The Journey Read online

  The Journey (Guardians of Ga'hoole)

  Book Jacket

  Series: Guardians of Ga'hoole [2]

  Rating:

  Tags: Fantasy, Fiction, General, Action & Adventure - General, Children's Books, Action & Adventure, Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Fantasy fiction, Animals, Ages 9-12 Fiction, Children: Grades 4-6, Birds, Animals - Birds, Juvenile Science Fiction, Quests (Expeditions), Science Fiction; Fantasy; Magic, Science Fiction; Fantasy; & Magic, Legends; Myths; Fables, Owls, Digger (Fictitious character), Tyto (Imaginary place), Gylfie (Fictitious character), Soren (Fictitious character), Twilight (Fictitious character)

  SUMMARY:

  In the second book in the GUARDIANS OF GA'HOOLE series, Soren, Gylfie, Twilight, and Digger travel to the Great Ga'Hoole Tree, a mythical place where an order of owls rises each night to perform noble deeds. Soren and his group are seeking help to fight the evil they discovered in the owl world (in GUARDIANS #1). After a harrowing journey, they arrive at the Great Ga'Hoole Tree and learn they will need to stay to receive training from the Ga'Hoolian elders. During his time at the Great Ga'Hoole Tree, Soren finds (and then loses) a great mentor and he is reunited with his beloved sister.

  Guardians of Ga’hoole

  The Journey

  Book Two

  by

  Kathryn Lasky

  New York Toronto London Auckland

  Sydney Mexico City New Delhi Hong Kong

  To Max, who imagines universes

  —K. L.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Maps

  Illustration

  CHAPTER ONE A Mobbing of Crows

  CHAPTER TWO In the Company of Sooty Owls

  CHAPTER THREE Twilight Shows Off

  CHAPTER FOUR Get Out! Get Out!

  CHAPTER FIVE The Mirror Lakes

  CHAPTER SIX The Ice Narrows

  CHAPTER SEVEN This Side of Yonder

  CHAPTER EIGHT First Night to First Light

  CHAPTER NINE A Parliament of Owls

  CHAPTER TEN Twilight on the Brink

  CHAPTER ELEVEN The Golden Talons

  CHAPTER TWELVE Hukla, Hukla and Hope

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN Books of the Yonder

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN Night Flight

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN A Visit to Bubo

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN The Voices in the Roots

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Weather Chaw

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Mrs. Plithiver’s Dilemma

  CHAPTER NINETEEN A Visit to Madame Plonk

  CHAPTER TWENTY Fire!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE “A Coal in My Beak!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Owlets Down!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE At Last!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Trader Mags

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE In the Folds of the Night

  THE OWLS and others from GUARDIANS of GA’HOOLE The Journey

  A peek at THE GUARDIANS of GA’HOOLE Book Three: The Rescue

  The Guardians of Ga’Hoole

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Maps

  Illustration

  …the four owls looked below and saw the past sea glinting with silver spangles from the moon’s light and then, directly ahead, spreading into the night, were the twisting branches of the largest tree they had ever seen, the Great Ga’Hoole Tree.

  CHAPTER ONE

  A Mobbing of Crows

  Soren felt the blind snake shift in the deep feathers between his shoulders as he and the three other owls flew through the buffeting winds. They had been flying for hours now and it seemed as if in the last minutes the darkness had begun to dissolve drop by drop, and they were now passing from the full black of the night into the first light of the morning. Beneath them a river slid like a dark ribbon over the earth.

  “Let’s keep flying even though it’s getting light,” said Twilight, the immense Great Gray Owl that flew downwind of Soren. “We’re getting nearer. I just feel it.”

  It was to the Sea of Hoolemere they flew, and in the middle of that sea was an island and on that island there was a tree called the Great Ga’Hoole Tree and in this tree there was an order of owls. It was said that these owls would rise each night into the blackness and perform noble deeds. The universe of owls was desperately in need of such deeds. For with its many kingdoms it was about to be destroyed by a terrible evil.

