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  The Burning (Guardians of Ga'hoole)

  Book Jacket

  Series: Guardians of Ga'hoole [6]

  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, Science Fiction; Fantasy; Magic, Science Fiction; Fantasy; & Magic, Legends; Myths; Fables, Owls, Lasky; Kathryn

  SUMMARY:

  Soren and his band must fly to the mysterious Northern Kingdoms to find allies against the Pure Ones who are about to launch another deadly attack against the great tree. The Grand Battle begins with the search for allies in the Northern Kingdoms and ends in The Burning that will change all Owldom forever. Soren and his band are sent to the mysterious Northern Kingdoms to gather allies and learn the art of war in preparation for the coming cataclysmic battle against the sinister Pure Ones. Meanwhile, in the Southern Kingdoms, St. Aggies has fallen to the Pure Ones and they are using its resources to plan a final invasion of The Great Ga'Hoole Tree. With the future of all Owldom in the balance, the parliament of Ga'Hoole must decide whether or not to join forces with the brutal Skench and Sporn and the scattered remnants of St. Aggies who remain faithful to them. A great battle is on the way. A great Battle is on the horizon and drawing near. In preparation, Soren and his band must fly to the mysterious Northern Kingdoms to find allies and study the grim art of war. Meanwhile, St. Aggie's has fallen to the Pure Ones. If they are not stopped, they will launch another, more deadly attack against the great tree. And without allies from the north, Ga'Hoole will surely fall. Soren's mission must succeed. And the final battle must be won. The coming conflagration will demand wisdom, bravery, and sacrifice from all the owls of the great tree, and from Soren and the band, nothing less than heroism.

  Guardians of Ga’Hoole

  Book Six

  The Burning

  By

  Kathryn Lasky

  SCHOLASTIC INC.

  New York Toronto London Auckland

  Sydney Mexico City New Delhi Hong Kong

  Illustration

  “You’re Hoke, aren’ you? You’re the Kielian snake that Ezylryb sent us to find.”

  Maps

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Maps

  Illustration

  Prologue

  CHAPTER ONE Claws in the Moonlight

  CHAPTER TWO Puffling Alert!

  CHAPTER THREE The Ice Dagger

  CHAPTER FOUR A Circle of White Trees

  CHAPTER FIVE Firth of Fangs

  CHAPTER SIX The Retreat of the Glauxian Brothers

  CHAPTER SEVEN Flivling and Riffles

  CHAPTER EIGHT Hoke of Hock

  CHAPTER NINE The Ancient Warrior of the Firth

  CHAPTER TEN Gragg of Slonk

  CHAPTER ELEVEN The Island of Dark Fowl

  CHAPTER TWELVE Stuck on a Dagger

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN Pirates

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN The Pirates’ Lair

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN Twilla Suspects

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN An Unholy Alliance

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN A Deadly Glitter

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Gizzardly Matters

  CHAPTER NINETEEN Deep in Enemy Territory

  CHAPTER TWENTY A Song in the Night

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Waiting for When

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO The Beginning of Forever and a Day

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE The Tunnel in the Smoke

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR The Battle of Fire and Ice

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE Scrooms in the Night

  OWLS and others from GUARDIANS of GA’HOOLE The Burning

  A peek at THE GUARDIANS of GA’HOOLE Book Seven: The Hatchling

  About the Author

  The Guardians of Ga’Hoole

  Copyright

  Prologue

  “Night gathers and your time has come,” intoned Barran the large Snowy Owl and monarch of the Great Ga’Hoole Tree. Soren’s gizzard tingled with excitement. In some ways it seemed like only last night that he, Gylfie, Twilight, and Digger had traveled through that blinding blizzard and had arrived at the great tree. But in other ways it felt like forever. Now they perched, ready to take the most inviolable oath of their lives: They were to become at last Guardians of Ga’Hoole. As the band of four, along with their close friends and chaw mates, repeated after Barran the oath of the Guardians, their voices blended into one:

  “I am a Guardian of Ga’Hoole. From this night on I dedicate my life to the protection of owlkind. I shall not swerve in my duty. I shall support my brother and sister Guardians in times of battle and in times of peace. I am the eyes in the night, the silence within the wind. I am the talons through the fire, the shield that guards the innocent. I shall seek to wear no crown, nor win any glory. And all these things I do swear upon my honor as a Guardian of Ga’Hoole until my days on this earth cease to be. This be my vow. This be my life. By Glaux, I do swear.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  Claws in the Moonlight

  I thought you said the prevailing wind was from the south,” said Martin, the tiny Northern Saw-whet Owl. “We’ve been ramming into these northerlies for two days now.”

