Guardians of Ga'Hoole 06 - The Burning

come you didn’t die?” Ruby asked.
    “Because I swim. Lil went down into the sea, in deep, deep water. I try so hard to rescue her…” Hoke shook his head wearily. “I do not have words to tell how hard I tried.” He wept a strange glittery fluid.
    Martin hopped over to Hoke and gave his turquoise scales a small pat.
    “Takk, takk,” the snake said, nodding his head. “Thank you. Thank you.”
    “Gare heeldvig,” Martin replied, which meant in Krakish “think nothing of it.”
    “Hey, hey,” said the old snake a little more cheerfully. “You learning to bisshen good Krakish, but now young’uns, you tell me vhat my old friend Ezylryb needs.”
    Martin and Ruby took turns explaining. But as Martin drew to a close he had the distinct feeling that Hoke was not convinced. He was going to have to plead harder, let out all the stops. Martin gulped.
    “Look, the coming battle is not just a matter of life and death for the owls of Ga’Hoole but for all the owl kingdoms.…It could even affect snakes, all snakes, Kielian and others. I don’t know if I can explain how deadly these flecks are. It’s not just that creatures die from them. Tosimply die would be easy.” Martin noticed a new alertness in Hoke. “It’s that the flecks have the power to make us mindless tools in the talons of the most evil owls in the history of owlkind. And, as we speak, the Pure Ones are learning how to use the largest supply of flecks on Earth.” Martin finally stopped. He looked at Hoke.
    Hoke sighed. “Vhat you say is frightening but you see before you a very old snake. Too old to go into battle. But, yes, I could perhaps raise a battalion or two of owls and snakes and help in training them. But it must be agreed to by the parliament. Perhaps not the training but our going. The parliament will decide that. We are tired of war. You must understand.”
    “Yes, we understand.” Martin nodded. “The War of the Ice Claws was so long. But you say a battalion or two?”
    The snake nodded.
    Martin knew they would need more, much more. Ezylryb was hoping for a regiment. Now Martin would have to ask the question he dreaded. “You realize it’s an invasion? We’ll need more than two battalions. Do you suppose you could train nest-maid snakes?”
    In one swift flash of turquoise, Hoke coiled up. “Are you yoicks?! Yes, I know Hoolian word for crazy. Same in Krakish. Yoicks. Nest-maids? You two drop your brains in the sea?”
    “Just asking,” Martin said in a small voice. “You know, they are hard workers.”
    “They’re weak. They have no muscle. And they’re silly, too! Nunchat! Nachsun, Nynik, Nuftan!” Which basically meant “no, never, no way” in Krakish.
    “All right. All right. Don’t worry about it. Forget I said anything about nest-maids. Gare heeldvig,” Martin replied quickly. Hoke relaxed and began to uncoil again. “Tell me something,” Martin said, trying to change the subject, but also asking out of genuine curiosity, “whatever happened to Ezylryb’s brother, Ifghar?”
    “The turnfeather?” Hoke spat out the words.
    “Yes.”
    “He was wounded pretty badly himself. He went off with the League of the Ice Talons with his turnscale snake, Gragg.”
    “A Kielian snake?”
    “Ja, ja. Miserable piece of serpent if there ever was one. Liked his bingle juice too much.”
    “Bingle juice?”
    “Ja, ja. You know, can make one trufynkken.” Hoke wobbled his head around.
    “Oh!” Martin and Ruby said at once. Bingle juice was like the Ga’Hoole berry wine the older owls sometimes drank at festivals.
    “Ja, that snake go with anyone who give him a drink. That’s why he kept with Ifghar. Don’t know where they went. I think the Ice Talons League finally threw him out. Nobody trusts a turnfeather or a turnscale.”
    “Turnscale? That’s a snake traitor?”
    “Ja, ja. Gragg of Slonk, that be the old snake’s name. He’s a turnscale. Traded a kingdom for a quaff of bingle juice.”

CHAPTER NINE
The Ancient Warrior
of the Firth
    S vall swam up the narrowing lead of water that threaded like a black ribbon through the clusters of ice floes jamming the firth. The bear moved at a stately pace, nosing aside chunks of ice that blocked his path. The four owls flew overhead. Soren thought he had never seen such a graceful swimmer.
    There was a kind of magic to the starry night. The sky reflected in the black water of the firth, and it almost appeared as if the bear were swimming through shoals of