The Shattering (Guardians of Ga'hoole) (9 page)

To escape the dream, I must look into my dream mum’s eyes. I must look behind her eyes. I must see what is real and what is not. I must go back one last time.
A terrible dread began to swim through Eglantine’s gizzard.

And she was glad.

P
rimrose blinked. It was daylight now. So the night was done. She wondered if the owls at the great tree had missed her yet. And what about Eglantine? Was she still here or had she gone back? She was not sure how long she had been in the hollow, but at least they had let her out of the bag. A Sooty Owl, a species related to Barn Owls but more gray than buff-colored, stuck his head in. “I have orders for you to go to sleep. Settle down in that nest, now. You’ll never sleep on any finer moss. And she plucked down from her own breast for you and arranged it herself.”

How kind!
thought Primrose. “What if I don’t want to sleep?”

The Sooty Owl blinked and then made a series of clicking sounds that Primrose supposed was to intimidate her. “It’s not a question of what you want. It’s an order.”

“In the Great Ga’Hoole Tree we get to sleep when we want to.”

“Well, guess what, Sweet Tuft? You ain’t in Ga’Hoole anymore.”

“I take it I am among the Pure Ones,” Primrose replied.

“You take what you want. Now get to sleep,” the Sooty snarled.

Primrose flew up to an interior perch and lighted down. “Not there. Down here in the nice fluffy bed.”

“I sleep better on a perch.”

“Down in the nest! And that’s an order.”

Primrose never heard of anything so ridiculous. Why was it so important where she slept in this hollow? She was a prisoner no matter what. So she settled into the nest, which indeed did have the softest, fluffiest moss she had ever experienced. But despite the luxurious trimming of this nest, she could not get comfortable. She then sensed a strange buzzing in her head and her gizzard seemed to grow still. She stepped away from the nest and the buzzing stopped. Pygmy Owls, weighing less than two ounces and measuring just a sliver more than seven inches long, were extremely sensitive to environmental changes that might not affect larger owls. And as soon as she stepped away she felt her gizzard change. She lifted one talon and touched the approximate place where her gizzard was lodged. She tried to picture in her mind Otulissa’s diagram with the
quadrants. She remembered reading the book on humors and discussing it with Ezylryb as he explained about the four basic humors. Ezylryb’s words came back to her.

“
You know how in all of our brains there are tiny bits of magnetic particles much smaller than flecks. They are sometimes called iron oxides. They aid us with navigation because they help us feel the earth’s magnetic field. Imagine, however, if something disturbed those bits in our brain…”

Something is disturbing my brain,
Primrose thought.
And something is happening to my gizzard as well.
She vividly remembered Ezylryb’s mangled talon pointing to the diagram. In an older owl, exposure to flecks could disturb the humors, and cause navigational problems, but in a younger owl like herself—yes, and like Eglantine—it could shatter all internal systems. Ezylryb’s words were so clear now it was as if the old Whiskered Screech’s voice was inside her own head.

The gizzard itself becomes almost like stone, incapable of sorting out feelings and emotions. It can even cause delusions. That is what fleckasia is all about.

Primrose now knew: She was being shattered, and Eglantine already had been!

“Hey!” the Sooty Owl called in. “Didn’t I tell you to bed down? Do I have to come in there and sit on you?”

At your own risk,
thought Primrose. She had to stall for time. “Sure, sure, just have to yarp a pellet,” she answered.

“Well, yarp and get to sleep.” Then she heard the Sooty give a big yawn.

She went to a corner of the hollow to yarp. She felt better as soon as the pellet came up, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of relieving herself of the pellet or just stepping away from the nest. Obviously, flecks had been embedded in the nest materials. Then she remembered several times when she had awakened in her hollow at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree and Eglantine had been restless with her supposedly “lovely” dreams. An image came back to her. It was Ginger bent over Eglantine, patting her as if to soothe her, but maybe she was not soothing her. Maybe she was poking in flecks. Glaux knew where she got them.

“Finished with that yarp yet? Now back to bed or I’m calling Her Pureness.”

Oh, Glaux,
Primrose thought.
I am right in the middle of something really bad.
She had to think fast. She couldn’t scatter the nest because the flecks would drift all over the place. She touched the amber bead that she wore around her neck.
Good-luck charm,
she thought.
Well, show your stuff
. She rubbed it absently with one of her tiny talons, then let the chain it hung from drop back down on her breast
feathers. She felt an odd ruffle and looked down. She blinked. All the soft feathers in which the amber bead lay were sticking straight out. She blinked again. She had never seen her feathers or any owl’s feathers do that.