  Hidden away in a maze of stone canyons and ravines there was indeed a violent nation of deadly owls known as St. Aegolius. The evil of St. Aggie’s, as it was often called, had touched almost every owl kingdom in some way or another. Soren and his best friend, Gylfie, the tiny Elf Owl, had both been captured by St. Aggie’s patrols when they were young nestlings unable to fly. Twilight, too, had been snatched but, unlike Soren and Gylfie, he had managed to escape before being imprisoned. Digger’s youngest brother had been eaten by a St. Aggie’s patrol and his parents later killed. Soren and Gylfie had met Twilight and Digger, a Burrowing Owl, shortly after their own daring escape from the stone canyons of St. Aggie’s.

  Although the four owls had met as orphans, they had become so much more. In a desert still stained with the blood of two of the fiercest of St. Aggie’s elite warrior owls, whom they had defeated, they had discovered a knowledge, along with a feeling deep in their gizzards, where all owls felt their strongest emotions. And this knowledge was that they were a band forevermore, one for all and all for one, bound by the deepest loyalty and dedicated to the survival of the kingdoms of all owls. They had sworn an oath in that desert drenched with blood and tinged with the silver light of the moon. They would go to Hoolemere. It was as a band that they knew they must go and find its great tree, which loomed now as the heart of wisdom and nobility in a world that was becoming insane and ignoble. They must warn of the evil that threatened. They must become part of this ancient kingdom of guardian knights on silent wings.

  They hoped they were drawing near even though the river they now followed was not the River Hoole, the one that led to Hoolemere. Still, Twilight said he was sure that this river would lead to the Hoole and on to Hoolemere, and the very thought of this legendary island in the sea made the four owls stroke even harder against the confusing winds. But Soren felt Mrs. Plithiver stir again in his feathers. Mrs. P., as he called her, had been the old nest-maid in the hollow where Soren’s parents had made their home. These blind snakes had been born without eyes, and where their eyes should have been there were only two slight indentations. The rosy-scaled reptiles were kept by many owls to tend the nests and make sure they were clean and free of maggots and various vermin that found their way into the hollows. Soren had thought that he would never see Mrs. P. again, and yet they had found each other just days after his escape from St. Aggie’s. She had told him what Soren had long suspected—that it was his older brother, Kludd, who had pushed him from the nest when his parents were out hunting. Although he had survived the fall, still being flightless he was prey to any ground animal. Ground animal! Who would have ever thought another owl would be the greatest danger? Until that moment when he was snatched and felt himself being carried into the night sky by a pair of talons, Soren had thought that the worst predator in the forest, from an owl’s point of view, was a raccoon. And then Mrs. P. told him that she had suspected that Kludd had done the same thing to Eglantine, his baby sister. When Mrs. P. had protested, Kludd had threatened to eat her. So the poor old snake had no choice but to leave—very quickly.

  Now Mrs. P. slithered toward Soren’s left ear, the higher ear and the easiest for her to reach. “Soren,” she whispered, “I’m not sure if it is a good idea to keep flying with all this light. We don’t want to get mobbed.”

  “Mobbed?” Soren asked.

  “You know, crows.”


  Soren felt a chill run through his gizzard.

  Perhaps if Mrs. Plithiver had not been whispering her warning in his ear he might have heard the chuffing sound of wings, and not owl wings, overhead.

  “Crow to windward!” Gylfie cried. And then suddenly the rosy dawn sky turned black.

  “We’re being mobbed!” shrieked Twilight.

  Oh, Glaux! thought Soren. This was the worst thing that could befall any owl flying in the daytime. But it was still very early. Crows at night were fine. Owls were crows’ worst enemies at night. They could attack them as they slept, but crows during the day were something else. Crows in daylight were terrible. If a crow discovered an owl during the daytime, even if it was just one crow, that bird had a way of signaling others and soon an entire flock would arrive and mob the owls, diving at their heads with their sharp beaks, trying to tear out their eyes.

  “Scatter!” Gylfie cried out. “Scatter and loop.”

