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"Then it all crashes down
And you break your crown
And you point your finger
But there's no one around
Just want one thing
Just to play the king
But the castle's crumbled
And you're left with just a name
Where's your crown, King Nothing?" - Metallica
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Nine
Three days later, the sky was darkening ominously with the promise of a storm when Clawface came tearing into camp. He was running as though there were hounds hot on his heels. Two tiny kits hung from his mouth by their scruffs and two more rested awkwardly on his shoulders - and though they seemed unhurt, there was blood around his lips. He set his burden down and snapped in between gasps for air, "Someone fetch Brokenstar!"
Brokenstar appeared at the entrance of his den, orange eyes lighting up with twisted glee when he saw the evidence of Clawface's success. "Excellent," he purred. "Well done, Clawface. I knew I could count on you."
Clawface briefly swelled with pride. Then he seemed to remember what had him in such a hurry, and he meowed, "We need to prepare for an attack. ThunderClan will know it was us as soon as they notice these brats are missing."
"Were you seen?" The dark leader's eyes narrowed dangerously.
Clawface shrank back and hurriedly shook his head. "N-no, but...I - well - their medicine cat is dead," he finally managed to spit out. "She must have smelled me, because she was behind their nursery for some reason. I had to kill her."
"What?!"
Iceheart jumped at the outburst. His stomach was churning and anger was constricting his throat, but he hoped he hadn't actually spoken. Drawing Brokenstar's attention to himself was the worst thing he could do at this point.
Cinderfur was striding forward, bristling. He still bore an ugly gash on his shoulder, left by one of the queens he'd been fighting. "You killed Spottedleaf?" he hissed. "You know that medicine cats are removed from any conflict between warriors!"
Uneasy murmurs rippled through the watching cats, some agreeing, but none daring to be as bold as Cinderfur. Iceheart stared at the gray warrior, trying to convey that he should stop talking with his gaze alone. His message didn't get through.
Cinderfur whipped around to glare at their leader. "What sort of rogues are you turning us into?" Cinderfur demanded of Brokenstar. "First you drive WindClan out of the moors, and now you're stealing kits and killing medicine cats. What next? No, you know what," Cinderfur went on as Brokenstar started to open his jaws, "don't answer that. I don't want to know. But I'll have you know that I'll have nothing more to do with this Clan while you are still alive. You are no leader of mine." He spat on the ground at Brokenstar's paws and stalked out of the camp.
"You act like traitors like you have a place in ShadowClan anyway," Brokenstar snarled after him.
A contemptuous flick of the end of Cinderfur's tail was his only reply.
"Pay him no mind, Clawface," Brokenstar growled. A sudden gust of wind tugged the dark tabby's long fur as thunder rumbled overhead. "You've done very well." He turned to the remaining ShadowClan cats. "Prepare for battle," he commanded. "ThunderClan, honor-bound fools that they are, will fight to take their kits back. You will fight to keep them when their warriors arrive, or you will live to regret disobeying me."
Blackfoot, Clawface, Russetfur, and a handful of other warriors moved to obey. Most of the Clan, however, exchanged grim glances, communicating silently.
Brokenstar might have thought that ThunderClan stood no chance, but he had forgotten one thing: He only commanded ShadowClan's obedience for as long as he led them. It would have been easier to keep their loyalty if he hadn't been so focused on his goals. He didn't realize it yet, but ThunderClan was about to give the ShadowClan cats a perfect reason to commit mutiny.
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The storm broke shortly, and Brokenstar ordered his warriors to make use of the wet earth to dig a pit to keep the kits in. Boulder did the digging while Russetfur and Blackfoot collected leaves and twigs to put over it. They kept it shallow, and shortly covered it to keep the worst of the rain out.
Then they waited.
Iceheart clung to the deepest shadows, watching Brokenstar's six guards prowl the camp warily. The rest of the Clan hung back. Iceheart brushed past Brackenfoot and Brightflower. She was huddled miserably, staring at the pit where the kits must surely be getting cold, her mate standing protectively at her side.
"It'll be over soon," Iceheart whispered to the tabby she-cat.
Brightflower shifted closer to Brackenfoot, not taking her eyes off of the ThunderClan kits. "I hope so," she whispered back. "Those poor, poor kits."
The tension in the camp mounted as the rain began to die down. If ThunderClan was going to send a patrol, they would do it now, favoring open combat as they did. Brokenstar snapped at the squealing kits to be silent several times. By the third time, Iceheart would gladly have ripped Brokenstar's throat out himself for a mouse tail.
Wait, he cautioned himself. Wait and see.
Sure enough, the cats closest to the camp entrance let out startled cries - and of all cats, the elders came running in, claws flashing and battle yowls in their throat. At their head was Yellowfang, spitting fury as she threw herself on Clawface.
