The Quest of the Cubs

by Kathryn Lasky

  The cubs hunched over the large work slab, listening eagerly as Skagen showed them how to find the Den of Forever Frost.

  Inside the cave, it was impossible to tell day from night, but after a few hours, Stellan and Jytte started to yawn, and Third fell asleep with his face on one of the maps.

  Skagen gently picked up Third by the scruff of his neck and carried him to a pile of furs, then gestured to another pile where Jytte and Stellan could sleep. This time, they did not argue about whether to trust Skagen. Gratefully, they curled up and drifted to sleep, feeling safe and warm for the first time since their mum had left.

  Over the next several days, Skagen taught them how to plot out a true navigational course with a compass and a sextant. The red band timepiece was still helpful, but with the additional navigational skills that Skagen was teaching them, they would be prepared for their journey to the bear kingdoms of Ga’Hoole with much better accuracy.

  After a long evening of studying maps, the cubs and Skagen gathered to have cocoa. The cubs loved the sweet drink and enjoyed preparing it.

  “Do you want your usual, Skagen?” Third inquired.

  “Yes, Third, but just a touch of the schnapps.”

  “Just a touch,” Third replied. After he had poured it into the cocoa, he looked at the label. “You call it schnapps, but here on the label they call it aquavit.”

  “Call it what you will, it tastes disgusting,” Jytte said, making a face. “When I tried it, it burned my throat right down past my belly and into my claws.”

  “It’s not for young’uns,” Skagen said. “And I’m old.” His muzzle had become quite gray in the past year, and he felt a crick in his hip. He wondered if Uluk Uluk was feeling the years as well.

  “No you’re not!” Jytte said forcefully. The snow leopard looked across at them. Their dark eyes were always shiny, so ready to learn. Teaching these cubs about the maps and navigation, living with them in the cave, had been one of the happiest periods in Skagen’s life.

  “You are ready,” Skagen announced one evening as the cubs pored over unrolled scrolls of maps and charts in a small chamber that Skagen called the library. It was a cozy chamber, and they often sipped their cocoa from shallow rock cups lined with crystals that Skagen told them were geodes. They were always careful not to spill any on the maps.

  “Are you sure?” Stellan asked, slurping a mouthful of cocoa from his geode, which was lined with lavender and yellow crystals.

  “But you won’t go with us?” Jytte asked. They had grown very fond of the snow leopard.

  He shook his head. “No. This is your history; your stories are waiting for you in the Den of Forever Frost. You are the cubs of Svern and the great-great-grandcubs of both Svarr and Svree, the noblest and the most courageous of bears. If you can find the Den of Forever Frost, if any part of it still exists, this is your destiny. And then and only then will you be able to break the clock.”

  “I think we’re ready,” Jytte said quickly. “I remember what we are supposed to do. We watch the star in the tip of the Fighting Bear constellation.” She leaned over a star chart she was studying. “Here it is.” She pointed with her claw to the starry configuration that resembled a bear striding across the night sky.

  “And what stars will you begin to see as you travel south in addition to the Fighting Bear?”

  “The Great Claw constellation,” Stellan replied quickly, pointing to another on his sister’s chart.

  “And what do the owls call that constellation?”

  “The Golden Talons,” Third replied. He held up his paw. “Owls have talons; we have claws. I can’t wait to see an owl!”

  “You’ll see plenty when you head south to the Ga’Hoolian kingdoms.”

  “Indeed. See, you all have learned so much. You have the star maps as well as these maps in your head. You will all be great navigators. You should leave soon, but before you go, I plan to make a visit to Syvert’s and bring you back some of Granny Solveig’s Best Cocoa. I know how much you like it.”

  “Love it!” Jytte exclaimed.

  “And it will give you energy for your journey.”

  So the following evening, Skagen left for Syvert Hansen’s store. He had kept his old habits from the Schrynn Gar, where the snow leopards mostly hunted “on the cresp”—the edges of dawn and twiliqglow. Not that one had to be especially strategic when the prey was a twelve-ounce can of Granny Solveig’s Best Cocoa, “The Best Money Can Buy,” whatever money was. Nevertheless, he wanted to arrive at dawn. So he gave the sleeping cubs a lick with his big rough tongue and left.

