Battlementals: Pounce and the Riddle of Fire: Pounce Elemental Adventure Saga, #1

By Randy Lindsay

Pounce is the son of the tiger-folk chieftain. When his honor is challenged, Pounce must prove he is worthy to take over for his father someday. He is given a grand quest to earn his name of maturity and the right of leadership, but it seems impossible. How could anyone find the lost Saber tribes of the Eastern Jungles? And if he doesn’t, he’ll be banished forever.

With no other choice, Pounce begins his journey across the treacherous realm of Fire, but soon finds he is not alone. A human girl with a secret and two gazelle-folk trying to get to the city of Torch View decide to join him. Danger lurks around every bend and the four unlikely companions find themselves battling elemental monsters and Fire creatures. Unable to turn back, Pounce must rely on the help of his new friends to uncover the secret of the Riddle of Fire and continue his quest. When lives are on the line, will Pounce have the strength and courage to finish the quest or will he fail and be banished from the friends and family that he loves?

This coming of age fantasy adventure is the second book in the Battlemental universe and combines action and humor to show that people from different backgrounds often make the best friends. Several interior illustrations depict the heroes and some of the strange creatures they meet. Pounce and the Riddle of Fire is a middle grade novel in the style of Brandon Mull (Fablehaven) and Rick Riordan (Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Randy Lindsay
• Release date: Oct 30, 2017
• ISBN: 9780999383216

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Three hundred pounds of shredding claws, piercing fangs, and rippling muscles wrapped in an attractive fur package; that’s how my father described Sabers. Not exactly the way I’d describe the humanoid battlementals, but it worked. Any sane creature avoided an encounter with one of the saber-toothed warriors. And I had two of them hunting me.

The stout one pushed his way through a patch of Stink Bushes. As one of the tiger folk he should have known better. Even the slightest brush against a Stink Bush was enough to trigger the plant’s defenses. Now, anything the Saber might be tracking would smell him long before he moved within range to strike.

On the other side of me a second Saber crashed through the vegetation like a frolicking Thunk Hog. He even snorted a couple times to help the comparison. Somehow, the two had managed to trap me between them.

There he is, shouted the heavy one. His droopy eyes made him look as if he were more likely to stop and take an early morning nap than run after me. I hoped he didn’t—where would the fun be in that?

I dashed toward a red-trunked Pepper-Melon tree that was less than fifty yards away. By the time I reached the tree, the two of them had joined up in a clearing.

Oh, come on, shouted the stout Saber. His yellow fur blended in with the dry grass around him. He wore a wrap-around skirt and a tunic. Are we going to fight or not?

The big guy had a point. As much fun as it was running around and watching the two of them try to catch me, the whole reason for being out in the scrublands was to fight. I stepped away from the tree, letting a growl in my throat announce that I was done running.

The thinner Saber looked over at his companion and wrinkled his nose. Don’t stand so close to me. You smell awful.

His companion lifted an arm and pointed at me.

With a unified roar, the two of them charged.

I charged them.

We charged at one another and closed to within ten yards before the thin Saber stumbled. His arms flailed about in a doomed effort to regain his balance. He collided with his droopy-eyed companion and both somersaulted in my direction. I tried to leap out of their way, but they crashed into me and all three of us landed in a tangled heap of orange fur and twitching tails.

Get off of me, I yelled.

Do you want us to try it again? asked Doze. Up close, the smell of the Stink Bush made my eyes water.

Hey Pounce. Tumble disengaged himself from the impromptu Saber mound and stood up, tipping dangerously backwards before finally regaining his balance. I’m thinking we should really count this as a win for us. After all, we did take you down.

Tumble and Doze had been my friends for as long as I could remember, but at times like this I wondered why. The two of them were the least Saber-like individuals I knew. They were also the only cubs my age that I got along with.

Mocking laughter echoed through the clearing. I knew that laugh all too well. It was Sneer and his pack of paw-licking cronies. By the end of the day, the entire village would know about our little training fiasco.

