“What do you mean?”
“They grow stronger. If they are missing an eye, the vision in the other eye becomes sharper. Their hearing and their sense of smell are perhaps four times better than a normal wolf’s. A lame wolf or one missing a paw develops muscles it never dreamed of and is able to run faster than any healthy female and break track in the deepest snow. They gather a strength unequaled while guarding the Sacred Volcanoes, and you shall see that they are huge.”
“So what are the dangers, if they are this strong?”
“You see, there are other clans that would love to become the guardians of the volcanoes and the keepers of the bone mounds.”
“Why, for Glaux’s sake?! It sounds like the rottenest job in the world.”
“Well, it is said that there are certain powers that the gnaw wolves gain throughout their lives of guarding the ember, in addition to becoming strong. And that the ember itself has certain powers.
“They say good King Hoole promised that in exchange for a life spent guarding the ember, after following the spirit trail of stars and resting for a while in the soul cave, a gnaw wolf’s spirit could come back as anything it wanted to be.”
“Anything?” Coryn asked.
“Anything.”
“Do you believe it?”
“What else do I have, Coryn, but to believe it?” Hamish replied quietly.
“What would you come back as if you could? A bird? An owl? Maybe a fish?”
Hamish chuckled softly. “I would come back as a wolf born with four strong legs.”
The trek was a long one, with the days weaving into longer and longer nights. But the wolves never broke their stride. One night as Coryn was flying overhead, he saw them halt to study something on the ground. Hamish split away from the clan and with his lame leg climbed painfully up a slippery trail to a promontory. He threw back his head and howled to summon Coryn, who had learned some of this strange, untamed music of the wolves.
He flew down and followed Hamish to the spot where the wolves were examining a paw print in the snow. To Coryn, it looked like an ordinary wolf paw print.
“Look at it hard, laddie,” the chieftain said. “This is a dangerous sign. Here, compare it to my own print.” Duncan MacDuncan stepped back. Coryn dropped his head down close to the print on the ground. There was a difference, but he would never have noticed it if Duncan had not led him right to it. The four toe pads of the stranger wolf were much more spread out.
“What does that mean?” Coryn asked.
“Sick wolf. It is sick with the foaming-mouth disease. Wolves get it, but so can birds and many other animals. It drives them mad and they die. But the real danger is that their bite is like poison. If you are bitten by such a mad creature, you will also get the disease. We must travel very carefully now. And it is our duty to tell other wolves we meet that there is a mad one loose in these parts. You, Coryn, can be most helpful, lad, because you can see far and wide as you fly.”
“Of course,” Coryn said. “But what should I look for? My eyes are good but I don’t think I could see a footprint like this from so high up.”
“No, but you might see the wolf itself and you will recognize it quickly. Its stride will be broken and staggering. You will see the white foaming drool from its mouth, and you will hear its panting breath. Not at all like ours when we run. It is a harsh sort of breathing as if it breathes rocks or chunks of ice. It is a terrible sound. We shall be able to smell it even before you see it. But with your sight and hearing and our sense of smell, we shall know exactly where it is and be able to quickly change our course.”
“Yes, of course. I shall help.” Coryn was happy to be able to do something for this clan that had offered him sanctuary in this desolate land.
Coryn was not sure how many days and nights had passed since they had first spotted the paw prints of the sick wolf, but there did not seem to be others. Several times Coryn had flown wide of the byrrgis to look for the deadly wolf but had seen none that fit the description.
He began to wonder if he had missed something when he saw the chieftain and several of the nobles increase their scent markings and their sniffing. This slowed their progress even more. One evening at twilight, Coryn lighted down as he often did right on Hamish’s back. The byrrgis had stopped and several of the wolves had gone out on scent-marking expeditions. “What’s going on? Are there signs of the sick wolf?”
“No,” Hamish answered. “We’ve entered the territory of the MacHeaths. They are a dangerous clan, but not as dangerous as the sick wolf. Remember, I told you that some clans are very jealous of the MacDuncans because of our clan being in the Sacred Watch of the ember? Well, the MacHeaths are the most jealous.”
