A Guide Book to the Great Tree (7 page)

I was intrigued.

Loki continued, “Now, pay attention, this was a very important ritual.” His voice was now at a whisper, as if he were telling me some great secret. “They proved their worthiness by plucking out all their whiskers.”

“All their whiskers? That's outrageous!”

“It's true, all the noble owls did this, owls from the best families. If you pluck out all your whiskers, you'll win your female for sure. Isn't that right, Blix?”

“You know more about that stuff of yore than I do,” Blix said, shaking his head.

Lyze said nothing.

That made sense, I supposed. I thought back to some of the books that I had read on other species of birds. There was one species whose males would puff out these great big bubbles on their chests to attract females. Another would make their tail feathers stand straight up in the air. I supposed plucking one's whiskers wasn't so farfetched. Lil was a cultured owl and a descendant of one of the oldest lines of Whiskered Screeches in the Northern Kingdoms. Perhaps she
would
be moved by such a gesture.

The night ended with more “male bonding” as Lyze called it. Despite all the teasing, it was a nice respite from the training and fighting. Just before Loki flew off, he lifted a foot toward his face, and with a wink he whispered, “Don't forget about the whiskers.”

I would not forget about the whiskers. I knew that I had an opportunity to see Lil during my next leave. That's when I would do it.

I knew it would smart. I thought I would be prepared having pulled out all those feathers for quills in the past. Apparently, I was not so prepared. It
hurt
! My eyes teared up with every yank. It wasn't a simple task, either—I had to borrow a pair of tongs from the blacksmith to get at my whiskers. Afterward, I looked at my reflection in a puddle. With the bald patch around my beak, I looked ridiculous. Nevertheless, I was pleased with myself.
If this is what it takes, then so be it.
I planned to surprise Lil with my “cosmetic improvements” the following night. What I didn't realize was that it would be one of the worst nights of my life.

“BWA-HA-HA-HA-HA! Wha? Why? Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha! Oh, dear…Ha-ha-ha-ha!” Lil could not stop laughing long enough to catch her breath. “Oh, dear! Ifghar! That's…Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

It was clear that she did not interpret my gesture as it was intended. What was I to say?
I did this to impress you?
I stood there, stunned. Then, it dawned on me.
Pay no attention to him, Ifghar, he's just a joker.
Wasn't that what Lyze had said?
What a fool I was! I'm going to kill that frinking Great Gray.

To make matters worse, I saw my brother circle above me and Lil, coming in for a landing.

“What's so…?” Lyze stopped mid-sentence as he saw my face. “Oh, Ifghar. You didn't!”

I was humiliated. I could not meet my brother's gaze. How I wished for the tree we perched on to be swallowed by the earth right then. “I…I thought…”

“Wait, is this because of what Loki said? You took Loki
seriously
? He's the biggest trickster in the division! I told you that! He was just hazing you!”

At that moment, I hoped against all hope that Lyze would not tell Lil of how easily I had been bamboozled. My gizzard was convulsing. I was still trying to think of a plausible explanation that I could give to Lil when Lyze said the words that I had least expected to hear.

“So, I see you've met Lil, my soon-to-be mate.” He hugged her close to him.

A thousand ice daggers pierced my heart.
His
soon-to-be mate? Had I been in the air I would have certainly gone yeep. Almost immediately, I could feel my gizzard fill up with rage. I was angry at Lyze for not telling me the truth behind Loki's “advice.” I was angry at him for stealing Lil from me. I was angry at him for utterly failing to watch out for his little brother. But I was most angry at myself for being such a mooncalf.

Lil had finally stopped laughing now. “Oh, Lyze, Ifghar and I have known each other for ages, ever since the Academy. I just didn't know he was your brother. Well, I guess we'll be family soon, Ifghar!”

She looked so happy, so radiant. That only devastated me more.

I can't remember what happened after that. It was as if time stopped and the world became a blur.

For the next several weeks, I threw myself into combat. Evidently, losing all my whiskers as well as all my dignity did not affect my abilities to fight. I let go of all fear. At the Tridents, with Gragg on my back, I took down a dozen enemy owls within a quarter of an hour. I slashed at them with my ice sword left and right, unleashing my rage. Gragg, emboldened by my ferocity, struck swiftly and lethally. We were unstoppable. I was anesthetized by the carnage that, at one time, would have sickened me. Mere days later, the two of us scattered an entire squadron of Ice Talon infantry owls at Firthmore. Only after the battle was over did I realize that an ice splinter had grazed my breast. For that, I received the Blue Heart of Valor, an honor given to owls of the Kielian League who are wounded by the enemy in battle. On the night that I received my award, I was also promoted to Commander.

Lyze appeared at the award ceremony. In his beak, he held the battle claws made by the famed blacksmith Orf on Dark Fowl Island. He had kept them polished and gleaming, just as they had been when I first laid my eyes on them. I had almost forgotten about those battle claws. But seeing them again reminded me how badly I had wanted them all those years ago.

“Tonight, they go to their true owner.” Lyze laid the battle claws at my feet. “I'm proud of you, Ifghar.”

“Thank you, Lyze.” I managed to say as I tried to hold back tears.

How could I have been angry with him? How petty of me. He had watched out for me the best he could, yet I blamed him for my despair. No more. Tonight, I would vow to be happy for my brother, happy for him, and for Lil.

“Where's Lil?” I asked casually, hoping that my emotions would not betray me.

“She's home, resting. She has just laid an egg.”

An egg! “That's fantastic news!” I wrapped my wing around Lyze. And indeed, I was happy for them.

