Guardians of Ga'Hoole: To Be A King (11 page)

T
he great tree shook violently in the early winter storm. “Only a fool would be out there tonight,” Justin, a young Short-eared Owl, said. “What in Glaux’s name are Grank and Strix Strumajen perched on the lookout for?”

“They ain’t fools, Justin. I just come off watch, and we think we spotted her daughter flying in.”

“The young master of the short blade, eh? Well, stars in glaumora—that’ll set the old Strix up something fine, wouldn’t it?”

“It certainly would.”

Now both owls became curious enough that they crept from the coziness of the guard hollow they shared near the very top of the great tree and peered up. A lovely Spotted Owl had just landed next to Strix Strumajen and Grank.

“Mum?”

“Emerilla!” Strix Strumajen’s beak dropped open.

“This is your daughter?” Grank asked.

“Yes!” Strix Strumajen gasped and then folded her daughter gently into her wings. The young Spotted Owl closed her eyes tight and tried not to fall off the branch as a wave of nausea swept through her.
Don’t yarp, don’t yarp. It must be that thing they call a gizzard. Emotions don’t just get in the way,
she thought.
They make you sick.

“Are you all right, dear? You look a bit shaky.”

“Fine, Mum. Fine.”

“Just your gizzard. I know mine is in a wondrous twitch.” Strix Strumajen’s eyes began to leak tears again.

This is ridiculous,
Lutta thought. She saw what Kreeth meant. Her own “gizzard” began to calm down a bit, and she was feeling slightly less nauseated.

“We sent so many out to look for you. Where were you, and how did you ever find us?” Grank asked.

“Oh, forgive me.” Strix Strumajen turned to her daughter. “I have not even introduced you to our dear Grank. He is the chief counsel to King Hoole.”

“Oh, yes, so pleased to meet you,” Lutta said.

“He is regent in Hoole’s absence,” Strix Strumajen explained.

“Hoole isn’t here?” Lutta tried to cover her surprise. If he wasn’t in the great tree, it probably meant that the ember was not there, either. She had to be careful. “Where is he?”

“Out looking for you, my dear—and on other business as well,” Strix Strumajen replied.

Better not appear too interested in this “other business.”
“I’m honored that a king should be looking for me.” That must have been the appropriate answer because Strix Strumajen made a soft churring noise. “Don’t be so modest, my dear. Your reputation as a close fighter and your courage in battle are well known.” She sighed and thought,
If only my mate were alive and could see this magnificent daughter safe again.
There was indeed a stronger resemblance between her daughter and her dear mate, Hurthwel, than she had remembered. She shut her eyes briefly as if to stanch the memory and the sorrow.

Lutta had learned her lessons well. “Don’t think of dear Da now, Mum. We are together.”

“Yes, Emerilla, and it seems like a miracle. They said you had vanished over the Ice Fangs. What happened?”

Lutta was ready with her story. “It was almost like vanishing. Although there was no blood, I did suffer a terrible blow to my head and began to fall unconscious. And you’re right, it was a miracle of sorts. I plummeted right onto the furry belly of a polar bear. Svin was his name, and I am forever grateful to him. He saved my life. Not only that—he tucked me away in his ice cave and tended me, bringing me fish. He even grabbed me a lemming once.”

Curious,
thought Grank. He had never heard of a polar bear going after a lemming, especially a polar bear of the Ice Fangs. And this region was not known for lemming communities.

“Believe me, Mum, I have had enough fish to last me a lifetime.”

“Well, come with me, dear. We’ll go to the dining hollow and you can have your fill of vole and some awfully good meadow mice.”

After having supped, Strix Strumajen led her daughter to the hollow they would share. She had hoped that her daughter might be a bit more forthcoming as to how she had heard that her mother was here at the great tree and what she had been doing in these long moon cycles since she had been struck down in the Ice Fangs. Had her recovery taken all this time? But Emerilla was chary with her information and seemed more interested in the young king and the ember.

“You’ve heard about the ember, then?” Strix Strumajen asked.

“Oh yes, Mum. It’s the talk of the Northern Kingdoms.”

“But you were mostly with this polar bear, weren’t you?”

“Yes, but Svin got out and about. He brought me news. But tell me, what is the young king like?”

