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

weaker.
    “Because I am lame.”
    “Well, I’m not shunning you. You’re important. You cleaned up my blood with that tongue of yours. It’s a rough tongue. Good for polishing. You go get your brothers and your sisters. And you tell them that the quartermaster, that’s me, Quentin, Barred Owl. Strix varia… ”
    “For Glaux’s sake, you don’t have to give your species, Q. Save your breath.”
    But Q paid him no attention. His amber eyes were set on Patches’ green eyes. “Get those wolves now. In the back of the cave are four dozen ice shields. Start licking them. Lick them until they glow, until they are burnished, then set them out.” Painfully, he turned his head now toward Coryn. He closed his eyes and spoke. “I want those shields to flash, flash brilliantly, blindingly…do…you…understand? Dawn’s about to break. Thearmory faces east—the rising sun. Do…you…understand?”
    Coryn did! And it was just then he noticed the trickle of blood coming from behind Q’s head. He heard Patches gasp, for the wolf saw it at the same time. “Don’t lick it.” Q said in a low, rough whisper. “Save your spit, lad.” There was a rough billowy hiccup sound, then quiet. A slight breeze seemed to pass through the cave. Gone, he’s gone! Coryn thought. The old quartermaster is… But before he could complete the thought, Patches was racing from the cave.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The Last Glow
    F rom her command position outside the yondos, Nyra squinted into the rising sun. The glare was ferocious. Not only did the sun burn, but two east-facing volcanoes, Dunmore and Morgan, had begun to erupt sporadically. The glare of the flames intensified. The battleground became quiet for the moment. “We shall hold off for now. We need to regain our strength and wait for reinforcements,” Nyra shouted to her troops.
    Next to her the Striga perched. He leaned over and whispered to her, “Just eighteen more hours, and then, my dear…”
    Nyra once again silently railed at the intimacy of the Striga’s tone. It had no place on a battlefield. “Yes, eighteen more hours until the great hatching. And you feel the first flight could come almost immediately?”
    “Yes, I am certain.”
    The hours of the day crept by slowly. In each camp the leaders, though exhausted, could not rest. Corynwas in deep discussion with his uncle and the rest of the Band.
    “So,” Soren said, turning to Hamish. “As far as we know there’s been no news from the slink melf as to whether they arrived at the Ice Talons.”
    “I doubt they would send any word back. The only way we would know is if someone spotted Namara and her clan of wolves swimming across the Everwinter Sea and up the straits.”
    “So we must simply wait,” Digger said ominously.
    A young lieutenant from the Frost Beaks appeared. It was a Scops Owl, tiny, with delicate talons. “A message from the enemy: They want to parley.”
    “It could be a trick,” Otulissa said immediately.
    “Could be, yes,” Coryn said. But he was anxious to hear what they had to say. Was it time for Operation Death Lure? He swiveled his head toward Hamish, who since the war had begun, had become an indispensable advisor because of his knowledge of the territory.
    “We can send a wolf guard with you. I would advise meeting them on the high ridgeline just outside the Hot Gates,” Hamish said.
    “No,” Coryn said. “I will take only my uncle, Soren.”
    Coryn and Soren flew to the ridge. Nyra and the Striga faced them on another ridge.
    “Listen to me,” Nyra shouted out. “Do not think that because we are outside the Hot Gates of the Sacred Ring we have retreated. Clever of you to polish those ice shields. But the dawn dies as the sun rises. And reinforcements come. By noon tomorrow your flame squadron, your Strix Struma Strikers, your Frost Beaks will be finished because our hagsfiends will blot out the sun and you will die.”
    “Then we shall fight you in the shade!” Coryn replied.
    “Be sensible. Lay down your weapons.” The Striga stepped forward on the perch.
    “Come and get them,” Coryn said in a deadly voice that rang out. A wild cheer went up from the colliers of the Sacred Ring. “Our parley is over!”
    As they flew back, Soren glanced at the shields. Nyra was right. This trick would only work at dawn, but he thought, Supposing we could form a phalanx of ice shields, overlapping ice shields that could be strategically moved? A mobile unit? The hagsfiends’