Book 12 - The Golden Tree (9 page)

She's in a cave!"
"There are a lot of caves, Coryn," Gylfie said softly,
"No, not just any cave. The cave." The four other owls exchanged skeptical glances. ' The cave of my father's Final ceremony in the can-yonlands. She wants his bones, or rather the ashes of his burned bones!"
"Great Glaux!" Digger blurted. 'Ashes from a Final ceremony. Kreeth lusted for them. They were a most powerful ingredient for her monstrous experiments." Twilight had grown very stil . He looked toward Coryn. The moonlight glanced off his head, turning his gray feathers silvery. "The cave," he said quietly, "the cave where I kil ed Kludd in the Battle of the Burning, is that where they had the Marking?' The Final ceremony for a fal en leader was cal ed the Marking.
Coryn nodded. "They had guarded his body day

and night so scavengers wouldn't get it and then
when there were only bones, they burned them." 103 115 "That is odd," Soren said. "For a Final ceremony most owls burn the entire body. Why wait for the bones?"
Coryn opened his eyes wide at his uncle's question and then blinked. Blinked not in surprise but with a strange knowingness. Soren felt a quiver pass through his gizzard. "As I told you before we left, Soren, my mother had a fondness for peculiar rituals, rituals of violence and blood that have roots in a haggish legacy. We know from the legends the power of ashes from bones."
"But she hadn't read the legends," Gylfie said. There was a note of quiet despair in her voice. "She didn't need to. She felt them," Coryn replied evenly.
"So," the rabbit said, turning to the spiderweb again, "it is not a wisp, but a whisper." "It's real." Twilight said. "Let's fly!"

And as the five owls lofted themselves into the
winter night, Twilight had but one thought: I kil ed him once. If she conjures him up I'l kil him again ... and Nyra, tool
In a distant cave in the canyonlands, an owl hunched over a book. The night was almost moonless; only a thin sliver hung in the sky. But it seemed that the rest of that moon had come down to Earth and sought refuge in this
104 116 cave, for in the darkness a face like a glistening orb appeared suspended, its surface slashed and cratered with battle wounds. "I haven't given up on the ember, Stryker," she told her lieutenant. "I was hatched on the night of an eclipse, as was my son, Nyroc." Never, never shal I cal him Coryn, she silently swore. The years had not done Nyra any favors. Once considered a great beauty, a magnificent specimen of a Tyto alba, the loveliest of al Barn Owls, at least as far as the Pure Ones were concerned, she had not weathered wel . Her dark eyes had lost their luster. The scar that ran diagonal y down her face, a wound from long ago, had widened, leaving an ugly red slash. The unique

heart shape of a Barn Owl's face was perhaps its
most al uring feature. The contours of the heart usual y fringed in short tawny golden feathers had darkened on Nyra's face to a deep muddy brown and grown shaggy, blurring the elegance of the heart shape. In several places, her feathers had grown thin, revealing unsightly patches of skin. She now looked up at Stryker as if expecting a response. "Yes, General Mam, I know that. I was there - wel , not when you were hatched - but I remember quite wel the eclipse when Nyroc hatched!"
105 117 "And do you know the significance of being born on the night of an eclipse?" Stryker, though no mental giant of a bird, was a survivor, and he knew how to play the game to jol y the General Mam. He knew that she was eager to impart some tidbit of profound knowledge. Ever since he had gotten the book for her she had spent long days studying rather than sleeping. "We!!, I'l tel you." She sighed happily. Indeed, this was the happiest he had seen Nyra in a long time. Most of the Pure Ones were dead or gone. Some fled to the Northern

Kingdoms-they thought they would be safer in those
vast
ice-shrouded regions of glaciers and endless winter. Some had vanished into the Beyond and stil others had hoped simply to start over, and never to hear the words "Pure Ones" again. In al , there were only five of the original Pure Ones left: Nyra, Stryker, Wortmore, Spyke, and Gebbles.
And there was a new recruit. Hardly a young one and not a Barn Owl, but an ancient Whiskered Screech from the Northern Kingdoms - Ifghar. He claimed that he was the brother of the legendary Ezylryb and he arrived with a Kielian snake named Gragg who, if he could be kept off the bingle juice, was fairly intel igent. They were both frightful y old. Ifghar could barely fly. But they knew war. They knew about fighting, and most important, they knew about ice weapons. The Guardians of Ga'Hoole had 106 118 won the great battle in the canyonlands, the Battle of the Burning, often cal ed the Battle of Fire and Ice because of the ice weapons that came with the reinforcement troops from the Northern Kingdoms. Since then, they had improved their