“Oh, quite handsome. Very quick-witted. He’s…” She paused. She had told Emerilla that Hoole was out looking for her, but she had not told her the other part of his mission, which was even more important: to set up a system of slipgizzles in the S’yrthghar. For some reason, she hesitated to tell Emerilla this. True, only the parliament knew the full extent of Hoole’s mission. But why was she not eager to share everything with her daughter? She suddenly felt her gizzard give an alarming twinge.
What is happening? My gizzard should not be doing this.
She looked at her daughter again and marveled at how much she resembled her father.

Twice during that first day’s sleep in the hollow, Strix Strumajen woke up and went over to where her daughter perched in a corner, sound asleep. Strix Strumajen peered at her, blinking, running her eyes over every little tuft, and gently preening her feathers as she had so longed to do.
Why am I not happier?
she thought.
Is there something wrong with me? I love her so much. Why do I have these strange feelings in my gizzard?
Finally, Strix Strumajen returned to her perch and fell into a deep sleep.

“Mum! Mum!” Emerilla was shaking her.

“What? What is it, dear? What time is it?”

“Nearly tween time. Can’t you hear the cheering?”

“Yes! What is it?”

“The king has been spotted. He is approaching the tree.”

“Oh, Great Glaux. He’s back! How wonderful!”

“Yes, and won’t he be surprised?”

“Why’s that, dear?”

“Well, I’m here. The object of his search.”

Strix Strumajen blinked.
How odd,
she thought,
and somewhat immodest.
Emerilla had always been so modest, so self-effacing.

“And the ember is back now, right? With him?”

“Why, it never left, dear,” Strix Strumajen replied.

“Really?”

“Yes. It would be most cumbersome to carry around.”

“But is it safe?”

“Why wouldn’t it be safe?” She paused. “Emerilla, in this tree we have a bond of trust. Trust is really the essence of the Guardians of Ga’Hoole. You do understand that, don’t you, darling? Trust was as much a part of our own family as the spots on our brows.” She reached out and touched her daughter’s brow that now so resembled the spiral of spots of her father’s face. She felt Emerilla flinch slightly at her touch, and a dread began to seep into Strix Strumajen’s gizzard.
Emerilla has changed in some way. That blow on her head has joggled something in her. Perhaps she needs a gizzard tonic. I shall consult with Grank.

I
n the Ice Palace of the H’rathghar glacier, a band of gadfeathers was making music, and a dozen owls led by Philma and Shadyk were dancing a flying quadrille. Servants were delivering piles of lemmings and a great quantity of bingle juice was being quaffed. Standing in the shadows, Theo watched with dismay as his brother roared drunken calls for the dancers.

Fly your partner round about,

then spiral up and head on out.

Flap your wings, then flutter on up.

Here’s a lemming for your sup.

He staggered as he tried to land on the melting ice throne. To think that Hoole’s father and grandfather, both such noble owls, had once sat there!

Sigrid, known only to Theo to be Emerilla, flew by with a lemming in each talon on her way to serve the
guests. “Meet me at the northeast parapet when the moon’s full up. News. We leave tonight,” she whispered as she swept by Theo.

He had not planned to stay this long, but he needed more information to take back to the great tree. It was a race between how fast the Ice Palace was rotting and how fast other troops were approaching to lay siege. But now, finally, the end seemed to be in sight. Emerilla indeed was an owl of extraordinary intelligence and bravery. The risks she took every day, flying out under the cover of daylight to see what Lord Arrin’s troops or the renegade packs of hagsfiends were up to, took enormous grit and daring. Yet here in the Ice Palace, she passed herself off as a most dutiful and diminished servant, enduring abuse from Shadyk and his bullying guards and councillors. The owls who served Shadyk as advisors were by no stretch of the imagination true councillors. They were only required to agree with him, to humor him and lavish praise upon him even when he was in a drunken stupor.

As the moon approached its highest point of the night, Theo began to fly through the winding corridors of ice that twisted up toward the four parapets. Shadows slid across the thin ice walls as owls danced jigs on the cold, rough night air to the music of a band of gadfeathers that were outside, singing on one of the parapets. Indeed,
there appeared to be as much activity outside the ice palace as within. Theo even saw the shadow of a hagsfiend doing a palsied shuffle through the air, trying to keep time to the music.

Suddenly, however, shadows filled the corridor and blocked out the light of the moon and the stars. Theo’s heart skipped a beat and his gizzard clenched. Two of Shadyk’s largest guards were ahead. When he swiveled around, two more were coming up from behind. All four were armed with ice swords and scimitars. Theo had nothing—just his talons.

For an owl who hates fighting,
he mused grimly,
I sure have to fight a lot.