  By the break of first light, Skagen had wended his way through Oddsvall and was now approaching the northern outskirts. The funny little building of Syvert Hansen’s Dry Goods store appeared. It seemed so sad, warped by the wind and leaning wearily against the landscape. The metal roof slid off to one side. The sign that once had been nailed above the entry had been torn off years before, and Skagen had dragged it back to the cave to camouflage the opening. He wandered through, pulling a bag he’d fashioned from the stomach of a seal.

  Skagen examined all the shelves—half of them empty, as many of the tinned goods had fallen off over the years. But it always paid to look up, and not just down. The shelves weren’t that high, so anything he wanted was in easy reach. He spotted a box of Onkel Rolvag’s Oatmeal. He loved oatmeal, and the cubs had never tasted it. There were also several small tins of sardines. Jytte especially liked those. Tricky, however, to open. One had to use one’s small teeth in the back to puncture the tin and then tear with the tiny flip claw to peel back the top.

  Next, he went over to a bin that held odds and ends. He picked through an assortment of tins, bottles, and small boxes. He liked the bottles, for the glass could be useful. He picked up one. Lydia Pinkham’s Tonic for Female Complaints. Too bad it was dark purple glass. It would never suffice for a watch lens. The numbers would not be visible through the glass. But he had found two tins of Granny Solveig’s Best Cocoa. And three tins of Papa Van Stokel’s Pork and Beans. Just as he was reaching for the third tin, he heard a noise. Then a shadow slid across the floor.

  He spun around. Three immense figures blocked the breaking light in the east. Skagen felt the blood freeze in his veins. He could smell the bloody banners that were emblazoned on their chests. He knew that his own blood might be added to this display.

  “Come out!” one roared.

  Skagen snarled.

  “We smell the cubs on you. The Grand Patek demands fresh cubs.”

  “Never!” Skagen roared back. He would fight. He felt his muscles coiling beneath his pelt. He would strike for their hearts.

  The huge bears, many times larger than Skagen, tore off the frame of the entry. A wall collapsed. Stones began tumbling down on him. He had no choice. He leaped through the opening and was immediately tackled.

  The largest bear put his paw on Skagen’s neck. “The cubs! The cubs! Tell us where they are or prepare to die.”

  The bear’s foot was crushing his windpipe, and Skagen’s limbs began to jerk in wild spasms as he fought for breath. If he died, they would find their way to the cubs. If the cubs died … no, this could not happen.

  He was losing consciousness, but he had to keep fighting. He had to. Feeling a surge of energy, Skagen twisted under the weight and managed to sink his fangs into the top of the bear’s paw. He heard a yowl. The ground beneath him quaked and the snow turned red. Skagen managed to drag himself out from under the attacking bear. I shall not die. I shall not die. He heard the continuous roaring of the maddened bear, which reverberated all the way to the inlet and shattered the newly formed ice. Two other bears stood by, momentarily stunned that their leader had been wounded.

  “Attack! Attack, you fools!” the wounded bear bellowed.

  Skagen felt the ground quake again as the two bears stormed him. One lunged. There was a resounding smack followed by a crack. Skagen collapsed. This time he knew he would never rise again.

  “Don�
��t kill him,” one bear said. “We need him to take us to the cubs.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll find his tracks. This snow is fresh.” The lead bear of the Roguers, a she-bear named Enka, replied confidently as she stepped harder on Skagen’s spine.

  Skagen felt no pain. Just a creeping numbness. Another bear knelt down. “Ready to talk?”

  Skagen’s breath was labored. He looked into the bear’s eyes. “I have nothing to say to you,” he whispered, and died.

  Jytte tapped on the tin of Granny Solveig’s cocoa. “I just don’t understand,” she said grumpily. “It never takes Skagen this long.”

  “You know that snow leopards like to travel at twiliqglow. He might have waited,” Third said. He was poring over a map of the Northern Kingdoms of Ga’Hoole.

  Stellan was by his side and pointed with a claw to a long, narrow inlet. “They call those firths in Ga’Hoole. Mum told us that.”

