The Outcast

by Kathryn Lasky

  It had shocked all the owls of the great tree when the two monarchs had become so ill at the same time. It was almost as if they had planned it. They were old, yes, but not as old as Ezylryb, who was still more or less flying. When Soren had been summoned, he had hoped for some sort of explanation, some clue as to why this was happening. As he entered the chamber, he was surprised to see that in addition to the band, the entire Chaw of Chaws had been assembled. All except for Otulissa, who was off on some mission. Soren was struck once again by how very odd it was that Otulissa was gone and by the way in which she had left—stealthily, at twixt time, without a word. They had learned about it only later, when Ezylryb had said that she was off on “some business.” And he had heard that Nyra was raising a chick. But then, surprisingly, came rumors that the young owl had fled. Could Otulissa’s business have something to do with that?

  Ruby, Martin, and Soren’s sister, Eglantine, were all present. Cleve of Firthmore, a healer from the Northern Kingdoms, motioned them forward to where the two monarchs rested, not on their usual perches, but in fluffy nests of down to which every owl in the tree had contributed breast feathers.

  “Be brief,” Cleve cautioned. “Do not ask too many questions, for they have much to tell you.” The members of the Chaw of Chaws nodded.

  “But where’s Ezylryb?” Soren asked.

  “You’ll find out.”

  Surely he has not been sent out on a mission at this hour, Soren thought.

  Boron summoned the Chaw of Chaws weakly with his talon. But it was Barran, his mate the queen, who first began to speak. Soren went forward slowly and with great apprehension. His gizzard had stilled. He knew what would happen soon. It felt strange. The passing of Boron and Barran would mark the end of an era. The future seemed fragile. The tree would seem so frail without them.

  “The first thing we want to say to you all,” the old Snowy’s voice was so feeble that they had to lean forward to hear her, “is that this is not a sad time. It is and shall be a time of great rejoicing.”

  The owls of the Chaw of Chaws were confused.

  “Yes.” Boron now spoke in a slightly stronger voice than his mate. “We see your confusion. But it shall be. Our dear Ezylryb is at this moment on the highest lookout branch of the great tree to welcome your new king—your true king.”

  “What?” all the owls said at once.

  “What do you mean?” Digger asked. “You have been our true monarchs.” Digger, the most philosophical of all the owls, could not contain himself. “What do you mean by the word ‘true’? You have been most loyal and brave.”

  The two monarchs churred weakly. “Did I not tell you, dear, that Digger would question us when we said ‘true leader’?” Boron turned his head toward his mate. She churred so softly it was almost inaudible.

  “You are right. We have been loyal, but as king and queen we were not anointed in the way of that first king, King Hoole. We have been stewards, custodians, guardians of the kingship.”

  The two monarchs nodded feebly.

  “But those tales of the ember and Hoole were just stories, just legends,” Martin said.

  Soren knew there was no “just” about it. Used like this, “just” was a terrible little word that snuffed out truth and possibility.

  Boron’s voice grew suddenly stronger. “It is through legends that our gizzards grow bold and our hearts strong. Legends separate the civilized from the uncivilized. A great thing is happening this evening. A prophecy is coming true. There is a young owl about to retrieve the Ember of Hoole.”

  Stunned silence fell upon the hollow of the parliament. Never had Soren expected this. Never in a thousand years. But then again, according to the legend, that was exactly how long ago good King Hoole had reburied the ember and then passed on to glaumora.

  “At the moment the ember is his, we shall die. So it is writ.” Barran’s voice was growing more frail by the second. “Yes, you shall miss us, but do not mourn us. This is a great and happy occasion…Our…” She fought for a breath.

  “Our business…” Boron now spoke and in a thin voice finished the sentence, “on Earth…is finished. Glaux bless you all.” Both owls took one last breath and died. There was a slight wind in the parliament hollow as their spirits passed over.

