Guardians of Ga'Hoole 13 - The River of Wind

his precious gizzard tonic. Shortly after that, he began his surveillance activities and had made the exquisite network of tunnels that led to the central burrow of these Barn Owls. He had taken to the tunnels two nights before when he saw yet another small Barn Owl being flown in. Owl-napping, that’s what they were up to! Cuffyn was convinced of this. Shortly after that, he saw the strangest sight of all—a large blue owl being air-dragged to the central hollow. He quickly took to his tunnels and made his way toward the central burrow to listen in.
    While Eglantine and Primrose had taken off at the first mention of Nyra’s plan to go to the strange world to follow the Chaw of Chaws, Cuffyn had stayed on and heard the agonizing cries of the blue owl as they attempted to extract additional information from him, and then heard his dazed ramblings as they forced a serum upon him. Cuffyn blinked. Racdrops! They stole that from me! How did they know about it? These owls are beyond belief! He listened carefully as the blue owl spoke in a slow, slurred voice.
    “At the farthest edge to the north in the land of volcanoes, you must go to the place where the water from the sea of vastness swirls into an inlet. Fly there, for that is the only way to the Zong Phong—which will take you tothe Middle Kingdom. But it is hard to find. When you leave the coast behind, fly due west out to sea, to tomorrow, and then find the windkins to the Zong Phong…To tomorrow, that is the first part of the journey.”
    “What do you mean—to tomorrow?” Nyra rasped.
    “To tomorrow. You’ll know…you’ll know. There is a hole in the wind…when day turns to black…the death of day…then up the windkins and into the central trough of this river of air. It will swiftly take you to the other side. Then down, down, down the windkins to the other side. Follow the qui lines of the sage. They will lead you down…down…down…”
    The drugged ramblings of the blue owl raised more questions than they answered. But once again Sergeant Tarn proved himself of invaluable service. He fetched a rather tattered map of the Beyond that he had kept from his days as a hireclaw seeking Rogue smiths who made weapons in the land of volcanoes.
    “I think he means to go here.” The Burrowing Owl pointed his talon at a region north of the volcanoes.
    “But there is nothing there,” Nyra said.
    “It doesn’t show on the map because it is far from the volcanoes where the Rogue smiths set their forges. It’s just barren to the north, few ever fly there. But the vast seascrapes the edges. I think this is where we will find the inlet he speaks of.”
    “But what about this flying to tomorrow?” Stryker asked.
    “That I am not sure of,” Tarn said.
    “And the windkins?” Nyra asked.
    “They must lead to this very swift current, I would guess a very high-altitude wind.”
    “Get set to fly before the moon rises,” Nyra barked at her owls. “And let me make one thing perfectly clear: This mission is a slink melf. That means we go in not with a division or a regiment—not even a platoon or a squadron. We go in light, armed but low in the number of owls. This is an assassination—the targets are the so-called king and his uncle. They are our immediate goals. There are not many Guardians—just the Chaw of Chaws. Our scouts saw them heading across the Beyond on a northwest course. Now we know for sure. An entire division of owls flying over Kuneer, through Ambala, and all the way to the Beyond will rouse suspicion. We do not want to rouse suspicion. Understood?”
    “Yes, General Mam.”
    “We will fly with eighteen owls including yourselves.” She nodded at Wort, Stryker, and Tarn. “And one otherthing.” She looked directly at Lieutenant Stryker as she spoke. “I would like to announce a promotion.” Stryker swelled up with excitement. “I am promoting Sergeant Tarn to Captain.”
    “What?” Stryker gasped.
    “You have a problem with that, Stryker?”
    “Uh…no…uh…b-b-but…”
    “But what?”
    “Nothing, General Mam.”
    “Oh, one other thing.” She paused and looked at the officers gathered around her. “The owl who kills Soren, or the king, will win an immediate promotion to adjunct general.”
    There was a gasp among the owls. Not since the time of Kludd had there been an adjunct general, and at that time the AG had been Nyra herself. In Nyra’s mind, there was more than just the death of these two owls at stake. With