Free Guardians of Ga'Hoole 06 - The Burning by authors_sort

we’ll have! After all, we basically invented fighting with fire.”
    This was not quite true. The Guardians had fought with fire before, but it was the Chaw of Chaws, particularly those owls of the colliering chaw, that had advanced the art in a single battle when they had spontaneously begun to fly with burning branches. This was when they had been attacked by Kludd and the Pure Ones during the rescue of Ezylryb. “And now,” Twilight continued, “we’ll be able to fight with fire and ice. And they say that the ice here is sharper than the sharpest battle claws.”
    That was all well and good, Soren thought. But the real experts at fighting with ice were the members of the Kielian League. They had won the War of the Ice Claws years and years before. The companies and divisions of the Kielian League had continued to train all through these years of peace. Why couldn’t Moss convene the parliament early to ask for the recruitments? It was so frustrating.
    Soren flew off to another perch where he could see how Gylfie and Martin, the two smallest owls in the chaw, were being trained by the Frost Beaks in ice splinter work. It was a delicate and deadly piece of fighting they were learning. He sighed as he watched them. They were doing well. But without the help of the entire Frost Beaks division, he thought, they will all be flying into a gaping hagsmire of certain death in the invasion of St. Aggie’s. Soren continued to watch. These splinters, although smaller, were even sharper than the swords. When they were launched and hit the right place, the result was usually instant death. But it was a challenging business fighting with ice splinters. One had to have a steady talon and dead-on accuracy, all while flying at very high speeds.
    “More speed, more speed, Gylfie!” a rather grizzledlooking Flammulated Owl was shouting in her whooping voice. All Flammulated Owls spoke in low and somewhat mellow whoops. They were the smallest of all the Horned Owls, but still not as small as Gylfie. All of the small owls, of which there were few in the Northern Kingdoms, had been trained in the warfare art of the ice splinter. “Aim for eye, Gylfie, and then it goes right into the brain and then it is kerplonken!”
    They had all learned the word “kerplonken,” which meant “all over”—brain-dead, gizzard-dead, wings gone yeep. Gylfie and the owl she was sparring with, a Pygmy from the Frost Beaks named Grindlehof, wore protective goggles, the lenses of which had been cleverly ground from pieces of what they called issen blauen, or blue ice.
    During a break, Soren flew up to Gylfie.
    “So what do you think?” the Elf Owl asked breathlessly.
    “What do you mean?” Soren replied.
    “Do I have a chance as an ice splinter fighter if I pick up speed?” Gylfie paused and looked up for a second. A red blur was hurtling through the clear blue sky with a flashing ice scimitar. “Wow! Look at Ruby!” Ruby, a Short-eared Owl, was the most powerful flier of all of them. Now she seemed like a comet searing the sky, her feathers like red flames, the curved edge of the scimitar flashing in the sunlight.
    But Soren worried. “We’re going to need more than Ruby and you with scimitars and ice splinters. It doesn’t matter how good you get. If Moss doesn’t come through with the recruits…” Soren hesitated. “Well, I guess you can say it’s kerplonken.”
    “No word from Moss yet?”
    “The parliament of the Kielian League has to meet. They are the ones who decide. The worst part of it is that the parliament doesn’t meet until after we leave.”
    “That’s tomorrow! Can’t they call an emergency session?”
    Soren looked at Gylfie and blinked. “Gylfie, there is one thing I have learned since being in the Northern Kingdoms—these owls are set in their ways. You can’t budge them. They have their own way of doing everything, from hunting to preening, from nest building with moss and down…”
    “To harvesting ice,”