The Coming of Hoole (11 page)

“
I
can’t believe it!” Theo exclaimed. “You caught a bonk coal on your first try! I’ve been practicing all summer.”

They had been in the Beyond for three cycles of the moon, and when Hoole returned from his hunting trip with Fengo and was completely restored to his old owl self, he began to take more interest in the volcanoes, not so much for their fires but for the coals they spewed forth He had quickly learned how to retrieve the cooler coals that lay on the ground. But it had taken him only one try to catch one of the hottest of coals, the “bonk” ones, that were caught on the fly.

“Look, Theo, I can catch them, but you know what to do with a bonk coal. I am not good at smithing.”

This certainly was true. Theo had tried to teach Hoole how to make one of the simplest utensils, a small container that he called a bucket, and Hoole’s bucket wound up completely flat and hammered as thin as a leaf. Phineas, trying to be encouraging, said, “Well, it’s not that bad. We
could use it as a decoration in our cave.” The four owls were all living together once again.

Dunmore MacDuncan, to whom Hoole had become very close on the caribou hunt, now trotted up to him.

“Ready for today’s lesson?” Dunmore was now in charge of Hoole’s education, which focused largely on the activities of the volcanoes.

“I just caught a bonk coal. Isn’t that enough for one day?”

“Do you know what a bonk coal sounds like?” Dunmore asked him.

“Sounds like?”

“Ah, so you are in need of a lesson: A bonk coal has a very distinct sound compared to other coals. Now listen.”

Hoole crouched down and put his ear slit close to the bonk coal. “It sounds like water! Running water! How can something so hot sound like water?”

Dunmore shrugged. “Don’t know. But coals, the lava, the fires of the volcanoes, all have different sounds, and they combine in different ways so that each volcano has a unique sound and even that varies according to weather and certain conditions we don’t yet understand.”

Dunmore probably knew more about the volcanoes than any other wolf, including Fengo. Fengo had decided to form a guard—a watch—for the volcanoes, and he
had made Dunmore the chieftain of the watch. But whenever Hoole asked Fengo or Dunmore why there needed to be a watch, they were evasive in their answers. Hoole sensed that they were watching for something more than just the activity and the sounds and moods of the volcanoes. As Dunmore padded along the perimeter of the ring of volcanoes, and Hoole flew directly above him, he would on occasion stop to point something out.

“You see this one here, Hoole?” Dunmore said. “Listen for a grackling sound.”

Hoole hovered. “Grackling? Is that like crackling?”

“Yes, but grittier. It sounds like rocks being broken apart. We think that is just what is happening deep in the volcano—rocks are shattering.”

So summer passed and the days grew shorter by slivers of seconds. Grank and Fengo watched Hoole. He had grown into a handsome owl. Both Theo and Phineas, younger and closer to Hoole’s age, had been excellent teachers. Theo had shown him rocks that he’d never seen on the island in the Bitter Sea and explained their properties, and which metals could be derived from them.

Phineas had a wisdom beyond his years. In spite of being so small, he had traveled widely, and coming from the Southern Kingdoms, knew every forest there. So soon he was giving Hoole instruction in the immense variety
of trees and plants that grew in that unfrozen part of the world. Grank was pleased. The young prince’s education had been enriched by these two young owls. And how astounding it had been when Hoole had approached him that night shortly after he had returned from the hunt and told Grank he felt that some of the strategies used by the wolves would work for owls. And then most astonishing were those words he had said in innocent earnestness: “Uncle Grank, if I were king I would make lochinvyrr part of the H’rathian code.” It had taken Grank’s breath away.
If he were king!

“Will he see the ember in the way I did?” Grank wondered aloud one night to Fengo where they perched high on their favorite ridge.

“That’s unanswerable.”

And when he does find it, will it be too late?
Grank wondered.

There had been no news from the N’yrthghar about the war since they had reached the Beyond. Grank’s fires were unclear as to what was happening. Hoole, oddly enough, did not seem that interested in reading the flames these days. Grank suspected that he was too fearful about his mother, that he did not want to know if she had perished after the encounter with the hagsfiend and Pleek in
the Bitter Sea. He never talked about her anymore. But Grank thought of her constantly.

“I wonder what happened to Siv?” he said to Fengo as they perched on the ridge. “How thrilled she would be to see her son now. He truly is becoming a prince.”

There was a sudden scrabbling of rock beneath them. Fengo and Grank were immediately alert. They saw the shadow of a wolf dart off in the moonlight.

