“I don’t know how they fly with that stuff hanging all over them,” Lil said.
“They probably wonder how we fly with battle claws,” Moss replied.
“Look!” Lil said, flipping her head up. “There’s an honest-to-Glaux smee hole above the cliffs where they have Orf!”
I felt a sudden tingle in my gizzard. “If that’s the case, silence!”
I gave the wing waggle signal. Although we hadn’t quite mastered the code, I did my best to explain a strategy with it. We would soar on the updrafts of the steam vents directly over the cave and listen in on the Ice Talon operatives. Steam, like water and air, transmits sound beautifully. Despite my far-from-perfect signaling, the other three owls immediately grasped what I was saying. So we swooped into the smee hole and soon could pick up the voices of the duplicitous owls of the Ice Talons League.
Skellig’s voice gave us a shock. He sounded older, more mature, and spoke with a clipped assurance. The Great Horned was no cadet, but a seasoned commander. Great Glaux, my gizzard swelled with loathing for him.
“I think he’s coming around,” Skellig said. “I put just enough powder in his cup to get him here. Maybe we can get something out of him.”
Orf didn’t sound like himself, either. He was decidedly groggy but alive — his heart was definitely beating. I could see the relief in everyone’s eyes. Still, Skellig’s words made my gizzard flinch — We can get something out of him. He must mean the formula for cold coals. And if they got it out of him, would they kill him? We had thought they were going to capture Orf and bring him to their armory to begin forging. But it sounded as if they only wanted the formula.
But what assurance did they have that Orf would give them the real formula? Had Skellig learned enough in his observations to be able to discern the real one from a fake?
“We’ll get him to that abandoned forge on the far side of Stormfast,” one of the Eagle Owls said.
At this, I thought Thora was going to go kerplonken. Her forge, her secret forge! Once there, they would test the formula, and if it worked, they would kill Orf. If it didn’t, they would torture him until he gave them the right formula.
We had to get out of the smee-hole draft. We had to talk and not be heard. I gave a slight wing tap to Moss, who was flying next to me, and made a quick exit. The others followed. We roosted up on the west side of Elsemere, downwind of the cave. They couldn’t hear us.
“We have to act fast,” Thora said. “I’ll bet you anything they pilfered cold coals from someone, if not Orf then another smith of Dark Fowl. Skellig himself probably did it.”
I thought of that moleskin pouch that Thora had told us about in which Skellig had carried the powders to drug Orf. He could have used one just like it to carry cold coals. They might have withered a bit but they could be revived if someone knew what they were doing. “Once Orf has been forced to show them how to forge a weapon with cold coals, they’ll kill him on the spot. We have to think of something,” I said. Everyone was listening to me except for Lil, who was looking off toward the beach below where we were perched. She had begun to peel off her battle claws.
“What are you doing?” Thora asked.
“I have an idea. You and me, Thora, we have to get down to that beach and get some seaweed.”
“Whatever for?”
“We’re sisters.”
“Huh?” Thora said. Moss and I blinked.
“Glauxian Sisters! We’re going to make ourselves some snoods and veils and take vows of silence, except to give succor to the wounded. And there’s one other rule here — nonviolence. But not us! We’re going to be deadly — the deadliest sisters on this island.”
“Hellooooo!” Lil trilled in the sweet tones of a very elderly owl. “Sister Alymisia here.”
“And Sister Pollifer!” Thora added. “We believe you have a wounded soldier with you?”
“Everything’s fine,” one of the Eagle Owls replied.
“Oh! We thought we saw a vacuum transport?”
“It’s nothing to worry about,” Skellig said.
“No, we’re doing quite fine in here,” said another of the Eagle Owls, poking his head out of the cave. He was unclawed and his bare talons showed.
An agonizing cry of pain punctured the air.
“Oh, dear!” Lil exclaimed in a hoarse voice. “That doesn’t sound fine to me. Does it, Sister Pollifer?”
She gave a slight nod, and the two owls charged into the cave. Before the Skellig and the Eagle Owls knew what had happened, Lil had drawn out Miss Hot Point, her hot lance, and hurled it. The lance pierced Skellig’s starboard wing.