  “Don’t worry,” Twilight said. “It’s bound to let up sometime.”

  “Sometime…I do not find that comforting. You’re twice my size, Twilight, and with that fat head of yours you can ram through anything.”

  It was not Martin, however, whom Soren was worried about. He knew that the plucky little owl could handle almost anything. He was in the colliering chaw, after all, and was accustomed to diving into the flaming gales of forest fires. No, it was Dewlap, the disgraced Burrowing Owl, about whom Soren was worried. She had been found guilty of spying for the Pure Ones during the long and perilous siege of the great tree the previous winter. Because she was quite old, and because Boron and Barran, the monarchs of the tree, found “mitigating circumstances” in the fact that she had been misled by the Pure Ones, she was not expelled into the wild. Instead, she would be taken to the retreat of the Glauxian Sisters on Elsemere Island in the Everwinter Sea where she would be left to live out her days.

  But that was only one part of the mission. After Else-mere Island, Otulissa and Gylfie were to proceed to the Glauxian Brothers’ retreat to learn more about war strategy and find in their library another copy of the fleckasia book that Dewlap had destroyed. Martin and Ruby were to fly to Stormfast Island to search for a Kielian snake called Hoke of Hock.

  The most important part of the mission, absolutely vital not only to the Guardians of Ga’Hoole but to every owl kingdom on Earth, was that of Soren, Twilight, Digger, and Eglantine. They were to proceed to the Firth of Fangs in the most northwestern region of the Everwinter Sea to seek out an old warrior named Moss. From Moss, they were to recruit allies for the impending war with the Pure Ones. Finally, they were all to reunite on Dark Fowl Island where the legendary blacksmith Orf crafted the finest battle claws ever known.

  But with the wind and their rate of speed, who knew when they would get there? thought Soren. They had been flying for two days already and had not yet reached the Ice Narrows. The mission was complicated and there were time pressures as well. Winter came early to the Northern Kingdoms. It would not be long before the fearsome katabatic winds would set in and ice floes would clog the sea, making water almost indistinguishable from land, and navigation difficult. Soren sighed when he thought of his immense responsibilities and the price of failure. Failure spelled doom in this case. If only they could fly a little faster. But not with Dewlap. It was amazing that the flight therapists back at the tree had gotten the old wreck airborne at all.

  Dewlap had been lagging so far behind that Sore
n had to send Gylfie back to fly with her. Then Twilight, and then Ruby after him. They had all taken their turns, except for Otulissa. Otulissa loathed Dewlap with a deep and abiding passion ever since Strix Struma’s death. Otulissa had worshipped Strix Struma, who was distinguished in battle, and was an owl of great learning. She had died in the Battle of the Siege. Soren and the others had tried to reason with Otulissa about it. Owls get killed in battle, they said. Dewlap was nowhere near when it happened. But Otulissa still believed that Strix Struma’s death was all Dewlap’s fault. And now, as the leader of this special mission, Soren would have to order Otulissa to fly back to attend Dewlap.

  “She’ll kill her, Soren,” Gylfie said.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Gylfie. If word gets back that we didn’t safely deliver Dewlap to the sisters, we’ll all be in trouble.”

  “I was speaking figuratively,” Gylfie replied. “I didn’t literally mean ‘kill her.’ But that old Burrowing Owl is frail as it is and she’s terrified of Otulissa. It might just do her in.”

