Stryker’s eyes began to gleam as he saw the Spotted Owl pressing back toward the cliff. Her tail feathers were almost touching the stone of the cliff when suddenly Otulissa charged. She was under him, delivering a slice to his belly. He shrieked and came toward her, rage in his black eyes. It was a superficial wound. “Racdrops,” Otulissa muttered and wondered how long she could keep fencing. With two power strokes, she shot above Stryker and then, performing an inside-out flying loop she had learned from her beloved Strix Struma, she dived, screeching,“This one’s for you, Struma!” and sliced her ice sword through the air.
“Racdrops!” She’d missed his head, but his burning branch was plummeting toward the ground. Stryker gasped when he saw what had happened to his weapon. He jetted off through the stream of small sparks that flew up from the falling branch. But Otulissa was on him, chasing him through the night, her dagger gripped in both talons. She flew as she had never flown before. Ruby joined her in the hot pursuit, winding in and out of the rock corridors of the canyonlands.
“Force him to ground,” Ruby said. She raised her ice scimitar in the night, yelling, “Force him to ground!” The two owls would try to trap him between the fire below and the ice above.
Meanwhile, Soren and Martin were advancing on a hireclaw and another Pure One when Twilight suddenly appeared.
“Where’ve you been?” Soren gasped, without taking his eyes off the hireclaw and the Pure One they were chasing.
“You’ll see. Watch this!” The Great Gray power-stroked ahead.
“Is he going to start singing one of his taunts?” Martin asked.
But Twilight was not planning on singing, as he closed in on the two owls. “Hey, stupid,” he yelled at the hireclaw. “Look up there! Someone’s waiting for you!”
Soren and Martin blinked as they watched the hireclaw look up and see the vultures, go yeep, then plunge into a burning patch of scrub on the canyon floor.
“Let’s get the other one!”
“Gylfie!” Soren shouted. “I saw you back there.”
“Yeah, no time for talk. I’ve brought a unit from E company. Meet Frost Blossom and Grindlehof.”
Soren remembered Grindlehof, the little Pygmy with whom Gylfie had sparred on Dark Fowl Island. Now Soren, Twilight, and Martin continued the chase with Gylfie and a small unit of the Frost Beaks. The owl they were chasing, a Masked Owl, was proving tough. They would almost catch up with it and then it would somehow get ahead. The owl was an excellent flier, taking tight, steep banking turns at very high speeds.
Soren was not sure when he started to get the funny feeling in his gizzard, but there was something wrong about this chase. This owl was not simply flying away from them. She was leading them someplace. Then it seemed as if one of the canyon walls suddenly opened up in the night. In front of them was an immense cave entrance. Of course! Soren thought. Masked Owls are also called Cave Owls, and they knew how to fly the cave routes that tunneled under the mountains.
But it was too late. Soren was not sure how it had happened. They were flying at terrifically high speeds but it was almost as if the cave had reached out and grabbed them. He felt he was being swallowed into a new kind of darkness.
Suddenly, an anguished voice split the blackness. “Don’t come in! Don’t come in!”
“Digger! It’s Digger!” Soren gasped.
Gylfie felt a tremendous shiver pass through her gizzard as she spied Digger. He was standing on a ledge, his strong legs tethered with vines to a large rock.
At the same moment the Guardians caught sight of Digger, there was an awful glare in the cave, a horrific, terrible glare. There was only one thing that glared in this way. It was the metal mask of Soren’s brother, Kludd, High Tyto and leader of the Pure Ones.
One thought raced through Soren’s mind. I am going to have to kill him. I am going to have to kill my own brother or else it will be the end of owlkind. The two brothers began to advance warily upon each other, Soren with an ice sword which seemed much too long for the tight space, and Kludd with his battle claws. The battle claws glowed red-hot at their tips. They had been fired! Fire claws. Soren remembered what Bubo had said about the damage they could do to the talons of the owl who wore them. But Kludd must think it a small price to pay in order to kill his brother.
“He’s got fire claws!” Digger said.
