The Rescue

by Kathryn Lasky

  “If there is a problem, an enemy approaching or whatever—yes, come fetch us. I think it should be Gylfie or Eglantine, because Twilight and Digger, being larger, might have to remain to deal with an enemy. If either of you have to come to us, you must fly what we call the fringes of the fire.”

  “But what if you’re not there when we come?”

  “One of us will always be flying lookout, watching for the one below who is retrieving coals on the ground.”

  How he now wished that Ruby was here. The Short-eared Owl, being the best flier of them all, was particularly skilled in catching airborne embers. There would really be no one to fill that spot tonight. And how he missed Martin, who often performed the wide coal reconnaissance surveys that gave information as to the size and location of various rich ember beds. In addition to that, Martin was very good at finding glowworms. A glowworm was a particular kind of coal that was especially valued by Bubo for his forge. No one had the slightest idea why it was called a glowworm, but there were extra points for those who found them.

  “Otulissa?” Soren said.

  “Yes, Soren?”

  Glaux, he hoped she didn’t give him trouble. “Otulissa, you and I shall make alternating dives once we find an entry point, a good shoot. The rest of you must stay with the mu bucket once we find a place to stash it.” It did not look exactly like a bucket but rather a shallow pan. It might be hard keeping the coals in it, but if they flew steady, he felt they could work with it. “Now, the good news is that we don’t have to harvest nearly as many coals as we normally do. Remember, we don’t need coals for a forge, but just for these three bags of flecks.”

  For the first time, Soren realized he had not cringed as he usually did when he said or heard the word “flecks.” Perhaps this was because he was beginning to understand flecks. Yes, they had power, but at the same time, their power was not absolute. He and the band could damage this power and possibly destroy it. Soren realized suddenly that with this small bit of knowledge he had acquired in the last few hours, he knew a great deal more than the brutal owls of St. Aggie’s. Whether he knew as much or more as the Pure Ones, as Eglantine had called them, and this horrendous owl called Metal Beak, remained to be seen.

  A few minutes later, Soren and Otulissa were shredding the fringes of the forest fire. Shredding was a flight maneuver in which they darted in and out of what they called the dead places at the edge of the fire to find which points would be the best to actually dive in from. This was now Soren’s job. Usually Elvan, the co-ryb of colliering, along with Ezylryb led the shred. But Ezylryb had insisted on Soren flying directly behind Elvan enough times that Soren thought he could do it now. Often they had to make as many as twenty shreds before they found a point of entry. They had made four shreds so far. Now, on this fifth one, Soren felt “a shoot,” or a good passageway open up.

  “I think this might be it,” he said to Otulissa. They made one more pass at the shoot. “All right, let’s find a place nearby to stash this mu bucket and then get to work.”

  When they had found the place for the bucket, Soren and Otulissa left the other owls to guard it and flew toward the fire. Its roar was deafening as it gobbled the trees below. Soren fervently hoped that Eglantine would not have to come to warn them of anything. For an owl not accustomed to flying in forest fires, it was the roar rather than the heat that was often the most intimidating. And now Soren gave the command.

  “DIVE!” Otulissa went into a dizzying spiral plunge. Soren kept his eye glued to her as her spots blurred. How often had he done this, flown surveillance not for Otulissa but his chaw partner, Martin? He remembered so well the first time. He had been frightened for Martin but frightened for himself as well. They had imagined every kind of horror that a forest fire could serve up. The rogue winds, the crowning when the fire in an unbridled rage would leap from treetop to treetop, creating fuel ladders that sucked up everything in their deadly heat—including owls on the wing. Yet, nothing really had scared him as much as that hurricane that had caused Martin to plummet into the sea.

  Soren kept his eyes on Otulissa below as he recalled all this. He saw the Spotted Owl rising now on a stack of heated updrafts. She whirled in next to Soren, her once-creamy white spots dark with soot. A glowworm sparkled in her beak as she flew to where the mu bucket had been stashed. Now it was Soren’s turn. Down he plunged. The coal beds were rich and the size of the sizzling nuggets, although smallish, burned hot. He managed to harvest two at once and flew directly back to the mu bucket.