“Get to bed.”

“All right, all right.”

The light in the hollow was quite dim and outside it was very bright. If this Sooty was keeping watch on her, he would have to constantly adjust his eyes because of the contrast of light. The first idea that came to Primrose was to arrange herself in the nest so that the back of her head was facing the Sooty. A Pygmy Owl had two dark, feathery spots on the back of its head that were called eyespots. For owls not accustomed to flying behind a Pygmy, these eyespots could be disorienting and cause confusion. With the back of her head facing him, she could examine the amber bead more carefully, which was exactly what she planned to do. She crouched down in the pile of moss and downy fluff. Once more, the buzzing began to niggle into her head. But Primrose was determined. She rubbed the amber again. The feathers stood up and she felt a slight prickling sensation. Not only that, but a small bit of moss seemed to almost jump to the amber drop. That was interesting. She tried it again.
Glaux!
There was all sorts of stuff clinging to the amber bead.
This can’t be a magnet. It’s not iron
or even magnetic rock.
She knew that from her metal class with Bubo. Amber was fossilized sap from an evergreen tree. And what could amber do?
Holy Glaux in glaumora, it’s charged. I rubbed it, and it’s become charged!

Primrose realized if the amber wasn’t a magnet, how else would things be drawn to it? It must have been her rubbing it that did it. Yes, Bubo had often called amber “fool’s iron,” and she guessed if you rubbed it, it became a sort of magnet.
So if I rub this hard enough and often enough and then poke it down into the moss, what will happen?
Primrose removed the bead of amber from her neck and, holding on to the chain, let it drop into the piles of moss and down.

A moment later, Primrose had her answer. She pulled up the chain, and the bead of amber was bristling with hundreds of tiny flecks. Now, how could she get rid of the foul stuff? She knew that fire destroyed the magnetic properties of flecks and left them harmless, but she could hardly start a fire in here. She looked around. There was a niche in the tree where some bore worms must have been feeding. She supposed she could scrape the flecks off into that. She just had to get them away from her head. After all, she suddenly realized, she had slept in the same hollow with Eglantine and had suffered no ill effects.

So Primrose began excavating the flecks, but she thought of it more as fishing than excavating. Each time
she pulled up the chain, very quietly so as not to alert the guard, it was bristling with flecks. It took twelve times for the amber bead to finally come up clean. “You really are my lucky charm,” she whispered.

And now,
she thought,
all I have to do is pretend that I am shattered.
She remembered Soren and Gylfie explaining to her how they had pretended to be moon blinked when they were imprisoned in St. Aggie’s. Well, she would pretend to be shattered. After all, she had a very fine example to follow—Eglantine. And with the thought of her friend, Primrose’s gizzard twisted in the most agonizing way.

I
t had been three days since Primrose had disappeared. Everyone had different theories. Otulissa was sure that it was an indication that the Pure Ones were active again.

“Why the Pure Ones?” Soren asked. “Why not St. Aggie’s?” They were in their hollow having a light snack of dried caterpillars as it would be another hour until tweener.

“I can’t imagine them coming this far north,” Gylfie said.

“What would they want with Primrose?” Twilight asked.

“I’m not sure, but Primrose is smart. I’d been in the library with her a lot lately. She catches on quick. She was really interested in quadrant theory,” Otulissa replied.

“Quadrant theory?” Twilight asked.

“You know, the stuff Ezylryb was telling us about the humors,” Otulissa said.

“The Pure Ones don’t want to know about quadrant theory,” Soren said emphatically. “They want to know
about flecks. They want to know about how, with higher magnetics, you can make other things fleck-full, and how, with a dowsing rod, you can find flecks. They want to control all the flecks in the world.”

“But don’t you see, Soren, it’s all connected,” Otulissa said. “Remember when we were at St. Aggie’s, and they were tucking the flecks into the nests in the eggorium? The Pure Ones were doing that. It’s not just flecks they want to control, it’s minds—mind control.”

Digger suddenly flew in through the sky port. He dropped Otulissa’s dowsing rod on the floor of the hollow.

“What are you doing with my dowsing rod?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask, Otulissa, but I had a hunch.”

“Well, I hope it was a good hunch,” she said huffily.

“It was a good hunch, but I am afraid I have very bad news.”

