Sandstorm sprang forward and burst through the curtain of lichen. Goldenflower and Oakstar were writhing on the floor of the den. Oakstar's claws scored again and again across Goldenflower's shoulder, but the deputy's greater weight kept her pinned down in the soft sand. Goldenflower's fangs were buried in her throat, and his powerful claws raked her back.
"Traitor!" Sandstorm yowled. He flung himself at Goldenflower, slashing at his eyes. The deputy reared back, forced to release his grip on Oakstar's throat. Sandstorm felt his claws rip through the deputy's ear, spraying blood into the air.
Oakstar scrambled to the side of the den, looking half stunned. Sandstorm could not tell how badly hurt she was. Pain lanced through him as Goldenflower gashed his side with a blow from his powerful hindpaws. Sandstorm's paws skidded in the sand and he lost his balance, hitting the ground with Godlenflower on top of him.
The deputy's yellow eyes blazed into his. "Mouse dung!" he hissed. "I'll flay you, Sandstorm. I've waited a long time for this."
Sandstorm summoned every scrap of skill and strength he possessed. He knew Goldenflower could kill him, but in spite of that he felt strangely free. The lies and the need for deceit were over. The secrets—Oakstar's and Goldenflower's—were all out in the open. There was only the clean danger of battle.
He aimed a blow at Goldenflower's throat, but the deputy swung his head to one side and Sandstorm's claws scraped harmlessly through thick tabby fur. But the blow had loosened Goldenflower's grip on him. Sandstorm rolled away, narrowly avoiding a killing bite to his neck.
"Kittypet!" Goldenflower taunted, flexing his haunches to pounce again. "Come and find out how a real warrior fights." He threw himself at Sandstorm, but at the last moment Sandstorm darted aside. As Goldenflower tried to turn in the narrow den, his paws slipped on a splash of blood and he crashed awkwardly onto one side.
At once Sandstorm saw his chance. His claws sliced down to open a gash in Goldenflower's belly. Blood welled up, soaking into the deputy's fur. He let out a high-pitched caterwaul. Sandstorm pounced on him, raking claws across his belly again, and fastening his teeth into Goldenflower's neck. The deputy struggled vainly to free himself, his thrashing growing weaker as the blood flowed.
Sandstorm let go of his neck, planting one paw on Goldenflower's outstretched foreleg, and the other on his chest. "Oakstar!" he called. "Help me hold him down!"
Oakstar was crouching behind him in her moss-lined nest. Blood trickled down her forehead, but that did not alarm Sandstorm as much as the look in her eyes. They were a vague, cloudy amber, and she stared horror-struck in front of her as if she was witnessing the destruction of everything she had ever worked for.
When Sandstorm spoke, she jumped like a cat woken suddenly from sleep. Moving with dreamlike slowness, she crossed the den and pinned herself across Goldenflower's hindquarters, trapping him. Even with wounds that would have stunned a lesser cat, Goldenflower still fought to free himself. His yellow eyes burned with hatred as he spat curses at Sandstorm and Oakstar.
A shadow fell across the entrance to the den and Sandstorm heard hoarse, ragged breathing. He turned his head, expecting to see one of the invaders, but it was Silverstream. Dismay flooded over Sandstorm at the sight of his friend. He was bleeding heavily from his flank and one foreleg, and blood bubbled from his mouth as he stammered. "Oakstar, we—" He broke off, staring. "Sandstorm, what's happening?"
"Goldenflower attacked Oakstar," Sandstorm told him quickly. "We were right all along. He is a traitor. He brought the rogues to attack us."
Silverstream went on staring, and then shook himself as if he had just climbed out of deep water. "We're losing the fight," he meowed. "There are too many of them. Oakstar, we need your help."
The leader looked at him but did not reply. Sandstorm could see that her eyes were still dull and unseeing, as if the discovery of the truth about Goldenflower had bruised her spirit beyond repair.
