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

her only son, Cody. The depth of Namara’s loathing for this owl was unfathomable. Her only regret was that Nyra would not be in the Ice Palace with those heinous eggs so that she could personally put an end to her, too.
    But she must rid herself of such distracting thoughts. Her mission was clear. The clan of the MacNamaras was to first destroy the eggs that would hatch the hagsfiends and then, if possible, to kill the Dragon Court owls who were brooding and guarding them. Coryn had selected them for this mission for three reasons: The first was their extraordinary sense of smell, which was vastly superior to that of owls. So although the intricate passages behind the walls of the ice cliffs that led deep into the Ice Palace were seemingly impenetrable,Coryn realized that with their extraordinary olfactory sense, the wolves were the best suited to find the path to the eggs. He remembered reading in the legends of the stench of hagsfiends. Surely their eggs would bear traces of that malodorous scent, and surely Namara and her clan wolves could find them. The second reason Coryn had chosen the MacNamara clan was that they were the fiercest of all the clans. Many creatures who have endured cruelty become as abusive as their abusers—but not the wolves of Namara’s clan. They were exceedingly tough but had a profound sense of justice and mercy. And the third reason to dispatch these wolves as a slink melf was their unparalleled tactical intuition. Before Coryn had come to this decision he reread the chapter in the legend The Coming of Hoole that described when Grank had taken the young king to the Beyond to learn from Fengo. Under Fengo he witnessed the genius of wolves on the hunt. Coryn, too, had been reflecting on this tactical brilliance for some time now. It was what led Coryn to seek Namara.
    The wolves were in the water again after leaving the eastern shore of the H’rathghar glacier. Namara now turned into the straits of the Ice Talons. She was at the head of the byrrgis. It was a basic formation reconfigured for water passage. In this way they “broke track” inthe water in much the same way they broke track when hunting in deep snow. At exactly the same moment, all the five wolves in this front rank detected the first tendril of the foul odor seeping from a fissure in the ice wall. Namara quickly did a wind check and calculated that this fissure must be catching a back draft from behind the cliff. This back draft would lead them to the schneddenfyrrs.
    Almost undetectably, a series of signals passed among the wolves. They clambered out of the water and up the narrow ledges that rimmed the strait of the Ice Cliffs and began searching out possible entryways. Meticulous in their scent markings, each wolf left a coded trail for the next wolf of the clan to follow as they began splitting off toward different entrances into the ice cliffs.
    Coryn had told Namara that this war—the War of the Ember—would be fought on many fronts. And that the first front and the most vital was here in the Ice Talons. He had told Namara and her clan of the legends, of how the wolves had defeated the hagsfiends in the Desert of Kuneer. Coryn’s words stirred an ancient clan memory and a ferocious pride within them. It was said that wolves were very superstitious and often distrustful. Namara knew this was their reputation. Perhaps it was true. She would never argue that it wasn’t, but now,as something deep within her stirred, she wondered if it was not so much superstition as this memory, this deep clan memory. She could almost feel that battle from one thousand years before in the desert. She narrowed her eyes and saw a thin stream of green light score the ice walls. “Cast your green! Cast your green!” It was an ancient voice from ancient times, the time of the legends.
    There was a terrible shriek. Then an immense flapping sound. It was Blair. Her ear had been ripped from her head and was dangling over her eye. Her mouth gushed blood. The ice passage was turning red. Blue feathers spun through frigid air, and blades of moonlight slashed through the maelstrom of blood and feathers and the fetid muck of monstrous eggs. And so the first front in the War of the Ember opened.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The Second Front
    H igh over the Ice Talons two divisions of owls scraped across the nearly full-shine moon, heading in a southwesterly direction. Some were gaudily festooned in colorfully dyed feathers. They were the kraals.