  It only took four more rounds each for Soren and Otulissa to gather enough coals. Well before midnight they turned back to the ledge where the other owls awaited them by the bucket.

  Soren and Eglantine carried the mu bucket between them now with dozens of glowing coals. Twilight, being the largest and strongest of the owls, carried in his talons the piece of the mu metal, which had not been turned into a bucket, as a shield against the flecks if they should encounter any of the missing bags. Otulissa was still flying the point position.

  Gylfie, the tiniest owl, flew a few feet from the ground for close surveillance. And Digger would do what he did better than any owl—walk.

  It was Otulissa’s hunch that by either being very small or, indeed, walking like Digger, these two owls might be able to pass under the destructive flecks’ magnetic field, if the flecks were placed high in trees. The plan was that if they found the bags of flecks they would burn them, thus destroying what Otulissa called the “magnetic alignment.” It was definitely higher magnetics, and Soren was awfully glad that Otulissa had done the reading. But then again, they could do all of this and still not find any signs of Ezyl-ryb, who might be dead for all they knew. But Soren could not even think of that, and he could not allow the other owls to think of it, either. They were on a rescue mission. Rescue was to save living creatures. And Soren had a very strong sense that somehow Ezylryb’s disappearance was linked to Metal Beak. Gizzuition, Ezylryb had once called this sense. It was a way of knowing, a kind of thinking. Ezylryb’s words came back to him: a kind of thinking beyond the normal reasoning processes by which one immediately apprehends the truth, perceives and understands reality. And he had said that Soren had it, that Soren possessed this strange way of knowing. How it had thrilled Soren when Ezylryb had said this, said in essence that he was special—a special owl.

  “Mu shield!” Otulissa banked sharply and flew back. “I felt it. I definitely felt it.”

  Soren quickly commanded Gylfie and Digger, who flew and walked beneath them to proceed slowly and with great caution. Now it was Twilight who flew in the point position, holding the sheet of mu metal by his talons like a shield. The other owls flew in behind him. Every few seconds, Otulissa would tip her head out and expose herself directly to the magnetic force. If she peeked her head out to the port side of the shield, and came back blinking and looking confused, they knew they were heading in the direction of one of the bags of flecks, and they would destroy it! It seemed to them now that before they could find Ezylryb they must commit themselves to destroying the three bags of flecks that could threaten all owls’ and other birds’ flight and navigation abilities. If Otulissa peeked out to the starboard side and felt no change, they knew they were off course from the flecks. Gylfie and Digger flew or walked below completely undisturbed as Otulissa had thought they would.

  It took them a while to navigate toward the first bag, and it was actually Digger who spotted it from the ground and called up, “Alder tree ahead. Object wedged between limb and trunk.”

  Protecting themselves with the shield, they flew to the tree. Their timing was precise. Twilight passed the shield to Soren who had given the coal bucket to Eglantine. He then reached out with one talon and gave a quick push to the bag, which fell to the ground. Immediately, the effect could be seen on Gylfie and Digger. Digger began to stagger, and Gylfie simply lighted down. Her wings, in a yeep state, hung at her sides as both owls felt the strange buzz in their heads. Soren dipped his
beak into the bucket and dropped the coals on the bag with perfect accuracy. There was a flare as the bag caught fire. After several minutes, Otulissa peeked out from behind the shield. “It’s a miracle!” Otulissa said and stepped out from behind the shield. The magnetic force at this point had been completely destroyed. Digger and Gylfie, looking fully alert once more, picked themselves up. Digger began to walk straight again, and immediately headed toward the burning clump. He kicked up some dirt with his talons to put out the fire.

  “Don’t put it all out. We might need some more coals,” Soren said. He retrieved some of the brightest coals from the fire, and Otulissa scooped up some cinders. The other owls watched amazed.

  “How do they do it?” Digger whispered.

  When the owls had the coals and were sure that the remains of the fire were safely smothered, they lifted off into flight.