“We’ve all got them!” Kludd roared.
Suddenly, six more owls emerged, the tips of their claws burning a bright orange in the blackness of the cave. There was no choice. I’m going to have to try and kill my own brother! There was something unreal about what was happening. Time seemed to slow for Soren.
The two owls began to face off. The others, the Pure Ones, the Guardians, as well as the Frost Beaks were fighting closer to the cave mouth. But this battle, Soren realized, was his and Kludd’s alone. Soren had raised his ice sword, its clear edge honed to an incredible sharpness, into attack position. The two owls flew in wide circles, delivering quick feinting thrusts meant to distract rather than cut. Soren knew what Kludd was doing. He was trying to lead him farther into the depths of the cave. Kludd knew the lay of the cave. Soren didn’t. He could lead me any-place, Soren thought. He knew that there were dangerous pockets of poisonous gas in caves where animals often died of suffocation. I must keep this at a standoff as long as possible. Maybe he’ll get tired. I can’t kill my own brother. Oh, please, Glaux! Let him just give up and fly off. Soren knew that this was wishful thinking. Suddenly, there was a loud crash, and both Soren’s and Kludd’s concentration was broken. Digger was in the air! Digger with his immensely long and powerful legs had actually broken free of the rock to which he had been tethered. He was flying with the vines still attached. But he was without a weapon. At least the odds were better, Soren thought.
Then something sparkled like a brilliant trace in the blackness of the cave. It was Gylfie and Frost Blossom, armed with ice slivers. They were suddenly directly underneath Kludd. It was quick. Soren couldn’t tell who delivered the wounding blow to Kludd’s soft underbelly. But he saw his brother’s blood spurt toward him and catch the bright edge of his own sword, turning it red.
Then something happened.
“Gylfie!” Soren shrieked. The smell of singed feathers swept through the cave. He saw the little Elf Owl struggling to fly with the primaries on her starboard wing, burned black and smoking. Kludd had done this to her, Soren thought.
I can kill my own brother! The words exploded in Soren’s head. His gizzard numb, he began to swing the ice sword as he advanced. Kludd was weak. He was back-winging into a corner of the cave. He was losing altitude.
Then there was a whistling noise and a silvery blur.
“Hiiii-yah.” No song. No prancing. Just a slash of glittering ice through the dark. Then the clank of metal as Kludd fell against the rock floor of the cave. A pool of blood began to form. The fire claws sizzled in the blood. Soren perched on a rock spur and looked down at his brother. He was transfixed. He could not pull his eyes away. They were riveted on the gash that ran from Kludd’s neck to his tail, the bone of his severed spine jutting up through his bloodied back feathers. Soren blinked. My brother is dead! My brother, who pushed me from the nest when I was a chick, is dead. My brother, who swore to destroy me, is dead!
It was almost too much for Soren to grasp. His life had been shaped by the viciousness of Kludd. Had it not been for Kludd, I would never have been separated from my parents. Had it not been for Kludd, I would have never found the Guardians of Ga’Hoole. Soren felt neither elation nor relief. He did not know what to feel. It was all too immense, too mysterious, too confusing.
“Soren, you all right?” said Twilight softly.
Soren blinked. A silence had fallen upon the cave. “Twilight!” Soren said softly. “I didn’t hear you coming.”
“You mean I didn’t chant him, taunt him?” Twilight said.
“Yeah.”
“I killed your brother, Soren. I didn’t feel he needed to go
out with a song.”
“But you killed him. You saved Gylfie, you saved me.” Then he paused. “Twilight, do you know what this means? It means the end of the war. It means the defeat of the Pure Ones.”
“Yes,” Twilight answered simply, “the war is over.” And surprisingly, at one moment when one of the most boastful owls in owlkind could have boasted, Twilight did not. He blinked and turned his attention to Gylfie; Digger was tending her singed wing. Twilight then lighted down by the little Elf Owl.
“Glad to see you back, Gylfie. You were great with that ice splinter.”
“Well, sort of,” Gylfie said weakly.