  “Why don’t they call them channels or chukyshes the way we do here?” Third asked.

  “They’re different. Very deep, and there are always high cliffs around them. Once they might have been valleys.”

  “How can you two just keep talking about that map?” Jytte snapped. “It’s late now and he’s not back.”

  By midnight, the cubs were truly frightened. They had forgotten all about cocoa and the maps.

  “Should we go out and hunt for him?” Jytte asked.

  “Skagen told us very specifically that we should never go near Oddsvall, not since those Roguers nearly caught us. Too close to the ice spines,” Stellan said.

  “But this is an emergency. What if he’s hurt?” Jytte whimpered.

  “He is kind of old,” Third said. “I know his hip was bothering him the other day. I saw him limping.”

  “Limping? Really?” Stellan was astonished. “I always think of him as moving so smoothly. It’s as if he melts through air.”

  A tear began to roll down Jytte’s face. Stellan was right. Skagen was the most graceful creature on earth.

  Stellan suddenly sniffed. “What’s that scent?”

  “What scent?” Third said.

  Great vapors of smoke were rolling into the cave. All three cubs thought of the heligs, the passages with their death air, that Skagen had warned them about.

  “Clear air … we must … get to the clear tunnel … near here, I think,” Jytte gasped. She was coughing. She tried to hold her breath but couldn’t, yet every time she breathed, it seared her throat. She staggered, then fell to her knees. “Stellan! Stellan!” she gasped again, and reached out for her brother. But there was nothing.

  Outside the cave, the Roguers who had murdered Skagen, Jost and Enka, had set coals from the twin volcanoes Prya and Pupya in small holes in the ground. Fanning them, they sent drafts of the smoke into the cave.

  “The wind is in our favor,” Enka said. “It’ll help us. The Ice Clock is pleased, and so the wind comes!”

  “Aye.” Jost nodded. “The Ice Clock is pleased.”

  They began to chant as the smoke swirled into the cave.

  “The cubs will rush out soon,” Enka continued. “Casters stand alert.” She nodded to two bears with nets. “Hakon, ready your scimitar claws. The cubs must serve the clock or die.”

  “The cubs must serve the clock or die,” repeated the other bears like a death chorus.

  Enka craned her head on her long neck forward, turning to see into the mouth of the cave. She was growing impatient. “Time check?” she demanded.

  “Eighteen minutes, twenty-four seconds, and five milliseconds.”

  The cubs should have come out by now. But there was no sign of them.

  “Here! Here!” Third said in a rasping voice. “This is the clear tunnel.” Jytte dragged herself forward, clamping her mouth shut so as not to breathe in the smoke. She heard Stellan beside her, coughing and choking. But finally there was a blast of crisp, cold air. They all inhaled huge drafts of the fresh air as they tumbled into the narrow space, gasping with relief. Their heads began to clear. Their sluggish bodies quickened. But outside the helig, they could see that the cave was still roiling with smoke.

  They were trapped.

  “Will we be stuck here forever?” Jytte asked, her voice raw from the smoke.

  “We can’t go out the usual way. There will still be smoke,” Stellan replied hoarsely.

  “And they will still be there,” Third added.

  “Who?” Jytte said.

  “Roguers from the Ice Cap,” Stellan said faintly. “They’re waiting; waiting to smoke us out.” It was as if Stellan’s mind had melded with Enka’s. He could almost hear her counting.

  Stellan felt his sister’s panic. He looked at Third, who stood rigid with his eyes clamped shut. There had been terrible times when Third had found himself in the bitter landscape of his mother’s mind. But now it was as like something had entered him, inhabited him. A voice emanated from the tiny cub, but not his own.

  “Follow me!” The words came from Third’s mouth, but in a deeper voice that did not belong to him.

  “Skagen?” Jytte blurted. It was exactly the voice of the snow leopard.