What do you want, Sneer? I asked.

Do you think you can teach me that maneuver? Sneer laughed and then his cronies joined in a second later. First you incapacitate your opponents with laughter and then strike while they are still confused about your tactics. Is that right?

What makes any of those losers think they can pass the rite of maturity? asked one of Sneer’s companions.

My ears flattened. I stood up and curled my paws into fists. You aren’t any better than I am. Go back to your mamas and leave us alone.

The laughter stopped immediately. Sneer roared and then leaped across the distance between us.

I did my best to stand there and not flinch. He didn’t scare me . . . much.

You have a big muzzle for a runt, said Sneer. I challenge you.

What kind of challenge? I asked.

A test of bravery. Sneer leaned in toward me until our noses were almost touching. A female Slam-Slide and her baby moved into the old cave on top of Firestorm Mountain. Whichever one of us can snag the Slam-Slide infant and bring it back down the mountain is the winner.

That was a serious challenge. Slam-Slides were large Earth battlementals with thick, stony hides and lousy social skills. As tough as Sabers were, an adult Slam-Slide was more than a match for any of the tribe’s best warriors. Using one of them as part of a challenge wasn’t the brightest idea Sneer had ever had. Then again, it wasn’t his dumbest idea either.

I’m not going to kidnap a child, I said.

Are you afraid? asked Sneer.

No. Its just that I’m not sadistic or an idiot. The mother and child haven’t done anything to us. Pick a different challenge.

He issued a throaty growl at me.

How about a birth fragment? asked Doze.

Tumble elbowed him in the stomach. Keep out of it.

A smirk crossed Sneer’s face. That’s it. A birth fragment. One of those milk-white stones that come out when a baby Slam-Slide is born. But not just any one. It has to be the stone fragment from the skull. Whoever grabs that fragment and brings it down the mountain wins the challenge.

Alright. I put my fists on my hips and puffed my chest out to make my acceptance of the challenge appear as courageous as I could manage.

No! Doze and Tumble said in unison.

Meet me at the base of Firestorm Mountain tonight when the moon is at its highest point. And be ready to lose. Sneer laughed as he gathered up his lackeys and left. He continued to laugh long after they disappeared from my view.

What were you thinking? asked Doze. Sneer will maul you.

Yeah, said Tumble. Doesn’t your neck ever hurt from looking up at the rest of the Sabers our age? When are you going to face the fact that you’re short?

I’m not that short. Besides, I’m strong for my size.

Which means your strength is, at best, average for a Saber. Sneer is the largest and strongest of the cubs being tested this year. You should try to avoid him. It works for me . . . most of the time.

I faced Tumble. If I rose up on my toes I could just about look him straight in the eyes. Even then, Tumble was on the short side for a Saber. Size wasn’t the only way I stood out from the other members of my tribe. My fur was a darker orange than everyone else and my canines were shorter, not much more than baby stubs. All of those things made me feel different. All of them made me feel like I didn’t belong.

You can’t accept a bravery challenge from Sneer, said Tumble. The ritual of the Valiant Path is in a couple of days. If you lose the challenge Shaman Sly-Path may decide you’re not worthy to participate this season.

Doze slumped forward with a harrumph. Then you’ll be stuck with your cub name until the next batch of Sabers is ready for testing.

They were right. Losing a challenge would be bad, but backing out would be worse. There’s nothing I can do about it now. I’ve already accepted the challenge.

What’s your father going to say when he hears about this? asked Doze.

Let’s not tell him and then we don’t have to find out.

Pounce, I’m not sure that’s a good . . . Tumble stopped talking. His gaze shifted to a point high above my head and behind me. He nudged Doze and they both straightened up.

Heroic hunting, Chieftain Savage-Roar, said Tumble.

We have to go, said Doze, as he pulled on Tumble’s arm. Then they both sprinted for the village.

