Had I known what was happening at the same moment the chick was hatching, I am not sure what I would have done. Instead of hagsfiends, I was seeing a little miracle happening in front of my eyes. Every hatching is in some way a miracle, a miracle that is beyond any magic. But this one in particular seemed especially miraculous when one considered the short violent history of this little chick in its egg. As soon as the egg tooth pierced the shell, a crack began to creep across the surface of the egg. The egg then gave an enormous shudder. Theo and I were rapt with attention. There was a sharp cracking sound that went on for several seconds and then, suddenly, the egg split wide open. We gasped as a featherless pale blob tumbled and flopped onto the down of the nest.
Within those same seconds when the egg split, Siv was brought down to the ice of the firthkin. She stood in a pool of moonlight, still, with her scimitar raised.
“You can’t be serious, milady,” Lord Arrin said, lighting several paces in front of her.
“I am deadly serious. Stand back.”
“My dear,” he began.
“No ‘my dears,’” she shot back.
“All right, milady. Save yourself, save your young’un. Join us. You can be my lady, my queen, the queen of the nachtmagen. And here is your court.” He swept a ragged wing toward the half-dozen hagsfiends who were now closing in on her.
“Never.”
“We can control everything through our magic. You have already proven yourself invincible in ways that have amazed us. Is that not right, Penryck?” They came closer.
“That’s right, Lord Arrin,” said the foul hagsfiend, larger than the rest. He stared hard at Siv. “How ever did you escape the yellow fyngrot?”
She ignored the question. They are trying to distract me, Siv thought. She was fully prepared at this moment to die.
“Has the chick hatched?” Lord Arrin asked.
She would not answer any questions. She was silent, silent as the night, and she stood in her silence as solid as the ice that covered the firthkin. She was completely undistractible. She could not be amazed. She was fearful of nothing except losing her son or revealing anything that might suggest that the egg was not with her, but with Grank. She knew at this moment that he had hatched. That he was alive. She and her chick might be leagues apart but they were in the same world. She felt a deeper connection with him than she had ever felt for anything before.
Lucky I had plucked my own breast feathers for the schneddenfyrr. For this little chick, and it was a male, was as naked as could be. Not a tuft of fluff on him. He was a funny little creature with his big head and bulging eyes sealed shut. Though he could barely hold that very large head up, he tried to stagger to his feet but flopped down again. Then he looked up.
“Welcome, Hoole,” I whispered gently, and he cocked his head as if he were really listening, even though he could not yet see me. “Welcome, little one.”
And the wind stilled and the trees stopped creaking and the very stars in the sky stopped twinkling as if holding their breath. It was as if all the world knew that something fantastic, something magical, had just happened. A small owl of great consequence and great nobility had been born.
Across the Bitter Sea, in a remote icebound firthkin, a lone Spotted Owl stood with her scimitar raised, prepared to fight to the death. She was not fearful in the least, for in her gizzard she knew that her chick had hatched, and a new life had begun.
Call me Grank. I am an old owl now. What I have told is only the beginning of the story. My writing ends here, but the story goes on. It is time for others to take up the task, others who have lived through this strange period of magic and violence.
EPILOGUE
Soren watched from his perch as Coryn finished reading the last page of the book. The young king closed the ancient tome and looked at Soren.
“I think I know why he wanted us to read this,” Coryn said quietly.
Soren felt his gizzard give a small twinge. “Why, dear boy, why?”
“I think the ember is dangerous, very dangerous, and that is why I was destined to retrieve it before…” He hesitated. “Before my mother, Nyra, did. If the ember had come into her possession it would have meant…” Coryn looked deeply into his uncle’s dark eyes. He could see his own reflection in them.
“Nachtmagen,” Soren whispered.
Coryn swallowed and felt his gizzard crackle. “Yes, Soren. You know, I think, with that ember…” He paused and looked down at his talons. “This is very hard to say.”
“Go on, my boy,” Soren said gently.
“I think that ember would have released…” He hesitated again. “Released something in her. Transformed her into what she truly is.”
“And what would that be?” Soren asked.
“You mean, you don’t know?” Coryn blinked in surprise.
“No, I don’t. Tell me.”
There was a deadly silence. Soren felt a twinge deep in his gizzard and leaned forward. “Tell me,” he said again.
“As I said when I first came to the great tree, Soren, where there are legends, there is truth. And I have learned an unexpected truth from Grank’s tale.”
Coryn paused and blinked.
“My mother is a hagsfiend.”
