Guardians of Ga'Hoole 14 - Exile

ignited branches. Ice weapons sparkled high in the canopy of the tree. The curved-edged scimitars, like scallops of a newing moon, slashed through the darkness. An owl fell to the ground. Bell made her way through the melee of smoke, flying ice chips, and sizzling branches. All she had to do was find a weapon of her own. She could handle an ice pick or one of the short blades. There was a burning twig on the ground. She could do something with that. She seized it, spread her wings, and flew off to find her mother. But where had her mother gone? Pelli had been near the viewing perch close to the thick of the battle. But the heaviest fighting seemed to have moved. A cry rose in the night.
    “The Great Hollow’s been breached!” Bell saw a rush of owls head for the tree. Then a few of the Blue Brigade flew out, fully clawed, the iron talons extended in attack position. She thought she saw Elvanryb fall as she rushed to the scene. She knew she must drop her fire branch before she flew through the opening of the tree. There were no fire weapons in the tree. No owl would ever fight with fire in the tree. But there had never been a battlewithin the Great Ga’Hoole Tree in its thousand-year history. Bell crouched now in the harp gallery amid the pile of tangled strings and watched. If only there were a pair of battle claws she could get to. She heard a song rise up with a thumping beat. Great Glaux, it must be Twilight! Every young owl knew of these battle chants, but no one had ever actually heard him. But now the chant pounded in Bell’s ear slits. She saw the Great Gray prancing in the air in front of two fierce-looking Great Horneds from the Blue Brigade.
Talk about vanities, bunch of wet poop!
Twilight’s here to give you the scoop!
You dim-witted creeps feathered blue
Don’t mess with me, ‘cause I am cruel .
I do me a little Breath of Qui
Smash you to smithereens and let it be .
Let it be, you crazy creeps
Gonna bring you down, gonna make you weep
Call for your mama, call for your pop—
Hey, I’m Twilight, cream of the crop!
    “Awesome!” Bell whispered. Her attention was so riveted on Twilight that she had not noticed that another duel was going on very close to her. “Mum!” The Strigaand two others were advancing on Pelli. She was slashing at them with an ice scimitar but they had her backed against the perch rail of the harp gallery. There was a splintering sound and fragments spun through the air. Bell buried herself in the tangled grass strings of the harp. What should she do? She peeked out again. Oh, Glaux! Her mum was defenseless. They were closing in on her. She wanted to call for help. Where was her da? Was there no one to help? The tip of something sparkled in the grass strings of the harp. Bell’s eyes widened. It was a splinter of ice from one of the ice scimitars. Big enough for her to use. She wrapped a talon around its base. It cut into the tough hide of her talon, but it didn’t bleed. She took a deep breath and powered out of the tangle of grass, wielding the small splinter. It was the perfect size. She hurled herself toward the closest owl, a Barred Owl.
    Then the Great Hollow spun. She jabbed forward with the splinter. There was a great spurt of blood. The Barred Owl dropped. She heard an anguished screech, “Bell!” She saw her mum fly away. Free! Just as the word free exploded in her head she felt talons closing around her. The ice splinter was wrenched painfully from her grip. She felt something cold against her neck. A silence fell upon the Great Hollow.
    “All right.” It was the voice of the Striga. Bell couldn’t believe it. She had been caught by the Striga. “Everyone drop their weapons or her head comes off.”
    “No! No!” Bell cried. She felt shame wash through her. Was she saying “No, don’t let me die” or “No, don’t drop your weapons”? She was not sure. She did not want to die, but she did not want to live. “It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault,” she wailed. She began to hear the clank of weapons dropping, at first one by one, then a large clatter as the rest fell.
    “Yes, that is more like it!” said the Striga. A strange sucking sound filled the silence. Bell saw the flames in the large torches that lit the Great Hollow quiver and then extinguish. She felt the Striga’s grip tighten and his heart race as he muttered something in Jouzhen. Was she feeling his wings fold in? Was he going yeep?
    And then she was twirling through the