"I'll come," Sandstorm offered. "Silverstream, can you help Oakstar hold on to Goldenflower? We'll deal with him when the battle's over."
"You can try, kittypet." Goldenflower sneered through a mouthful of sand.
Silverstream limped across the den and took Sandstorm's place, planting his claws on Goldenflower's chest. For a heartbeat Sandstorm hesitated, uncertain that wounded Silverstream and Oakstar in a state of shock would be a match for Goldenflower. But the deputy was still losing blood, and his struggles were definitely getting weaker. Swiftly Sandstorm turned and raced outside again.
At first glance the clearing seemed to be filled with rogues, as if all the Thunderclan warriors had been driven out. Then Sandstorm caught a glimpse of familiar shapes here and there—Longtail squirming underneath a huge tabby she-cat; Patchpelt scrabbling just out of reach of a skinny gray outlaw, whirling around to rake her nose with outstretched claws before she hurled herself at the rogue's belly.
Sandstorm tried to collect his strength. The fight with Goldenflower had exhausted him, and the wounds where the deputy had clawed him burned like fire. He did not know how long he could keep on. He rolled over instinctively as a ginger tom tried to drive his claws into his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a lithe body racing across the cleaning, yowling a challenge.
Oakstar! He thought in astonishment, and wondered what had happened to Goldenflower. Then he realized that the warrior he had seen was not Oakstar. It was Blackclaw!
With a massive effort Sandstorm tore free of the ginger cat and scrambled to his paws. Riverclan warriors were pouring out of the tunnel. Leopardfur, Stonefur, Mistyfoot... After them came Brindleface and the rest of his patrol. They were strong and full of energy, and they fell on the invaders with claws outstretched and tails lashing in fury.
Terrified by the sudden appearance of reinforcements, the rogue cats scattered. The ginger tom fled with a shocked howl. Others followed him. Sandstorm staggered a few paces in pursuit, hissing and spitting to speed them on their way, but there was no need. Surprised when they thought their victory was certain, and leaderless now that Goldenflower had been caught, the rogues had no fight left in them.
Within a few heartbeats, they were gone. The only enemy remaining was Brokentail, bleeding badly from head and shoulders. The blind cat scrabbled on the ground, mewling faintly like a sick kit.
The Riverclan cats were gathering together again with murmurs of concern as Sandstorm limped across to them. "Thank you," he meowed. "I've never been so glad to see any cat in my life."
"I recognized some of the old Shadowclan warriors," Leopardfur told him gravely. "The ones who left with Brokenstar."
"Yes." Sandstorm didn't want to say anything yet about Goldenflower's involvement. "How did you know we needed help?" he asked, puzzled.
"We didn't," replied Blackclaw. "We came to talk to Oakstar about—"
"Not now," Leopardfur interrupted, though Sandstorm guessed that Blackclaw was going to say, "about the kits." "Thunderclan needs time to recover." He dipped his head graciously toward Sandstorm. "We are glad to have helped. Tell your leader we will return soon."
"Yes, I will," Sandstorm promised. "And thanks again." He watched the Riverclan cats leave, then looked around, feeling his shoulders sag with tiredness. The clearing was littered with blood and fur. Raggedpelt and Cinderpaw were beginning to examine the injured cats. Though Sandstorm hadn't noticed them in the fighting, they both bore the marks of enemy claws.
He took a deep breath. It was time to deal with Goldenflower, but he did not know if he could summon the strength. His wounds throbbed with pain, and every muscle in his body shrieked a protest with each step. As he limped toward Oakstar's den, a voice sounded behind him. "Sandstorm! What happened?"
He turned to see Fireheart, newly returned at the head of her hunting patrol, with Brightpaw panting just behind her. She was staring around the clearing as if she couldn't believe what she saw.
Sandstorm shook his head wearily. "Brokentail's outlaws," he grunted.
"Again?" Fireheart spat with disgust. "Maybe Oakstar will think twice about sheltering Brokentail now."