“Who was that?” Fengo asked nervously. “No one ever comes up here.”

But before they could chase the wolf, he had vanished completely.

Neither Fengo nor Grank slept well. Finally, toward noon when the owls usually slept, Grank went out and decided to make a new fire in his forge. As the flames built up, he thought he saw something in them but it was not any image from the N’yrthghar. What he saw was a wolf streaking across the Beyond on an easterly course. The wolf was staying far north on a heading that would take him to the northern edge of the spirit woods, and it looked as if he were heading for Broken Talon Point. This was most unusual. Wolves rarely left the Beyond, and when they did, they usually went south into the Shadow Forest.
Most unusual!
He would monitor the fires and
check on the wolf’s progress again before he mentioned any of this to Fengo.

The next day when he went to the fires, he blinked in surprise. He saw not only one wolf traveling east and north but two. They were, however, far apart, one seeming to follow the other. That same afternoon, he went into Fengo’s cave and roused him from his midday nap.

“What is it?” Fengo’s ears rose and twitched. He knew that his old friend would not wake him if it were not important.

“The fires.”

“What did you see?” Fengo’s green eyes glistened.

“Two wolves heading out of the Beyond, on a course that will take them across to Broken Talon Point.”

“And into the Northern Kingdoms—a land route. Longer but easier for a wolf.”

“But they’ll still have to swim at some point.”
Especially,
thought Grank,
if they are heading toward Lord Arrin’s stronghold. They will have to cross the Bay of Fangs. Otherwise it would take them years!
“Someone must know that he is here! Great Glaux!” Grank exclaimed. “But what possible interest would it be to the wolves? Who would betray us?”

Fengo was silent. Then stood up. “You go to sleep now, Grank. I’ll wake you when I find out more.”

Grank, of course, did not sleep and a short time later,
Fengo burst into the cave that he shared with Hoole, Theo, and Phineas.

“I’m sorry to disturb you.”

“I wasn’t sleeping and I was already disturbed,” Grank replied drily. Theo and Phineas, however, had been sleeping. They stirred and blinked. Hoole slept on peacefully, most likely dreaming of bonk coals.

“What’s going on?” Phineas asked

“There’s a traitor—or two traitors—I should say,” Fengo replied gravely. “They are both gone. They are the ones headed toward Broken Talon Point.”

“Who?” asked Hoole, who had suddenly awakened.

“MacHeath and Hordweard!” Fengo snarled. “I knew she’d go back to him. I knew she would spy.” Fengo was absolutely fuming.

“What’s there to spy about?” Hoole asked. Grank and Fengo exchanged nervous looks.

Grank thought quickly. “Well, you know, Hoole—it is rather unusual, owls in the Beyond. And, of course, look at all we are doing here, catching coals, building fires and all sorts of wonderful tools—tongs, containers of all sizes, and that new metal sling that Theo invented. There is much that other owls, particularly those warring in the N’yrthghar, would want to know.”

“You mean the bad owls, Lord Arrin’s owls?” Hoole
asked. “Not the good owls of the late King H’rath and Queen Siv.”

“Yes, precisely, lad,” Grank replied.

“And we feel that these two wolves have turned traitor on us. They have learned much and there is always a price for good information,” Fengo added.

“Not Hordweard,” Hoole said emphatically.

Fengo took a step closer. “What do you mean, ‘not Hordweard’?”

“I mean, she’s no traitor,” Hoole replied in an even voice.

“How would you know this?” Fengo pressed.

“I just know it. I can’t explain.”

“If you can’t explain it, then you shouldn’t say it. Nor should we believe it,” Fengo said contentiously with a patronizing tone that riled Hoole greatly.

Hoole puffed up his feathers. If he had had ear tufts they would have been sticking straight up. “I know this in the same way that I knew how to hunt caribou like a wolf when I traveled with you. I know this in the way I felt my wings become legs although I still flew. I know this, Fengo. Do not doubt me!”

Grank burned with pride as he listened to Hoole. This was not the whine of a bratty young’un, nor was it the
uppity posturing of an ignorant fool. This was an owl whose seeds of Ga’ were beginning to stir. There was not a trace of rudeness in his voice. Nor arrogance. This was an owl who knew the truth and felt compelled to speak it regardless of age or rank. This was a
prince.