skil s with these weapons and sent regular
expeditions to harvest new ones. Stryker hoped this Ifghar and his snake would sooner or later prove useful.
"Let me tel you about the significance of an eclipse." Nyra cocked her head and began to speak in an almost professorial manner. "You see, dear Stryker, when an owl hatches on the night of a lunar eclipse an enchantment can be cast on that creature, a charm that gives that creature unusual powers. Hoole, considered by some the first great king, was hatched on such a night, as was I and my son, Nyroc. An eclipse is coming and with this book that
you fetched for me, wel . . . .I think I can accomplish great things."
"Capture the ember?"
"No, you fool, re-create a creature already hatched. Except I shal make him better this time ... much better. . . . ' Her dul eyes began to glisten ever so slightly, as if

deep within them a spark that had long lain
dormant had been rekindled.
107 chapter fifteen
The First Prisoner
Otulissa looked through the bars of the hol ow. It was al so unbelievable. A prison, at the Great Ga'Hoole Tree! And she, Otulissa, was the first prisoner! She gazed out the window at the wintry sky. It was just First Lavender
and in the distance she could see three tiny specks and then a larger one. Her breath caught. It was Pel i and her chicks, Basha, Blythe, and Bel . It was their First Flight ceremony. Otulissa could tel by the configurations they were flying. But why would they be doing it before tween time at First Lavender? How odd. It wasn't as if there were a danger of crows out here on the island. Crows rarely flew across the Sea of Hoolemere. They hated salt, water, almost as much as the hagsfiends had in the legends. Then it came to her. A new rule

had been instituted that al First Flight ceremonies
were supposed to be flown around the altar of the ember and the ashes. How wrong is that - to have one's First Flight indoors, around some stupid altar and not under a starry sky. Otulissa sighed and worry stirred her gizzard. "Oh,
108 120 dear! I hope Pel i knows what she's doing. This could be dangerous for her and the chicks," Otulissa murmured to herself. Elyan and Gemma had pronounced that certain things were considered glimpox - or slanderous - a violation of the sacred nature of the ember. This would certainly be considered glimpox, They'd have to build a new jail. There certainly wasn't room in this one. What was truly glimpox was a jail in the great tree. What could be a worse, a more horrendous violation of the nature of this tree than making a hol ow into a jail? it was outrageous, unbelievable. And it had al happened because of that foolish coronation teacup she had agreed to hide for Madame Plonk. Otulissa shut her eyes tight, reliving the horrible moments leading up to her arrest.

Gemma had arrived at her hol ow. Her rather
skimpy ear tufts stuck up as high as she could manage and twitched as if to add some sort of accent of authority to what she was about to say. "It has been reported that you have in your possession an article that was requisitioned for the vigil of the ashes." Otulissa would not even deign to inquire what in hagsmire was the vigil of the ashes. She didn't care.
"Of what article are you speaking?" Otulissa asked politely.
109 121 "The coronation teacup of Madame Plonk."
Otulissa immediately decided to own up to having the teacup and silently cursed Madame Plonk. At least she-would not be accused of lying. "Yes, right here."
She fetched the teacup from a cubby in her hol ow so quickly that Gemma I most surprised. "Take it," she said, shoving it toward the Whiskered Screech. "I have no use for it."

"Then why did you hide it for Madame Plonk?"
"She merely requested that I keep it for her. I had no idea why." A tiny lie., she thought. "But you're more than welcome to it."
Gemma had seemed visibly upset. This had obviously been too easy. "But you were hiding it in that cubby."
"I don't have a lot of room in here, as you can see," Otulissa had said, gesturing with a smal sweeping arc of one wing. "I put it out of harm's way."
"Aha!" Gemma screeched, and lofted herself directly into the air. "So you consider myself and the rest of the order of the Guardians of the Guardians of the Ember to be 'harm'?"
"I never said such a thing!'
"Yes, you did, just now. I arrest you for unemberish glimpox activity. Article One, Section B of the Glimpox Statutes for Protection of the Ember."

110 122 With that, three other members of the
order, who must have been waiting outside on a close branch, stormed into Otulissa's hol ow, and the next thing she knew she was in a prison that she didn't even know existed in the great tree. She ran her talons over the bars and mused that Bubo himself must have made them. What must he have thought? At just that moment, as if reading her mind, there was a flare of ruddy red outside the opening and the old blacksmith appeared. "Otulissa!' he said in a raw, desperate voice. "I thought I was making rods for stil another cage for the ember. I swear, Otulissa. I would have never done it had I known." The Great Horned looked an absolute wreck. His yel ow eyes flickered madly. "Bubo, I know you couldn't have known. No need for an apology."
The light of the setting sun flashed off the bars, tingeing them gold. Bubo squinted and blinked. "It's a terrible time, ain't it?" He shook his head wearily. "What with this Golden Tree and al ."

