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

Gylfie.
    There were three clicks. One click as the single-action prongs of Soren’s battle claws extended and two more as the double hinges of Gylfie’s unlocked.

CHAPTER NINETEEN
High Stakes
    A mazing!” Otulissa said. She was bobbling around on a chunk of ice that had been dislodged from the canyon wall when Cleve had performed the most basic and powerful of all Danyar moves, the Breath of Qui. A student of the Danyar, the way of noble gentleness, never used weapons that butchered an enemy. Instead, Danyar focused on developing the entire owl organism—its joints, its hollow bones, its gizzard, lungs, heart, and feathers—so that an owl could strike with great force using every part and fiber of its body. The Breath of Qui was a massive inhalation that expanded an owl’s lungs to four times their normal size. It was this inhalation and exhalation that were the central elements in the Danyar style of fighting. It most certainly did kill, but in a way that is what the Jouzhen owls call “owlyk,” which meant as bloodlessly and painlessly as possible.
    Cleve had just performed the Breath of Qui and nowthe bodies of four owls were rapidly sinking into the sea. They were dead by the time they had hit the surface of the water, but what was intriguing was how their feathers had become instantly sodden. They might as well have been stones. Otulissa blinked several times. She was not sure what astonished her more, Cleve performing the Breath of Qui and felling the owls with one exhalation or the fact that the blue owls were already nearly swallowed by the sea. She blinked again and looked up at Cleve. She felt absolutely foolish wearing her double-hinged retractable battle claws with their single-action recoil— whatever, blah, blah, blah, she thought. So much for technology. He had dispatched the blue owls bare-clawed!
    Otulissa tried to compose herself. “Cleve,” she gasped, “I know how you did it, but how and when did you learn?” But before the question was answered, she remembered Dumpy asking Cleve on the flight here why he and Tengshu had exchanged that funny look just before Tengshu left for the Middle Kingdom. “Funny?” Cleve had asked somewhat disingenuously. “Maybe it was just a nervous tic.” It came back to Otulissa now. She stood up straighter on the bobbling ice block. “You told Dumpy you had a nervous tic. But you don’t have any such thing, do you, Cleve?”
    “No, my dear, none whatsoever. It would have been difficult for me to learn the way of noble gentleness if I had had a nervous tic.”
    “So you’ve been studying with Tengshu?”
    Cleve nodded.
    “Behind my back?” Otulissa’s voice almost broke as she spoke the words.
    “Oh, Otulissa, I feared I might fail. I have never in my life fought before. I am not a fighting owl.”
    “But why now? Why did you decide to learn?”
    “I had forebodings. When I came to the tree and heard about the Striga and all that he had done and that he had not been killed—I just felt…I don’t know. I think it was love more than fear. I want to do all I can to protect you, and what you value. The tree.”
    “So you took up arms for me?” Otulissa asked incredulously.
    “Not arms. I learned the way of Danyar. I think things are going to be bad, Otulissa. I think a big war is coming, what with the Striga and Nyra trying to bring the hagsfiends back to life for this war. The stakes are so high. The ember and… you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY
Standoff at the Great Horns
    S oren blinked. He could not believe that he and Gylfie were in a standoff. Somehow, Wensel had shaken off his fear, regained flight, and unlocked his wings before crashing, but now Soren, Gylfie, and Wensel were perched directly under the twin shadows of the Great Horns, opposite the three Burrowing Owls who were advancing on them, the burning tips of their fire claws glaring like eyeballs from hagsmire. Soren was incredulous. They were only just past halfway to the Wolf’s Fang. They probably would have been there by now if Wensel hadn’t wandered off route. Did Wensel have the ember? Soren hoped he didn’t. He wished with all his gizzard that Ruby or Fritha had it, and were already at the Wolf’s Fang. Nonetheless, this was a dangerous situation. The numbers on each side were even, but their sizes were not. Burrowing Owls were larger than Barn Owls, and about four times the size of Gylfie.
    “What’cha got in that botkin, lad?” It was Tarn who spoke. Soren recognized