  They had destroyed one bag, but that was only one point of the triangle. The second point would be the hardest to discover, for it could be anywhere radiating out from this first point. They didn’t know if this particular triangle was pointing east, west, north, or south. They flew almost an hour in various directions before Otulissa began to sense a disturbance. Then everything happened quickly.

  “Oak!” Gylfie called up. From her low-flying position, she sensed that the disturbance that she was feeling came from the large tree dead ahead.

  This time the bag of flecks was stuffed into a hollow, and because the hollow was slightly damp, they were able to burn the bag right inside, thus containing the fire and not setting the entire tree ablaze. Digger flew up with talons, grasping clots of wet mud to extinguish the flames. Now, once again, they lifted into flight to find the third and final point in the Devil’s Triangle.

  Ezylryb blinked as he perched on the limb of the spruce. Had he been dreaming or was what he felt real? It seemed to him that the buzz was dissipating and with it a fog of sorts was lifting from inside his head. He slowly spread his wings and swung his head to look in every direction. He almost felt as if he might be able to fly again with purpose and direction and not become muddled. Something was different. Perhaps he might try at least getting to another nearby tree. He should be able to do this without too much confusion. After all, he had been able to catch small prey that wandered directly beneath his tree. Keep it simple, he told himself. Just keep your eye on that poplar over there. Focus on one branch. Lift off, then two wing beats and you’re there. Concentrate. Meditate, the way the Glauxian brothers taught you so many years ago.

  Ezylryb was just about to lift off when he heard something flying noisily low to the ground.

  “Ezylryb!” Gylfie cried out. “It’s Ezylryb!”

  He must be dreaming. It was the little Elf Owl, Soren’s best friend. Then, overhead, he heard the unmistakable whistling sound of an owl with a coal in its beak. He sniffed the air. The chaw is here!

  From a very high tree outside the triangle, an unusually large Barn Owl with a metal beak and mask covering half his face looked on in dismay as the owls burned the last bag of flecks and the snare was destroyed.

  “Did you know, Your Pureness, that fire could do this to the sacred flecks?”

  “Shut your beak.” The High Tyto was tempted to rake the vile owl with his talons, but with his other troops off in Kuneer, he needed all of his owls right now. There were six from the Great Ga’Hoole Tree, but there were ten of the Pure Ones. It was the Great Gray that would be their hardest foe. Now, of course, they had seven with the old one. But the old one was weak. He was weak but he was smart. And how close they had come to making him theirs. If they had only found a new castle, a fort, anything that the Others had left behind that could serve as their headquarters, they could have lured the Whiskered Screech there. As it was, they had had to stash him here and mind that enough game came his way so he wouldn’t starve. He would do them no good dead. How valuable his knowledge would have been. With the old one, they would have not only dominated the Southern Kingdoms but the Northern ones as well, for that was where the old Screech came from—the land of the great North Waters, the land of the legendary warriors. And it was the old Screech who had probably taught them the trick with the fire. This owl had to be theirs. Throughout all the kingdoms of owls, this one—the one they called Ezylryb—or sometimes Lyze, was the most renowned. It was said that he possessed powers and knowledge that were unimaginable. The Pure Ones needed him. He might not be a Tyto but they needed him nonetheless. And they would get him. And once they got him they would crypt him and then they would truly possess him.

  “Your Pureness, the Great Gray looks fierce. He might be a problem.”

  “A problem?” the High Tyto said slowly in a voice that frightened the Sooty Owl who had just spoken. “Has it escaped your notice, Wortmore, that these owls wear no battle claws?”

  “That’s right, sir. Never thought of that.” Wortmore’s voice quivered.

  “Prepare to attack!”

  Nine owls, all with heart-shaped faces, some dusky, some pure white, and one with a metal mask, unlocked the talons of their battle claws.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Attack!

  Ezylryb stood with the two members of his chaw and the others in a circle on the ground as they watched the bag burn. As the last of the flecks glowed with an almost white heat, there was a feeling of great release. The chains that had bound the triangle had been broken and then it was as if the links of those chains had simply melted into the thin air of the night.

  Soren was still reeling with disbelief. They had never in their wildest dreams expected to find Ezylryb smack in the middle of the Devil’s Triangle.