S
iv had flown out of the Bitter Sea direct to Dark Fowl Island. She and Svenka had planned to meet there. It was, at this time of summer, one of the most ice-free places in the N’yrthghar. And therefore safe from hagsfiends. Miraculously, she had not been hurt in the encounter on the island and she could only pray that Hoole had gotten away safely. She was sure they had all escaped because Grank had arrived with two other owls, and both he and the Great Horned Owl were wearing strange-looking claws that appeared as deadly as any ice weapon. But she had seen her son! She had talked to her son!

Svenka’s cubs, Anka and Rolf, had grown huge over the summer. They were now as tall as Svenka’s belly when she stood up. But they still tumbled about like little cubs. Siv loved watching and playing with them. Berries grew all over the island and they often went berry picking together. They swam beautifully now, like their mother, and were becoming very good at fishing. Siv’s gizzard gave
a sharp little twinge when she recalled the image of Hoole diving so beautifully into the cove’s waters and coming back with a fish, time after time. It was really quite amazing. She had never seen an owl, save for a Fish Owl, dive with such grace and accuracy. He seemed to sense exactly where a fish was going to swim.

She heard frightened yelps from the cubs now.

“What is it?”

“Auntie!” they screeched. Svenka, off seal hunting, was nowhere around.

Siv immediately flew to the nearby point where they had been frolicking in the water. A strange creature was crawling from the sea. She blinked. She could not believe her eyes. It was a wolf! But even wet she had never seen one this enormous.
A dire wolf,
she thought. There was only one place such wolves were known to inhabit—the Beyond. Grank had told her about them. Siv was immediately alert. There was something frightening about this wolf, but she did not want to betray her fear to the cubs. So she drew herself up tall and fluffed out her feathers.

“Greetings!” she said with great dignity.

The wolf grunted something.

“How come you only have one eye?” Rolf asked.

“Rolf, that is very rude,” Anka said. “You shouldn’t say things like that. Should he, Auntie?”

“You want to know, little one, why I only have one eye?”

Rolf hesitated. “Uh…yes.” He stole a look at Siv.

Siv’s gizzard was roiling. This wolf was setting off all sorts of alarms.

“It’s because a very evil wolf bit it out.”

“Who was the evil wolf?” Rolf asked.

“Fengo.”

Fengo!
The name shrieked in Siv’s brain. Fengo wasn’t evil. Fengo was Grank’s best friend. Oh, this was bad. Very bad. She wished Svenka were here. She had to find out what this wolf wanted and send him on his way quickly.

Siv had not spent a lifetime in court without gaining her fair share of diplomatic skills. She knew it was best not to ask direct questions of creatures of whom one was suspect. It only aroused their defenses. So she did not ask where he had come from or where he was going or why. She acted as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a dire wolf from the Beyond to be crawling out of the sea of the N’yrthghar, sodden and exhausted.

“I can tell you are very tired and most likely hungry. Now, what can we offer you? We have some fish and also I have a few lemmings tucked away.”

“Thank you, madame,” MacHeath said. He enjoyed
her deference, her respect—something his mates rarely showed him.
These owls must know how to train their females better than we wolves do,
he thought.

He found the lemmings quite sumptuous. “Would you like some more?” Siv asked, even though she had only a few left. Wolves, she knew, were known for their very large appetites, much larger than those of owls.

“And how about some of our bingle juice,” she offered.

“Bingle juice? I have never heard of that.”

“Oh, it’s great but if you…” Rolf began to speak, but Siv shot the cub a sharp glance, and he immediately shut his muzzle. If she could “bingle” this wolf up a little she might get some information from him.

She brought him an ice cup filled with the juice. “The berries for the juice grow all over this island. It is known for the sweetness of its bingle berries.”

He took a large swallow of the juice and pronounced it delicious. “I am very tired. I didn’t realize the currents would be so strong. I was carried off course.”

Should she ask him what his course was? No, she decided. Another cup of bingle juice and it might just come out.

Three cups later, Svenka arrived and the wolf who had introduced himself as MacHeath was somewhat tipsy. His
voice had thickened and he was now complaining about his mates. “They give me no respect. No respect at all. Bunch of lazy she wolves is what they be.”

“Oh, Svenka, meet our guest. He’s from the Southern Kingdoms, Beyond the Beyond.” Siv blinked and gave the great polar bear a knowing look. “He had a terrible fight with a wolf named Fengo,” she said the word slowly. Siv had told Svenka all about Grank’s sojourns into the Beyond. “He says that there are some owls up there now and he is heading north from here but got carried off course by the currents.”

