To Be a King

by Kathryn Lasky

  As the moon approached its highest point of the night, Theo began to fly through the winding corridors of ice that twisted up toward the four parapets. Shadows slid across the thin ice walls as owls danced jigs on the cold, rough night air to the music of a band of gadfeathers that were outside, singing on one of the parapets. Indeed, there appeared to be as much activity outside the ice palace as within. Theo even saw the shadow of a hagsfiend doing a palsied shuffle through the air, trying to keep time to the music.

  Suddenly, however, shadows filled the corridor and blocked out the light of the moon and the stars. Theo’s heart skipped a beat and his gizzard clenched. Two of Shadyk’s largest guards were ahead. When he swiveled around, two more were coming up from behind. All four were armed with ice swords and scimitars. Theo had nothing—just his talons.

  For an owl who hates fighting, he mused grimly, I sure have to fight a lot.

  He scanned the narrow corridor to see if there was an icicle he could break off to use as a weapon but, with the ice rot, any such weapon would break immediately. The four owls were armed with ice weapons that either had been cut from healthy ice from the Ice Dagger or somewhere up in the Firth of Fangs. Still, thought Theo, rotten ice might have its uses. I have to act fast. He lofted himself straight up into the air. Theo was a powerful owl with powerful wings. The ceiling of the corridor was low, and the owls were surprised that he would try to fly above them. They raised their ice scimitars, but Theo was a cunning flyer as well as fast. He extended his wings as widely as he could and sheered off the stanchions of rotting ice, which then fell in heaps on the corridor floor. Next, there was a great creaking as the ceiling began to collapse behind him. The owls’ way was blocked. Suddenly, he saw Emerilla flying toward him. He heard a clatter behind him and turned. One of the smaller guards had managed to fly over the heap of collapsed ice. The corridor had narrowed drastically, and Theo did not have room to turn.

  “Against the wall! Let me pass!” Emerilla shouted to him. He pressed himself against the melting ice wall and gaped as Emerilla charged the guard who had his cutlass raised. There was a small spurt of blood and then disbelief in the guard’s eyes as he looked down and saw his guts hanging out of his belly.

  So this is close fighting! Theo silently exclaimed.

  Now three other guards were scrambling over the pile of ice shards. Emerilla had picked up the cutlass of the fallen guard and tossed it to Theo. Together, the Great Horned and the Spotted Owl advanced on the three remaining assassins. It was as if Theo’s and Emerilla’s minds had become one. Theo knew that his task was to keep the three other owls engaged by quick parrying with his cutlass. For all intents and purposes, Emerilla, the stupid serving lass, did not appear to have a weapon. The three guards, to their mortal detriment, hardly paid her any heed. When the second owl collapsed—minus half of his port wing—the two others looked down in shock. “Kill her!” One screamed. “Shadyk will have our heads.”

  “No!” Theo roared and, picking up the rapier of the fallen owl, powered straight up, a weapon in each talon, stabbing one guard in the gizzard and the other in the heart. The corridor was slick with blood.

  Then there was a huge clapping sound like thunder. “The northeast parapet! It’s falling!” Emerilla cried out. And from a hole in the wall, they saw it tumbling through the night. “Follow me,” Emerilla shouted.

  They flew out through a hole in the corridor wall and headed south toward Stormfast Island. As Theo looked back, havoc reigned in the Ice Palace. Hagsfiends were taking flight as the entire eastern side of the palace caved in. An icy wind came up announcing the first of the serious winter storms driven by the N’yrthnookah, the northeast wind that brought the heaviest of the blizzards. With this wind behind them, they made a short business of the flight to Stormfast. The dawn was just breaking when they arrived.

  “There’s a good ice hollow on the lee side of the island. We’ll get protection from all this,” Emerilla said.

  Once in the hollow, Emerilla looked up at Theo. “So, before you were so rudely interrupted by the guards on your way to see me, I had been planning to tell you the latest news.”