“Will there be a fight?”
“No. Duncan and his mate, Fiona, and McAngus will go and treat with them.”
“Treat? What’s that?”
“They will ask for a peaceful passage. They will promise them meat and hunting rights in our territory.”
“Is it safe for them to go?” Coryn asked.
“There are certain rules. You cannot kill or attack another wolf if it is coming to treat. They will obey that, I think. And the MacHeaths, well, they are not highborn wolves. They are easily impressed and very superstitious as well. It makes them in some ways easy to deal with; in other ways it makes them very dangerous.”
Coryn once again marveled at the complexity of wolves’ lives and their clans. It made the lives of owls seem simple in comparison.
“I told you, Coryn, how a deformed pup’s clan may petition for it to be a member of the Sacred Watch.”
Coryn nodded his head.
“It’s been said,” Hamish continued, “that the MacHeaths so want to have one of their own become a member of the Sacred Watch that they have sometimes purposely maimed a pup.”
“How horrible!” Coryn exclaimed.
“They are horrible. Very horrible.”
Just at that moment Chieftain MacDuncan approached. Hamish immediately lowered his body, flattened his ears, and flashed the whites of his eyes. These were the immediate responses required of a low-ranking wolf when approached by a high-ranking one. Duncan MacDuncan gave a rough snort of approval. “I want to talk to Coryn.”
“Yes, sir.” Hamish seemed to grovel and lower himself more. This annoyed Coryn no end. He couldn’t stand these cowering displays.
“Coryn, we are now in the territory of the MacHeaths.”
“Yes. Hamish told me.”
“Ah, yes.” He gave a quick look at Hamish, barely acknowledging his presence, although Coryn continued to perch on the wolf’s back. By Glaux, he wasn’t going to move, either. Hamish was his best friend in all of the Beyond.
“We are going to treat with the MacHeaths. They are a difficult clan. But tradition dictates that we must request permission to pass through their territory. I would like you to accompany us.”
“Me? Why me?” Coryn asked.
“The story of the bear and the wolves eating together after the owl lighted on the moose carcass has traveled widely. You are an owl that commands great respect. We feel that your presence at this gathering will be helpful.”
Coryn blinked. He was amazed that the story had traveled so far and meant so much to the wolves. “My Lord Duncan,” Coryn said, for this was the proper way to address a chieftain, “I am honored that you invite me to accompany you on this very important mission. It is the least I can do for the sanctuary you have given me.”
Duncan MacDuncan then lowered his own tail slightly. Something a chieftain rarely did, for it was a sign of submission. In this case, Coryn took it as a gesture of gratitude. “We shall go at daybreak to meet them,” he said.
“Not until daybreak?” Coryn asked.
“There is much to do before that.”
Howling was what had to be done. The wolves of the MacDuncan clan formed a circle and began to howl. Their strange mad music laced the night. It filled the valley and skimmed over the mountaintops
. They were answered back by equally untamed wild sounds. Then it ended abruptly as the sky began to lighten.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
An Eerie Feeling
Coryn had never been to what is called the Gadderheal, or the ceremonial cave of each clan. When he had first met the MacDuncans, they were far from their own Gadderheal. Hamish had told Coryn about them but he had not really known what to expect. Certainly not this. There was a fire pit in the center with coals brought by Rogue colliers or Rogue smiths. The wolves did not have skill with fire like the Rogue smiths or the Guardians of Ga’Hoole at the great tree but they liked it for their Gadderheals. Hamish had explained that in exchange for the coals, the Rogue smiths received killshares, or permission to share in the meat killed by the wolves.
Coryn was nervous about the fire. It had been a long time since he had been near one and he was not sure what he might see in the flames. He purposely took a place most distant from it. There were skins all around the cave from animals the wolves had hunted, and the chieftain and his nobles wore them draped around their shoulders. The chieftain also wore a headdress of gnawed bones and teeth. Gnaw wolves who were not from the MacDuncan clan made non-sacred art from bones, and the chieftain’s headdress was one such piece. There was also a talking stick, beautifully gnawed, that rested under the paws of whichever wolf was speaking.