“Let me finish the damage done by the nest-maid snake! Or was it a siege blade?” Lil screeched. The pile of feathers that was Orf sprang to life. He seized a pair of battle claws that lay discarded and lashed out at an Eagle Owl, raking its eyes from its face. Thora jousted with a half scimitar of her own design.
Moss and I flew into the cave, both of us armed with ice. The one Eagle Owl, now blinded, was no longer in contention, but there were still three more Eagle Owls. One fully clawed, one half clawed, and one bare taloned. We needed to get them into the air where we could fight better and where we would have the advantage because they didn’t have any weapons. Or so we thought, until the half-clawed eagle produced a flail and began whirling it overhead. He was aiming at Lil, who was trying to retrieve Miss Hot Point from Skellig’s shattered and bloody wing.
“Lil, leave it!” I shouted. She ducked just in time. The flail swung by her and hit a target all right — Skellig! It split his skull neatly in half. Orf stepped up and extricated the flail from the bloody pulp of what had been Skellig’s head.
“All right, you contemptible old grotter, you!” Orf swung the flail with an ease and grace unlike anything I had ever seen. He was vastly superior to any of our instructors. Of course, Orf had designed the weapon and knew it like no other owl. The Eagle Owls beat a hasty retreat, streaking out of the cave. And that was where the real surprise happened.
In the vanishing light of the day, as the sky became tinged with what owls call First Lavender, two owls emerged out of the clouds — one huge and the other tiny. It was Loki and Blix, the Great Gray and the Northern Saw-whet. I saw something slice through the air like the tail of an infinitesimally small comet. There was a spurt of very red blood, heart’s blood, and one of the Eagle Owls plummeted. What aim! Another comet flew by, thrown by Blix almost immediately after the first.
Great Glaux! I thought. Loki and Blix were doing exactly what I had imagined. A midair reload! Loki was carrying a quiver of ice splinters, and Blix launched them one after another. We began to fight with renewed vigor. This was not a squadron, not a platoon, nor even a brigade, but exactly what I dreamed of — a hyper-maneuverable unit of owls of mixed sizes who were all fighting at the knife edge of our skills. The battle was over as fast as it had begun.
“Fetch up! Fetch up!” Orf shouted, and we flew to the roosting place where we had originally planned out the assault.
I was breathless not just from the combat, but from the overwhelming surprise of Loki and Blix’s arrival.
“Where — where did you come from?” I stammered. We were all shocked.
Loki explained. “Orf was discovered missing just after midday. Then you four and Skellig …”
“By the way, where is Skellig?” Blix asked.
“Dead.”
“Oh, dear!” Blix gasped.
“Don’t waste your tears,” Lil said.
Blix grimaced. “It looked like he might have been in on this. Someone said they saw him snitch cold coals. But when you four turned up missing, too — they were ready to blame you as well.”
“Us!” Thora said indignantly.
“Especially you, Thora. They said you were always hanging around Orf’s forge,” Loki added.
“Well, she was!” Orf explained. “Don’t blame Thora. If it hadn’t been for Thora …” Orf’s voice dwindled as if he couldn’t contemplate t
he fate he had escaped.
“If it hadn’t been for Thora, none of us would be here,” I cut in. “But how did you and Loki ever find us?”
“One of the gadfeathers — I don’t think those owls ever sleep — she said she thought she saw the four of you fly off. Loki and I were so upset. They’re going to de-comm you from the Academy!”
Did we return to glory? Not precisely, for even though we had rescued Orf, our methods were looked upon as dubious. The air was thick with the suspicions of the old-timers like Lud-Dud and his friends. An Elf Owl, Colonel Stellan Micrathene Whitneyi, the instructor of the B unit of the Frost Beaks, was outraged that Blix took not one, but: “Five! Count them, Blix, five ice splinters!”
“But I only used three, Colonel Stellan Micrathene Whitneyi. And those hit their mark. One even got heart’s blood.”
“I don’t give a bloody racdrop about heart’s blood,” she ranted. “You took ice splinters from the armory without using the proper sign-out procedure. And I’m not even sure how you carried them all.”
“Oh! Colonel, I can explain that,” I offered.
“Shut up, Cadet Lyze Megascops!” Lud-Dud thundered.