  “Spirit guide,” Third muttered in his own voice, and began trotting down the winding passage of the clear air. The two cubs followed. The passage wound deep beneath the ground and then started to climb up through a tangle of roots. The cubs at last emerged into what might have been, at one time, a den. And then not far from them they saw the backs of six bears gathered at the mouth of Skagen’s cave. A voice snarled, “It’s been forty-five minutes, thirty-seven seconds, and ten milliseconds. Stop the smoking. Let the air clear. We shall enter and find them.”

  The three cubs watched as the Roguers made preparations to enter the cave. From a few holes dug in the ground they took red-hot coals and enclosed them in two metal boxes, which they put aside. The smoke immediately lessened. Then two bears with the longest claws the cubs had ever seen entered the cave. They were followed by two bears carrying nets, the same kind that had been flung at the cubs on the ice spines. As they disappeared into the cave, Jytte started to rise up and tipped her head in the opposite direction. Stellan shook his head.

  “What?” Jytte whispered.

  “We can’t just run away. We need to make sure they don’t catch up with us.”

  “How?” Third asked. “We’re so little. They’re gigantic, and those claws!”

  “And I swear some had two sets of fangs,” Jytte said.

  “Fire,” Stellan replied evenly.

  Jytte blinked at her brother. She had never seen him like this. He seemed confident, unworried, not a shadow of a second thought, and completely resolute. But she felt her insides roiling with fear. The bears’ claws were so long it would be easy for them to reach out and snag any of them. The claws were an evil and ingenious weapon that made these deadly bears even deadlier.

  They worked quickly. The bears had cleared away most of the junk and debris that had camouflaged the entrance to the cave. The cubs now gathered as much dried brush as they could and began piling it in a big mound at the opening. Then they dumped the coals from the boxes. The brush ignited quickly. The wind suddenly strengthened, and it was as if the cave devoured the flames.

  “Won’t they find the tunnel that leads out as we did?” Third asked.

  “Yes, but it’s going to take them a long time!” Jytte said. There was still one box of coals left. She ran and grabbed the box, then headed for the den from which the cubs had emerged a few moments before.

  “Shove in those branches with the dried leaves, Stellan!” Third joined him.

  “Now!” Stellan said.

  Jytte tossed the coals on the leaves, and they ignited.

  “They’re trapped!” Third exclaimed.

  Within seconds it seemed as if the entire gilly forest was wrapped in flames. But the cubs found their way through the conflagration to the sea that beckoned. But in their wake they heard the thunderous rampage of the furious bears and their roar
s as they ran from the fire.

  “And now”—Stellan turned to Jytte and Third—“we must find Skagen.” It was not long before they picked up the tracks of the Roguer bears. They had come from Oddsvall, exactly where Skagen had gone. Each cub was in its own mind desperately trying to entertain hope that Skagen had somehow escaped the marauding Roguers. But all hope was extinguished as Jytte tipped her head up and shrieked.

  “Look!” Her voice scratched the sky as she pointed to the scavenging birds. The cubs broke into a gallop.

  “Hiiiiiyaaaa!” they roared, flailing their arms wildly at four vultures who were on the ground, two more just landed. The cubs rushed the birds, and there in front of them lay the broken body of Skagen. “No! No!” they cried.

  The snow leopard’s eyes were rolled back in his head. His side was rent with gaping holes where the vultures had torn at the flesh. The crack echoed again in Third’s head.

  “They broke his spine. Look!” Third said. “Claw marks. Claw marks of bears.”

  They walked slowly around the snow leopard. The vultures’ work had hardly begun, but the marks of bears were all over the body.

  “What are we to do?” Third looked at his friends. Huge, glistening tears rolled down his face. “What are we to do?” He was exhausted. Exhausted from his terrible dreams. Exhausted from his second sight. So tired he could not think of what to do next.

  Jytte walked up to Third. She put her arm around his shoulders. “Skagen was a creature of the mountains, but he always sought the sea of Nunquivik,” she said. “Let’s take him to the sea. The inlet is still open. That’s what we should do.” Of course, Third thought, for despite his second sight, he often did not know what to do in the moment. And at that moment it was as if the entire world had skidded out from beneath his feet. He was staggering with grief and doubt and terror.

  “Come along, Third. We’ll do this together,” Jytte said, and gave his shoulder a squeeze.