  Suddenly, Gylfie seemed to be everywhere at once. She was like a crazed insect, zipping through the air. Soren, Digger, and Twilight began to follow her lead. Soren quickly noticed that Gylfie would swoop up from her loops and spiraling dives to just beneath the crows, stabbing them on the underside of their wings. This made the crows drop their wings down close to their bodies and lose altitude.

  “I feel one coming up behind,” hissed Mrs. P. “Off your windward tail feathers.”

  Mrs. P. carefully began to crawl backward on Soren. He adjusted his wings. For even with her light weight, as she moved he could feel his balance shift. Mrs. P. could smell the crow’s stinky breath as it closed in. Soren began to dive. Mrs. P. continued to make her way toward the tail feathers that were stiffer and coarser. A great whiff of crow stench engulfed her. Mrs. Plithiver raised her head in the direction of the foul odor and began screaming, “Scum of the sky, curse of the earth, riffraff of the Yonder. Scurrilous crowilous,” she ranted.

  The Yonder was what all blind snakes called the sky because it was so far away, about as far away as anything could be for a snake. But Mrs. P. saved her most poisonous insult for last—“Wet pooper!” Blind snakes were especially impressed by owls’ digestive systems, which allowed them to compress certain parts of waste into neat pellets that they yarped up through their mouths, as opposed to other disgusting birds whom they referred to as “wet poopers.” The crow seemed to brake mid-flight. His beak fell open, his wings folded.

  Crows are simple birds. And what this crow had just seen and heard—a snake hissing curses and rising from the back feathers of an owl—stunned him. He went “yeep,” which meant that he simply froze in flight and began to plummet to earth.

  The crows by this time had begun to disappear. Twilight flew up to Soren’s windward side. “Digger’s hurt.”

  Indeed, when Soren looked in the direction of Digger, he saw the Burrowing Owl tipping dangerously to one side. “We’ve got to find a place to land.”

  Gylfie flew up breathlessly. “I don’t know how much longer Digger can last. He’s not flying straight at all.”

  “Which way is he tipping?” Mrs. P. asked.

  “Downwind,” said Twilight.

  “Quick!” she ordered. “Let’s get over there. I might be able to help.”

  “You?” Twilight asked somewhat incredulously.

  “Remember, dear, how Digger had been asking me to ride on his back in the desert? This might just be the time.”

  A few seconds later they were coming in on Digger’s upwind wing.

  “Digger,” Soren said, “we know you’re hurt.”

  “I don’t know if I can make it,” the Burrowing Owl groaned. “Oh, if I could only walk.”

  “There’s a stand of trees really close,” Soren said. “Mrs. P. has an idea that might help you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “She’s going to get on your good wing. That will tip your injured wing up again, lighten the drag on it. Gylfie meanwhile will fly under your bad wing and create a little updraft for it. It might work.”

  “I don’t know,” Digger moaned miserably.

  “Faith, boy! Faith!” exhorted Mrs. Plithiver. “Now let’s get on with it.”

  “I really don’t think I can make it,” Digger gasped.

  “You can, boy! You can!” said Mrs. P. Her voice grew amazingly strong. “You shall go on to the finish. You shall fly to the forests, to the trees, to Hoolemere. You have defended yourself against these crows. You have strode across deserts. You shall defend yourself now by flying. You shall fly into the wind, into the light, into this new day. Whatever the cost, you shall fly on. You shall not fail or falter. You shall not weaken. You shall finish the flight.” Mrs. P.’s voice swelled in the growing light of the morning and somehow it filled them all with new courage.

  Now Soren flew in so close to Digger that his wing was touching the tip of Digger’s good wing. They were ready for the transfer. “Now, Mrs. P.! Go!”

  The old nest snake began to slither out onto Soren’s wing. Soren felt the pressure of air around his body and the cushions of wind under his wings shift. The air surrounding him seemed to fray. He had to concentrate hard not to go into a roll. But if he was frightened, he could not imagine what Mrs. P. was feeling as she blindly slithered out to the tip of his wing and began the precarious transfer to Digger.

  “Almost there, dear, almost there. Steady now. Steady.”

  Suddenly, she was gone. His wing felt light. Soren turned his head. She had made it. She was now crawling up toward the base of Digger’s wing. It was working. Digger’s flight grew even.