The GUARDIANS of GA’HOOLE
Book One: The Capture
Book Two: The Journey
Book Three: The Rescue
Book Four: The Siege
Book Five: The Shattering
Book Six: The Burning
Book Seven: The Hatchling
Book Eight: The Outcast
Book Nine: The First Collier
Book Ten: The Coming of Hoole
Book Eleven: To Be a King
Book Twelve: The Golden Tree
Book Thirteen: The River of Wind
Book Fourteen: Exile
Book Fifteen: The War of the Ember
A Guide Book to the Great Tree
Lost Tales of Ga’Hoole
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
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
TWILIGHT: Great Gray Owl, Strix nebulosa, free flier; orphaned within hours of hatching; a Guardian at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree
DIGGER: Burrowing Owl, Athene cunicularius, from the Desert Kingdom of Kuneer; lost in the desert after an attack in which his brother was killed by owls from St. Aegolius; a Guardian at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree
The Leaders of the Great Ga’Hoole Tree
CORYN: Barn Owl, Tyto alba, the new young king of the great tree; son of Nyra, leader of the Pure Ones
EZYLRYB: Whiskered Screech Owl, Otus trichopsis, the wise old weather-interpretation and colliering ryb (teacher) at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree; Soren’s mentor (also known as LYZE OF KIEL)
Others at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree
OTULISSA: Spotted Owl, Strix occidentalis, a student of prestigious lineage at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree
OCTAVIA: Kielian snake, nest-maid for Madame Plonk and Ezylryb (also known as BRIGID)
Characters from the Time of the Legends
GRANK: 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
H’RATH: Spotted Owl, Strix occidentalis, king of the N’yrthghar, a frigid region known in later times as the Northern Kingdoms; father of Hoole
SIV: Spotted Owl, Strix occidentalis, mate of H’rath and queen of the N’yrthghar; mother of Hoole
MYRRTHE: Snowy Owl, Nyctea scandiaca, faithful servant of Queen Siv, formerly her nursemaid and governess; flees with Queen Siv after the death of H’rath
RORKNA:
Spotted Owl, Strix occidentalis, Glauxess of the Glauxian Sisters’ Retreat on the Island of Elsemere, cousin of Queen Siv
LORD ARRIN: Spotted Owl, Strix occidentalis, powerful chieftain of a kingdom bordering King H’rath’s realm
PLEEK: Great Horned Owl, Bubo virginianus, enemy of King H’rath; known to consort with hagsfiends; rumored to have taken one for a mate
THEO: Great Horned Owl, Bubo virginianus, a gizzard resister and apprentice to Grank; possesses great blacksmithing skills
SVENKA: Polar Bear, Ursus maritimus, in the Bitter Sea, comes to the aid of Queen Siv
PENRYCK: Male hagsfiend, ally of Lord Arrin
Y’GYRK: Female hagsfiend, Pleek’s mate
A peek at
THE GUARDIANS of GA’HOOLE
Book Ten: The Coming of Hoole
Theo’s favorite hunting ground for finding voles was a patch in the very middle of the island where a large circle of birch trees grew. But as Theo approached, he sensed something different. And then he heard it—a strange chanting. He perched for several minutes behind the thick clusters of needles on an interior branch of a very bushy pine tree. Listening intently, he realized what it was he was hearing. Great Glaux, it’s the brothers! The Glauxian Brothers!
For years, the Glauxian Brothers had lived in widely dispersed ice holes and caves on the H’rathghar glacier, but he supposed the fighting had gotten too intense there and they needed a retreat where they could be safely together. The brothers were renowned for their studious ways. When they were not chanting, they were studying or writing; when they were not studying or writing, they were silent—for the most part. They had taken vows of silence so they might contemplate more deeply the mysteries of the owl universe.
Theo’s feelings about discovering them here on what he had come to think of as his and Grank’s island were conflicting ones. Theo admired the brothers greatly, and at one time had considered becoming one. Like the brothers, Theo did not believe in war. Furthermore, the brothers believed that the curse of the hagsfiends had been visited upon the N’yrthghar because the owls of this Northern Kingdom had lost their faith in Glaux and in reason. They believed that this loss of faith and reason had created a tear, a rip in the very air of the owl universe, and it was through this tear that these creatures of rage, superstition, and nachtmagen had gained their evil powers. It had pained Theo greatly when Grank had asked him, begged him to make that first pair of battle claws. He had only done so because Grank had revealed to him that the egg, whose well-being he was charged with, was that of King H’rath and Queen Siv.
But now he felt a horrible tearing within him. He hated making those battle claws as much as he loved Grank—Grank, who had taught him so much. Yet he knew that he himself was not at all like Grank. Am I not of a more contempletive nature? Am I not more like these brothers? And yet…Theo paused in his deliberations. And yet, I am devoted to Grank and to dear little Hoole. How could I think of abandoning them for the brothers?
