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he wants ach, hordo.”
“Hordo?” Snorri repeated.
“Ja, ja.” Moss nodded. “And,” he said, looking up from the paper at the young owls again, “he wants that you should be trained in the art of the ice sword.”
“Ice sword!” Twilight nearly jumped out of his feathers. “Great Glaux, ice swords! I can’t wait. He really said that?” Twilight craned his head so he might better see the paper that Moss held.
“Ja, ja, and he said that the Great Gray would be particularly excited, he did.” He paused again and looked at Twilight. “And so you are, I see. We shall go to Dark Fowl Island for the training.”
“Dark Fowl! Where the rogue smith Orf lives?” Twilight said. “I thought we were only going there for battle claws. But training with ice swords!” Soren thought Twilight would burst with excitement.
It is all starting to make sense, Soren thought. That’s what the rest of the letter must have said. We are not here just to get recruits for the invasion but to learn how to fight like the owls of the Northern Kingdoms, with ice swords.
“Yes, you are to be trained. We can go now,” Moss said.
So he has agreed to train us, but we are so few, Soren thought. What about the Frost Beaks and the Glauxspeed division? Dare I ask?
“But it’s almost dawn,” Digger said. The nights were so short this far north at this time of the year that there was hardly time to fly. The sun was already glimmering on the horizon. “What about crows?”
With this, Moss, Snorri, and Svall began to laugh. When the polar bear laughed there was a great deal of sloshing in the water. Ice floes crunched against one another and waves broke over the rocks on which the owls perched. “Very few crows around here, and if they come we fly low, and—Svall, show them what you do.”
A glint sparkled in the bear’s dark brown eyes. And then with a mighty roar that shook icicles from the cliffs, the bear broke from the water and waved his arms and immense paws. The owls’ beaks dropped open in astonishment. They were stunned by the sheer hugeness of this bear. He was at least ten feet tall. For a brief instant, his white immensity was silhouetted against the blazing orange of the rising sun. He then plopped back into the water and waves crashed, sending spume flying up severalfeet into the air. A crow wouldn’t have a chance against those big, swatting paws.
Now the owls were really excited. It was very seldom that they flew during the daylight hours, and in this strange treeless white land with its sea of ice veined with water leads, it would be a fantastic new experience. They were all excited; that is, except Soren.
“Uh, just a minute,” Soren said. His voice was tight. “I just want to know one thing, sir,” he said, looking directly at Moss. “You have agreed to train us. But we are merely seven owls in all. Hardly enough to do much damage.”
“You shall teach others when you return to the great tree.”
Soren was getting that sinking feeling in his gizzard. “But what about the Frost Beaks and the Glauxspeed division?”
“Aah, that is a big decision. It must wait until the parliament convenes.”
But there isn’t time! Soren thought desperately. There isn’t time! He watched as the owls spread their wings and lifted off. Was he the only one of the band that found this uncertainty unbearable? Soren blinked and flapped his wings once, twice, and then rose from the rock to follow the rest of the band and the two Snowies.
The four young owls, flanked by Moss and the skog named Snorri, set their course for Dark Fowl Island. Beneath them swam Svall, gliding through the water with an unmatched grace, softly batting away ice floes that intruded upon his path. The sun slid above the horizon like a thin coin gilding the water with reflected light. The bright reflection of the sun turned the dark water to a molten gold that flowed between the ice floes.
By full morning, the water sparkled a fierce blue, the
“Hordo?” Snorri repeated.
“Ja, ja.” Moss nodded. “And,” he said, looking up from the paper at the young owls again, “he wants that you should be trained in the art of the ice sword.”
“Ice sword!” Twilight nearly jumped out of his feathers. “Great Glaux, ice swords! I can’t wait. He really said that?” Twilight craned his head so he might better see the paper that Moss held.
“Ja, ja, and he said that the Great Gray would be particularly excited, he did.” He paused again and looked at Twilight. “And so you are, I see. We shall go to Dark Fowl Island for the training.”
“Dark Fowl! Where the rogue smith Orf lives?” Twilight said. “I thought we were only going there for battle claws. But training with ice swords!” Soren thought Twilight would burst with excitement.
It is all starting to make sense, Soren thought. That’s what the rest of the letter must have said. We are not here just to get recruits for the invasion but to learn how to fight like the owls of the Northern Kingdoms, with ice swords.
“Yes, you are to be trained. We can go now,” Moss said.
So he has agreed to train us, but we are so few, Soren thought. What about the Frost Beaks and the Glauxspeed division? Dare I ask?
“But it’s almost dawn,” Digger said. The nights were so short this far north at this time of the year that there was hardly time to fly. The sun was already glimmering on the horizon. “What about crows?”
With this, Moss, Snorri, and Svall began to laugh. When the polar bear laughed there was a great deal of sloshing in the water. Ice floes crunched against one another and waves broke over the rocks on which the owls perched. “Very few crows around here, and if they come we fly low, and—Svall, show them what you do.”
A glint sparkled in the bear’s dark brown eyes. And then with a mighty roar that shook icicles from the cliffs, the bear broke from the water and waved his arms and immense paws. The owls’ beaks dropped open in astonishment. They were stunned by the sheer hugeness of this bear. He was at least ten feet tall. For a brief instant, his white immensity was silhouetted against the blazing orange of the rising sun. He then plopped back into the water and waves crashed, sending spume flying up severalfeet into the air. A crow wouldn’t have a chance against those big, swatting paws.
Now the owls were really excited. It was very seldom that they flew during the daylight hours, and in this strange treeless white land with its sea of ice veined with water leads, it would be a fantastic new experience. They were all excited; that is, except Soren.
“Uh, just a minute,” Soren said. His voice was tight. “I just want to know one thing, sir,” he said, looking directly at Moss. “You have agreed to train us. But we are merely seven owls in all. Hardly enough to do much damage.”
“You shall teach others when you return to the great tree.”
Soren was getting that sinking feeling in his gizzard. “But what about the Frost Beaks and the Glauxspeed division?”
“Aah, that is a big decision. It must wait until the parliament convenes.”
But there isn’t time! Soren thought desperately. There isn’t time! He watched as the owls spread their wings and lifted off. Was he the only one of the band that found this uncertainty unbearable? Soren blinked and flapped his wings once, twice, and then rose from the rock to follow the rest of the band and the two Snowies.
The four young owls, flanked by Moss and the skog named Snorri, set their course for Dark Fowl Island. Beneath them swam Svall, gliding through the water with an unmatched grace, softly batting away ice floes that intruded upon his path. The sun slid above the horizon like a thin coin gilding the water with reflected light. The bright reflection of the sun turned the dark water to a molten gold that flowed between the ice floes.
By full morning, the water sparkled a fierce blue, the
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