He scanned the narrow corridor to see if there was an icicle he could break off to use as a weapon but, with the ice rot, any such weapon would break immediately. The four owls were armed with ice weapons that either had been cut from healthy ice from the Ice Dagger or somewhere up in the Firth of Fangs.
Still,
thought Theo,
rotten ice might have its uses. I have to act fast.
He lofted himself straight up into the air. Theo was a powerful owl with powerful wings. The ceiling of the corridor was low, and the owls were surprised that he would try to fly above them. They raised their ice scimitars, but Theo was a cunning flyer as well as fast. He extended his wings as widely as he could and sheered off
the stanchions of rotting ice, which then fell in heaps on the corridor floor. Next, there was a great creaking as the ceiling began to collapse behind him. The owls’ way was blocked. Suddenly, he saw Emerilla flying toward him. He heard a clatter behind him and turned. One of the smaller guards had managed to fly over the heap of collapsed ice. The corridor had narrowed drastically, and Theo did not have room to turn.

“Against the wall! Let me pass!” Emerilla shouted to him. He pressed himself against the melting ice wall and gaped as Emerilla charged the guard who had his cutlass raised. There was a small spurt of blood and then disbelief in the guard’s eyes as he looked down and saw his guts hanging out of his belly.

So this is close fighting!
Theo silently exclaimed.

Now three other guards were scrambling over the pile of ice shards. Emerilla had picked up the cutlass of the fallen guard and tossed it to Theo. Together, the Great Horned and the Spotted Owl advanced on the three remaining assassins. It was as if Theo’s and Emerilla’s minds had become one. Theo knew that his task was to keep the three other owls engaged by quick parrying with his cutlass. For all intents and purposes, Emerilla, the stupid serving lass, did not appear to have a weapon. The three guards, to their mortal detriment, hardly paid her
any heed. When the second owl collapsed—minus half of his port wing—the two others looked down in shock. “Kill her!” One screamed. “Shadyk will have our heads.”

“No!” Theo roared and, picking up the rapier of the fallen owl, powered straight up, a weapon in each talon, stabbing one guard in the gizzard and the other in the heart. The corridor was slick with blood.

Then there was a huge clapping sound like thunder. “The northeast parapet! It’s falling!” Emerilla cried out. And from a hole in the wall, they saw it tumbling through the night. “Follow me,” Emerilla shouted.

They flew out through a hole in the corridor wall and headed south toward Stormfast Island. As Theo looked back, havoc reigned in the Ice Palace. Hagsfiends were taking flight as the entire eastern side of the palace caved in. An icy wind came up announcing the first of the serious winter storms driven by the N’yrthnookah, the northeast wind that brought the heaviest of the blizzards. With this wind behind them, they made a short business of the flight to Stormfast. The dawn was just breaking when they arrived.

“There’s a good ice hollow on the lee side of the island. We’ll get protection from all this,” Emerilla said.

Once in the hollow, Emerilla looked up at Theo. “So, before you were so rudely interrupted by the guards on
your way to see me, I had been planning to tell you the latest news.”

“Yes, but how did you know to come down that corridor and not wait for me on the parapet?”

“Just a feeling in the gizzard. I just suddenly sensed that Shadyk was going to do something tonight.”

“You fought brilliantly.”

“Well, you weren’t so bad yourself.”

“So what is the news?”

“Lord Arrin is massing a huge force.”

“But I thought his followers had left him.”

“They had, but one important one has returned: Lord Elgobad.”

“Lord Elgobad?”

“Yes, do you know him?”

“In a sense. A Snowy. He attacked me some time ago in the Bitter Sea. I wounded him, but I guess not mortally.”

“Well, he has joined forces with Lord Arrin once again. They plan to lay siege to the Ice Palace.”

“There won’t be much left of it.”

“This N’yrthnookah will delay the ice rot.”

“I guess that’s both good news and bad news,” Theo said.

“Yes, it buys time for King Hoole,” Emerilla replied. “Is he ready to fight?”

“I hope so. He had gone on a long mission into the S’yrthghar. He wanted to get colliers and blacksmiths.”

“Ah, yes, for the new weapons. I have heard about them. Battle claws they call them.”

Theo closed his eyes and nodded his head sadly.

“What’s wrong, Theo?” Emerilla asked.

“I am the one who made those first battle claws.”

“But why does that make you so sad?”

“It is, my dear”—he felt he could call her “my dear” as he was so much older than she—“a sad thing to have as a legacy the creation of a new and deadly weapon.”

“I see,” Emerilla said softly.