The War of the Ember Read online

  “Yes, to finish off the eggs.”

  “Who makes up the slink melf?” Twilight asked.

  “The message doesn’t say. It just says it’s being ordered by Coryn. But it’s obviously not us. We are to report to the volcanoes of the Sacred Ring immediately.”

  “All right, but we have to go by way of the inlet,” Soren said.

  “But that’s out of the way, and what with this wind, it will slow us down,” Gylfie protested.

  “No, I insist. I think ultimately it will help our cause,” Soren replied, thinking of the two Great Grays. Tavis and Cletus were incredibly cunning fliers, agile and quick just like their brother Twilight. The Guardians could use such help.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  An Old Friend

  In a lava cave not far from the Sacred Ring of volcanoes, Coryn perched on a black outcropping and spoke to the first friend he had ever made in the desolate country known as Beyond the Beyond. Hamish, the once-lame gnaw wolf, had been listening attentively.

  “So who composes this slink melf, Coryn?” Hamish asked. As all gnaw wolves of the MacDuncan clan, he had gone into training and become a member of the Watch at the Sacred Ring of volcanoes. When Coryn had retrieved the Ember of Hoole from H’rathghar, Hamish, as had been mystically prophesied in the time of Hoole, was cured of his lameness and allowed to return to normal life. Now these two old friends met again.

  “I’ve just come from Gyllbane’s clan cave. You must know what she learned from the polar bear.”

  Hamish nodded.

  “So you know of the conspiracy between the Striga and Nyra.”

  He nodded again.

  “The eggs I just told you about—that is the slink melf’s mission: to destroy them and any owls that are brooding them.”

  “I certainly didn’t know about the eggs, at least not what you are now telling me. Gyllbane, or rather, Namara, as she now should be called, is the best choice for the slink melf. And you say she is on her way?”

  “Yes,” Coryn replied.

  Hamish looked at Coryn carefully. “But you seem to have something more on your mind.”

  Coryn sighed. He tipped his head down and studied his talons. He could not bring himself to say what he must say while looking into the green eyes of the gnaw wolf he had met on his very first night in the Beyond.

  “Hamish, dear friend.” He paused. “Dearest wolf friend. We know each other so well that sometimes words are not needed.”

  “Like now,” Hamish said quietly.

  “You know what I am about to ask.”

  “You want to return the ember to the volcanoes,” Hamish said steadily.

  Coryn raised his head and the two friends peered into the each other’s eyes. In Hamish’s eyes, Coryn saw that green light, the same green that flickered near the center of the ember. He blinked and closed his eyes tight. “And when I return the ember, you become lame again. I am asking you to give up all hope of a normal life. Of finding a mate or rearing young.”

  “You are also delivering the world from nachtmagen, Coryn,” Hamish said quietly. “You forget, Coryn, that when you retrieved the ember, not only were our twisted limbs repaired but we were given a choice. And we all chose to remain as wolves so that we could continue to serve.” The words of Fengo, the head gnaw wolf of the Sacred Watch, came back like a dim echo in his brain. We have all chosen to remain as wolves, to serve you, King Coryn, but we have also chosen to regain what we had lost in order to serve the Sacred Ring. Our twisted limbs have been straightened. Our eyes restored, our tails made whole once more. But we shall always be prepared to serve you, good King Coryn, always. That is our pledge.

  “So, Hamish. You agree to this?”

  “We all do, Coryn. We are the Watch.”

  “Tell no one yet. None of the Guardians know that I mean to return the ember, not even the Band. And Hamish…” Coryn stopped and churred softly to himself.

  “What is it?”

  “I just had the oddest thought.”

  “What is that, Coryn?”

  “I was thinking that if it were put to me what I would choose to be in my life, and I could be any creature, I would not choose to be an owl.” He now peered down into the drip bowl in Hamish’s cave, where water collected from the seeping cracks in the rock when it rained. He studied the reflection, with the scar that cut diagonally across his face. The mirror image of his mother’s face gazed back at him. He tried to imagine his face without the scar, but the scar no longer bothered him. “If I could choose to be any other creature I would choose to be a wolf, Hamish.”