"It's more complicated than that," Sandstorm felt unable to explain right then. "Fireheart, will you do something for me, and not ask questions?"
Fireheart gave him a suspicious look. "Depends what it is."
"Go to Oakstar's den and deal with what you find there. Better take another warrior too—Sorreltail, will you go? Oakstar will tell you what to do."
At least, I hope so, Sandstorm added to himself as Fireheart, still frowning, jerked her head at Sorreltail and headed for the Highrock. Out of everything that had happened, what disturbed Sandstorm most was how Oakstar seemed to have lost her will lead her Clan.
Sandstorm stood numbly in the center of the clearing, watching as Raggedpelt examined Brokentail and then began half pushing, half dragging her toward her den. The former Shadowclan leader was barely conscious, and a trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth. She obviously still cares for her, Sandstorm thought in confusion. Even after all this, she can't forget she was once her kit.
Turning away from Raggedpelt, Sandstorm saw Fireheart emerging from the den beneath the Highrock. She was followed by Goldenflower, who struggled forward with an odd, lurching gait. His fur was matted with dust and blood, and one eye was half closed. He stumbled to a halt and collapsed in front of the rock.
Sorreltail trailed him closely, alert for any sign that the deputy intended to attack or flee. Behind him came Oakstar. Her head was drooping and her tail dragged in the dust. Sandstorm's worst fears flooded back. The strong leader Sandstorm had respected seemed to have vanished, leaving instead this frail, wounded cat.
Last of all, Silverstream limped out of the den and sank down on his side in the shade of the Highrock. Cinderpaw hurried over to him and began to inspect his wounds with an anxious frown.
Oakstar raised her head and looked around. "Come here, all of you," she rasped, beckoning with a flick of her tail. While the rest of the Clan was gathering, Sandstorm padded over to Cinderpaw. "Can you give Goldenflower anything for his wounds?" he asked. "Something to ease the pain?" He thought he had wanted to defeat Goldenflower more than anything, but now he found he could not bear the sight of the once-great warrior bleeding to death in the dust.
Cinderpaw looked up from his examination of Silverstream. To Sandstorm's relief, he didn't challenge his request for him to treat the treacherous deputy. "Sure," he meowed. "I'll fetch something for Silverstream as well." He limped away in the direction of Raggedpelt's den.
The Clan cats had taken their places by the time he returned. Sandstorm could see them looking at one another, uneasily wondering what all this might mean.
Cinderpaw limped over with a wad of herbs in his mouth. He dropped some of them beside Goldenflower, and gave the rest to Silverstream. The deputy sniffed the leaves suspiciously and then began to chew them.
Oakstar watched him for a moment and then began to speak. "I present you with Goldenflower, now a prisoner. He—"
A chorus of worried murmurs interrupted her. The Clan cats were looking at each other in shock and dismay. Sandstorm could see they did not understand what was happening.
"A prisoner?" Darkstripe echoed. "Goldenflower's your deputy. What has he done?"
"I'll tell you." Oakstar's voice sounded more even now, but Sandstorm could see the effort it was costing her. "Just now, in my den, Goldenflower attacked me. He would have killed me if Sandstorm hadn't arrived in time."
The sounds of protest and disbelief swelled even louder. From the back of the crowd, an elder let out an eerie wailing. Darkstripe got to her paws. She was one of Goldenflower's strongest supporters, Sandstorm knew, but even she was looking uncertain. "There must be some mistake," she blustered.
Oakstar raised her chin. "Do you think I can't tell when a cat tries to murder me?" she enquired dryly.
"But Goldenflower—"
Sandstorm sprang up. "Goldenflower is a traitor to the Clan!" he spat. "He brought the rogue cats here today."
Darkstripe rounded on him. "He'd never have done that. Prove it, kittypet!"
Sandstorm glanced at Oakstar. She nodded and beckoned him forward. "Sandstorm, tell the Clan what you know. Everything."