  “We should be able to get home by morning, before first light, I think,” Soren finally said. He could barely speak, he was so filled with joy at the sight of his old ryb. Soren was just about to say that Digger could go on and bury this fire, that there was no need for coals, when suddenly the night ripped with the shrill screeches of owls.

  “It’s an attack!” Twilight cried and rose up huge, his talons extended. Soren saw there were ten owls, all with battle claws. And one with a metal beak was flying directly for Twilight. Twilight dodged in the nick of time. All Soren could think was, We have no battle claws. We are only six, seven if you count Ezylryb. They’ll rip us to shreds! They would never survive.

  Then, amazingly, ducking and dodging every parry from the oncoming Metal Beak, Twilight began one of his battle taunts.

  You think those metal claws scare me.

  I’ll clack my beak till you see three!

  The attacking owl almost stopped mid-flight. He was completely startled by this strange chant.

  Your gizzard’s soft as a worm

  I’m going to make you

  squirm, squirm squirm…

  Twilight was filling the air with his hoarse, raucous rage. He was everywhere at once. He grabbed the mu shield they had been carrying and raised it just in time to catch a high blow from one of Metal Beak’s claws. The battle claw raked through the soft metal of the shield but Twilight was protected nonetheless. The Great Gray Owl advanced. Soren, in the meantime, was dodging the battle claws of an angry-looking Sooty. But he was not sure how long he could keep this up. He could only dodge and fight defensively. He had nothing to attack with. Suddenly, a fiery spitting sound zinged through the forest. Had the red come come sizzling down to earth? Soren opened his eyes wide in sheer amazement. It was not the comet. It was Ruby with a burning coal in her mouth. How did she find us? And, unbelievably, Martin, his chaw buddy was close behind with a beakful of burning twigs. The odds were getting better. The sides more even with nine owls including Ezylryb from Ga’Hoole and ten followers of Metal Beak.

  Ruby had ignited a branch of spruce and was flying with it in her talons, sweeping the air around her. There were still coals burning. Soren and Digger looked at each other and quickly grabbed whatever they could. They would attack. They could fight offensively and perhaps rout these owls. Otulissa joined in. In an instant, th
e air was whizzing with firebrands as the owls of the colliering chaw flew through the forest night. Gylfie and Eglantine kept the supply of firebrands coming as they dipped twigs and limbs into the coals. Soon, however, Gylfie and Eglantine discovered that they were not too small or too inexperienced to carry the slenderest of flaming striplings through the night to singe the underbellies of the enemy owls.

  Deft and precise, the counterattack had begun in earnest. And all the time, Twilight’s singsong gibes and jeers rang out through the forest, a jangling, blaring scornful taunt that distracted and struck fear into the Metal Beak’s troops.

  We got the fire, we got the punch,

  we’re gonna make you yarp your lunch.

  One two three four five,

  you’re gonna wonder if you’re alive.

  Six seven eight nine ten,

  you’re as stupid as a big ole hen.

  I can count forever and a day,

  and maybe you better start to pray.

  You call yourself pure,

  the best owls in sight.

  Well, you stink to high heaven,

  and you ain’t so bright.

  You’re stuck up as can be

  and your gizzards can’t handle milkberry tea.

  You’re no better than gull splat,

  and even though you fly,

  you’re lower than a rat.

  At that last verse, one of the Sooties was driven to such distraction that he flew straight into a burning branch that Ruby was holding. “Great Glaux!” the Short-eared Owl muttered. “I didn’t have to even attack. He came right to me.” The smell of singed feathers swirled in the air. Another one, who had been poked with a branch that had been ignited by a glowworm, flew off screaming.

  But Metal Beak, undaunted, was advancing on Twilight in a rage that was deadly, his battle claws extended and glaring in the light of the flames. Ruby quickly slid in on Twilight’s exposed flank, with her burning branch, and joined the battle against this large, horrifying owl. Soren and Otulissa advanced with flaming branches, slashing them like fiery swords at the other owls. One owl in Metal Beak’s group went yeep and plunged to the ground. Immediately, Martin dropped a beakful of cinders on his flight feathers.