But the thought would not leave him entirely. Not for a long time, he knew, and perhaps never. Still, he must get on with the business of hunting down a plump vole for Hoole, and he could not do it here near the chanting brothers. He must do nothing to betray his and Grank’s and Hoole’s presence on this same island. Although the brothers were no threat, Grank had been adamant. “No one must know we are here!” How many times had he said that? The N’yrthghar was vast, yet word traveled fast in the bird world. Grank would be distressed when he heard that the brothers had set up camp on this island. But they could not move. Not until Hoole learned to fly. And they would probably have to shut down their fires. There must be no trace of smoke coming from their end of the island. Of course, the brothers might have already spotted it, for all Theo knew. In any case, he would now have to go elsewhere for a vole.
“Hello there, little one!” Theo said as he flew into the hollow with a plump vole in his talons.
“Umm-yum! May I lick the blood first?”
“What do you say to Theo, Hoole?”
“Oh, thanks, thanks.”
Grank stopped himself just before saying, “A prince must be gracious to both vassal and servant.” It still wasn’t safe to tell this chick his true heritage at this point. Nothing would be more dangerous.
“Hey, check my right shoulder, Theo. Do you think I’ve budged any since you’ve been gone?”
“I’ve only been gone a little while, Hoole. Nothing happens that quickly.” Grank was observing Theo and could tell almost immediately that something was disturbing the young Great Horned Owl. He would wait until dawn when Hoole would fall into the thick sleep of a chick with a full belly and tightly packed gizzard. Then they could talk.
Hoole’s little body gave a tremendous shake as the bones, fur, and teeth of the vole he had just eaten lurched their way down to the second stomach, his gizzard. A drowsy, beatific look crept into his eyes. He yawned widely and then nestled into the down of his sleeping nest. “Tell me one more time, Uncle Grank, when is the soonest you think I can fly?”
“I told you, young’un. It usually takes Spotted Owls at least forty-two days before they can fly after hatching out.”
“How long ago did I hatch out?”
“Barely ten.”
“So is ten a far way from forty-two?”
“Go to sleep, Hoole.”
“But I don’t understand what forty-two is exactly.”
“l’ll explain tomorrow at twilight when you wake up.”
Finally, the little owl gave a huge yawn and fell sound asleep.
“So, we are no longer alone,” Grank said wearily, and clamped his beak shut. The first streaks of the dawn had spilled into the dark hollow, suffusing it with a rosy cheerful warmth—except Grank was far from cheerful over this news. “Well, we certainly can’t leave until Hoole can fly. That’s at least a moon cycle away and even then his flight skills won’t be good enough nor his wings strong enough to go far.”
“Look, Grank, I don’t want to sound like a fool but, really, think about it. Sooner or later someone was bound to come here. We should be thankful it’s the Glauxian Brothers. They are owls of great devotion. They would never betray our secret. For Glaux’s sake, they take vows of silence. And although they hate war, they also hate Lord Arrin. And they had great faith in King H’rath and Queen Siv. They would do nothing to endanger the heir.”
“They must not know that he is the heir. Never! No one must know that.” Grank paused and thought a moment. “I know what you say is true, and I don’t for one minute doubt their loyalty or their devotion. But you know as well as I do how word travels. They are bound to find us before we can get away, and even if we appear just what we are—two owls with an orphan chick—word will get around that there is a chick without a mum being tended on the island.”
“The brothers will hardly ever leave the island. You know how they are. Too busy studying, meditating.”
“‘Hardly’ is not never.” Grank sighed again. “Well, I suppose the first thing we should do is damp down the fires in the forge. If they haven’t spotted our smoke by now, they certainly will soon. So you better get on with that. Be sure to keep the embers healthy so we can take them wherever we’ll be going and start the fires anew.”
“Yes, sir,” Theo said.
He flew down and began to damp the fires in the slot of the immense boulder that they had used as a forge. The slot, with its natural updraft and slightly slanting walls, had proven to be perfect for creating intensely hot fires for the increasingly refined metalwork with which Theo had been experimenting. But now as he shut down these fires, he wondered why he was protecting the coals. Grank said new fires in some new place. But new fires for what? To make more battle claws? Or perhaps they were just for Grank’s firesight. Grank was a flame reader. He could see things in fires that no other birds could. Things that were happening elsewhere—or were yet to happen. Firesight was as valuable to Grank as any nachtmagen.
Once again, Theo began to think
about the Glauxian Brothers and their quiet scholarly lives. It was said that the Glauxian Brothers had learned how to inscribe things on pieces of special ice known as issen bhago. But these “bhags,” as they were called, were heavy to transport. So they had decided to transcribe the bhags into books with pages written on the cured hides of the small animals. So now, before eating, they skinned whatever rabbit or rat or mouse they ate. It was an odd diet not having the fur and the skin, but the brothers were accustomed to making sacrifices.