  They were flying in a tight triangular formation, which enabled them to punch into the headwind more effectively. Soren peeled off to the other side of the triangle, the side on which Otulissa flew.

  “Otulissa, your turn to fly with Dewlap.”

  Otulissa gave him a withering look. But Soren returned it, his black eyes seeming to get even blacker. “This isn’t debatable, Otulissa. I am the leader of this mission. If there is a war—”

  “What do you mean if?”

  “All right, when there is a war—”

  “An invasion, more precisely.” She sniffed.

  Soren sighed. Glaux! This Spotted Owl frinked him off. “All right, Otulissa, we all know that you are a strategist for the invasion. At that time you will be the leader and I shall follow your orders. But this is not the invasion. This is a mission to the Northern Kingdoms, and if we don’t succeed in reaching our allies, there will be no invasion.”

  “So what does Dewlap have to do with all this? She is immaterial.”

  “That she may be, but Elsemere is on our way and it makes perfect sense that we deliver her to the Glauxian Sisters. Would you prefer that she continue to live in the great tree?”

  Otulissa blinked. Soren’s right, she thought. Do I want that miserable old owl in my feathers forever? Logic always appealed to Otulissa. She tipped her wing, carved a turn, and headed for the Burrowing Owl at the rear.

  Soren breathed a sigh of relief as he saw her fly back. The invasion was something Otulissa had dreamed of for months. She had urged the parliament of Ga’Hoole to finish off the Pure Ones as soon as possible after the siege of Ga’Hoole. But they had waited too long. Only a few months later the Pure Ones themselves launched a surprise attack, not against the Guardians of Ga’Hoole, but against St. Aggie’s, where a bad congregation of owls roosted in a stone fortress that was rich in flecks. These strangely powerful magnetic particles could destroy not only an owl’s navigational abilities, but, in certain situations, shatter their minds and make them mindless tools for evil.

  The owls of St. Aggie’s were brutish and rather dumb. They had no idea of the power that possession of the flecks put within their grasp. But the Pure Ones did, and when St. Aggie’s fell to them, the parliament of Ga’Hoole began to take Otulissa more seriously. They realized that this counterattack against St. Aggie’s was not a matter of vengeance, but a matter of absolute necessity for the survival of owlkind. Flecks in the talons of the wrong owls would make for a disaster of unimaginable proportions. And so it was decided. They must launch an immense invasion of St. Aggie’s.

  The owls of Ga’Hoole could not do this alone. They would need the help of owls as skilled in battle as they were. The kind of elite fighting force that Ga’Hoole required could only be found in the Kielian League of the Northern Kingdoms, where Ezylryb had come from originally. For more than two centuries these owls, raised in a free society, had fought one of the longest wars in the history of owlkind against the League of the Ice Talons, a brutal regime to the east of the Kielian League. But they had finally won.

  Originally, Ezylryb had ordered only six of them go to the Northern Kingdoms. But Soren had convinced him that this was a complicated mission and had entreated Ezylryb to allow the entire Chaw of Chaws to go. So Martin and Ruby, both superb fliers, joined the mission.

  Soren looked down at the battle claws he was now wearing, which had been made by the legendary blacksmith Orf. They sparkled in the light of the moon. Once these claws had belonged to Ezylryb, back in his days as a warrior and commander of the legendary division known as the Glauxspeed. But Ezylryb had given them to Soren. The memory of that moment of the passing of the claws came back now to the young Barn Owl. Once again, Soren could hardly believe it had happened. In his mind, he could still hear Ezylryb’s voice: The claws are for you…They are the keys to the Northern Kingdom…Every owl will know that you are my ward. You are under my protection as a son might be.

  A son! The thought was incredible to Soren, who had been orphaned so early in life, snatched by the horrid owls of St. Aggie’s, and taken to their vile “academy” in the canyonlands. When he had finally escaped, he found that the old hollow where his parents had dwelled for years was empty. He had suspected that his brother, Kludd, now leader of the Pure Ones, had murdered their parents. He had later learned that blood sacrifice of a family member was part of the oath taken when an owl became a Pure One. Two such different oaths! Soren thought as he recalled the words of the Guardian’s oath. He could not even imagine the words of the oath of the Pure Ones.

