Lost Tales of Ga'Hoole (Guardians of Ga'Hoole) Page 12

  Jak was gone, and so was our most precious family heirloom. Da was notified at once. There was quite a commotion, as you can imagine. Amid the hubbub, Clay nudged me. Then, he headed toward the back of the armory, where the ice weapons are kept, and signaled for me to follow. As we walked through the increasingly narrow passageway, Clay told me a secret.

  “I know something about this armory that I think few other owls do,” he began. “Remember when I used to disappear to read my books as an owlet? This is where I came.”

  “Here?” I asked. “Why here? And how did no one see you? This place is always bustling.”

  “Well, not in that part of the armory,” he nodded toward the main room, where Da and Master Benard were still talking. “When I was really small, when I first started branching, I discovered, by accident, an old back entrance to the armory. I had stumbled on a branch, and almost smacked right into the trunk of the tree. I didn’t hit solid trunk as I thought I would, but instead I fell through a patch of lichen into a small hollow. At least I thought it was a small hollow…”

  We kept walking and as Clay spoke, the passage sloped downward. It was getting so narrow that we had to duck our heads to get through.

  Clay continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “I became curious and started to venture into my newfound hollow. I walked and walked, but it seemed never ending. Finally, I squeezed through a tiny hole, and I was in the back of the armory. I had found a hidden back entrance! Or perhaps it was just forgotten because it was so narrow.”

  Clay stopped. He turned to me and his voice grew serious. “The winds are fierce. I have a feeling that Jak has not been able to get away with the Mountain Claws yet. I think he’s still here.”

  “You think Jak knew about this back entrance, then?” I asked.

  “Jak spends more time in the armory than any owl, even more than Master Benard. He has nothing to do but polish one pair of battle claws. Don’t you think he would have wandered back here one day and discovered the entrance?”

  “You have a point there,” I answered. “But why wouldn’t he have already taken off with the battle claws?”

  “Think, WPB! We were in the armory at tween time, and they were still on the display hooks, I’m sure of it. Since then, the only opportunity he had to replace the Mountain Claws with the dummy claws was while we were out doing drills. The winds were already so fierce that it was tossing us about like owlets. There is no way an owl who is unaccustomed to flying with battle claws could have flown far in this weather. And what better hiding place than this passage, where he could snatch them from the back entrance and leave without anyone noticing?”

  Clay made perfect sense. But I wouldn’t be convinced that the Mountain Claws would be found there until I saw them with my own eyes. Sure enough, I did.

  “Jak! Halt!” Clay called out as we got to the end of the narrow passage. I was stuck directly behind my brother and could barely see into the entryway. I craned my head around Clay’s just in time to see Jak standing at the edge of hollow. He turned toward us, the Mountain Claws strapped to his talons.

  “Master Claymore! Master Cleve!” Jak called out in a panic. “Please…please don’t come any closer!”

  That owl was a wreck. I saw now that the blizzard was upon us with all its power. The winds howled just outside the hollow, and the snow made it impossible to see beyond more than your wingspan. Jak must have tried to fly away, but was blown back. His feathers were bedraggled, and he looked like he was scared for his life.

  “Give us back the battle claws, Jak. We don’t want to hurt you,” Clay said calmly.

  I, on the other wing, could not contain my anger. “How dare you, you worthless thief! Do you realize whom you’re stealing from?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m very sorry, Master Cleve. But…but I have no choice,” Jak said.

  “What do you mean, Jak?” When Jak didn’t answer, Clay continued, “Of course you have a choice, you can choose not to take that which is not yours.”

  I wanted to lunge at that simpleton, but Clay barred my way.

  “Master Claymore, I have no choice. Those other owls, they said they would hurt my sister if I didn’t bring them these battle claws.”

  “What other owls?” Clay asked, more patiently than I had the gizzard for.

  “The owls from the Hollow of Kyran,” Jak answered. “They said these claws belonged with them other ones.”