  “Yes, but how did you know to come down that corridor and not wait for me on the parapet?”

  “Just a feeling in the gizzard. I just suddenly sensed that Shadyk was going to do something tonight.”

  “You fought brilliantly.”

  “Well, you weren’t so bad yourself.”

  “So what is the news?”

  “Lord Arrin is massing a huge force.”

  “But I thought his followers had left him.”

  “They had, but one important one has returned: Lord Elgobad.”

  “Lord Elgobad?”

  “Yes, do you know him?”

  “In a sense. A Snowy. He attacked me some time ago in the Bitter Sea. I wounded him, but I guess not mortally.”

  “Well, he has joined forces with Lord Arrin once again. They plan to lay siege to the Ice Palace.”

  “There won’t be much left of it.”

  “This N’yrthnookah will delay the ice rot.”

  “I guess that’s both good news and bad news,” Theo said.

  “Yes, it buys time for King Hoole,” Emerilla replied. “Is he ready to fight?”

  “I hope so. He had gone on a long mission into the S’yrthghar. He wanted to get colliers and blacksmiths.”

  “Ah, yes, for the new weapons. I have heard about them. Battle claws they call them.”

  Theo closed his eyes and nodded his head sadly.

  “What’s wrong, Theo?” Emerilla asked.

  “I am the one who made those first battle claws.”

  “But why does that make you so sad?”

  “It is, my dear”—he felt he could call her “my dear” as he was so much older than she—“a sad thing to have as a legacy the creation of a new and deadly weapon.”

  “I see,” Emerilla said softly.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “Who Am I? What Am I?”

  “That’s it! That’s it, Emerilla! You would think she had been hatched with battle claws! Just look at her parry with them,” Grank exclaimed with delight to Strix Strumajen.

  “Well, she’s known for being excellent with the close blade and has remarkable turning ability,” Strix Strumajen said proudly.

  “But her flight balance is perfect and a close blade is so much smaller and lighter than these battle claws,” Phineas said.

  Grank! Phineas! Lutta wondered. Even that old codger Lord Rathnik comments on my skill, but why doesn’t Hoole notice me?

  “Mum,” she said, “Hoole never seems to see my best parries and rebounds.”

  Strix Strumajen chuckled. “He sees you, my dear, but he has much on his mind. He must supervise the training of all these owls and the new recruits.”

  Hoole had been back for less than a moon cycle and, within that time, Lutta was captivated by this strong, handsome young owl. It was a strange and wonderful feeling. Strix Strumajen’s initial gizzardly reservations about her daughter had quietly disappeared. Indeed, her daughter seemed much more like her old self. Ah, what a first infatuation can do! Strix Strumajen thought. Of course, who knew if Hoole felt anything for Emerilla? She was certainly attractive enough in every way, but poor Hoole had so many worries. It was not exactly the right time in his life for romance. Although he did seem quite impressed with Emerilla and often invited both her and her mother for milkberry tea in his hollow, it was usually to discuss war strategy.

  Excellent progress had been made at the great tree. Rupert the Rogue smith from Ambala and two other colliers had accompanied Hoole back from the S’yrthghar. Phineas and the Snow Rose had rounded up three other Rogue smiths and two more colliers. It would have been best if Theo had been present to instruct the smiths in the art of forging battle claws, but Grank had learned quite a bit from observing Theo and was a very good instructor. And, of course, no owl could equal Grank in colliering. At this point, there were robust fi
res going in a half-dozen forges near the tree. The fires were so productive in terms of battle claws that there seemed to be little energy left in the flames to reveal anything of great significance to either Hoole or Grank as to what was occurring in the N’yrthghar. But as soon as any message came from Theo, they would be off. Joss had flown out a few nights before to try to make contact with Theo and come back with a report.

  Other members of the parliament had been dispatched to muster troops from the Shadow Forest—Tyto, Ambala, and Silverveil. Each day, new owls arrived and were being trained. When the call came, they would be ready.

