Guardians of Ga'Hoole 09 - The First Collier

they were wonderful musicians and made a festive addition to any celebration. Festooning themselves in molted feathers from other birds, lacing moss and berries through their primaries, they were about as gaudy as an owl could get. Wonderful katabat dancers, they were a delight to watch and they were legendary for their singing. The gadfeathers sang all sorts of songs, merry ones to accompany a jig on a katabat, or achingly tender ballads of love and wandering. To hear a gadfeather’s melodious voice singinga ballad under the starry arc of a lofty summer sky is an unmatched experience. Though I knew I would miss my fire studies, I felt little regret leaving the Beyond to go to Lord Arrin’s lemming hunt in the Firth of Fangs.
    When I finally returned to the Beyond after the lemming hunt, I had every hope that this would be an extended stay, for a fragile peace still reigned in the N’yrthghar. I had negotiated extended ice rights in the Firth of Fangs for King H’rath; at the same time, there was a sharp decline in hagsfiends’ insurgencies, which Lord Arrin claimed credit for. All this boded well. Or so I thought.
    Shortly after I had come back, I was flying over a volcano on the northwest side of the ring. This particular volcano had not been active for some time, and Fengo and I were thinking of moving one of our fires close to it as there were some good sand beds nearby, and sand was the main ingredient of gloss. I had not thought of the owl ember for a long time. I had truly cleared my mind of it. But as I was circling around this volcano, I saw a peculiar transformation taking place. It appeared as if the sides of the volcano were beginning to turn to gloss. I could see right through it. Was I having a vision? I knew that my firesight had become much keener since I had been coming to the Beyond, but this was very odd, not simply avision. I was seeing something deep within the volcano itself. It was orange with a lick of blue at its center, circled with green. My gizzard flinched. It was the Ember of Hoole!
    I forgot the sand beds I had come to examine, altered course, and flew directly over the crater. When I looked down, I saw a sea of boiling lava, but it suddenly grew still and calm. Then in a bubble of the lava on the surface, I spotted the ember rocking gently. It was as if it were beckoning to me. Mine! I thought. Mine for the taking. I began to fly up. I was looking for a cool gap, or a downdraft to power my spiraling plunge. I quickly found it, laid back my wings, and dived into the crater. I felt no heat. I felt nothing.
    Within seconds I climbed the thermals back out of the crater and landed in a nearby sand pit. I was exhausted. Exhausted but exhilarated. I had the ember in my talons. The power of the thing seemed to surge through me. I don’t know if I fell into a sleep or into some unconscious state, but when I awoke Fengo was standing over me.
    “So you have it,” he said drily. He did not sound joyful. Indeed, there was something dismal in his tone. But I ignored it. I would not let any creature mar this moment, tarnish my joy, my elation, my power. If I’d had powers before, they now felt magnified a thousand times over.“Look,” I said, “it continues to glow just as hot as when I first got it, even though it sits in sand and not fire.”
    “That is the nature of the ember,” Fengo said. There was a dullness to his voice, a dullness tinged with regret. I could not stop staring at the ember. My obsession was not satisfied, my fascination not dimmed. I felt the ember’s magic niggle into my gizzard and take hold of me. Thus, began my strange interlude. I still worked with Fengo to discover new things we could do with fire and rocks, fire and sand, and even fire and water. But we did not make much progress. It was not simply that my gizzard wasn’t in it. It was as if I had slipped into a trance. The exposure to the ember had increased my firesight incredibly, but it seemed I could not act upon what I saw. It did not move me.
    And here is what I saw, beginning with my first glimpse into the coal. I know not how long this vision went on, for once more I had entered a timeless place.
    I saw one of King H’rath’s most skillful ice harvesters, a Burrowing Owl named H’rooth, suddenly plummet in flight. I saw a hagsfiend slice off his head, raise it on an ice blade, and fly off into the dark sky with blood streaming through the night air like a wild river, turning the stars and the