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

about cubs and all that stuff.”
    “All that stuff! You’re talking, madam, of my progeny.” Svarr tried to look nobly offended, but only succeeded in looking crotchety.
    “Don’t look so crotchety.” She knew this would get him.
    “Old bears are crotchety. I’m not an old bear.”
    Sveep knew she had him just where she wanted him now. She’d injured his pride. Nothing like a war to make a male polar bear feel fit. She rolled over onto her stomach and paddled to the lip of the ice of his den and rested her elbows on it. She drew her face very close to his. “All right, big guy!” The pleasant odor of the bluescales that she had consumed on her swim north washed over Svarr’s face as she spoke. “Now listen to me. This is the time for all brave bears to come together. Noble bears, bears of valor.” She could see Svarr’s eyes fasten on her. His surliness had dissolved. There was only the black intensity of his eyes. “I have been charged by aking, King Coryn from the great tree, to form a fighting division of polar bears.”
    “You?”
    Sveep ignored his dismay. “Listen to me, Svarr. You are a bear of valor, an ursus maritimus. A bear of the sea and the land as well. In our world, it has been the noble Guardians of the Great Ga’Hoole Tree that have fought the good fight. We have lived apart in a world bound by ice and sea. But there has never been, in all of time, a chance like this for us polar bears. We can go forth now, to guard our land against a terrible threat from ancient times.” She paused to let that sink in.
    “What threat from ancient times?”
    “Hagsfiends.” She noted the shock in his dark eyes, like a little flinch in the darkness of a moonless night. “Listen to me, Svarr. We have in our sinew, our muscles, our paws, our sheer size, instruments for shattering power. We possess colossal strength. Now of whom else might this be said? Join me, Svarr. Swim with me and we shall fight the good fight and help the Guardians of the Great Ga’Hoole Tree win this war.”
    As Sveep swam out of the Firth of Fangs with her sometime mate following, high overhead, buried in the last of the stria clouds, Coryn, Gwyndor, Kalo,and her brother, Cory, flew up the firth to visit the old warrior Moss. They took turns carrying Octavia, who did seem to have grown sleeker on the arduous flight. Just before nearing Moss’s territory Gwyndor took Octavia on his back and flew toward Stormfast Island for a parlay with Octavia’s distant relative, Hoke of Hock.
    Although infirmed and barely able to fly himself, Moss was still the commander in chief of all the armed owls of the Northern Kingdoms, which included the Frost Beaks, the Glauxspeed division, and an all-female unit of mostly Snowy Owls, many of them former gadfeathers who flew with the deadly ice scimitars. They were ironically known as the Sissies, which was short for Screaming Ice Scimitars. Coryn would ask Moss to provide troops for the war.
    After Gwyndor’s departure with Octavia on board, Coryn, Kalo, and Cory continued on course up the firth for some time in silence. Coryn was surprised when a Snowy and a Barred Owl flew out from the lagoon where Moss was said to nest. “We have been expecting you,” they announced.
    Coryn blinked in confusion.
    “Nut Beam told us,” the Snowy Owl said. “He wanted to get an urgent message to you. He had heard that youwere flying this way. The message is from Otulissa, and Cleve. She says it is imperative that you fly to the Ice Dagger immediately.”
    Coryn swiveled his head toward Kalo and blinked. “I think you should go, Coryn,” Kalo said. “We can convey your request to Moss.”
    The Barred Owl nodded his head in agreement. “I think Moss knows why you have come. Permit me, Coryn, to escort your companions to Moss. You should feel free to take your leave of us to meet with Otulissa and our old friend Cleve.”
    So Coryn turned back. At least the wind had shifted and would be behind him now. It was pretty much a straight shot to the Ice Dagger. What has Otulissa found out now? he wondered. Perhaps he could get back to the tree earlier than expected. Time was of the essence.
    He didn’t realize quite how essential it truly was.
    In another part of the Northern Kingdoms on Stormfast Island, Octavia arranged herself in a coil and held her head erect it as she prepared to address Hoke of Hock. Gwyndor had dropped her on the barren island and made himself scarce to give the old compatriots