  “The Hollow of Kyran? Our cousins?” I asked, baffled.

  Clay was surprised as well, but he understood. “You mean our cousins on the other side of Firthmore? The ones who own Unguis Oceania?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jak replied, “them other ones.” He lifted a foot to indicate that he was talking about the other pair of ancient battle claws from the Clan of Krakor. Jak went on, “They said that these battle claws belong to them. That the two pairs should never have been separated. And that I had to bring these back to their rightful owners.”

  “This is absurd!” I said. “We are the rightful owners of the Mountain Claws! They have been in the Hollow of Snarth for generations! This is thievery, plain and simple. Now give them back!”

  “Please, they said they would hurt my sister if I didn’t bring these to them before the new moon. They got her! I have to!”

  “Jak, we will help you get your sister back. Just give back the battle claws and come into the hollow. We’ll talk about this with Da and Master Benard. They’ll forgive you and help you, I’m sure of it,” Clay consoled.

  But it was no use; Jak turned toward the entrance and lifted off into the blizzard. I rushed at him, forcing Clay forward and out of the hollow ahead of me.

  The two of us burst out of the hollow after Jak. Clay and I were being tossed around by the fierce winds. I could barely make out Jak, just a few wing beats away, struggling to fly. I flapped my wings harder, determined to catch the thief. Being the stronger flier, I was on top of Jak within a moment.

  I looked for Clay. Just as I turned my head, I saw the gleam of the Mountain Claws a feather’s width from my eye; Jak was within reach. My talons swiped at the air, grasping for the young squire, while I used all my strength to keep my wings beating.

  “Cleve, look out!” I heard Clay shout.

  I saw Clay out of the corner of my eye, a few wingspans away, struggling against the gale.

  The next thing I knew, Jak was on top of me, flailing madly. I don’t know if he was trying to use the Mountain Claws or if he was simply flailing, but he came toward me, claws first. I felt a sharp pain in my port wing. I lashed out blindly, with the might of an owl fighting for his life.

  “Clay, help! I’m hurt!” I called out, barely staying aloft.

  Suddenly, I was hit by a mass of feathers, claws, and beaks. I began tumbling out of the sky. It was chaos. The howling of the wind made it impossible to tell who was shouting. Was it Clay? Jak? Or maybe it was me. The swirling snow made it impossible to see. I flapped my injured wing as hard as I could, and managed to pull out of the free fall.

  Clay and Jak were not so lucky. I watched as they hit the ground.

  I landed as quickly as I could. The winds were still fierce, but manageable closer to the ground. I was horror-struck by what I saw. The two owls, my brother and our squire, lay there, lifeless. Jak had been dashed against rock in his fall. Clay must have fallen on top of him. He was stabbed through the chest by the Mountain Claws.

  Clay had wanted to avoid violence and reason with Jak, but I rushed in, talons first, in my pursuit of clan honor. He was trying to help me. I lost my brother that night, and my clan lost its prince. He was killed in a pointless, unintentional skirmish, stabbed through by the very battle claws he was to inherit.

  From that moment on, I forswore all use of weapons, all violence, all war. I vowed to never fight again.

  As for Jak’s sister, my family was able to find her and free her from her captors. Da, Master Benard, and I went to the Hollow of Kyran to speak with our cousins. It turned out that the kidna
pping was the doing of one mad owl who was a new mate to one of our cousins. He had terrible delusions about his own importance to the royal history of the Clan of Krakor, and sought to reunite Unguis Montania with Unguis Oceania. He thought that if he possessed both pairs of ancient battle claws, he would somehow rule over both the Hollow of Kyran and the Hollow of Snarth. He had kidnapped Jak’s sister without our cousins’ knowledge, and certainly without their approval. He was cast out of the hollow when the truth was revealed.

  After Clay’s Final ceremony, I went to the island in the Bitter Sea for some peace. I discovered that reading and studying brought me the serenity I sought. I still miss Claymore dearly. It was for him that I took up the art of healing. I began healing others to heal myself.