  Lutta, looking like Emerilla to the feather, had taken a break from her practice and went to observe Hoole as he worked with a young Barn Owl. She watched him as he tied on the battle claws.

  “When you wear these, it’s important to fly with your talons lifted up just a bit. It helps counterbalance the weight of the claws.” He gave the young owl a friendly cuff. Emerilla felt something shimmer deep within her. This was not the first time she had experienced this sensation. But she was unsure what exactly she was feeling. It happened several times a day. She told herself it was nothing to do with a gizzard. I don’t have a gizzard. This is impossible. I cannot have any gizzardly feelings. Nothing will get in my way, she told herself as she continued to watch.

  “Now, Winfyr,” Hoole said, addressing the young owl, “after you get used to flying with these battle claws, we’ll let you try winging around with the close blade.” He paused and swiveled his head toward Lutta. “There’s your expert on the close blade, right there.” He nodded at her and Lutta thought she might fall from her perch. Then suddenly, she had an idea. A perfect excuse for meeting with Hoole, possibly alone in his hollow!

  “Now, what is this idea of yours, Emerilla?” Hoole said, settling on a perch. She was so excited to finally be alone in his company that she hardly knew how to start. She perched in front of the iron teardrop-shaped container of the ember. The ember’s glow seemed to fill the hollow. Every time she had seen it, it never failed to stir her. It reminded her of her task, of the power that she and Kreeth would have.

  And if, she thought, if I can make him mine forever…She felt a terrible cramp inside her and the ember emitted a low hiss and cast a glowing light. Would he come to me on his own? And would he come to me if he knew who I really was?

  Lutta engaged in endless dialogues like this whenever she was in the presence of the ember. Inner monologues that led to no conclusion, except she was left with a confused, unfinished feeling and often a question. Who am I? What am I?

  Finally, she pushed these thoughts from her mind. “Your Majesty, when I was watching you train the young Barn Owl, it came to me that perhaps I might be helpful teaching them to fight with the close blade. I thought maybe I could help my mother with her classes.”

  Hoole’s eyes blinked open and shut several times. “What an excellent idea. I should have thought of it myself. Why, with both you and Strix teaching, we could train an entire squadron of close-bladers. You could be the co-commander.”

  “Really?!”

  “Yes, really. This could prove indispensable. We have many who can fight with the larger ice weapons—scimitars, pikes, swords—and then there are the very smallest of owls—like Phineas—who are terrific with the ice splinters. But how many really good close-blade owls do we have? With a squadron of close-bladers, we’ll have much more range, much more flexibility in every combat situation.” He paused and looked at Lutta with what she felt was a new light in his eyes. “You’re quite clever, Emerilla.”

  “Clever, sir?”

  At that moment, there was a rap on the edge of the hollow. A young Snowy poked his head in. “Coded message, sir. Grank is on his way.”

  “Oh, good. Good!” Hoole turned to Lutta. “Well, thank you so much. You must excuse me now.”

  Lutta remained on the perch. Hoole stared at her. “I said, you must excuse me.”

  “Oh, I do.” But she remained on the perch.

  Hoole cocked his head. “Do you understand what I am saying, Emerilla? It means you have to leave.”

  Grank had just arrived and was observing this peculiar exchange.

  “Oh!” She lofted herself off the perch and flew by Grank, almost knocking him over.

  “Strange one, she is,” Grank murmured.

  “A bit odd. But what is this message?”

  “Well,” Grank said, swiveling his head to make sure that both Emerilla and the young Snowy were gone, “let’s go in there to read it.” He nodded toward a perch that protruded from a crack.

  To the ordinary owl’s eyes, the crack in the wall of the hollow looked like any other crack in the interior of a tree. A perch had been jammed into it. But when Hoole reached up with his talons and yanked the perch, out came a piece of a milkberry vine. With one pull, a panel opened and, through it, the two owls crowded into a smaller space. They shut the panel behind them. It was a secret chamber in the tree that Hoole and Grank had worked on for several days and in which they read the coded messages sent by Joss.