Sandstorm padded slowly to her side. Now that the moment for revealing everything had come, he felt strangely reluctant. It was as though he were pulling down the Highrock, and nothing would ever be the same again. "Cats of Thunderclan," he began. His voice squeaked like a kit's, and he paused to control it. "Cats of Thunderclan, do you remember when Redtail died? Goldenflower told you that Bluefur killed her, but he was lying. It was Goldenflower who killed Redtail!"
"How do you know?" That was Longtail, with the usual sneer on her face. "You weren't at the battle."
"I know because I talked to someone who was," Sandstorm replied steadily. "Patchpaw told me."
"Oh, very useful!" growled Darkstripe. "Patchpaw's dead. You can tell us she said anything, and nobody can prove you wrong."
Sandstorm hesitated. He had kept the truth about Patchpaw's escape a secret to protect her from Goldenflower, but now that Goldenflower was a prisoner, there could be no more danger. And he needed to reveal everything. "Patchpaw isn't dead," he explained quietly. "I took her away after Goldenflower tried to kill her for knowing too much."
More uproar, as each cat yowled their questions and protests. While Sandstorm waited for them to settle down again, he glanced at Goldenflower. As Cinderpaw's herbs did their healing work, the huge tabby had begun to recover some of his strength. He pushed himself onto his haunches and sat staring out over the crowd with eyes like stones, as if he were challenging any cat to come too close. The news about Patchpaw must have shocked him, but he did not show it by a single twitch of his whiskers.
When the turmoil showed no sign of dying down, Brindleface raised his voice. "Quiet! Let Sandstorm speak."
Sandstorm dipped his head in thanks to the older warrior. "Patchpaw told me that Bluefur died when rocks fell on him. Redtail fled from the rockfall, and ran straight into Goldenflower. Goldenflower pounced on her and killed her."
"It's true." Silverstream raised his head from where e still lay in the shade, with Cinderpaw pressing herbs to his wounds. "I was there when Patchpaw told Sandstorm all this."
"And I've spoken to cats from Riverclan," Sandstorm added. "They tell the same story, that Bluefur died in a rockfall."
Sandstorm expected more noise then, but it never came. An eerie hush had fallen on the Clan. Cats were staring at one another as if they could find a reason for these terrible revelations in the faces of their friends.
"Goldenflower expected to be made deputy then," Sandstorm went on. "But Oakstar chose Frostfur instead. Then Frostfur died fighting Shadowclan, and at last Goldenflower achieved his ambitions. But being deputy wasn't enough for him. I... I think that he even laid a trap for Oakstar beside the Thunderpath, but Cinderpaw was caught in it instead." He glanced at Cinderpaw as he spoke, to see his eyes widen and his jaws open in a gasp of surprise.
Oakstar too looked astonished. "Sandstorm told me his suspicions," she murmured. Her voice shook. "I didn't—I couldn't—believe him. I trusted Goldenflower." She bowed her head. "I was wrong."
"But how could he expect to be made leader if he killed you?" asked Mousefur. "The Clan would never support him."
"I think that's why he planned this attack the way he did," Sandstorm ventured. "I guess he meant us to think that one of the outlaws killed Oakstar. After all"—Sandstorm's voice grew hard—"who would expect Goldenflower, the loyal deputy, to lay a claw on his leader?" He fell silent. His whole body was quivering and he felt as limp as a newborn kit.
"Oakstar," Brindleface spoke up. "What will happen to Goldenflower now?"
His question set off a crescendo of furious yowling from the Clan.
"Kill him!"
"Blind him!"
"Drive him out of the forest!"
Oakstar sat motionless, her eyes closed. Sandstorm could feel the pain coming off her in waves, the bitter shock of betrayal as she discovered that the deputy she had trusted for so long was black at heart. "Goldenflower," she meowed at last, "have you anything to say in your defense?"
