The War of the Ember

by Kathryn Lasky

  Nyra lurched forward. Soren thought he saw Coryn flinch.

  The Striga rushed in and swept under Nyra. He was trying to support her from below. But suddenly, the she-winds were raking through the flames and the scalding waves from the lava sea were rising higher. In the next moment a crest of the lava sea broke and took her with it. The Striga had slid away in the nick of time. “Out of here! Coryn!” Soren cried. “We have to get out. The she-winds are building!”

  “Follow him!” Coryn cried out. “Follow the Striga!”

  “Let him go, Coryn! Let him go!”

  “Never!” Coryn shouted. He was flying like an owl possessed. Soren would not let him give chase alone. But suddenly the air was clear. They were out from the hot fiery breath of the volcano and the tumult of the she-winds and yet…My Glaux, I am flying through blood! Soren thought. Blood! How can this be?

  And then he saw it! The blood was streaming from Coryn’s port wing. The wing hung at an odd angle. His flight was unbalanced. The Striga wheeled about and was advancing on Coryn.

  “No!” screeched Soren. He roared in and, with the ancient battle claws of Ezylryb extended, raked off the head of the Striga. The blue head spun off in one direction, the body in another. But there was something else. The tawny bloodstained wing of a Barn Owl swirled almost lazily to the ground. “Coryn! Coryn!” Soren watched, his gizzard quaking as Coryn plummeted. Soren flew to him and, with his battle claws still extended, caught his nephew and cradled him in those claws as if he were a chick just out of the shell.

  A strange stillness settled upon the battlefield. Had the fighting stopped? Soren did not know, did not care. He landed at the base of the volcano and laid Coryn gently among the embers. Suddenly, the Band was by his side. “He’s hurt! Badly hurt!” Soren cried out.

  “Uncle, I am dying.”

  “No!” Soren whispered.

  Otulissa appeared with the torn-off wing. “No, Coryn! No!” She could not believe this was happening. Above the place where Coryn now lay, Otulissa had years before perched on an outcropping and watched in astonishment as young Coryn had retrieved the ember.

  “Coryn,” Otulissa said softly, “Cleve will come. He will mend you. Sew your wing back on.”

  “I am fine. I don’t need wings where I am going.”

  He was so tired. Coryn looked up at the good noble owls gathered around him. The band, the Chaw of Chaws. They were all weeping, begging him to live. But he knew he was leaving them. They will have years and years, but my time is here. He was ready. The last thing he heard before losing consciousness was not the voices of the Band but the howling of the wolves. And yet they seemed not near but in some distant country.

  Don’t worry, he wanted to say. Don’t worry, Uncle. But he felt as if he was already far away.

  A messenger arrived. “The enemy has been routed, sir.” Then he looked down and gasped. “The king?”

  “The king is dead!” said Soren quietly.

  Soren flew over and perched on the top of one of the great gates of the Beyond. He swiveled his head and surveyed the battlefield. It’s a miracle, he thought softly. We were but five hundred Guardians and yet creatures from all over joined us. Creatures who had never before fought together found a way. He saw Doc Finebeak in the distance. He was tending to the birds in his Black and White Brigade. Crows! Who would have ever thought we would have crows as allies? And seagulls? His eyes scanned the splatterings of white gull poop that seemed everywhere. But how effective that flying splat had been in the final rout. Perhaps they have less than noble digestive tracts but their gizzards proved true, Soren thought.

  Suddenly, there was a huge roar and the ground shook beneath them. The five volcanoes of the Sacred Ring began to erupt all at once. The wolves howled a warning for, although such occasions were rare, fire could sweep across the land and the sky would then become a sea of flames. Owls began to fly through the Hot Gates but Soren stayed perched. He knew in his gizzard that he must remain. And so apparently did the rest of the Band and Otulissa. When he looked about, the entire Chaw of Chaws was perched on the pinnacles of the Hot Gates. And as they watched, they saw a misty configuration that seemed improbable in the hot dry air begin to rise over the crater of Hrath’ghar.

  “Look, it’s growing brighter!” Otulissa said.

  “Like stars almost,” Gylfie whispered.

  “Not like stars, they are stars!” Twilight said.