  Grank unfurled the piece of birch bark that the message was inscribed on and began to read. “‘The ice worms turn. The lice do swarm. A burning teardrop will set it to rights.’”

  Grank looked at Hoole. “And so the Ice Palace is rotting.”

  “‘Lord Arrin and Elgobad unite and make ready to attack.’ But Grank, is this right? Must I bring the ember? Is that truly what the message means?”

  “To stop the rot, the ember’s power is needed.”

  “But it is foolhardy to travel with it.”

  “Yes.” Grank blinked. “Let me give some thought to this before we leave.”

  “Good, but first the parliament must meet. We must work out a detailed invasion strategy.”

  “The usual passage into the N’yrthghar is through the Ice Narrows.” Hoole was pointing with his talon to a map, which had been etched out on a dried rabbit hide with a stick of charred wood, as he spoke to the members of the parliament. “But now that we number in the hundreds, it seems unwise that our entire force should try to squeeze through this narrow passage and become vulnerable to ambush. Instead, let us try the unexpected.” There was a low mumbling of assent among the ten other members of the parliament.

  “Surprise can be as deadly as any weapon,” Lord Rathnik said.

  “Indeed! Indeed!” echoed several owls.

  “My plan is this,” Hoole continued. “Even though the Ice Narrows is the shortest and the most direct route, with the N’yrthnookah blowing we would be flying dead into the wind and arrive pretty ragged and exhausted. If we flew off the wind a bit, taking a long way around, we would conserve our energy and also have a better chance of escaping detection.”

  “A question here, Your Grace.” A Northern Hawk owl, Sir Tobyfyor, raised a talon.

  “Yes, Sir Toby?”

  “I presume you are talking about going by way of Broken Talon Point, but hundreds of owls flying over Broken Talon Point will not go unnoticed.”

  “We will go by three routes: Broken Talon Point, as well as the point off the spirit woods, and due east to the far shore of the S’yrthghar sea. I know that eastern route is a rarely used one, but once over that shore we could claw north on a close-wing reach and fly around the end of the Ice Narrows. If Sir Bors and his students in the navigational chaw would provide us with the star maps, it would be most useful. These routes have rarely been flown.”

  “Aaah.” A sound of approval rolled through the parliament.

  “Strix Strumajen, can you give us any insight into atmospheric pressure changes that we should be expecting?”

  “It’s a little far in the future for accurate predictions. But there is a series of smee holes just inland from that eastern shore. They are quite active this time of year and should provide a robust thermal boost that could give us a nice bounce right over the N’yrthnookah. Indeed, I would suggest dispatching at least two regiments in that direction. There is ample territ
ory for them to spread out so they won’t draw a lot of attention. And the eastern shore region is little inhabited, save for some eagles.”

  “Brilliant, Strix Strumajen!” Grank exclaimed.

  Perhaps, she thought to herself. But I wish Emerilla could help me here. She used to be so sensitive to any atmospheric pressure variation. It must be that blow on the head!

  So an invasion strategy was devised. There would be three contingents, the smallest of which would be a squad of eight or nine owls to fly through the Ice Narrows, hopefully not drawing too much attention. They would depart in relays, leaving time in between each group. Then several platoons would fly to Cape Glaux and turn north, threading their way through the spirit woods to meet up with platoons that had flown over Broken Talon Point. Together, they would form a regiment. Finally, an entire division would fly due east from the island to the eastern shore and then turn north. They would hold these formations for the attack in the H’rathghar. Whether Lord Arrin would be holding the palace was unknown. The battle might in fact occur in the ridge lands of the H’rathghar glacier. The location of old stashes of ice weapons—for they were not depending entirely on battle claws—had also been discussed. The first squads, those bound for Broken Talon and Cape Glaux, would leave at daybreak. Shortly after, the rest would depart.