  The wind had begun to shift, making their flight easier. It was now a tailwind, and perhaps, Soren hoped, they would reach the Ice Narrows before dawn. Soren didn’t fancy flying in daylight. Even in this wild and frozen country of the north, there might be crows. Only once in his life had crows mobbed him, and he vowed that never again would he fly so recklessly from an old night into a new day. He wondered how Otulissa was faring as Dewlap’s escort. Perhaps he should fly back and check.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Puffling Alert!

  Yuoy bis

  Tuoy bit

  Tuoy bim

  Nuoy bimish

  Vuoyou bimishi

  Vuoyven bimont.”

  “What are you talking to yourself about, Otulissa?” Soren asked as he slid in next to the Spotted Owl. It was obvious to him that she was not addressing her muttered remarks, which sounded like gibberish, to Dewlap.

  “I’m practicing irregular verbs in Krakish,” she said. “You know, the language of the Northern Kingdoms. Of course, the Kielian League has a number of dialects, but Ezylryb said all the owls understand basic Krakish.”

  “Oh. Well, I was just coming back to check on how you’re doing.”

  “As well as can be expected.” She sniffed and shot a poisonous look toward Dewlap, who seemed to be completely unaware of her disdain.

  “Well, with this wind shift we should be approaching the Ice Narrows just at dawn. I’m going to get a navigation check from Gylfie,” Soren said, just before winging away from Otulissa’s flank.

  “Gylfie, what’s our heading?” he asked, flying in next to his best friend.

  “North by northeast, but with this wind shift, we’re being set a bit to the west. You see.” Gylfie flipped her head straight up as only an owl can. “We’re two points off the tail of the Little Raccoon. A little complicated because we’re so far north the constellations rise in different positions in the sky.”

  It was complicated, Soren thought, and he was eternally grateful that Gylfie was such an excellent navigator. She had been trained in the navigation chaw under the direction of Strix Struma, and Gylfie had been one of her finest students ever. Glaux forbid that flecks ever messed with Gylfie’s brain! “So you think dawn or before for arriving at the Ice Narrows?” Soren asked.

  “More like a little after,” Gylfie replied. She glanced at Soren. She knew that flying in daylight worried him. “Look, Sore
n, I can’t imagine that there are any crows around here.”

  “Let’s hope not,” he replied.

  What they could not have imagined were recklessly flying puffins or, more precisely, pufflings.

  Fog had thickened the night into swirls of gray, obscuring the stars and the light of the moon, and it was still at least two hours until dawn. They had been making good headway. The wind was firmly behind them, increasing their speed by two to three knots, when, suddenly out of the woolly air, burst a hurtling bundle of white. Then a squawk split the fog. “Puffling alert!”

  “Oh, so sorry, so sorry! Did he miss you?” an adult puffin asked Digger.

  “Barely,” huffed Digger. Then, “Good grief, Dumpy?”

  “Dumpy!” Soren, Gylfie, and Twilight gasped in amazement.

  “Dumpy?” Martin turned to Ruby. “What kind of name is that?”

  “Mine! Mine!” the puffin answered. “And this is Little Dumpy, my son. We thought we’d never see you again, Soren.”

  “Little Dumpy? Son? You’re a father.” Soren spoke in a stunned voice. The larger puffin was now flying with the young one tucked firmly under his wing.

  “Yes, yes. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  “Wonderful? But you’re younger than we are,” Soren said as he recalled how the band of four had accidentally been blown into the Ice Narrows so many seasons ago. They had been searching for Ga’Hoole but a williwaw had swept them north and they had slammed into the eastern wall of the Narrows, where they had encountered a most peculiar bird family, the puffins. “I can’t believe you’re a father.”

  “Well, I am. That’s the way it goes with us puffins. We mature early.”

  Soren and Gylfie exchanged glances. Both had the same thought: Mature and smart are two different things. Puffins are the dumbest birds ever—even when full-grown. And now a parent! Ridiculous.