  Soren could scarcely breath. “It’s a new constellation, I think.”

  “It’s a face—a Barn Owl’s face. I swear it’s Coryn’s, but there is no scar,” Digger said.

  “No, of course not,” Soren said. “He has been restored, just as the wolves of the Watch are mended when the ember is retrieved. So Coryn is mended in glaumora.”

  The din of the erupting volcanoes now quieted. The flames that had scratched the sky retreated. The she-winds stilled and the only sound to be heard now was the bubbling, crackling noises of the boiling lava in the five craters and the rising cries of the wolves.

  “Soren,” Gylfie said. “Soren, look around.” She nodded her head toward the ring of volcanoes. Upon each cairn a wolf stood and stretched its long neck toward the sky and began to howl.

  “The ember is back,” he replied. “They mourn for their lost king and their lost lives.”

  “No, Soren. They are not so selfish as to mourn for themselves. They could have left the Watch during Coryn’s reign. But listen to their song. It’s not sad.” The voices of the wolves grew louder. The wild, untamed song curled into the night. Namara trotted up to Soren. “It is the Song of the Monarch.”

  “Monarch? But the king is dead.”

  “There will be a new king, unembered but Glaux blessed.”

  “No!” Soren gasped.

  “Yes,” three voices said. He turned and looked at Gylfie, Twilight, and Digger perched before him.

  “Now it is your time,” Digger said. Twilight and Gylfie nodded. Another voice spoke. “Your time, Soren.” It was Otulissa. Namara had fallen to her knees, her belly scraping the ground. A mighty roar rang out through the Sacred Ring. The polar bears leaped into the night. And the gadfeathers began to sing their song blending with that of the wolves.

  “My king,” a sweet familiar voice said. It was Pelli.

  “Just your mate, my dear. That is all I need be in your eyes.” Soren saw his own reflection in the dark mirrors of Pelli’s eyes. His white face soot-streaked. A nick out of his tarnished beak. “A grimy old mate at that,” he added.

  “Oh, no, as fresh and gleaming as a long night in the time of the White Rain, Soren.”

  Epilogue

  In a hollow high up on the northwest side of the great tree, formerly the hollow of its most distinguished ryb, Ezylryb, Otulissa perched over the writing table while Cleve poked at the fire in the grate. She picked up a feather freshly plucked from her port wing. The port ones seemed to grow the best quills for writing. It was up to her now. She had been appointed the official historian of the tree. Dipping the point into the ink, she began to write.

  AN EYEWITNESS ACCOUNT

  THE WAR OF THE EMBER

  Before I begin a detailed narrative of the causes leading up to this war, with its strategies and tactics, permit me, dear reader, a few more personal comments on war itself. Many think of war as an exercise in tactical deployment, weapons, and training. War as work, in the grittiest and most mundane sense. Others think it a blood-drenched glamorous drama. But I would like to suggest that war is something else. It is perhaps essentially mysterious, for it requires courage in ways that are not only extraordinary but ultimately inspiring. An ordinary owl is suddenly called upon to do extraordinary things, and this the owl does! How is that explained? Perhaps in years to come, owls and other creatures might visit that battleground in Beyond the Beyond where this War of the Ember was fought and our good King Coryn perished along with many other animals—ordinary animals who died courageously, as well. So I ask you, who are strangers to me,
to pass on this truth: Tell all that pause at that hallowed ground, that here lie Guardians. For Guardians they all were, be they owls, wolves, seagulls, puffins, bears, snakes, or crows. They came together in the dark and fearsome glare of three cursed nights to fight and to die obedient to the oaths of the Great Ga’Hoole Tree. Have them know that this tree is no myth, though a mystery it may be, for the courage it has inspired in all creatures of this world. Remind them that in those long nights at the end of the time we call the Copper-Rose Rain, there was an order of owls led by a brave king that rose to perform noble deeds and were joined by all manner of creatures both of land and air and sea who fought bravely, side by side, for the good of all.