I turned around to find the fiercest warrior in our village staring down at me.

What is it that you don’t think I need to find out, son?

Pounce the Saber

CHAPTER TWO

If I had a Scorch Fruit for every time someone told me how lucky I was to be the chieftain’s son, I’d never have to forage for food again. Unfortunately, it wasn’t even close to the truth. All it meant was that the rest of the tribe expected me to be bigger, stronger, and fiercer than any of the cubs my age. My father was the worst of the bunch.

Sneer sort of challenged me and I accepted, I told my father.

His eyes nearly bulged out of his head. You what?

I accepted his challenge. With Sabers being creatures true to the nature of Fire, I braced myself for the emotional explosion that was sure to follow. Some of the adults claimed there was a positive side to anger and rage—I wasn’t convinced.

The ritual of maturity is only a couple of days from now, my father shouted, baring more of his fangs than normal. You placed your entire adult future at risk by accepting a petty challenge with another cub. If you perform well on the Valiant Path you will secure the tribe’s confidence in you as my successor when I step down as chieftain.

And there it was. Every male Saber dreamed of wearing the brightly-plumed headdress of the chieftain. To stand tall and confident before the rest of the tribe. And to boss everyone else around, making them leap into action with a single word.

It might be fun for a while, but a chieftain had to watch his every move. The tribe expected him to be a perfect example of a Saber. In addition to being courageous and strong the chieftain needed the instinct to lead his tribe in the right direction. That seemed like a lot to expect from any one person.

Find young Sneer and tell him you cannot accept the challenge.

My muscles twitched, wanting to act immediately on my father’s order. I managed to stay put even though I couldn’t bring myself to actually look him in the eye.

What are you waiting for? he asked.

I can defeat him, Father. As soon as the words escaped my mouth, I wished I could take them back. The Chieftain wasn’t used to anyone questioning his decisions—especially his son.

His eyes narrowed and he pulled his lips even farther back from his fangs. Then his muzzle twitched and he relaxed his stance. My father had entered his comforting-leadership mode. If anything, the awkward attempts to be understanding scared me more than his standard method of shouting for results.

Pounce. He laid a paw on my shoulder.

Oh, no. Not the I-want-what’s-best-for-you speech.

I know you think you can beat Sneer, he continued. After all, you are my son and the chieftain heritage runs within you. But the time for the games of youth is past. You need to grow up. Find Sneer and remind him that Saber tradition prevents any challenges from being made during the week of the Valiant Path.

With his paw still on my shoulder, he turned toward the village, pushing me along with him. I closed my eyes and mentally prepared myself for a long, boring father-to-son talk. My father meant well, but his advice on how to cope with all the world’s problems tended to be on the violent side. The Sabers might be the main military force for Fire, but did that mean everything had to be settled with a fight?

Pounce, your mother and I had wonderful expectations when we named you. Few cubs can leap like you did at the end of their first week. We were a little disappointed that you didn’t grow as large as the other male cubs, but courage has always been a more important trait than size. Keep that in mind and you’ll do fine.

We took the long way home, avoiding the Stink Bushes. My father stopped next to an old Pepper-Melon tree and sharpened his claws. Shredded bark fell to the ground in clumps and left a spicy smell in the air.

If I didn’t say something to distract him, I’d have to listen to his lecture all the way home. There’s a rumor in the village that you’re planning another war. Is that true?

We could have won the last war if Moon hadn’t betrayed us. His hackles raised and his ears flattened. He reacted this way anytime the forces of Moon were mentioned.

Why does there have to be a war? I asked.

"That’s our nature. It’s even in our name. The creatures of this land are called battlementals because we were created by the six elements to battle one another. It is the duty of Sabers everywhere to wage war against the other battlementals in order to spread the influence of Fire. We even fight the other Fire battlementals to ensure our place as the leaders of this land."

