(GoG Book 02) The Journey (7 page)

“Hard to tell which way is down tonight.”

Indeed it was, for the entire world, thick with snow, had suddenly turned completely white. But Digger began to sing in the thin grainy voice of a desert owl. Soren meanwhile was moving his head in small, minute movements. Finally, he said, “I think we’re still over water.” The
sound of Digger’s song that was reflected back was different from when he had sung it when they were over land and his sound had disappeared into the softness of an earth clad with trees. Now the song came back sharp and crisp.

And then there came a moment when the wind died and the snowflakes seemed to stand still. Twilight spoke. “It’s time for me to fly point again, Soren.”

Soren knew he was right. The snowflakes had evaporated into a thick dense fog. The world, the water below, was shrouded in mist. It was time for the vision of Twilight—that time that Twilight had spoken about when Soren and Gylfie had first met him, that time that had given Twilight his name, when boundaries become dim and shapes begin to melt away. It was the time for the Great Gray Owl, who lived on the edges and saw invisible connections, the joinings in a world that had turned foggy and confusing. Maybe Twilight could find the current again.

Soren drifted back as the big owl stroked by him to the point position.

It seemed as if they had flown for hours since they had last seen the current. Gylfie was getting very tired and Digger’s wing, the one injured by the crows, had begun to hurt. The wind was kicking up again and not in a favorable direction.

“I can’t believe that a current can just disappear. The puffins said it would lead us right to the island,” Soren muttered.

“What do they know?” Twilight hooted. “They even admit they’re dumb.”

“I don’t think they’re all that dumb,” Soren said. “We’ve got to be able to find it.”

“And there’s no place to even fetch up out here and rest,” Gylfie sighed.

“We got to go back,” Twilight said.

“Go back where? Not to The Beaks,” Soren spoke sharply.

“To any dry land. If The Beaks is the closest, then The Beaks it is,” Twilight replied.

“No!” Soren said more fiercely. “Look, I’m going to fly down close to the water.”

“That could be dangerous,” Digger said. “Soren, that wind is kicking up big waves. You could be caught by one, and believe me, I don’t think that you’re the swimmer that the puffin was. You could be dragged right under.”

“I’ll be careful. Mrs. P., if you want to slither onto Twilight, you can.”

“No, dear, I’ll stick with you. I’m not frightened.”

“Good.”

Soren began a banking turn down toward the water.
Now, amid the blizzarding snow, the spume from the crests of waves spun up. How would he ever see a current in this mess? He flew lower. Still nothing. What if the others had flown off? Just given up. Could he truly blame them? He had the most dreadful feeling in his gizzard. What if he was left alone out here—just him and Mrs. P.?

Suddenly, Soren felt something stir in his gizzard. He said nothing but contracted and expanded his pupils. The world was absolutely white now. Oh, this was when he needed Twilight!

“Right here, Soren.”

“Twilight! You followed me down.”

“Call me a fool.” Twilight peered into the whiteness, stretched, then shortened his actual eye tubes so that one second he was focusing near and the next far. Within the depths of the impenetrable white, Twilight saw two even whiter patches.

“Come, young’uns. You’re right over the current. Can’t tell it on a night like this, though. So, welcome to the Island of Hoole.”

Two giant Snowy Owls had melted out from the night and they were so white that by comparison the mist seemed gray.

“I am Boron and this is my mate, Barran.”

“You are the king and the queen of Hoole.” Twilight whispered.

Digger and Gylfie, exhausted, plummeted down near them.

“Yes, my dears. But we prefer to be called teachers, or rybs. The word ryb means teacher and deep knowledge,” said Barran.

“We’re not keen on titles,” chuckled Boron.

“But you came out to meet us?” said Soren.

“Of course,” replied Boron. “You’ve done the hard part. Now let us guide you the rest of the way. It’s not far.”

The blizzard had been swallowed by the mist and the mist now seemed to melt away against the whiteness of Boron and Barran. The night turned black again and the stars broke out. As a half moon rose, the four young owls looked below and saw the vast sea glinting with silver spangles from the moonlight and then, directly ahead, spreading into the night, were the twisting branches of the largest tree they had ever seen, the Great Ga’Hoole Tree.

“We are here, Mrs. Plithiver. We are here!” Soren whispered.

“I know, dear. I feel it. I feel it!”

