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

had never known, even as a collier diving into forest fires. These flames were different. But he thought, We are colliers, Coryn and I. Nyra is not! We can do this! Deeper and deeper they flew into the very heart of the eruption, skimming the boiling red-black sea of the crater. Not only did they have to dodge flames but crashing waves of molten lava. Why in the name of Glaux has Coryn lured Nyra to this location? Then it suddenly dawned on Soren. He thinks no enemy troops will follow.
    They arrived at a clear space where the tunnels of flames opened. And just at that same moment, there was a smear of blue. The Striga! The blue owl appeared suddenly through a gap in the wall of flames. He flew to Nyra’s side. Nyra swelled in his presence. Soren saw her eyes brighten. Great Glaux! Yellow poured from her eyes for a second time during this long battle. Could she control it or did it happen without her willing it?
    At that moment, Coryn flew toward both the owls, then went into a hover a short distance from his mortal enemies, his mother and the Striga. Soren felt his gizzard lock. Was he snagged in the fyngrot? He saw his nephew slowly extend his talon with the ember almost like an offering as he dipped down in obeisance. Theshe-winds started to blow and, like maverick tendrils shorn from the main body of the wind, gusts began to seep through the fissures between the flames, disturbing the already confusing air currents. In another two seconds, it would be nearly impossible to fly. Coryn knew he had to act now. He moved in on the two owls.
    Tucked under his port wing, Soren carried an ice splinter. He watched carefully, hoping that Coryn could maneuver the owls so he could get a clear shot at either Nyra or the Striga. Suddenly, Soren realized that the ember Coryn held out was a counterfeit, and that the Striga and Nyra did not know this. They were transfixed by the ember. Nyra came closer and closer. If she will only turn just a bit, Soren thought, I will have a clear shot at her.
    “At last, an obedient son,” Nyra hissed as she flew closer, extending her own fire-clawed talon. And just as she took the ember, to draw her attention Soren shouted, “It’s fake!” Her eyes opened in horror as she turned toward him, her chest exposed. Now or never! Soren launched the ice splinter directly at her chest. There was a small spurt of blood, then a gush. The splinter had buried itself deep in her heart. She looked again in horror, first at Soren and then Coryn. For a moment sheseemed suspended between two columns of flames, and then she said, “You cheated me, your own mother.”
    “You dare call yourself my mother?” Coryn said evenly.
    Nyra lurched forward. Soren thought he saw Coryn flinch.
    The Striga rushed in and swept under Nyra. He was trying to support her from below. But suddenly, the she-winds were raking through the flames and the scalding waves from the lava sea were rising higher. In the next moment a crest of the lava sea broke and took her with it. The Striga had slid away in the nick of time. “Out of here! Coryn!” Soren cried. “We have to get out. The she-winds are building!”
    “Follow him!” Coryn cried out. “Follow the Striga!”
    “Let him go, Coryn! Let him go!”
    “Never!” Coryn shouted. He was flying like an owl possessed. Soren would not let him give chase alone. But suddenly the air was clear. They were out from the hot fiery breath of the volcano and the tumult of the she-winds and yet… My Glaux, I am flying through blood! Soren thought. Blood! How can this be?
    And then he saw it! The blood was streaming from Coryn’s port wing. The wing hung at an odd angle. Hisflight was unbalanced. The Striga wheeled about and was advancing on Coryn.
    “No!” screeched Soren. He roared in and, with the ancient battle claws of Ezylryb extended, raked off the head of the Striga. The blue head spun off in one direction, the body in another. But there was something else. The tawny bloodstained wing of a Barn Owl swirled almost lazily to the ground. “Coryn! Coryn!” Soren watched, his gizzard quaking as Coryn plummeted. Soren flew to him and, with his battle claws still extended, caught his nephew and cradled him in those claws as if he were a chick just out of the shell.
    A strange stillness settled upon the battlefield. Had the fighting stopped? Soren did not know, did not care. He landed at the base of the volcano and laid Coryn gently among the embers. Suddenly, the Band was by his