If Orf had been there, he would have jumped to our defense. But he had been hustled off to high command for a debriefing. So we were subjected to a scorching reprimand. Our rescue of Orf took a back wing to the innumerable rules we had violated, which our superiors were only too willing to trot out one by one, ad yarpium.
“Number one,” Optimus Strix Varia, the regimental commander, began, “you were all absent without leave. AWOL!” he roared. “Number two, you initiated a combat mission without consulting your commanding officer. Number three …”
On and on he went. I was dying to interrupt and say, “Number four, we got Orf back, you idiotic old fogies!” I wanted to explain how brilliant Blix and Loki had been. I wanted to describe the midair reload. I wanted to tell them Thora’s idea for a new kind of quiver to make reloading even easier.
Orf returned from his debriefing and listened carefully and with obvious surprise to the sharp criticism we were taking. By this time, the regimental commander had almost exhausted his venomous lecture and was becoming slightly more conciliatory. “Well, Cadets, I hope you have learned your lesson,” Optimus Strix Varia sighed wearily.
“Lesson! What lesson?” Orf growled. “We are the ones who need to learn some lessons here. What these young’uns did out there was nothing short of brilliant. I’ve just cleared it with the speaker of the parliament, General Andricus Tyto Alba. Cadet Thora is no longer to be in training as a combat cadet.”
“I told you so,” snickered Colonel Stellan Micrathene Whitneyi. “They’re de-comming her.”
“I heard that, Colonel,” Orf roared. “Nothing of the sort! Thora is to serve as a cadet apprentice to me.”
“A female blacksmith?” A murmur rose among the commanding officers.
“Insane,” someone whispered.
“Strains credulity,” Lud-Dud hissed.
“Don’t strain that wee brain of yours too hard, Captain Ludvigsen Asio Flammeus. We wouldn’t want a cranial rupture,” Orf muttered. Flapping his wings noisily, he turned to Thora and said, “Follow me, Cadet Apprentice Thora Nyctea Scandiaca.” This was somewhat extraordinary. Orf had just addressed Thora by her full species name, a sign of the highest respect. A silence fell in the hollow. Colonel Stellan and the others seemed to wilf and meekly parted way as the blacksmith marched through the crowd. Thora herself seemed stunned.
Orf glared at Lud-Dud and Stellan and the others as he passed, but he smiled when he stopped in front of me. “Lyze.” He nodded, turning to Lil, Blix, and Loki as well. “General Andricus wishes to meet with you. Thora, you too. All five of you follow me.”
I thought I heard a snicker from Lud-Dud, as if to hint that finally we were to get our comeuppance. I have to admit I thought the same, and as we entered the general’s hollow, my gizzard was aquiver.
General Andricus Tyto Alba was a strikingly handsome owl except for a scar that ran down his breast. It was said an ice splinter had come within inches of his heart in a battle in the high H’rath, years before. He had fought on fiercely, though blood had poured from his chest. The general was quite large for a Barn Owl and some said had the strength of an Eagle Owl, the largest of all owls. Stern, uncompromising, he was not one to suffer fools or cowards.
His back was toward us as we entered, but he wheeled about. The scar blazed across his chest in a diagonal slash. It was shocking to look at, and I couldn’t help but wonder how the attack had missed his heart. How he could have survived such a wound?
“And what do you cadets plan to do for your summer holidays?” the general asked. “You certainly deserve a holiday!” I could feel everyone’s relief. We were not going to be punished.
“Thora and I hope to go to the Shagdah Snurl with Blix and Loki, sir,” I replied.
“I’m not sure what I plan to do,” Moss answered.
“Oh, great Glaux, I nearly forgot!” The general swiveled his head toward me. “Cadet Lyze Megascops, a message for you was delivered by your aunt Hanja. She says that you are expected home. A new home, as I understand your family hollow was destroyed. Let’s see … Sergeant Alion Tyto Castanops?” he called out. The general’s secretary, a Masked Owl, came forward.
“Yes, sir.” The sergeant saluted crisply.
“Do you have the note left by his aunt?”
“Right here, sir.”
“Let me see it.”