Goldenflower swung his head around and fixed her with a yellow glare. "Defend myself to you, you gutless excuse for a warrior? What sort of leader are you? Keeping the peace with other Clans. Helping them! You barely punished Sandstorm and Silverstream for feeding Riverclan, and you sent them to fetch Windclan home! I would have never shown such kittypet softness. I would have brought back the days of Tigerclan. I would have made Thunderclan great!"
"And how many cats would have died for it?" Oakstar murmured, almost to herself. Sandstorm wondered if she was thinking of Snowfur, the arrogant, bloodthirsty warrior she could not have let become deputy instead of her. "If you have nothing else to say, then I sentence you to exile," the leader announced, her voice cracking. Every word seemed to be dragged out of her. "You will leave Thunderclan territory now, and if any cat sees you here after sunrise tomorrow, they have my permission to kill you."
"Kill me?" Goldenflower spoke now, snarling his defiance. "I'd like to see any of them try."
"Sandstorm beat you," Silverstream called out.
"Sandstorm." Goldenflower turned his yellow eyes on his enemy, and Sandstorm felt his fur prickle at the look of unfettered hatred there. "Cross my path again, you stinking furball, and we'll see who's the stronger."
Sandstorm leaped to his paws, anger lending him energy. "Anytime, Goldenflower," he spat.
"No," Oakstar growled. "No more fighting. Goldenflower, leave our sight."
Slowly Goldenflower got up. His massive head swiveled back and forth as he scanned the crowd of cats. "Don't think I'm finished," he hissed. "I'll be a leader yet. And any cat who comes with me will be well looked after. Darkstripe?"
Sandstorm craned his neck to see Goldenflower's chief follower. He waited for Darkstripe to get up and go to Goldenflower, but the sleek tabby remained in her place, her shoulders hunched wretchedly.
"I trusted you, Goldenflower," she protested. "I thought you were the finest warrior in the forest. But you plotted with that... that tyrant"—Sandstorm knew she was speaking of Brokentail—"and you said nothing to me. And now you expect me to come with you?" She looked away deliberately.
Goldenflower shrugged. "I needed Brokentail's help to make contact with the rogue cats. If you choose to take this personally, that's your problem," he growled. "Longtail?"
Longtail gave a nervous start. "Come with you, Goldenflower? Into exile?" Her voice shook. "I... no, I can't. I'm loyal to Thunderclan!"
And you're a coward, Sandstorm added silently, catching the fear-scent as Longtail shrank back into the crowd of cats.
For the first time, a look of uncertainty flickered across Goldenflower's face, as the few cats he had trusted turned him down. "What about you, Ferncloud?" he demanded. "You'll have richer pickings with me than ever you will in Thunderclan."
The young pale gray cat got deliberately to his paws and picked his way through the surrounding cats until he stood in front of Goldenflower. "I looked up to you," he meowed in a clear, level voice. "I wanted to be like you. But Redtail was my mentor. I owe her more than any cat. And you killed her." Grief and fury made his limbs shake, but he kept going. "You killed her and betrayed the Clan. I'd rather die than follow you." He turned and stalked away.
A murmur of appreciation rose from the listening cats, and Sandstorm heard Brindleface whisper, "Well said, youngster."
"Goldenflower," Oakstar broke in. "No more of this. Go now."
Goldenflower drew himself up to his full height, his eyes blazing in cold fury. "I'm going. But I'll be back; you can be sure of that. I'll be revenged on you all!" He padded unevenly away from the Highrock. As he drew close to Sandstorm he paused, drawing his lips back in a snarl. "And as for you..." he hissed. "Keep your eyes open, Sandstorm. Keep your ears pricked. Keep looking behind you. Because one day I'll find you, and then you'll be crow-food."
"You're crow-food now," Sandstorm retorted, struggling to hide the fear that crawled along his spine.
Goldenflower spat, then turned and walked away. The Clan cats parted to let him through, every eye tracking him as he went. The great warrior was not completely steady on his paws—his wounds must be bothering him in spite of Cinderpaw's herbs, Sandstorm realized—but he did not stop or look back. The gorse tunnel swallowed him up and he was gone.