  The final ceremonies took place immediately. Soren returned to his hollow. His mate, a lovely young Barn Owl named Pellimore, or Pelli, was sitting on the clutch of eggs. Soren had rescued Pellimore from a fire in Ambala the previous summer. It hadn’t exactly been love at first sight, because Pelli had struggled fiercely, thinking Soren was a Pure One. What had it taken to convince her that he was not? A recitation from the Fire Cycle. He would never forget her response. “Quite an appropriate choice, considering the situation we’re in.” Trees full of sap were exploding all around them. Soren had admired first her courage in trying to fight him off, and secondly her cool answer in the midst of the very hot fire. So their friendship began as a literary one. She knew the legends by heart, but she did not know how to read. He taught her, and she learned quickly. They spent many hours in the library together poring over books, and their passion for books had slowly turned into a passion for each other.

  “Any action?” Soren asked upon arriving in their hollow.

  “No,” Pelli said and shook her head.

  “Want me to sit for a while?”

  “No. I want you to go figure out whatever it is that is bothering you.”

  “Why do you think something’s bothering me, Pelli?”

  “Soren, I can always tell when you’re bothered. You have this odd little habit of fussing with your port plummels. Now tell me what it is.”

  “It’s just that when Boron and Barran were dying, Barran said, ‘At the moment the ember is his, we shall die. So it is writ.’ But I can’t find anything like it in any of the legends or the cantos. It makes me think that something is happening or about to happen.”

  At just this moment, Mrs. Plithiver slithered in. “Why, I think you’re half snake, Soren, with your forebodings.” Blind snakes were known for their refined sensibilities. “I have a feeling, too, that something very important is about to happen. The heat of that ember seems close. You two fly up to the crown of the tree. I’ll nest-sit for you.”

  Soren knew there was no arguing with Mrs. P. or doubting her instincts.

  “But Mrs. P.,” Pelli protested.

  “Quick, off that nest.”

  Mrs. Plithiver slid onto the nest and arranged herself in a wide spreading coil so she could cover each of the three eggs. How far they had all come together, she mused. The fir tree in the forest of Tyto seemed a lifetime ago. Soren, a new hatchling then, had been pushed from the nest by his brother. Now look at him, about to be a father of three little girl chicks. Yes, Mrs. P. knew that in these eggs were three feisty little females.

  Soren and Pelli joined Ezylryb at the top of the tree. It was a dark moonless night.

  “Welcome,” Ezylryb said.

  “Good evening, Ezylryb,” Pelli replied. “Good evening, Octavia,” she said to the fat greenish-blue snake that was suspended from a branch.

  “How’re the eggs coming?” Octavia asked.

  “Coming, Octavia, coming,” Ezylryb fussed at his old friend and nest-maid snake. “Eggs are completely boring until they hatch out, if you ask me.”

  “I didn’t ask you. So, in your own words, why don’t you put a mouse in it?” Octavia and Ezylryb enjoyed bickering. Even though they were owl and snake, they squabbled like an old couple, mates of the same species.

  Soren was silent. His eyes were fixed on the dark horizon across the sea. There was something out there. A dim little pinprick of light. Was he the only one seeing it? He thought he could see colors. He spread his wings and lofted himself into flight.

  “Soren, where are you going?” Pelli called out.

  Ezylryb put a gentle wing on her. “Let him go. This is fitting, Pelli. He should be the one to greet him.”

  “Greet who
? I can’t see anything out there.”

  “But Soren does. He sees the first glimmer of the ember, as well he should.”

  Soren flew into the gusting winds. With each stroke, the ember glowed more intensely. It was a beautiful thing, just as it had been described in the legends. It seemed to draw Soren forward. He had never felt such joy coursing through him. He could now just make out the shape of the three owls. One was definitely Otulissa. One flew like a Masked Owl, and the third one in between them seemed to fly like a Barn Owl. Soren listened more carefully, contracting the muscles in his facial disk to scoop up the sounds. Yes, the heartbeat, too, sounded like that of a Barn Owl.

  Closer and closer they came. The rest of the world seemed to fade away for Soren. The sea hushed, the winds died. He heard nothing except the wing beat of the Barn Owl. The Barn Owl flew so softly. It reminded him of the way his mum and da had flown years and years ago. That he could even remember such sounds was astounding. But the wing beats of this owl were identical. And then, at last, the owl’s face was in view. First, he noticed the Ember of Hoole clutched in its beak, glowing beautifully in all of its orange and blue, yellow and green splendor. And then he felt a little jolt as he saw the scar running down the owl’s face. But that was nothing. That was only the outside of the owl. When he listened more closely, he could hear the fine pulses of a decent gizzard, the beats not only of his wings but of a generous heart. And now Soren knew who it was. It was an owl born of tyrants, but with the heart and the gizzard and the mind of his grandparents. This was a noble owl.