“She’s going to be all right,” Digger said to Twilight. “Flying will be hard for her for a while. But it looks to me that these feathers were about to molt, anyway. Where are the other Pure Ones now, anyhow?”
“They’re gone,” Twilight said. “The Frost Beaks chased them out.”
“Gylfie…Gylfie…Gylfie…I can’t believe it’s you.” Soren blinked at his dear friend.
“It’s me, all right.”
“I thought I’d never see you again.”
“But here I am,” Gylfie replied. “We are all here, Soren. We are together again—the band is together.”
And the four owls who had met so long ago looked now at one another again.
“Yes, we are together again,” Soren said solemnly. “And now we must go back to Ga’Hoole.”
“I’m not very strong, Soren,” Gylfie said. “I don’t know if I can make it. And I think all the vine slings for transporting the wounded are being used.”
“We don’t need vine hammocks to transport you,” a voice spoke up.
“Cleve!” Gylfie said. “What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t believe in war.”
“I don’t believe in killing, but I do believe in saving lives. I went to the Glauxian Brothers to learn medicine, remember? Now, Gylfie, don’t talk anymore. Save your strength. I’m going to get a Glauxspeed unit and make a flight vacuum.”
“I thought only pirate owls did that,” Gylfie said, remembering how the kraals had transported her from the Ice Dagger to the tundra.
“Glaux, no!” A Frost Beak had just arrived. “They’re too dumb to think up that on their own. They copied it from us. That’s how we transported our wounded during the War of the Ice Claws.”
And so the band and six owls from the Glauxspeed division rose in the night. The landscape below was one of charred brush and scorched rocks. Soon other Glauxspeed units fell in beside them, transporting other Guardians who had been wounded. Silver and Nut Beam had sustained injuries. And a Snowy Owl named Bruce, a member of the Flame Squadron, had been killed and was being transported in one of the vine hammocks woven by the weaver’s guild for transporting dead or severely wounded owls. Bubo was one of the sling bearers as Bruce had been a good friend of his. He muttered sadly as he flew, “No, Bruce, I ain’t going to let one of them frinking vultures have you.”
Twilight looked down and saw the vultures tearing into the dead Pure Ones below. He suddenly dived down with his ice sword and swinging it wildly, scattered the vultures.
“Whatcha do that for?” one of the dark birds asked.
“Because I felt like it!” Twilight roared. He flew back to the band and fell in alongside the Glauxspeed owls who were transporting Gylfie in the airtight vacuum.
“So, young’un”—Ezylryb had slid into the formation next to Soren—“you fly well with those claws.”
“I do?” Soren was startled. How odd, the claws felt so light now. So light!
“Cleve!” Otulissa exclaimed as she flew up to examine the vacuum. “What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t believe in war.”
“I believe in saving lives, Otulissa.”
“Cleve’s one of our best sky medics,” a Snowy of the Glauxspeed vacuum transport announced.
“Oh, my goodness,” Otulissa gasped, and Soren could have sworn he saw the shimmer of a riffle pass through her spots. Soren and Digger exchanged glances and almost churred out loud. They both had the same thought. Was she actually flivling with this sky medic? Otulissa glanced at them and saw how they were looking at her. She immediately stilled her spots. No more riffling. She coughed slightly and directed her attention toward the transport vacuum. “My, this is truly an amazing manipulation of pressure. The pressure differential actually does create a viable vacuum. You know, I think Strix Emerilla, the renowned weathertrix to whom I am distantly related, helped develop this flying strategy.”
Soren winked at Gylfie as if to say, “Some things never change.”
“Oh, Otulissa,” Gylfie said weakly and paused for a long time. “It’s good to see you again!”
The great tree was bustling with activity. It reminded Soren of the night the band had first arrived so many winters ago. There had been a skirmish up on the borderlands near Beyond the Beyond. The galleries of the great hollow were packed with owls awaiting orders on that night. Some wounded owls were already being brought in. The band was overwhelmed with what they had seen—metal helmets, candles, all sorts of devices, and the immense grass harp through which the nest-maids wove themselves in song.