  It has always been hard for me to talk about what happened, but it feels good to get it out of my gizzard. Claymore deserves to have his story told. Now, after all this time, you know why I am a pacifist.

  Dear Reader, allow me to add a final thought.

  Cleve believed that the prophecy spoken by Old Pan was utter nonsense. I don’t blame him, given what happened, but I’m not so sure that the prophecy was false.

  Old Pan had said that the Prince Who Is Promised would be a savior of saviors in a time of strife and tyranny, that the Prince would banish the fire of evil. It was the words “fire of evil” that first got me thinking. Those words immediately conjured the image of the Striga in my mind. Not long ago, the Striga, with the support of Nyra, had planned a most terrible hatching of hagsfiend eggs. Cleve and I discovered this plot and brought information about the Striga’s and Nyra’s doings back to the great tree and to all the good owls of the world. Ouring our reconnaissance mission, we were attacked by fiendish blue owls who were at the command of the Striga. Had Cleve not been there and used the way of Danyar to defeat those blue owls, I would have certainly perished.

  Is it not possible, then, that Cleve is the Prince Who Is Promised? Both he and his brother believed that the prophecy referred to Claymore—the older brother. But he admitted that Kratean, the language that the prophecy was written in, could not be easily translated. I think when Old Pan said “the big brother shall be the Prince Who Is Promised,” she meant “big,” as in “large,” not “elder.” If that was the case, the prophecy was certainly referring to Cleve, the larger owl of the two.

  Cleve saved me. Without his heroic act, the forces of good may not have prevailed in the War of the Ember. Oh, it boggles the mind and rattles the gizzard. If Cleve hadn’t lost his brother, he wouldn’t have chosen pacifism. If he hadn’t become a gizzard-resister, he wouldn’t have learned the way of Danyar. How strange and astounding it is that the prophecy was fulfilled in the end. He will always be my prince.

  Afterword:

  Otulissa’s Farewell

  There you have it, Dear Readers.

  I am sure there are many other tales of valor as yet untold in the hollows of this venerable tree. Someday I may collect them into another volume like this one. Perhaps you carry such tales of your own, but are not ready to open the book of your heart to others. Or maybe you are young and your adventures lie ahead.

  However, for the near future I shall put aside my quill, because I, Otulissa, historian and ryb, have new duties awaiting my attention: a clutch of eggs! In less than three moon cycles from the printing of these tales, Cleve and I will be busy with the care of four owlets. It is my greatest hope that from me they will learn the fierce arts of war and the history of the Great Ga’Hoole Tree, and from Cleve, the healing arts and the history of the Northern Kingdoms. Then each will grow according to their nature, and become Guardians in their turn, ready to preserve the tradition of nobility and learning at the great tree, and to protect it, if necessary.

  But there is news more important than mine, something astonishing and unprecedented: The Great Ga’Hoole Tree is itself setting seed! At the very top of the tree where the sun touches its uppermost branches, a great golden flower has bloomed. Soren has named it the Flower of Peace, for it seems the peace we fought so long for has nourished it. And just below the flower, a seedpod swells. The parliament meets soon to discuss the future of the seed. As I write, wise and learned creatures of all kinds are traveling to join the parliament for this special session, for the prospect of another great tree such as ours concerns all good creatures everywhere.

  I can leave you with no better news than this: The Great Ga’Hoole Tree thrives. May you likewise be well and keep goodness and nobility of thought and deed alive in your gizzards!

  Yours ever,

  Otulissa

  Maps

  Copyright

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  Text copyright © 2010 by Kathryn Lasky and Kathryn Huang Knight

  Illustrations copyright © 2010 by Scholastic Inc. All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  First printing, May 2010

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

  E-ISBN 978-0-545-30165-7

  Cover art by Richard Cowdrey

  Cover design by Steve Scott

 

 

  Kathryn Lasky, Lost Tales of Ga'Hoole (Guardians of Ga'Hoole)

 

 

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