  Coryn dropped the ember into the bucket that Gwyndor held. Soren met them in midair and lofted down off Otulissa’s starboard side. Otulissa spoke. “Soren, this is your nephew, Coryn, King of Ga’Hoole.”

  “Uncle Soren, I am honored.”

  Soren’s eyes filled with tears as he dropped in next to his nephew and they continued to fly. “No, I am honored. You have done what no other owl could imagine doing. More miraculous even than retrieving the Ember of Hoole.”

  Coryn blinked.

  “You who were born into evil found good. You who were raised in tyranny sought equality. You who were schooled in brutality learned only mercy. You who were taught the dishonorable discovered honor. You who were nurtured on the poison of the most ignoble owls in the world are most noble. You are my nephew and my king.”

  “And you are my uncle and my hero. But I still have much to learn. So I would also have you as my steward. You must carry the ember with me to the great tree.”

  Gwyndor then passed the two owls the bucket, and the king and his uncle flew forth.

  As they flew on toward the tree, the owls perched in its limbs, waiting, saw a strange sight. Two Barn Owls flew toward them, each with a talon on a collier’s bucket, but as they approached, the bucket seemed to become translucent as if it were made of glass. And the Ember of Hoole shined brightly through it. Indeed, the glow from the coal bathed the whole tree in its colors. It was as if a rain of embers had illuminated the entire island. Eglantine could hold herself back no longer. She flew out to greet her nephew and her brother.

  “Welcome to the great tree, Your Majesty. I am your aunt Eglantine.”

  “Then I must call you aunt and you must call me Coryn.” Eglantine blinked. “Yes, Coryn sounds fine to me. I might be king, but all my life, all I have really wanted to be is a Guardian of Ga’Hoole.”

  “Well, then, Coryn, come and follow me,” Eglantine replied.

  At that moment, Otulissa looked up and saw a gathering of glowing vapor in the sky. The spots shimmered brightly. She flew right up to her old leader.

  “I believe, Strix Struma! I believe in you.”

  “Yes, dear. And what a fine night it is. It is a night for heroes and young kings. And now my business on Earth is finished.”

  “I believe…I believe…I believe,” Otulissa kept whispering as she hovered, and the scroom of Strix Struma dissolved in the night to find her spirit trail to glaumora.

  And all the owls of the great tree that night believed, as well. They believed that there were many kinds of truths, those of science that could be proven through the brain, and those of legends that could come true in the hearts and gizzards of all owls if they only believed.

  “I am here,” Coryn said in the great hollow that evening, “because there are owls who still believe in legends and the truths that can be found in legends, the truths of courage and loyalty, of goodness and mercy. My uncle repeated the legends many years ago when he was a captive in St. Aggie’s. It saved him and my aunt Gylfie, if I may call you that.” He turned to the little Elf Owl, and she nodded happily. “It saved them from moon blinking. It saved them from the destruction of the moon-blaze chamber. Where there are legends, there can be hope. Where there are legends, there can be dreams of knightly owls, from a kingdom called Ga’Hoole, who will rise each night into the blackness and perform noble deeds. Owls who speak no words but true ones. Owls whose only purpose is to right all wrongs, to make strong the weak, mend the broken, vanquish the proud, and make powerless those who abuse the frail. With hearts sublime, they take flight…And I, dear Guardians, am an owl who was broken and powerless and weak, an outcast. Glaux bless you for your belief in legends.”

  OWLS

  and others from the

  GUARDIANS of GA’HOOLE SERIES

  The Band

  SOREN: Barn Owl, Tyto alba, from the Forest Kingdom of Tyto; escaped from St. Aegolius Academy for Orphaned Owls; a Guardian at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree

  GYLFIE: Elf Owl, Micranthene whitneyi, from the desert kingdom of Kuneer; escaped from St. Aegolius Academy for Orphaned Owls; Soren’s best friend; a Guardian at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree

  TWILIGHT: Great Gray Owl, Strix nebulosa, free flier; orphaned within hours of hatching; a Guardian at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree

