Guardians of Ga'Hoole 06 - The Burning

didn’t have to teach thugs like Skench and Spoorn how to fight with it. Soren thought, If this has to do with fire, why not convene in Bubo’s forge where the Great Horned blacksmith owl could demonstrate? Bubo loved to do demonstrations with coal and embers.
    “Uh…” Soren stepped onto the speaking perch from which owls addressed the members of the parliament. “I have been told just the preliminary details about this service that I am to perform—a passive combatant fire service, I believe.” The four elder owls nodded. “And I was wondering if perhaps we might have this discussion at Bubo’s forge. I think I will really understand better if Bubo can demonstrate.”
    “Good idea!” boomed Bubo.
    “But what about security?” Barran asked.
    “We can go far back in the cave,” Bubo said, “and if it eases your mind, I can set out a couple of nest-maids to guard the entrance.”
    “All right, then,” Boron said. “Shall we adjourn to Bubo’s forge?”
    Digger, Twilight, and Otulissa pressed their ear slits to the roots but there was total silence in the parliament hollow above. They blinked at one another. “What’s going on?” Otulissa beaked the words silently. Twilight and Digger shrugged. After five minutes of listening to nothing, the three owls gave up and went back to their respective hollows.
    Meanwhile, Soren, along with the four elder owls, crowded into the back of the cave of Bubo’s forge. Mrs. Plithiver had been called upon to guard the entrance. She was the most trustworthy of the nest-maid snakes and, unlike the others, was known never to gossip.
    Bubo pushed a small blue-green ember toward Soren. At the center of the ember was a pale lick of orange. Soren had never seen an ember quite this color.
    “That’s not bonk,” he said, staring down at the strangely glowing ember.
    “Hardly,” replied Bubo. “In fact, quite the opposite.”
    “What is it?” Soren asked.
    “It’s a cold coal.”
    “Is this what Otulissa was researching?”
    “Yep. Otulissa brought back the formula for cold fire and ice flames. And from these I made cold coals.”
    “Can it really help us in this war?” Soren asked. He had never been quite sure what it could do. Otulissa’s explanations were very complicated.
    “It can indeed,” said Ezylryb. “It can destroy flecks, and make Devil’s Triangles ineffective.”
    “Devil’s Triangles?” Soren echoed in a hushed voice. It had been a Devil’s Triangle made from strategically placed bags of flecks that had destroyed Ezylryb’s navigational instincts. It had taken him weeks to recover after the Chaw of Chaws had rescued him.
    “Yes, Soren, Devil’s Triangles. The Pure Ones who hold St. Aggie’s have the wherewithal now to construct more than enough triangles to defend themselves against any invaders. So…” Ezylryb continued.
    And so, thought Soren as he flew back to his hollow, that is what my passive combatant mission is. I do not teach Skench and Spoorn to fight, but I destroy the enemy’s ability to defend. It wouldnot be just Soren’s mission alone. During the time that Otulissa, Digger, and the others would be teaching the remnant owls of St. Aggie’s who had escaped with Skench and Spoorn how to fight with fire, Bubo and Soren would fly into the rimrock of the canyonlands and place the small blue-green cold coals into every fleck emplacement they could find and thus destroy the magnetic powers of the Devil’s Triangles. It was a wonderous ember that Bubo had created in the fires of his forge; smokeless, barely glowing, with a deep, mysteriously penetrating form of heat, strong enough to destroy flecks at close range but not warm enough to ignite any nearby wood or leaves.
    Soren almost wished this night were over and he wouldn’t have to face Digger and Twilight and Otulissa. He was not to say a word about his alternative service. It would begin tomorrow and take several days, as would the training of Skench and Spoorn and their troops. Soren didn’t want his friends asking questions or looking at him all funny, as they had done ever since he had told them that he was a gizzard resister. Gizzard matters were private, anyhow. There were some things that one didn’t discuss, not even with one’s best friend.
    Soren sighed heavily and his gizzard gave a painful lurch. Gylfie! Would he ever see her again? Soren entered the hollow quietly. Twilight and Digger were still asleep.Kicking a few tufts of rabbit-ear moss to the