  OWLS

  and others

  from the

  GUARDIANS OF GA’HOOLE SERIES

  The Band

  SOREN: Barn Owl, Tyto alba, from the Forest Kingdom of Tyto; escaped from St. Aegolius Academy for Orphaned Owls; a Guardian at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree and close advisor to the King

  GYLFIE: Elf Owl, Micranthene whitneyi, from the desert kingdom of Kuneer; escaped from St. Aegolius Academy for Orphaned Owls; Soren’s best friend; a Guardian at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree and ryb of the navigation chaw

  TWILIGHT: Great Gray Owl, Strix nebulosa, free flier, orphaned within hours of hatching; Guardian at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree

  DIGGER: Burrowing Owl, Speotyto cunicularius, from the desert kingdom of Kuneer; lost in desert after attack in which his brother was killed by owls from St. Aegolius; Guardian at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree

  The Leaders of the Great Ga’Hoole Tree

  CORYN: Barn Owl, Tyto alba, the young king of the great tree; son of Nyra, leader of the Pure Ones

  EZYLRYB: Whiskered Screech Owl, Otus trichopsis, Soren’s former mentor, the wise, much-loved, departed ryb at the great Ga’Hoole Tree

  Others at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree

  OTULISSA: Spotted Owl, Strix occidentalis, chief ryb and ryb of Ga’Hoolology and weather chaws; an owl of great learning and prestigious lineage

  MARTIN: Northern Saw-whet Owl, Aegolius acadicus, member of the Chaw of Chaws; a Guardian at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree

  RUBY: Short-eared Owl, Asio flammeus, member of the Chaw of Chaws; a Guardian at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree

  EGLANTINE: Barn Owl, Tyto alba, Soren’s younger sister

  MADAME PLONK: Snowy Owl, Nyctea scandiaca, the elegant singer of the Great Ga’Hoole Tree

  MRS. PLITHIVER: blind snake, formerly the nest-maid for Soren’s family; now a member of the harp guild at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree

  OCTAVIA: Kielian snake, nest-maid for many years for Madame Plonk and Ezylryb (also known as BRIGID)

  DOC FINEBEAK: Snowy Owl Nyctea scandiaca, famed freelance tracker once in the employ of the Pure Ones

  Characters from the Time of the Legends

  CRANK: Spotted Owl, Strix occidentalis, the first collier; friend to young King H’rath and Queen Siv during their youth; first owl to find the ember

  HOOLE: Spotted Owl, Strix occidentalis, son of H’rath; retriever of the Ember of Hoole; founder and first king of the great tree

  H’RATH: Spotted Owl, Strix occidentalis, king of the N’yrthghar, the frigid region known in later times as the Northern Kingdoms; father of Hoole

  SIV: Spotted Owl, Strix occidentalis, queen of H’rath of the N’yrthghar; mother of Hoole.

  KREETH: Female hagsfiend with strong powers of nachtmagen; friend of Ygryk, conjured Lutta into being

  The Pure Ones

  KLUDD: Barn Owl, Tyto alba, Soren’s older brother, slain leader of the Pure Ones (also known as METAL BEAK and HIGH TYTO)

  NYRA: Barn Owl, Tyto alba, Kludd’s mate, leader of the Pure ones after Kludd’s death

  DUSTYTUFT: Greater Sooty Owl, Tyto tenebricosa, low-caste owl in the Pure ones, friend of Nyroc since his hatching (also known as PHILLIP)

  UGLAMORE: Barn Owl, Tyto alba, a Pure Guard sublieutenant under Nyra who deserts the Pure Ones

  TARN: Burrowing Owl, Speotyto cunicularius, a Pure One commander under Nyra and a brilliant tactician

  Other Characters

  DUNLEAVY MACHEATH: treacherous dire wolf, once leader of the MacHeath clan in Beyond the Beyond

  GYLLBANE: courageous member of the MacHeath clan of dire wolves, her pup Cody died keeping the Book of Kreeth from the Pure Ones (also known as NAMARA)

  BESS: Boreal Owl, Aegolius funerus, daughter of Grimble, a guard at St. Aegolius Academy for Orphaned Owls; keeper of the Palace of Mists (also known as THE KNOWER)

  BRAITHE: Whiskered Screech Owl, Otus trichopsis, owl from Ambala and a memorizer of books; flew with the Greenowls of Ambala to the great tree on Balefire Night

  CLEVE OF FIRTHMORE: Spotted Owl, Striz accidentalis, of the noble family of Krakor, healer, pacifist

  Blue Owls

  STRIGA: Blue Snowy Owl, Nyctea scandiaca, a former dragon owl from the Middle Kingdom seeking a more meaningful life (also known as ORLANDO)

  TENGSHU: Blue Long-eared Owl, Asio otis, qui master and sage of the Middle Kingdom

  A peek at

  THE GUARDIANS of GA’HOOLE

  Lost Tales of Ga’Hoole

  Greetings, Dear Readers!