"I'm starting to hate gold," Otulissa said.
"I even think Plonkie's getting a bit disgusted with it al ."
"As wel she should!" Otulissa scowled. 111 123 "Look, don't go too hard on her. She feels terrible about the whole thing." "Yes, but look who's in prison." "But she's under 'tree arrest,' as they cal it." "Tree arrest! What wil they think of next? What does that mean?"
"She can't leave the tree, but they have to have her around to sing al them new chants for them ceremonies." The very words caused a deep twinge in Otulissa's gizzard as she saw the three Bs completing their First Flight ceremony. What has happened to the real ceremonies that mark growth and the passages in an owl's life? Ceremonies for an ember - racdropsl "What are we going to do?" Otulissa sighed. "When wil Soren and the Band and the king get back? Coryn would have a fit if he

saw this nonsense with the ember."
"I'm thinking, Otulissa, we got to get word to them!"
"But we don't even know where they are." At that moment, a song began to rise in the tree as Madame Plonk's unearthly voice spiraled up into the soft purple of the twilight. It was a new song that had replaced the old one that hailed the coming of First Black. This one hailed the glow of the ember. Eternal ember, strong and glowing,
let your light suffuse our tree.
112 124 Most holy spirit of the fires,
deliver us from fate most dire.
On the word "dire," there was an ear-shattering crack that resounded throughout the tree. A high flutter could be heard as hundreds of owls flew out from their hol ows. The golden leaves of the tree shivered and a few even fel off drifting lazily toward the ground.

And then the word swirled through the tree. A burly
Short-eared Owl flew by the bars of her prison. "Matron! Matron! What is it?" Otulissa cal ed out. Barely turning around, the matron cal ed back. "It's Madame Plonk. Her voice has cracked!" 113 CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Cracked
Listen to me, Bubo," Madame Plonk spoke in a low, hoarse voice. Each word was like a rough- edged shard grating against the next. "I got her into this. I've got. to get her out: of it." "But not. you, Plonkie, dear. You know nothing about flying around out there. When was the last time you crossed Hoolemere? You know nothing about tracking. I should go."
"They're not going to let you go for a minute. Bubo. They got you working that, forge al hours. And they'd suspect, you. They know how close you are to Coryn and to Soren and the Band." .Madame

Plonk fixed her old friend in a steady gaze. "Look,
even when I bid that cup they didn't real y want to punish me because they needed my voice. Same way they need your smithing. Tree arrest. That's a laugh. I was planning this before my voice cracked. It hurts to talk so don't make me explain too much, lust, listen. I'm
114 126 the first to admit that I'm a vain old owl. 'The first singer of the tree' was what they used to cal a gadfeather. She was a Snowy like me and my line is descended from hers. Her name was Snow Rose. She not only sang, but she was a heroic owl. She helped save the life of Hoole's mother, Siv, then joined Siv's troops in the Battle in the Beyond when Hoole retrieved the ember." Madame Plonk paused. "I didn't know any of this until I took the cup to Otulissa and had, wel , I had my last spot of tea in the coronation cup, and she joined me and told me this part of the old stories. The ones they cal the legends. But imagine this Snow Rose, a warrior singer! A soldier singer! It's true. Al written down it is in them old books of Ezvlrvb's. I can do it, too, Bubo. I can be a warrior singer. I know I can." Bubo looked at her with some alarm. Madame

Bubo looked at her with some alarm. Madame
Plonk had led a rather comfortable life, indeed one might say cushy, in that tricked-out hoi low of hers that was almost frothy with its trimmings of lace, tassels, gewgaws, and baubles. She was Trader Mags' best customer. The various doodads that Mags stripped from the castles, manor houses, churches, and abbeys of the Others found their way into Madame Plonk's hol ow. There were plump cushions stuffed with her own discarded feathers covered in velvet from a prince's cloak. "Gemma and Elyan are so
115 127 worried about me now since my voice cracked because without it they can't have their stupid rituals. They're smothering me with kindness." "You're not under tree arrest?" "No. I told them that I had to be entirely alone if my voice was to come back, that it made me too nervous to have al these matrons and owls checking on me al the time. I can get away, Bubo, I can."
"But, Plonkie."
"Bubbie?" She turned her yel ow eyes on him, batted them a few times in a sad vet stil flirtatious