“Welcome, Lord MacDuncan, to our Gadderheal.”
Duncan MacDuncan lowered himself into the most servile posture Coryn had ever seen. In truth, he had never seen Duncan lower himself to any wolf. “We are deeply grateful for this meeting.”
“And we, too, are honored that you have brought the owl. We have heard the stories of the bear and the wolf at the moose carcass.”
Duncan MacDuncan nodded. “We have brought important news, along with presents as tokens of our respect and admiration of the MacHeaths.”
“And what is this news, Lord Duncan MacDuncan?”
“There is a foaming-mouth wolf that skirts the edges of your territory. We have seen its signs. But so far we have not spotted it. Perhaps good Lupus,” Duncan MacDuncan tipped his head back and up toward the sky, “has already taken it on the spirit trail.”
All the wolves murmured some sort of blessing that Coryn did not understand.
“Thank you, Lord Duncan, for sharing this news with our clan. We are most grateful.”
That had been Lord Duncan’s plan. He was coming to ask for permission to pass through the territory because it was the most direct route to the Sacred Volcanoes, and he had brought presents, for which the MacHeaths would be grateful. But news of a foaming-mouth wolf was even more valuable. Duncan MacDuncan wanted this wily and cantankerous old chieftain in double debt to him.
“And now for the presents. Bring them forth, Sir Donalbain.” An immense wolf with a gray coat brought forward a skin bag that he clutched in his mouth. When he dropped it in front of the chieftain’s paws, several sparkling jewels spilled out as well as some finely crafted gnaw-bones from a famous MacDuncan gnaw wolf of old.
“He’ll go for the jewels,” Duncan had said before. “The old coot doesn’t know a finely crafted gnaw-bone from a stick of wood.”
He was right, for Lord Dunleavey MacHeath immediately started pawing the jewels. “Aaah, emeralds from the Emerald River. How interesting.” He turned to one of his own nobles. “Sir Crathmore, will you fetch the gift our most recent visitor brought to us.”
“Certainly, my lord.”
The wolf returned in no time and set down a bundle of what looked like scraps of leather.
The wolves of the MacDuncan clan crowded closer to have a look.
“What is it?…Never seen anything like it.” The MacDuncan wolves were puzzled.
“Art, they call it. Paintings. They are eyes of the Others, and all green at that!”
“Maybe the Others had a little wolf in them,” Duncan offered. There was hearty laughter at this.
It was at precisely this point that Coryn began to have uneasy feelings in the Gadderheal. He could feel the heat of the fire and yet he resisted looking at it. At that moment, a scruffy wolf pup missing a tail lurched into the Gadderheal. It was obvious that the tail had been bitten off and, as Coryn looked more closely, he noticed that the reason the pup limped was because there was something wrong with one of his footpads. A sickening sensation washed through Coryn. He felt he might yarp a pellet any second, which he knew was not the thing to do in a ceremonial cave like a Gadderheal. But it was clear that, as Hamish had told him, this pup had been maimed on purpose so that he could become a gnaw wolf.
“Ah, Cody,” said MacHeath, “our little gnaw wolf. Show Lord Duncan your bones.”
Cody waddled to a corner and dragged out a few bones.
Coryn noticed a cream-colored female watching the lame pup and saw her then shift her gaze to him. He had never seen eyes brimming with such sadness. For a minute, she seemed to study him. Was she staring at his scar? She could never know that I was maimed by my own mother, never!
“He gnaws beautifully, as you see, Lord Duncan.”
“Yes, I can see.” Duncan MacDuncan could hardly conceal his disgust.
“His great-grandmum was a MacDuncan, you know.”
It was in the midst of this conversation in which Lord MacHeath was obviously angling for the maimed pup to be considered for the Sacred Watch that Coryn, desperate to turn his eyes from the pup, caught a glimpse—just a glimpse of the fire. But in that instant he knew he could deny the flames no longer. He swiveled his head. He watched the flames first and then his gaze penetrated the glow of the embers. He saw a face, covered in soot, as black as a Rogue smith fresh from the forge. And beneath the ash and grime, glowing as fiercely as that moon perched and trembling on the edge of the Beyond, was an immense white face with a scar just like his own. He felt his gizzard grow still and then lock. Nyra has been here! She has been right in this Gadderheal. She is the visitor who brought the green eyes as gifts.