  DIGGER: Burrowing Owl, Speotyto cunicularius, from the desert kingdom of Kuneer; a Guardian at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree

  The Leaders of the Great Ga’Hoole Tree

  BORON: Snowy Owl, Nyctea scandiaca, the King of Hoole

  BARAN: Snowy Owl, Nyctea scandiaca, the Queen of Hoole

  EZYLRYB: Whiskered Screech Owl, Otus trichopsis, the wise weather-interpretation and colliering ryb (teacher) at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree; Soren’s mentor (also known as LYZE OF KIEL)

  STRIX STRUMA: Spotted Owl, Strix occidentalis, the dignified navigation ryb at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree; killed in battle against the Pure Ones

  SYLVANA: Burrowing Owl, Speotyto cunicularius, a young ryb at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree

  Others at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree

  OTULISSA: Spotted Owl, Strix occidentalis, a student of prestigious lineage at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree; ryb of Ga’Hoolology

  MARTIN: Northern Saw-whet Owl, Aegolius acadicus, in Ezylryb’s chaw with Soren

  RUBY: Short-eared Owl, Asio flammeus, in Ezylryb’s chaw with Soren

  EGLANTINE: Barn Owl, Tyto alba, Soren’s younger sister

  MADAME PLONK: Snowy Owl, Nyctea scandiaca, the elegant singer of the Great Ga’Hoole Tree

  MRS. PLITHIVER: blind snake, formerly the nest-maid for Soren’s family; now a member of the harp guild at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree

  OCTAVIA: Kielian snake, nest-maid for Madame Plonk and Ezylryb (also known as BRIGID)

  The Pure Ones

  KLUDD: Barn Owl, Tyto alba, Soren’s older brother; slain leader of the Pure Ones (also known as METAL BEAK and HIGH TYTO)

  NYRA: Barn Owl, Tyto alba, Kludd’s mate; leader of the Pure Ones after Kludd’s death

  NYROC: Barn Owl, Tyto alba, son born to Nyra and Kludd after Kludd’s death; in training to become High Tyto, leader of the Pure Ones: renamed CORYN after deserting

  DUSTYTUFT: Greater Sooty Owl, Tyto tenebricosa, low-caste owl in the Pure Ones; friend of Nyroc since his hatching (also known as PHILLIP)

  WORTMORE: Barn Owl, Tyto alba, a Pure One lieutenant

  UGLAMORE: Barn Owl, Tyto alba, a Pure One sublieutenant unde
r Nyra; deserts Pure Ones

  STRYKER: Barn Owl, Tyto alba, a Pure One commander under Nyra

  Other Characters

  THE ROGUE SMITH OF SILVERVEIL: Snowy Owl, Nyctea scandiaca, a blacksmith not attached to any owl kingdom

  GWYNDOR: Masked Owl, Tyto novaehollandiae, a rogue smith summoned by the Pure Ones for the Marking Ceremony over Kludd’s bones

  HAMISH: dire wolf of the MacDuncan clan; a gnaw wolf of the Sacred Watch; friend to CORYN

  DUNCAN MACDUNCAN: leader of the MacDuncan clan of dire wolves in Beyond the Beyond

  DUNLEAVY MACHEATH: leader of the MacHeath clan of dire wolves in Beyond the Beyond

  GYLLBANE: member of the MacHeath clan of the dire wolves; her pup was maimed by Dunleavy

  SLYNELLA: green iridescent flying snake of Ambala; companion to Mist

  STINGYLL: green iridescent flying snake of Ambala; companion to Mist

  Preview

  A peek at THE GUARDIANS of GA’HOOLE Book Nine: The First Collier

  He turned to me. The eyes of these dire wolves were a color I had never seen before. To say they were green does not do them justice. They were more like green fire. And Fengo’s were absolutely astonishing. Our eyes locked and in that moment something passed between us. I knew then that although we were owl and wolf, two such different animals, we shared something: We both had visions. I could see the image of the volcanoes’ flames reflected now in his eyes. As I peered deeper into that eerie greenness, I saw more. It was as if the eyes themselves were no longer eyes but something else. There was the reflection of orange flame, but in the center of that flame was a glimmer of blue and then a shimmer of green, the same green as the wolf’s eyes. But I was not seeing eyes.