Guardians of Ga'Hoole 15 - The War of the Ember

keep calling the one owl the ‘dark owl’?”
    “Well, at first I thought the owl was a Barn Owl, the shape of her face, you know, and the length of her wings, and her height. And I thought I saw some of those speckles like you have on your shoulders. But her feathers weren’t that pretty golden color like yours.”
    Otulissa blinked. This was a rather detailed description for a puffin to be rendering. In fact, all the owls in the hollow were astonished that a puffin could hold so many logically connected thoughts in its mind. “But,” Dumpy continued, “her feathers were so dark, almost black. And they were long and shaggy. At least the edges were. She almost looked like a crow, but uglier.”
    Hagsfiend! The word hung unspoken and dreadful in the dim light of the hollow like a curse rising from hagsmire. And each owl felt a terrible clench deep in its gizzard.
    Gylfie was the first to speak. “And the face. You say it was the shape of a Barn Owl’s”
    Dumpy nodded.
    “But what else about it? Were her feathers white like Soren’s and her eyes black?”
    “Her face was scarred. Especially on one side. I didn’tsee it at first until she took off the mask and hung it on an ice pick. But then it was awful. I’d never seen such an awful face. One scar…” Dumpy hesitated and stole a glance at Coryn. “One scar cut across her face like yours—begging your pardon, your face is much more handsome—and her eyes, well, they weren’t completely black like yours. Something flickered deep inside them—a pale yellow light.”
    Coryn’s anguish was palpable. He sighed deeply. “So we now know for certain that Nyra lives. Indeed, she wears a mask like that of my father, Kludd, made presumably from its scraps. And she grows haggish.”
    “Where she found a Rogue smith to fix that mask for her, I’ll never know!” Gwyndor seethed.
    “Any kind of creature can be bought. Owls ain’t no different,” Bubo said.
    This news was shocking. But Coryn seemed to recover and to expand. His plumage puffed until he was enormous. “The Striga and Nyra are in collusion. Now we know. We shall act. We shall not let ourselves be terrorized or intimidated. We have the advantage of knowing that they are up to something.” Coryn’s eyes were blazing. Soren felt his gizzard stir with pride. He had not seen Coryn so strong, so steady, so resolute in a long time. The young king had spent a large part of hislife haunted by the violent history of his parents, Kludd and Nyra. Raised by the most ruthless mother owl imaginable, he was no stranger to tyranny. He now turned to the puffin, Gwyndor, and Bess, who stood side by side, and began to speak. “You three birds have shown extraordinary courage and wit.”
    Dumpy blinked.
    Wit! He’s saying I have wit!
    “Each of you was alert and ready to act. Gwyndor, with your keen ear for the wolves, you were able to discern the voice of my dear friend Gyllbane and realized that even though you were not sure of the exact meaning of the howls, that she was deeply agitated. You knew that she was skreeling as she had when she led the byrrgis for the battle of the Book of Kreeth.
    “And you, dear Bess, defended the ember with a courage the equal of any in battle. You left your cherished refuge and flew for the first time into the night world of owls and crossed the Sea of Hoolemere. We know how difficult this must have been.”
    Coryn took a step closer to the puffin. “And you, Dumpy, the debt we owe you is incalculable. You observed carefully, remembered all, and first flew to the polar bear. It was she who said ‘This is owl business’ and that you must go to the Great Ga’Hoole Tree. Andyou did! You found us and you related what you saw and what you heard with great intelligence.”
    Dumpy blinked rapidly. “I think I’m going to faint.” His squat, usually well-balanced body suddenly wobbled. Bubo stepped in and propped him up.
    “Here you go, lad. Now steady there.”
    When Dumpy had regained his balance, Coryn continued. “It seems we have a situation developing here. There are two issues. First, the ember. Someone is hunting for it. Obviously someone knows it is no longer here at the great tree. How many owls know? Was this Boreal an agent for others? We cannot be sure. Bess?”
    “It is possible, Coryn, that this owl was working alone. If there were others, why would they not have come to help? He duped me, yes, with the ruse of being poisoned. Had he come with cohorts,