CHAPTER TWENTY
A Spotted Owl Goes Yeep
Why didn’t you tell me all this before, Coryn?” Hamish demanded.
“I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I can’t explain it.”
Hamish thought a while and then said, “I think I can explain it. You have special powers. Fire sight, you call it. It’s just like with gnaw wolves. Powers separate you from other creatures of your kind. Everyone thinks that to have power is wonderful, but we know it isn’t. We know it’s a lonely existence. We are both outcasts.”
“Yes, exactly. But it is not just my fire sight that separates me. It is that my mother and father were the worst owls on Earth. They were brutal, horrid owls. This scar that you see on my face is the work of my mother’s talons.” Coryn thought this would shock Hamish but it didn’t. “How would you like it if your mum did something like that to you?”
“Oh, she did something just as bad, far worse really, except she had no choice. It is the wolf law.”
Coryn blinked. He had assumed that Hamish’s mother had died giving birth to him, because there was no older female that he seemed to have anything to do with.
“You have a mother?”
“Oh, yes.” Hamish nodded.
“In this clan?”
Hamish nodded again.
“What did she do to you?”
“When wolf pups are born, we are born naked and blind and deaf. We begin to hear within a few days, but our eyes will not open for almost eleven days. On the night I was born, when my mother saw my crooked leg and how ugly I was, she did not even lick off the birth sac but took me in her mouth and walked out into the cold night. She turned her head toward the highest ridge and began climbing. Never breaking stride, she slid through the night with her loathsome bundle. She put me on the ridge where the wolf birds would find me and eat me. My birth sac full of the juices and slime of birth might summon the wild cats that roamed or even the grizzlies. Or if I should wriggle enough, I might tumble down and crush my thin skull on a rock.”
“How could she do that? That is so cruel.”
“Not really. That is simply the way it is with wolves. If the pup lives, that means it is marked to be a gnaw wolf and is taken back into the clan.”
“And you lived.”
“Yes, Duncan came to see if I had lived or died.”
“So when you came back, did she nurse you?”
“She was no longer there, nor my father.”
“But why?”
“It is a law: When a wolf gives birth to a deformed pup, both the mother and the father must leave the clan forever.”
“Where do they go?”
“Some try to go to other clans. But news travels fast among wolves, and they are usually not admitted. No one wants wolves who give birth to deformed pups.”
Coryn didn’t say anything. But he did think that as awful as what Hamish’s mother had done to him, it was not quite the same as what Nyra had done.
“Now, Coryn, the problem is that you, in fact, might meet your mother.”
“Yes, it is a problem. More than just my problem. She’s probably here trying to get hireclaws. It’s her dream to rebuild the Tytonic Union of Pure Ones. She wants to control the owl world.”
“Well, that might not happen.” Hamish knew Coryn was upset and decided to change the subject to one he knew his friend loved: the old legends. “They said that in the time before Hoole, the owl world was in terrible chaos. But when he came here to the Beyond and when Grank, the first collier, taught him how to dive for coals, he one day was seized by a vision. Some say it was the fumes from the volcanoes that gave him this vision, but suddenly he went straight for one of the Sacred Volcanoes. It was as if the volcano had turned to glass, and he could see right through it. He dived in and found the Ember of Hoole.”
“But how did he not burn up?”
“No one knows. But when Hoole was dying, he returned to the Beyond and buried the ember. No one knows in which volcano, and for years after his death, many a collier died trying to dive for it. That was part of the gnaw wolves’ job, to keep the wrong kind of owls away from the craters of the volcanoes. The volcanoes still attract colliers, because the rivers of coals have the kind they love, the bonk coals, the ones that burn so strong. And the colliers love to ride the she winds.”
The Outcast Page 8