Iceheart watched in surprise as Nightpelt and Cinderfur came charging past, shoulder to shoulder. Then came the expected ThunderClan patrol. Brokenstar and his warriors were sorely outnumbered.
And there was the bright ginger apprentice, grappling with Boulder. Iceheart watched the ThunderClan cat send the silver tabby running, then glanced around to see how the rest of Brokenstar's group was faring.
Yellowfang had disengaged from Clawface to take on the dark leader himself. Surprisingly, she was winning. She'd ripped him good in several places, and blood flowed freely from his injuries. Her face was twisted with such fury, such grief, that Iceheart wondered just how deep her emotional wounds went.
"I never thought you would be harder to kill than my father," Brokenstar spat at her.
Yellowfang recoiled sharply. It was a mistake - with her grip loosened, Brokenstar easily threw her to the ground. "You killed Raggedstar?" she wailed.
The fighting froze around them. It seemed not a single cat dared to draw a breath.
Of course, Iceheart thought, the heaviness of his deepest suspicions lifting when they were confirmed. Of course he did. And you, Yellowfang... He narrowed his eyes at the old gray she-cat, so horrified that she'd lost the will to fight. He thought back to the way she and Raggedstar had behaved around each other after she became a full medicine cat. The way she'd taken such an interest in Brokenstar when he was young. You must have loved Raggedstar a great deal. Enough to break every single rule, and... His ice blue gaze slid to Brokenstar, who was now pinning the former medicine cat. All of ShadowClan suffered for your mistake.
Brokenstar lunged to deal a killing blow. The ginger ThunderClan cat leaped onto the tabby's back before his teeth could connect, somehow finding the strength to pull Brokenstar off of Yellowfang.
Color me impressed, Iceheart thought, eyeing the apprentice with interest. There's something about you, little one. If you survive the coming moons, you will be a fine warrior.
It was time the rest of the Clan stepped in. Iceheart moved toward Brokenstar, and the warriors who had hung back with him, waiting to see the outcome of this fight, followed suit. He could see the exact moment when their former leader realized he was beaten.
"This isn't over," Brokenstar threatened the young ThunderClan cat before he fled.
Clawface, who had been defeated and hovering at the edge of the camp alongside Blackfoot, hesitated. He looked first at Nightpelt, then at Iceheart. Come with us, he pleaded with his eyes.
Iceheart met his gaze briefly, and turned away. He heard his former Clanmates follow Brokenstar; he tried to ignore the way his heart twisted with guilt and grief. They had been good friends, once. He could have easily gone after them and begged them to change their minds and be loyal to ShadowClan again.
He knew better, though. Their loyalty was to Brokenstar now. Whatever the reason, things between them could never go back to the way they were.
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After ThunderClan had collected their kits and left ShadowClan to rebuild - "Hunt in peace for one moon," Whitestorm had said - the remaining cats looked around at each other silently. Their camp was in ruins, they had no leader and no deputy, and they had just lost seven of their strongest cats.
Nightpelt stepped forward. "We must hunt," he meowed quietly. He glanced around. "If we don't regain our strength before leafbare, sickness will be the end of ShadowClan. But first, Littlepaw, Brownpaw, Dawnpaw, and Wetpaw - I'm sorry, but you really are too young to be trained." He glanced at Stumpytail. "You may resume training Brownkit when he reaches six moons."
Stumpytail bowed his head, understanding.
"I want to help," Littlekit insisted in a voice that cracked into a squeak.
"And you will," Nightpelt assured him, "but the warrior code says you must wait until you're six moons to train. It won't be long." He blinked warmly at the tiny tom and turned to his fellow elders. "Secondly, I wish to welcome our elders back into the camp."
Welcoming murmurs came from the gathered cats as they wove around their Clanmates, accepting the banished cats back with licks and nuzzles.
Iceheart stepped forward. "Thirdly," he meowed, getting a surprised look from Nightpelt, "we need a leader and a deputy. I can think of no one better suited for it than you, Nightpelt."
"Me?" Nightpelt blinked, bewildered. "But I - I'm an elder."
"You're as strong as any warrior," Brightflower put in.
"And you helped to feed and take care of us while we were exiled from the Clan," Archeye added.
"I - " Nightpelt glanced at Iceheart, who gave an encouraging nod. "If that's what the Clan wants," he mewed, looking at Runningnose. "Am I fit to be leader?" he asked the medicine cat.
Runningnose stood slowly. "Your cough is the only thing wrong with you," he meowed softly, punctuating his statement with a sniffle. "I would be honored to take you to Mothermouth to receive your lives, Nightpelt."
