk, blocked by branches crisscrossing from one side to the other, with brambles, twigs, and debris shoved into the gaps. The voice was coming from behind the barrier.

“Help me!”

I was right—I know that voice! Shadowsight realized, a thrill of excitement pulsing through him from his ears to the ends of his claws. “Bramblestar?”

“Yes, it’s me!” There was sudden hope in the voice behind the barrier, though it was still very weak. “Who’s there?”

“It’s Shadowsight. Wait—I’ll get you out.”

Sliding out his claws, Shadowsight began to tug at the branches, but they were all too heavy for him to move. What I need is a couple of strong warriors! Instead he began to claw at the bramble tendrils, ignoring the thorns that caught in his fur and pierced his pads. When he had dragged away several of the tendrils, Shadowsight tore at the smaller debris until he had opened up a narrow gap at the bottom of the gash in the trunk. Peering through it, he spotted a hunched tabby shape and the gleam of intense amber eyes.

“It is you, Bramblestar!” Shadowsight exclaimed. “Can you get out through here? I don’t think I can move the heavy branches.”

“I’ll try.”

Shadowsight was doubtful as he watched Bramblestar’s spirit trying to squeeze himself through the tiny space, remembering what a big cat he was in the living world. But somehow the ThunderClan leader managed to haul himself into the open, where he collapsed, wheezing.

“Thank you, Shadowsight,” he gasped when he could speak. “I thought I would never get out. I was too weak to move that stuff, and getting weaker.”

“But how did you get in there?” Shadowsight asked eagerly. “Which cat—”

Shadowsight broke off as, without warning, he felt his legs begin to shake. Losing his balance, he fell to the ground. He could hear voices echoing from far away.

“Puddleshine! Do something!”

“I’m fetching yarrow.”

Bramblestar scrambled to his paws and came to Shadowsight’s side. “What’s the matter?” he asked anxiously.

Shadowsight tried to respond, but his belly was convulsing. Bitter bile rose up into his throat. All around him the trees of the Dark Forest were fading, and he could make out the shadowy outlines of more cats bending over him.

“I’m . . . waking up!” he gasped out.

“Then take me with you!” Bramblestar meowed urgently. “I can—”

The rest of the ThunderClan leader’s words were lost on Shadowsight’s next breath. His eyes flew open and he found himself sprawled on his side in the medicine cats’ den. A pool of vomit lay on the ground beside him, speckled with the bright red spots of the deathberry he had eaten.

Somewhere nearby he could hear his father yowling. “Shadowsight, what have you done?”

With difficulty Shadowsight managed to sit up. He was frustrated to be dragged away from Bramblestar’s spirit just when he was on the point of learning what cat had stolen Bramblestar’s body, but very glad to be back home. He could still smell the stink of rotten fungus, but he was safely away from the grim territory of the Dark Forest.

Blinking, he saw Puddleshine crouching at his side, a leaf of yarrow in his claws. Tigerstar was standing over him, his horrified gaze fixed on his son.

“It’s okay,” Shadowsight reassured his father. His throat hurt and his voice was hoarse. “I knew what I was doing. And now I know what’s keeping StarClan away.”