  “You would give up wings?”

  Coryn shrugged. “I know. It doesn’t make sense. I would be earthbound. I can’t explain it. But yes, I would choose to be a wolf and give up wings.”

  And right now, the future of the owl kingdom depends, in fact, on two wolves, Hamish and Namara, Coryn thought. And Glaux willing, she is nearly to the Ice Talons.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The Lure of the Ember

  In a glistening nest sparkling with frost and woven of ice shards, eight dark eggs shimmered.

  “Beautiful, aren’t they?” Nyra said with soft wonder. This particular fissure in the Ice Cliff Palace widened into a vast cave. Two dozen dragon owls from the Panqua Palace were sitting on more than a dozen similar nests. There were a few Pure Ones who had joined the broody forces. Everyone took turns nest-sitting. No one was excused, as Nyra had just explained to Tarn. It was now more important than ever, since four of the reinforcement broody owls had met an untimely death on their flight to the Ice Cliffs. But at least by that time all the eggs had been transported from the Gray Rocks. That they had not lost one egg during the skirmish with the kraals and gadfeathers was a miracle.

  Occasionally now, one of the eggs would jiggle or rock back and forth just a bit.

  “They’ll get even darker,” the Striga added. “By the time of the eclipse they will be completely black. The blackest black.”

  “How do you know?” Tarn asked.

  “They always destroyed the eggs immediately after they were laid, but one was found once that had been secretly brooded, sequestered away, oh, a half century or more ago in the Dragon Court. It was, of course, immediately destroyed, but I caught a glimpse of it.” A faraway look misted the Striga’s pale yellow eyes. “I think that in some way I knew even then that it was my mission to see that such destruction might never happen again. And then when I actually had that first glimpse of the book in the library I felt disturbed, but I didn’t know why. It was only when dear Nyra explained what she had seen in that book that it all came to me. Fit together so perfectly. And then she told me of her recovery in the Panqua Palace! Oh, and now we are so close. We are almost there! Four more nights of incubation and then a very short period after hatching, three nights at the most, and they shall be fit for battle.”

  “An honor, Striga,” said one of the broodies. Then another added, “Until now our lives had no meaning.”

  “This is our destiny,” another said as she moved back on the nest she had left temporarily so that Tarn could view the eggs.

  “But what news do you bring me?” Nyra asked, turning to the Burrowing Owl. She had hardly given him a moment to speak since he had arrived and then she had launched into the broody schedule and how all must serve.

  “Well, there is some good news,” Tarn said carefully.

  “And bad news as well?” Nyra’s eyes narrowed.

  “Not really bad news, Madame General. We may need to adjust our schedule.”

  “Now what do you mean by that?” Nyra asked.

  “We have received word from several sources, including Kylor, the slipgizzle who defected from serving the Guardians, that the ember is now headed for the Beyond.”

  “The Beyond, not near the coast?” Striga said excitedly.

  “They no longer seem headed toward the coast. It is as far from any water as one can imagine. You need not fear fighting any battles near salt water
with the young hagsfiends,” Tarn said, looking at the Striga. Relief seemed to sweep through the ice cave.

  “That is good. The hatchling hagsfiends will mature quickly, but it’s best to avoid salt water.”

  “And what is the business about a different schedule?” Nyra asked.

  “Well, some say the ember will be there in a week.”

  “A week is fine. We’ll be ready,” Nyra replied.

  “But others say that the ember is there now,” Tarn replied.

  “Now?” Nyra screeched, and she and the Striga both wilfed in alarm.

  “Yes, but only temporarily. It will be taken to another secret location, most likely the Middle Kingdom.”

  “The Middle Kingdom?” the Striga exclaimed.

  “You mean that we must act now?” Nyra said.

  “Indeed, Madame General. I have already alerted our forces in the Kuneer to commence invasion maneuvers.”

  “But you had no authority to do that!” Nyra barked.