  I come to you not as a monarch, but as an old friend from the Great Ga’Hoole Tree. I write at Otulissa’s request. She asks that I give you news of the tree and introduce the tales she has gathered. And so I shall.

  It seems we have entered a time of blessed peace. The Striga and his vicious Blue Brigade fell in defeat many moon cycles ago. Nyra and the Pure Ones are gone. The dedication to learning fostered at the great tree has spread throughout the kingdoms, bringing with it the fresh breeze of knowledge and banishing the dank residue of ignorance, superstition, and malice. The arts of reading and even writing are no longer rare beyond the tree. Deep in the forest of Ambala, a simple printing press has been built with the help of the newly established research-and-printing chaw from the great tree, so that in that hidden dell where great works are chanted into the emerald air, they are now put down in printed scrolls and books as well. This new press, and our own press at the great tree, supply a small but growing number of lending libraries that have been established in the owl kingdoms, so that great works from the tree, from the Glauxian Brothers’ and Glauxian Sisters’ retreats, and from the library of the Others in the Palace of Mists, may be studied in distant dens and hollows by furred, scaled, and feathered scholars alike.

  It is perhaps natural that in such times of outward peace, we look inward. And so it is that the personal and, in some cases, secret histories of our own Guardians and others close to the tree have now come to light. Otulissa has studied, researched, and sometimes simply listened with a wise and sympathetic ear slit, and set down the tales for all to learn from. As you read these tales of personal history, private anguish, and worldly adventure, remember that not all battles are fought in the air or on the ground. Some, perhaps the most difficult of all, are fought in our own gizzards, hearts, and brains.

  I submit these tales to you with respect and affection.

  Soren

  Guardian Among Guardians

  Acknowledgments

  As in previous Guardians of Ga’Hoole books, I have taken much inspiration from history. In Chapter 15 the speech given by the H’ryth is based on one given by Winston Churchill in 1940 in the House of Commons during World War II.

  The final battle in the War of the Ember is modeled after the famous battle of Thermopylae in the year 480 B.C., where the Spartan soldiers at a rocky mountain pass in northern Greece stood three hundred strong against the invading Persian army who outnumbered them many times over. When Nyra warns Coryn that his strategy will not work without the sun and Coryn replies, “Then we shall fight you in the shade,” these are the same words that the warrior Dienekes replied to the threat delivered by the Persian king Xerxes as reported by Herodotus, the ancient Greek historian. Similarly in the epilogue of The War of The Ember when Otulissa begins to write
the history of this great battle, one of the sentences in the last paragraph is an adaptation of the words of the fifth-century Greek lyric poet Simonides, words that can be found today on the memorial epitaph at the site of the battle of Thermopylae.

  Being a writer is not really as lonely a job as many people might think. In the end, writing a book is truly a collaboration. I have acknowledged history and then people such as Winston Churchill, whose use of language I find profoundly moving. I have recognized my readers, who through their enthusiasm have sustained and stirred me to keeping writing more in this series. And now I must speak briefly of my four muses.

  Ann Reit loved my idea for the Guardians of Ga’Hoole and is responsible for bringing it to the attention of the people at Scholastic who were so important in giving it the great launch.

  Joy Peskin edited the first five books. I am so grateful to her for her unmitigated optimism when I often faced what I thought were insurmountable problems as we sought to establish an overall narrative arc for these first books.

  Maria Weisbin, who edited the last ten books, has the most extraordinary editorial eye I have ever encountered in my thirty years of writing. Her ear for language, her sense of plot and pacing is simply unmatched. She is a woman of profound sensibilities, and her contribution to these books is beyond measure.