  “We’re bringin’ him in! We’re bringing him in!” Twilight shouted triumphantly. Creating direct updrafts that supported Digger’s flight, Twilight flew below, along with Gylfie who, under the injured wing, was doing the same.

  Finally, they landed in a large spruce tree. There was a perfect hollow for them to spend the day in, and Mrs. Plithiver immediately launched into a frenzy of action. “I need worms! Big fat ones, and leeches. Quick—all of you! Go out and get me what I need. I’ll stay here with Digger.”

  Mrs. Plithiver crawled onto Digger’s back. “Now, this won’t hurt, dear, but I just want to feel what those awful crows did to you.” Gently, she began flicking her forked tongue over his wound. “It’s not deep. The best thing I can do is to curl up right on the wound until they come back. A snake’s skin can be very healing in many cases. We’re a little too dry for the long run, however. That’s why I want the worms.”

  Soon the owls were back with the worms and leeches that Mrs. P. had ordered. She directed Soren to place two leeches on the wound. “That will cleanse it. I can’t tell you how filthy crows are!”

  After the leeches had done their work, Mrs. Plithiver pulled them off and gently replaced them with two fat worms.

  Digger sighed. “That feels so good.”

  “Yes, there’s nothing like a fat slimy worm for relief of a wound. You’ll be fit to fly by tomorrow night.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. P. Thank you so much.” Digger blinked at Mrs. P., and there was a look in his large yellow eyes of seeming disbelief that he could have ever considered such a snake a meal, which, as a desert owl, Digger often did.

  Within the spruce tree where they perched, there was another hollow that housed a family of Masked Owls.

  “They look almost exactly like you, Soren,” Gylfie said. “And they’re coming to visit.”

  “Masked Owls look nothing like me,” Soren replied. Everyone was always saying this. He had heard his parents complain about it. Yes, they had white faces and buff-colored wings, but they had many more spots on their breasts and head.

  “They’re coming here to visit?” Mrs. P. said. “Oh, dear, the place is a mess. We can’t receive company now. I’m nursing this poor owl.”

  “They heard about the mobbing,” Gylfie said. “We’re even a little bit famous.”

  “Why’s that?” asked Soren.

  “I guess that gang of crows is really bad. They couldn�
�t believe we battled back and survived,” Gylfie replied.

  Soon, they heard the Masked Owls arriving. One poked her head in. “Mind if we visit?” It was the female owl. And although Masked Owls belonged to the same species of owls as Soren’s family, which were Barn Owls, and they were all known as Tytos, they were hardly identical.

  “See what I mean?” Soren whispered to Gylfie. “They are completely different. Look at how much bigger and darker they are.” The point was lost on Gylfie.

  “We wanted to meet the brave owls who battled the crows,” said the owl’s mate.

  “Yeah, how’d you ever do that?” a very young owlet who had barely fledged peeped up.

  “Oh, it wasn’t all that hard,” Twilight said and dipped his head almost modestly.

  “Not that hard!” Mrs. Plithiver piped up. “Hardest thing I’ve ever done!”

  “You!” the male Masked Owl exclaimed.

  “She certainly had nothing to do with the defeat of the crows. She’s a nest-maid,” his mate said in a haughty voice.

  Mrs. Plithiver seemed to fade a bit. She nudged one of the worms that had begun to crawl off Digger’s wing.

  “She had everything to do with it!” Soren bristled up and suddenly seemed almost as big as the Masked Owls. “If it hadn’t been for Mrs. P., I would have been dive-bombed from the rear and poor Digger would have never made it back.”

  The Masked Owls blinked. “Well, well.” The large female chuffed and stepped nervously from one talon to another. “We just aren’t used to such aggressive behavior from our nest-maids. Ours are rather meek, I guess, compared to this…What do you call her?”

  “Her name is Mrs. Plithiver,” Soren said slowly and distinctly with the contempt in his voice poorly concealed.

  “Yes, yes,” the female replied nervously. “Well, we discourage our nest-maids from socially mingling with us at any time, really.”