  “But General, you were not there. We cannot afford to lose any time.”

  Nyra had swelled to twice her normal size.

  “Tarn did the right thing!” the Striga hissed.

  “Are you both turning on me?” Nyra raged.

  “Calm yourself, Madame General.” The Striga spoke urgently. Sometimes he wondered how this owl had become the leader she was. She acted purely on her impulses for power without ever reflecting on strategy. No wonder she had been defeated in every encounter with the Guardians, even those when she had enjoyed the advantage of superior forces. “This is no time to argue about silly protocols of command. If this war comes earlier, we must be prepared. If the ember is in the Beyond and if there is the threat of it being removed, we need to be able to act quickly.”

  “But what are we to do? These eggs are close but not close enough to hatching. We were counting on a hags force to help us seize the ember.”

  “They will hatch. Not as quickly as we might like, but when they do, they will come. This war is not going to be over in one night. But we must be ready with the forces that we can muster right now.” The Striga said calmly.

  He turned to the broodies. “Can you do double shifts? In other words, can we count on some of you to join us now in this fight? Elab, you are large, could you sit two ice nests at a time?”

  “Oh, I think I could sit three if need be.”

  “Good. If we can cut our broody force in half that gives us eighteen more owls to fly with us in the Striga Force!” His pale eyes glittered brightly like translucent suns.

  It galled Nyra no end—this “Striga Force” business. But she had decided not to argue with him over the name. They were only a part of the Pure Ones, and the Pure Ones were her army. Nyra might be impulsive, but she had learned how to pick her battles.

  “Yes, yes, I see what you mean,” Nyra said slowly. Her gizzard was twitching madly. The ember so near! And in a sense, so safe, for it was far from the water. The dragon owls need not fear the salt water, and when the hagsfiends finally hatched and were ready, they, too, would be safe. She imagined the horror in the Guardians’ eyes when the sky above the volcanoes would suddenly darken as scores upon scores of hagsfiends flew over. “You’re right. We must leave now, immediately. I shall send a message to Kuneer to begin advancing toward our mustering point, where I will meet them and resume my command of the Tytonic Union of Pure Ones.” Nyra said these last five words in a measured voice and looked steadily at the Striga. Now that is the name of an army, she thought. “And from there to the Beyond, to the front.”

  “To the front,” echoed the Striga.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  A Slink Melf Swims On

  They were heading to the Ice Palace, Namara in the lead. She had led two dozen wolves of her clan as far as possible over the land route from Broken Talon Point. At the edge of the Bitter Sea, she plunged in, striking out straight across it until she and her followers had climbed out on the other shore where the H’rathghar glacier commenced. One more water passage, across the Bay of Fangs, and they would have almost arrived at their destination: the Ice Talons, where she would home in on the target. She reflected now on all that had occurred since the polar bear Sveep had visited her. The news then had been alarming: Nyra, in collusion with this strange blue owl, the one called the Striga, of whom the wolves of the Beyond had only heard ominous rumors and who, for a brief time, had gained such power over Coryn. So it was with great relief when Coryn himself had sought her out a moon cycle after the visit from Sveep. By that time, she had already met with the other wolves of the Beyond to alert them that trouble might be brewing in the owl kingdom. The wolf clans all had a deep, abiding hatred of Nyra. Twice they had had confrontations with her. The first time was at the Sacred Ring, when Coryn had retrieved the ember and Nyra had made a desperate attempt to wrest it from him. But Namara (who was then known as Gyllbane) with the help of Hamish, had managed to prevent her succeeding. The second encounter was at the end of the Tunnel of Despair in the canyonlands at the Battle of the Book, the battle in which the she-wolf had lost her only son, Cody. The depth of Namara’s loathing for this owl was unfathomable. Her only regret was that Nyra would not be in the Ice Palace with those heinous eggs so that she could personally put an end to her, too.