It was the same explanation that he always gave me. An explanation that didn’t make complete sense. I understand that as our tribe flourishes, so does Fire. And if Fire is strong enough we can dominate the other elements. But why war? Isn’t there another way we can show how much better Fire is than all the other elements?

Father used his paw to ruffle the fur on my head and then chuckled. One day, you’ll see why it has to be this way. Sabers have to be Sabers and that means we fight.

After another half-hour of stories about legendary Saber leaders demonstrating tremendous strength, courage, and ferocity, we reached the fringes of the village. I’d heard all the stories dozens of times before, making our trip home feel longer than it really was.

My father looked down at me and smiled. Go find Sneer. Tell him there will be no challenges this week. I suspect that his father put him up to this. Sly-Path has been jealous of me since we were cubs. Head home when you’re done; the evening meal should be ready soon.

I watched my father strut through the huts of woven grass. A forest of smoke trails curled up from the cooking fires in front of the homes. He seemed to stand taller and puff his chest out farther whenever he greeted a member of the tribe. Despite his tendency to show off the Sabers of the village respected my father and embraced him as their leader.

How could he possibly understand what it was like to be me? Athletics and fighting came naturally to him. He never had to deal with jokes and taunts about being short and nearly toothless. If I backed out of the challenge after already having accepted it, Sneer and his band of bad kitties would tease me about it for the rest of my life. And if I didn’t call off the challenge my father would rage about it for weeks.

I wandered around the perimeter of the village, putting off an encounter with Sneer for as long as possible. As soon as I thought I’d made a decision on what to do my mind argued against it. No matter what I did there was going to be trouble.

That wasn’t anything new. Trouble was a standard daily event. Sneer made sure to bring as much misery to my existence as he could manage. However, I had never disobeyed my father before. It didn’t feel right to start now.

With that final thought in mind, I headed for the red-stone quarry on the other side of the village. Sneer and his gang liked to hang around there when it wasn’t being worked by the dishonored of the village. I found him sitting on the tallest stone, like he was the chieftain of the social outcasts.

Look who’s here, Sneer said, loudly.

I need to talk to you, I said.

Did you decide the challenge is too tough for you?

The other Sabers in the quarry laughed. Echoes bounced off the rocks and amplified the sound, making it seem as if the entire village was mocking me.

My father—

So you ran to your daddy for help, said Sneer. No surprise there.

That’s not what happened. A growl settled low in my throat.

Just admit that you’re afraid and I won’t make you embarrass yourself.

Once again laughter filled the quarry.

The fur along my neck and back rose. Then as a true son of Fire, the burning rage in my chest boiled up to my brain, searing away the last bits of reason. I thrust out my chest and bared my fangs.

I heard myself say, Be sure to bring all your friends. I want plenty of witnesses to see me beat you at this challenge.

CHAPTER THREE

I listened for the sound of my father sleeping. As chieftain, he had trained himself to wake to the slightest sound. More than once that trait had saved the village from the worst of a nighttime raid. At the moment, it was preventing me from leaving home undetected.

When I heard Father roll over, I slid out of bed, making sure to be as quiet as possible. Then I took several slow, silent steps across the floor and slipped out the door when my father moved again.

The night was alive with the sound of insects chirping, clicking, buzzing, and whistling. In the distance, a Thunk Hog bellowed a challenge to whatever had stupidly blundered into his territory. Fortunately, Firestorm Mountain was in the opposite direction.

I had almost made it to the thicket of Sliver-Sticks when a voice sounded from behind me. Where do you think you’re going?

Crooked-Step stood behind me, a spear resting casually in his paws. The warrior took an awkward step toward me. Despite his permanent limp, Crooked-Step was a dangerous opponent. It was obviously his night to stand watch.

I drank too much Bloat-Worm juice at the evening meal. I have to . . . you know . . . I have to go.

You cubs are all the same, said Crooked-Step, waving me on. "Gobble down all the