The four young owls, led by Boron and Barran, threaded their way through the branches toward the center of the tree where the opening of a hollow was revealed. Two Great Horned Owls held the moss curtains apart using their beaks as the young ones flew through. They alighted down inside. Soren thought that this hollow was not only huge but different from any other tree hollow he had ever seen, for it was light even though it was night. On the inside were strange flickering things.

Boron came up to Soren and the other three owls. “I see you have noticed our candles. You see, here in Hoole we have discovered how to capture fire and tame it for our own uses. You shall learn all about this, young ones. And who knows? One of you might even become a collier.”

“A what?” asked Soren.

“A collier—a carrier of coals. It is a very special skill. But there are many skills you shall be able to learn here in the Great Ga’Hoole Tree, and we are all here to teach you. These shall be your rybs.”

With those words, Boron swept his wings toward the walls of the hollow. There were ledges that hung like galleries above. Soren, Twilight, Gylfie, and Digger gasped as they saw a great gathering of owls—all kinds of owls from Burrowing ones to Barn Owls, from Pygmy Owls to Elf Owls, from Screech Owls to Sooty Owls, from Great
Horned Owls to Snowy Owls. Every kind of owl imaginable was here within the hollow of the great tree, their yellow, black, and amber eyes blinking and winking in the most friendly and inquisitive manner at the five new arrivals.

Barran continued, “Welcome, young ones. Welcome to the Great Ga’Hoole Tree. One journey has ended…”

Just one?
thought Soren.

But just then a series of deep, rolling gongs began to shake the entire tree. Barran stopped mid-speech.

“Chaws—back up to your positions!” This hoot came from a Great Gray Owl in the gallery. Then, it seemed as if the entire hollow suddenly brightened as owls began donning battle claws and helmets, and the flames of the candles flickered off the bright polished surfaces of the armored owls.

“Great Glaux—a battle! Quick, let’s get our claws!” Twilight began to hop up and down, pumping his wings.

“Not so fast, young’un.” A plump, Short-eared Owl waddled up to them.

“But where’s the battle?” Twilight said.

“Beyond the Beyond.” The Short-eared Owl fixed him in the glow of her amber gaze. “And it’s not for you or you,” she said, turning to Gylfie, “or you or you.” She nodded to
each one of the band. “And who are you?” She blinked at Mrs. P.

“Mrs. Horace Plithiver, nest-maid. I do have references.”

“I see. Come along, all of you.”

“But what about the battle?” Twilight sputtered.

“What about it? Not much really, just a skirmish on the borderlands between Silverveil and Beyond the Beyond.”

T
hey had begun by following the Short-eared Owl, known as Matron, through the enormous trunk of the Great Ga’Hoole Tree, which was honeycombed with passages of varying widths, all quite twisty and none that seemed to go in a straight line. Off the passageways there were hollows of different sizes. Some, it seemed, were for sleeping, others for study of some sort, some for stores and supplies. Soren peeked into one and saw stacks and stacks of the strange flickering things that Boron said were called candles. Sometimes Matron led them through a passage to the very end, where there might be a hole from which they would fly to another level of the tree, then reenter through another opening and resume their interior trail through the trunk of the tree. As best as Soren could figure out, the sleeping quarters were closer to the top of the tree, meeting hollows for large and smaller congregations of owls seemed to be below, along with a hollow
that was called a kitchen, from which very good smells issued. There were places along the way where small groups of owls gathered to socialize. These seemed to be near the points where some of the larger branches of the tree joined the trunk. There were good-sized openings at these points so that owls could either sit inside on specially constructed perches or outside on the branches themselves.

“Now, I want you young’uns to stay out of the way. We’ve got some wounded owls coming in and I have to arrange for their care.” They were flying up through the branches, following the Short-eared Owl to the hollow that would be theirs.

“Matron, we’re going to need moss and down. Search-and-rescue’s coming in with two more little ones. Nest decimation.” Another Short-eared Owl flew by with a wad of something fluffy in her talons.

“Oh, no! Poor little things.”

“Nest decimation. What’s that?” Soren asked.

“Accidental destruction of nests.” A young Spotted Owl flew up as they landed on a branch midway up the tree.

“Otulissa, thank goodness. Can you show these new arrivals to that hollow we cleaned out yesterday?”