The general took out a pair of issen blauen spectacles. Thinner than the combat goggles, they magnified his eyes enormously as he began to read the piece of birch bark. “Says here that your family has relocated to a hollow on the northern side of Stormfast — up an inlet in a grove of spruce trees. They expect you home for … oh, my goodness! A blessed event — your mum seems to have laid an egg, and they will be in residence most of the summer.”
“Oh,” I said quietly.
“What marvelous news!” the general boomed.
“Yes,” I replied in a subdued voice. But in truth I was rather disappointed. I hadn’t really finished grieving for Lysa. How could Lysa be replaced so easily? I supposed that’s how it was in the owl world, especially when we had been at war for a century. We were always told we must forge on. If a parent died, the remaining mate usually found a new partner quickly. It was simply our way. We had to move forward.
But I was not quite ready to forge on. And I really wanted to go to the Shagdah Snurl with Blix, Loki, and Thora. I wanted to see how the winds hatched. I wanted to feel their furl as they were birthed out in the coldest place on Earth by the hot tentacles that snaked out from the volcano and its lava lake in the mysterious Nacht Sted. I wanted to see that lake where rock melted. It was a place of legend, but I knew legends were born from unrevealed truths. Legends tell stories about forces we sometimes cannot understand but are part of the fabric of our lives. I so wanted to go, but it was not to be.
As I was leaving, the general stopped me. “Wait a minute, lad. I have a question for you.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Orf told me that you have some notions, some ideas about … well … how should I put it? Newfangled ways of fighting. You did pretty well out there at Elsemere. Apparently, this midair reload was something to behold.”
“I had mentioned the idea to Blix and Loki, sir, but they really figured it out. They should get the credit.”
“When you return, I’d be most pleased if you would come visit me again and share any other ideas you might have.”
“Really, sir?” I squeaked.
“Yes, really.” He opened his eyes wide and blinked behind the issen blauen spectacles. “Want to give me a hint as to one or two of those ideas now?”
My heart raced, my gizzard quickened. This was a rare opportunity. The instructors at the Academy never listened to cadets. How could I forget Captain Lud-Dud’s accusations that I was being too fanciful? And now that was j
ust what the general was asking me to be. Within the space of a minute, my existence, my life, took on new meaning.
“Sir, have you ever thought of including Kielian snakes in a combat unit?”
“Kielian snakes?” He shoved his head forward and removed his spectacles. “Great Glaux, no! It rather boggles the mind.”
“Not mine,” I replied. “I think they’re underutilized.”
The general considered. “Come up with a plan and I’ll hear you out.”
“Absolutely, sir.”
I have to admit that my spirits were lifted considerably. The prospect of going home and not to the Shagdah Snurl was less grim. Now my main concern was how much I would miss Lil. I already had an ache in my heart and a soreness in my gizzard. My first season at the Kielian Military Academy had drawn to a close. I would return when the first snows of liffen schmoo began to fall and, by the following spring, I would be a commissioned officer in the Allied Forces of the Kielian League.
Our new hollow was in a stand of stout blue spruce. I could imagine that in the winter when the snow stayed fast on the ground, it would be lovely. This type of spruce, as its name indicates, has a bluish tinge, and the shadow it casts would fall like a blue filigree net on the white snow. By the time I arrived, my new brother, Ifghar, had hatched. Like many owlets that hatch at this time of year, he was advanced. Summer chicks tend to be that way. The hunting is good, so they grow faster. He was fledging out nicely, but all right, I’ll admit it right here: He did not capture my heart the way Lysa had. But he was a good little fellow and he worshipped me.
Mum and Da seemed fine. One morning toward twixt time, I remembered something very clever and funny that Lysa had said about the sun just as it was rising.
“Mum, Da,” I said. “Once at twixt time, Lysa peeked out the hollow and said that the sun reminded her of a —” But the words died on my beak because both my parents swiveled their heads toward me and glared.
“Never mind,” I whispered. It was clear that I was not ever to mention Lysa, the old hollow, or even Gundesfyrr again. Lingering emotions were considered a sign of weakness among seasoned soldiers of the Kielian League. There had been a period of mourning, and they believed that prolonging it served no purpose. It was as if that part of our lives had been sealed off forever.