“What?” Soren had a terrible feeling deep within him. His gizzard began to tremble.

“Soren, I had been feeling for a while that something is wrong with Eglantine—more than just summer flux. You know, because Eglantine had once before been imprisoned by the Pure Ones, and her mind had been disturbed then…Well—” Digger hesitated. “I think she is perhaps even more vulnerable.”

Soren was so frightened he couldn’t even blink.

“You see, I took the dowsing rod into her hollow. Soren, it went crazy when I passed it over her nest. The place where she sleeps—it’s loaded with flecks.”

Otulissa wilfed suddenly. “The Pure Ones have infiltrated us!” she cried. “And they know more about flecks than we have ever imagined. They know how to shatter. Eglantine has been shattered,” she said with horror.

“Eglantine’s gone,” Digger added.

“Gone?” Soren asked. “Gone where?”

“I don’t know. But Ginger is gone, too.”

The alert was given for the search-and-rescue chaw to prepare. There would be two empty spots in their flying formation because now both Primrose and Eglantine were gone. It was Barran herself, the Snowy Owl and monarch of the tree, who led this chaw. Soren was determined to appeal to her and ask if he could fly with the chaw. Twilight was another member of this chaw.

“I don’t know if it will work, Soren,” Twilight said slowly.

“Look, they need another owl. You’re short by two,” Soren replied.

“But maybe you’ll get too emotional. It’s your sister, after all.”

“Too emotional for what, Twilight?” Soren spat out the words. “Too emotional to fly? To see? To hear?”

Twilight knew then that Soren could not bear to wait in the tree for news of his sister.

Ten minutes later, Soren had stated his case to Barran. The dignified Snowy peered at him and blinked. Soren’s gizzard clenched. Would she say yes or no?

“So you would like to fly as a replacement for either Eglantine or Primrose?”

“Well, I know I can’t exactly replace Primrose. I mean she’s a Pygmy owl, after all.”

“Precisely.” Soren’s heart and gizzard began to sink somewhere toward his talons. “I mean, how good are you at low-level flight, threading your way through tall grass? You know those Pygmies are noisy when they fly, but you cannot beat them for low-level precision surveillance.”

“Yes, yes, I suppose that’s true, but…” Soren’s voice trailed off.

Barran blinked, then her eyes softened and the yellow light streaming from them was like the delicate pale light of the sun in the earliest morning, in that small fraction of a second when it first slips above the horizon. “I’ll tell you what, my dear. How about we get Gylfie to fly Primrose’s position?”

“But…but…what about me?”

“Hush, Soren, hear me out. Elf Owls are as good as Pygmies at this low-level stuff, and I propose that you fly left ear. Eglantine had been covering that spot.”

“You mean, I can go?”
Try not to be too emotional. Try not to cry. Oh, Glaux! Don’t cry in front of her!
But if he could get Eglantine back, even shattered, he swore to himself he would put her back together, piece by piece.

Piece by piece?
Soren wondered why these words reminded him of something. Something very dim and shadowy.
Piece by piece.
The words nagged at the edges of his mind, prickling his gizzard. Well, no time for wondering now. Time for action.

Fifteen minutes later, the search-and-rescue chaw lifted off with Soren flying in the spot normally occupied by Eglantine. They had no idea where they might find either one of the missing owls, but Barran sensibly thought that since both Eglantine and Primrose had been ill this summer, chances were, they would not fly into an opposing wind. The wind had been blowing north by northeast, a perfect wind for Cape Glaux, the site of the great massing of the Pure Ones months before.
What a scene that had been,
Soren thought. The Chaw of Chaws had been sent on a covert mission to penetrate St. Aggie’s. The Chaw of Chaws was the special force
comprised of the band in addition to Otulissa, Ruby, and Martin. On their return from the mission, they had heard the rumor that owls were massing on Cape Glaux and, indeed, they had been! There had been close to a thousand Pure Ones that Kludd had recruited for his invasion and siege of the Island of Hoole and the Great Ga’Hoole Tree. The Pure Ones had long since evacuated the cape as a base. There were rumors of them in a region known as Beyond the Beyond, but others had placed them in the Desert of Kuneer. They were all rumors, however, and now Soren reminded himself that they were not looking for great massings of Pure Ones, but for one very tiny Pygmy Owl and his own sister, who was shattered by the deadly power of the flecks. “Full-blown fleckasia,” Otulissa had called it.