And now, just as it had then, a gong sounded. A sudden silence descended on the great hollow. Ezylryb flew up to a large perch. The wounded who were well enough to be moved had been brought from the infirmary to hear him. The old Whiskered Screech surveyed the throng of owls. His squinty eye seemed to take them all in, every Guardian, every Frost Beak and Glauxspeed soldier, every Kielian snake draped from the balconies.
“My friends, soldiers, snakes, and owls, it was in the time of the copper-rose rain of three years past when we first engaged the Pure Ones. Many rains have come and gone since then. Winter, the time of the white rain, is about to set in. Many have died because of these tyrants. The first to die was our dear Strix Struma and last, Glaux willing, is Bruce, veteran Snowy of the Flame Squadron. This mighty enemy nearly overran us With the terrible power they held at St. Aggie’s they had become a threat to all of owlkind, but we fought well; we are victorious.
“We entered this war for simple and honorable reasons: We believe in the sovereign freedom of every living thing, be it owl, snake, or bear. We believe that freedom bestows dignity and that to enslave a mind or a population denies that freedom and destroys that dignity. If our civilization is to endure, and flourish, it will only do so in freedom and dignity.
“Now is the moment when we must give our heartfelt thanks and tribute to our brothers and sisters from the Northern Kingdoms without whose immense support our task would have been doomed. Frost Beaks! Glauxspeed division! Ice Daggers! Kielian snakes! We thank you and salute your courage.”
At this, a mighty hooting broke out from the owls of Ga’Hoole as they cheered the warriors from the Northern Kingdoms. After several minutes, Ezylryb pumped his wings as a sign for quiet. “Great sacrifices have been made these past years. I wish I could look into the future and assure you that there will be no more. But one can never be certain. We have seen how the Pure Ones distorted the single word ‘pure’ until it became synonymous with hatred, destruction, and despotism; how they created a society in which one breed of owl was pitted against another. We must remain vigilant so that this evil does not rise again.
“Our ideals are simple: honor and freedom. We must be sure that these words are never distorted from their true meaning. To do this shall require constant watchfulness. The war is over but we must not rest. I would be remiss if I still did not cry out: Whenever tyranny threatens, fly forward; unflinching, unswerving, indomitable, until peace is restored and all the kingdoms of owlkind are safe.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Scrooms in the Night
Deep in the canyonlands where the vultures still stalked the dead, in a hollow in the cleft of a scorched rocky cliff, a mother owl wept as her first chick hatched out of its shell just as the moon began to reappear. “You came at the time of the eclipse, little one. So I
shall call you the name of all male chicks hatched at such a time. Nyroc is your name, my hatchling. You shall grow up to be strong and fierce like your father.” The little chick opened one puffy eye and blinked at the beautiful moon-face of his mum.
Far across the sea of Hoolemere, on the Island of Hoole, the same moon shone. It was the last night of the copper-rose rain, just before the time of the white rain, when the Ga’Hoole berry vines turn white. Gylfie and Soren had decided to fly to a very high perch on the far side of the Island of Hoole. For tonight was the night of the lunar eclipse, and it was said that the lunar eclipse that fell on the the last night of autumn was always the most beautiful eclipse of all.
Just as the shadow of the earth began to steal over the edge of the moon, the two old friends arrived at the perch high in a fir tree. It was the only fir tree on the Island of Hoole and similar to the one Soren had lived in so briefly with his mum and da. It had been Gylfie’s idea to come to this tree to watch the eclipse away from the other owls. She knew that in his very private way, Soren was still deeply disturbed by his brother’s death. Over and over they had told him that there had been no choice, that Kludd had to be destroyed. But Gylfie realized that no amount of assurance from Digger, Twilight, and herself could ease his mind. She could tell that Soren was still suffering in some way. He had been incredibly quiet. Gylfie knew that Mrs. Plithiver had come to the hollow several times and tried to talk to Soren but he had been unresponsive. Finally, Gylfie had decided that it might help Soren to be away from the great tree on this particular night.
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