“Certainly, Matron.”

“And see if Cook has any tea or cakes left over. They look half starved.”

“Certainly.”

The Spotted Owl named Otulissa showed them to their hollow. “What is going on here?” Twilight asked her.

“Oh, there’ve been some skirmishes up in the borderlands, nothing too serious.”

“Is it St. Aggie’s?” Soren asked. “We know all about St. Aggie’s. Gylfie and I escaped.” Otulissa blinked.

“And we killed their top two lieutenants when they came after Digger here. So we’re ready to fight,” Twilight added. The Spotted Owl blinked again. “I mean, we’re in the right place, aren’t we? The Great Ga’Hoole Tree?” Twilight had stepped closer to the owl to ask his question.

“Where each night the order of knightly owls rises to perform noble deeds,” Soren offered in a softer voice. An uncertain feeling that was not quite a doubt, yet not a real belief, began to stir in Soren’s gizzard. “This is the place?” his voice quavered.

“Of course it’s the place,” the Spotted Owl replied.

“Then get us some battle claws—we’re ready!” Twilight stomped one talon impatiently.

“You’re ready!” Otulissa gasped. “You think just because
you escaped and killed two rattlebrained owls, you’re ready?”

“And the bobcat,” Soren said.

“And the crows,” Digger piped up. “Well, not exactly killed them, but drove them off.”

Gylfie was very still, however. She had said nothing. But now the Elf Owl stepped forward. “Are you trying to tell us we are not ready…that…that it takes more?”

“Indeed. There is nothing that noble about slaughtering two bad owls in the desert.” The Spotted Owl rose up to her full height and looked down her beak at Gylfie. In a very haughty voice she said, “You have not been tempered by battle yet. Nor do you know the first thing about strategy. You probably don’t even know how to fly with battle claws. I have been here much longer than you and still have not yet become a member of a chaw.”

“What’s a chaw?” Soren said.

“You are selected to join a chaw—a small team of owls—and you will learn a skill that is helpful.”

“In battle?” Twilight asked.

“Not just battle—in life. There is more to life than just battles. Each chaw has its own, oh, how should I put it? Personality. Navigation chaw tends to have a kind of elegance, they are all superb flyers, as are the members of
search-and-rescue, but they, of course, are less refined. Weather interpretation and colliering are decidely rough and uncouth. But,” and the Spotted Owl fixed a very intense gaze on Twilight, “they are all fiercely brave and can fight or fly to the death!”

Twilight seemed to swell in anticipation, but Soren almost shrank with fear. Would he be up to it? He had to be. With his friends, he could. Look what they had accomplished so far! “Do we all get to be in the same chaw?” Soren asked.

“Probably not.”

“But we’re a band.” Soren hoped that he did not sound as if he were pleading.

“That doesn’t matter now. You’re part of a larger band. I have to go.”

“Duty calls, I suppose,” Gylfie said with a slight edge in her voice.

“I suppose it does.” Otulissa again looked down at the Elf Owl, then she left the hollow. Soren thought Gylfie was going to spit at her.

“I don’t like her one bit,” Twilight said.

“Me, neither. Did you see how she looked at me? She might think she’s all hoity-toity and very refined, but I bet she makes tasteless stature jokes all the time.” Gylfie was very sensitive, like many Elf Owls, about remarks concerning
size and shortness. Her grandmother had been a founder of SOS—the Small Owl Society—whose purpose was to prevent cruel and tasteless remarks about size.

“Make way! Make way!” Just outside their hollow, they saw two burly Great Horned Owls flying by, carrying a hammock with another owl collapsed on it. The wounded owl’s helmet was askew and one wing drooped off the edge of the hammock at an odd angle.

Then, through the walls of the hollow, Soren thought he heard the mewling sound of a young crying owl and another voice saying, “There, there.” Soren crept out of an opening leading into an inner passageway that wound through the trunk. There were many of these passageways and it seemed to Soren that one might get hopelessly lost. But he began to follow the sound. Soon, he came to another hollow. Like most, this hollow had both an inside and an outside entrance so that one could either fly in or walk in from one of the many inner pathways through the trunk of the tree. He peeked in. He saw the Short-eared Owl called Matron who had led them to their own hollow. She was bustling about, plucking down from her own breast and tucking it in around an owl. “Now, now, dear, we know you did your best.”