  But she must rid herself of such distracting thoughts. Her mission was clear. The clan of the MacNamaras was to first destroy the eggs that would hatch the hagsfiends and then, if possible, to kill the Dragon Court owls who were brooding and guarding them. Coryn had selected them for this mission for three reasons: The first was their extraordinary sense of smell, which was vastly superior to that of owls. So although the intricate passages behind the walls of the ice cliffs that led deep into the Ice Palace were seemingly impenetrable, Coryn realized that with their extraordinary olfactory sense, the wolves were the best suited to find the path to the eggs. He remembered reading in the legends of the stench of hagsfiends. Surely their eggs would bear traces of that malodorous scent, and surely Namara and her clan wolves could find them. The second reason Coryn had chosen the MacNamara clan was that they were the fiercest of all the clans. Many creatures who have endured cruelty become as abusive as their abusers—but not the wolves of Namara’s clan. They were exceedingly tough but had a profound sense of justice and mercy. And the third reason to dispatch these wolves as a slink melf was their unparalleled tactical intuition. Before Coryn had come to this decision he reread the chapter in the legend The Coming of Hoole that described when Grank had taken the young king to the Beyond to learn from Fengo. Under Fengo he witnessed the genius of wolves on the hunt. Coryn, too, had been reflecting on this tactical brilliance for some time now. It was what led Coryn to seek Namara.

  The wolves were in the water again after leaving the eastern shore of the H’rathghar glacier. Namara now turned into the straits of the Ice Talons. She was at the head of the byrrgis. It was a basic formation reconfigured for water passage. In this way they “broke track” in the water in much the same way they broke track when hunting in deep snow. At exactly the same moment, all the five wolves in this front rank detected the first tendril of the foul odor seeping from a fissure in the ice wall. Namara quickly did a wind check and calculated that this fissure must be catching a back draft from behind the cliff. This back draft would lead them to the schneddenfyrrs.

  Almost undetectably, a series of signals passed among the wolves. They clambered out of the water and up the narrow ledges that rimmed the strait of the Ice Cliffs and began searching out possible entryways. Meticulous in their scent markings, each wolf left a coded trail for the next wolf of the clan to follow as they began splitting off toward different entrances into the ice cliffs.

  Coryn had told Namara that this war—the War of the Ember—would be fought on many fronts. And that the first front and the most vital was here in the Ice Talons. He had told Namara and her clan of the legends, of how the wolves had defeated the hagsfiends in the Desert of Kuneer. Coryn’s words s
tirred an ancient clan memory and a ferocious pride within them. It was said that wolves were very superstitious and often distrustful. Namara knew this was their reputation. Perhaps it was true. She would never argue that it wasn’t, but now, as something deep within her stirred, she wondered if it was not so much superstition as this memory, this deep clan memory. She could almost feel that battle from one thousand years before in the desert. She narrowed her eyes and saw a thin stream of green light score the ice walls. “Cast your green! Cast your green!” It was an ancient voice from ancient times, the time of the legends.

  There was a terrible shriek. Then an immense flapping sound. It was Blair. Her ear had been ripped from her head and was dangling over her eye. Her mouth gushed blood. The ice passage was turning red. Blue feathers spun through frigid air, and blades of moonlight slashed through the maelstrom of blood and feathers and the fetid muck of monstrous eggs. And so the first front in the War of the Ember opened.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The Second Front

  High over the Ice Talons two divisions of owls scraped across the nearly full-shine moon, heading in a southwesterly direction. Some were gaudily festooned in colorfully dyed feathers. They were the kraals. Although not the cleverest fighters, they were dangerous when unified by strong sympathies. The other division was composed of gadfeathers. They had set aside their usual beads and berries and now, like the kraals, carried short blades in their talons. After the atrocities of the massacre at the Gray Rocks these owls were eager to join the Guardian’s forces and were proud to be led by Madame Plonk. The fame of the singer of the great tree was widespread in the Northern Kingdoms from which she had originally come. She was something of a folk hero. The kraals, always impressed with trappings of beauty, found her alluring, and the gadfeathers were in awe of her voice. That she held a charismatic charm for both groups rather astonished her.