The night-black tom looked around again, took a deep breath, and repeated, "If that's what the Clan wishes, then I'm honored." He paused. "I can't go to Mothermouth just yet, though. There's too much to be done here. So I'll name my deputy now." He padded over to the Clanrock, looking up at it with an unreadable expression. He bunched his muscles and leaped, easily making the jump, which seemed to give him confidence.
"I say these words before StarClan," he began, "so that the spirits of our ancestors may hear and approve my choice." He hesitated, as though he hadn't thought about who would make a good deputy, but then his gaze landed on Cinderfur. "Cinderfur will be the new deputy of ShadowClan."
Iceheart nodded approvingly. Though he had some mistakes to his name, Cinderfur was generally a level-headed cat. Without Clawface's decisions influencing his son's opinions, the young deputy stood poised to be the kind of warrior he'd shown he could be earlier today.
"Now, we need hunting patrols," Nightpelt meowed, "and we need to start organizing cats to rebuild the camp." He glanced at the pit that had been used to hold the ThunderClan kits. "And that will need to be filled in."
"Yes, Nightpelt," Cinderfur mewed, dipping his head.
"We will see ShadowClan restored to its former glory," Nightpelt promised, jumping down from the Clanrock. "You all have my word that I'll do my best to lead you well."
"I have no doubt that you will," Iceheart murmured.
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Iceheart flopped down beside Amberleaf in the half-repaired warriors' den long after the sun had set. She welcomed him with a soft purr, shifting to give him as much room as she could. Unexpectedly overcome with grief, he pressed his muzzle into her pelt.
"What's wrong?" she whispered.
"We're free," he murmured, "but I've never felt so empty." She was quiet, listening. "Clawface and Blackfoot - I don't understand what went so wrong."
The ginger she-cat licked Iceheart's ear. "I wish I had the answer," she mewed, "but whatever their reasons for agreeing with Brokenstar, it wasn't your fault."
"How can you be sure?" he mumbled. "If I'd only been a better friend, maybe - "
"Shh," Amberleaf soothed. "You mustn't blame yourself. You didn't do anything wrong, Iceheart."
"I didn't do much right, either."
She stiffened. "Now that," she meowed, her sharp tongue rearing its head, "is simply not true. What exactly do you think you could have done differently? You can't change what lies in a cat's heart."
Iceheart stared at her. "I could have done everything differently," he hissed, startling himself with his own anger. "I could have led by example instead of waiting for everyone else to do something. Maybe if I had, some cats would still be alive."
Amberleaf stood abruptly. "Walk with me," she mewed, her tone clipped. He followed her out of the den, confused but ready to argue if that was where this was going.
Out in the forest, Amberleaf picked her way between the deeper puddles of rainwater until they reached a place where the trees thinned and moonlight shone through. "Why'd we come all the way out here?" Iceheart asked.
"Because I have a point to make and I would rather not wake up our Clanmates trying to make it in the camp," she replied.
Iceheart resisted the urge to roll his eyes and focused on finding a dry spot to sit.
"Look up," Amberleaf prompted him.
He wondered what she was getting at, but did so, just as a cloud blotted out the light of the moon and plunged them into near total darkness.
"Is this darkness your fault?" the ginger she-cat meowed.
"What?" He blinked at her, taken by surprise. "Of course not, but - "
"Could you have stopped that cloud from blocking the light?" she interrupted.
"No, but - "
"Do you have any control over whether or not the cloud passes and the moon shines again?"
"No, I don't, but - "
"Then why," Amberleaf asked, "would you ever assume you can control how another cat thinks or feels?" She sat beside him and wrapped her tail over her paws pointedly. "You could influence them, yes, but at the end of the day you can't think or choose for them."
Iceheart had no argument to that.
More gently, his friend went on, "Every day, we face the choice between what we consider right and wrong. Blackfoot and Clawface did what they thought was right - they followed their leader to the end."
"Brokenstar was completely wrong, though," Iceheart mumbled, scuffing the damp earth with his paw. "Cats were dying."
"The warrior code says the word of the Clan leader is law," Amberleaf murmured. "Cats who disobey their leader's orders are usually looked at as scum."
"Cats who would let their Clanmates die around them because of their leader's decisions," Iceheart hissed through his teeth, "are worse than scum."
Amberleaf looked at him calmly. "The point is they followed Brokenstar of their own accord," she pointed out. "I saw you try to convince your friends not to, and I saw them follow his orders anyway. That's on them, Iceheart, not you."
The black tom sighed. "I'll...get over it," he muttered. "It's just hard."
"I know," she mewed gently. "You're a strong cat, Iceheart. We need you now more than ever."
He looked up at her as the wind shifted the clouds just enough that a shaft of light made its way through and touched her ginger fur to silver. In that moment, he could almost believe her words.