Svenka was a quick study. She hid the alarm in her face and greeted him warmly. By this time MacHeath was slurring his words. “I say, all the females of this region are so…so…” He passed out as he was about to say “so” again.

“Watch him, children!” Svenka said. “Auntie and I have to talk. Tell us if he wakes up.”

While MacHeath slept, Svenka and Siv went a short distance away where there was no chance of being overhead.

“He’s heading for the Firth of Fangs, I’m sure. And I think he knows about Lord Arrin.”

“How can you be sure, Siv?”

“You didn’t hear it all. He was rambling on about how
he gets no respect but when a big powerful owl heard what he had to tell him, what he knew, he’d not only get respect, but power. He says there’s something in the Beyond—I’m not sure what it is—but he says it’s more powerful than anything else on earth. It came out in bits and pieces, and probably not all of it. But he’s bad, Svenka. You can see that.”

Svenka nodded her huge white head. “I don’t doubt you, Siv. I just think we should make sure.”

“How do we make sure?” Siv asked.

“I’ll follow him. Or better yet, I’ll guide him partway to where he wants to go.”

“But, Svenka, that could be dangerous for you. Think of your cubs. I know you are strong but the hagsfiends cast their fyngrot on you once. They could do it again.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take him partway by water. Then I’ll show him the overland route, if it is to Lord Arrin’s stronghold he wants to go. But I know a shortcut. There are bears up there who are my friends. And remember, at this time of year there is a lot of free water, no ice. We needn’t fear hagsfiends. Please don’t worry.”

“There’s no way I won’t worry, Svenka. You know that.”

“Yes, I know. But if Lord Arrin finds out that Hoole is in the Beyond…”

Siv shuddered at the thought. Svenka was right. Lord
Arrin and his troops had made steady advances against the H’rathian forces that were now scattered and leader-less. If he captured or killed Hoole that would be the end of the N’yrthghar. It would fall under the rule of tyrants and nachtmagen.

“You’re right. You must go. Thank you, Svenka.”

Later that evening, MacHeath climbed on Svenka’s back and the polar bear began swimming across the Everwinter Sea and into the Bay of Fangs. So once more Svenka and Siv parted. Siv perched on Anka’s head and the two cubs and the owl waved good-bye.

Meanwhile, an earless wolf took up a post on Broken Talon Point, which jutted into the Southern Sea. Hordweard had followed MacHeath as far as she dared. She knew if he did come back, it would be by this route—and she would be waiting for him. She had become stronger and sleeker on this journey. She hunted for herself now and ate her fill; not subsisting on the scraps left for low-ranking wolves as she had for countless moon cycles. She doubted if she would ever return to the dire wolves in the Beyond. Fengo, for all his brave words that MacHeath’s mates could go free, had done nothing to help her. She should have known. No one would go near a wolf once tainted by Dunleavy MacHeath. Wolves
and their superstitions! She spat on the ground in disgust. She had become worse than a low-ranking wolf. She had been shunned to the point that she was nonexistent. They looked through her as if she were air. She was invisible to all except for the young owl, the one called Hoole. He had seen her, had even approached her on occasion, only to be warned off by Fengo.

Invisibility had its advantages, however. She would not be missed for a while. When she had finished her business with MacHeath she would go off somewhere. She was not sure where. She would change her name, too. No more MacHeath for her. Her mum’s name had been Namara. Perhaps she would call herself that. She would live alone. She needed no one now. She felt younger than she had in years. Hunting for herself, she was better fed than she had ever been. She was limber once again and her coat had grown glossy.

She was unsure what exactly MacHeath was doing, but she was certain that he was up to no good. How furious he had been when she returned the gnaw-bone. In his rage, he flung it at her and missed. It had cracked open on a rock. What a wailing his mates had sent up. Nothing was thought to bode such ill luck as a fractured gnaw-bone.
Superstition again. What fools!

Still, MacHeath had found out something and was
obviously on his way to the Northern Kingdoms. She sensed that it had something to do with Hoole. She liked Hoole. Something deep within her wanted to protect him, and something even deeper sensed that he was in grave danger. MacHeath had murdered her only pup. She would not let harm come to this young owl. She was sick of MacHeath’s bullying and she felt a rage unlike any she had ever experienced. MacHeath would have to come back by the land route. He would be worn out. She would be fresh. Yes, fresh for the kill.