I was put on medical leave to allow my wound to heal. My new battle claws hung on a peg in my hollow, unused. My injury was a bit more serious than I had originally
thought. I was barely able to fly, so I spent most of my waking hours reading and writing. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed that.

The selection of books available to me at the base was limited. I asked Gragg to go to the Academy and bring me some fresh reading material. He brought back a lackluster selection, including a manual on battlefield recovery, a book on troop movement, and one on hunting in the desert. All boring stuff meant for cadets. Then, one book caught my attention:
A Treatise on Unification and the Foundation for Peace in the Northern Kingdoms,
by Bylyric. General Bylyric? Leader of the Ice Talons? The brutal tyrant and our most hated enemy? Writing about peace, of all things.

I began reading.

Some one hundred and seventy years ago, the Ice Talons sought to strengthen our region by unifying all the kingdoms of the Everwinter Sea. It was thought to be the start of a vigorous campaign to unify and centralize all the Northern Kingdoms. They were met with resistance by a few of its neighboring clans. The neighboring clans, including those on Stormfast Island and elsewhere in the Kiel Bay, began a resistance movement. The resistance was rooted in a desire to remain independent mainly in the area of trade.

I had always been taught that the Ice Talons had started the war out of their desire to conquer. This was the first I had heard of an attempt at unification. I kept reading.

The path to peace and prosperity has often been obscured by misinformation. What began as an earnest concern on the part of the resistance has become a faulty ideology. To achieve peace, this ideology must be defeated. A victory for the Ice Talons would lead to the stability and peace that the region desperately needs.

The more I read, the more it all made sense. How many generations of owls have lived and died in the war? I thought of Lyze and Lil, and of their egg. I thought of Pa, whom I barely knew before war took him from us. I thought of Lysa, whom I never knew. I thought of the scores of owls I had killed and watched be killed. What was I really fighting for? I only fought because that was what owls did in the Bay of Kiel. It was as if a dense fog had suddenly cleared to reveal a sky full of stars. All these years, the Kielian League has sought victory while it should have sought peace.

Lyze. I had to tell Lyze, he would understand.

“Have you gone completely yoiks?” From the moment I told him of my plan, Lyze was outraged. “Bylyric is a tyrant and an oppressor!”

Again and again I tried to make him see my point. “I know Bylyric has been ruthless in the past. But have you ever considered that he may be far-seeing as well? If we could only speak with him, off the battlefield…” My arguments had won over Gragg just the day before, but they were utterly ineffective at convincing Lyze.

“No!” he barked. “What you're suggesting is treasonous!”

I was shocked and dismayed. How could my brother not see my logic, not even in the slightest? He was a reasonable owl, a bright owl. But at that moment, his pride and the strength of tradition overpowered all reason.

“Please, Lyze. If we could only get our side to consider surrender. Then, we could live in peace for the first time in almost two hundred years,” I implored.

“No! These tyrants have done us wrong, made life in the Bay of Kiel miserable for generations of owls. I will not surrender, and neither will any of my fellow warriors. They want to crush us, Ifghar! And I mean to obliterate them!”

“Perhaps they want peace, too.”

Lyze shook his head in disbelief. He turned to look at my battle claws. “I was wrong. You are not ready.” He removed them from their place above my nest in my hollow. “Not only are you not ready, you are not
worthy
of these. You have shamed yourself to our forefathers in glaumora.”

With my battle claws in his beak, he flew out of my hollow.

I began to pursue him. I wasn't sure what I would do if I caught up to him. Would I fight him to reclaim my battle claws? Plead with him some more? Apologize and tell him that I was wrong? In the end, I never found out. My injury was still not completely healed, and I could not fly very quickly or very far. I lost him when I was forced to land in a fir tree, no longer able to continue.

I fear that I have caused a rift between me and my brother that will be impossible to mend. I also fear that I am a part of a war that will never end. I do not take what I am about to do lightly. I know the consequences will likely be dire.

Tomorrow, I will go to General Bylyric, alone. The next day, perhaps all of the Northern Kingdoms will have peace.

Perhaps, for once, I will be the one watching out for my big brother.

THE PLONK SINGERS AND HONEYVOX

For as long as there have been owls at the Great Ga'Hoole Tree, a singer from the renowned Plonk family has tolled the passage of daily life there. The Snow Rose was the very first of these singers. Once a gadfeather, she accepted Hoole's offer to become the great tree's resident singer, thus starting a tradition that has lasted a thousand years. Plonk, of course, was not the family name that the Snow Rose was born into. She chose to take the name as a way of marking the new chapter in her life. Plonk was derived from the Krakish word
plonkvir,
which means “enjoyment” and “delight.”

The Plonk family of Snowy Owls, all descendants of the Snow Rose, have since flourished in the Northern and Southern kingdoms. They have sent singers to every community in every kingdom for generations. The most refined and most talented singer in each generation has always been chosen to reside at the great tree. Every one of these singers has been a fixture at the tree, and has

brought much joy to the owls who have lived there. When an owl from another kingdom speaks of the splendid culture of Ga'Hoole, the Plonk singer is inevitably mentioned.

Currently, the resident singer is Madame Brunwella Plonk. Of course, no one at the tree ever refers to her as “Brunwella,” she is simply “Madame Plonk.” I am not sure how that tradition started but it seems that all singers have been referred to only as “Madame Plonk” or “Sir Plonk” in person. I can only deduce that it was done as a sign of reverence. In the annals, their full names are used, but only to distinguish them from one another. I will do the same here.

Madame Brunwella and I are as different as owls can be. She can be a bit, oh, how should I put it, ostentatious at times. What with her “apartments” and “whirlyglass” and other doodads…why, I cannot help find some of those things appallingly vulgar.