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the other Spotted Owl speaking now. Gragg could tell by the slightly baying tone she used. Sounded very hoity-toity to him. He could not understand all of the Hoolian but enough, and occasionally the Spotted Owl would speak Krakish with Cleve. He had to admit her Krakish was pretty good, as right now when she explained that one could not simply talk to these owls who called themselves the Pure Ones.
As he listened to the owls, Gragg began to realize that this invasion they spoke of really could be his chance to redeem himself and Ifghar. But, in all honesty, he knew that he was thinking of himself more than Ifghar. He, after all, was considered just a no-snake from the provincial backwater of Slonk. All the other Kielian snakes looked down on those from Slonk. Slonkish, they called them. But hadn’t he proven himself when he had flown with Ifghar? Hadn’t he seen action at the Tridents and all over Firthmore, not to mention the battle of the Ice Dagger? Hadn’t he served well before they had turned feather and scale to fight for the League of the Ice Talons? But a snake from Slonk could get nowhere within the Kielian League. They were all so snooty. Just thinking of it made him wish that he could have a tot of bingle juice.
But no. He would not succumb to temptation. If he could make a new life for himself and Ifghar where they would be recognized for the truly distinguished creatures they were… My liege. Yes I used to call him that, for Ifghar was my lord and I was his vassal. And I vowed to serve. But it all went wrong after the League of the Ice Talons lost. Oh, he and Ifghar had tried to rally them to fight once more. But they wouldn’t. Bylyric, the old Snowy commander of the Ice Talons, wanted nothing to do with them. In his defeat, he had turned against them, blaming the turnfeather owl and the turnscale snake for everything. Those last scalding words of Bylyric still made Gragg shiver. You know what we do with turnfeathers and turnscales, don’t ye? We turn them out!
And that was exactly what they had done. But now there was a chance. And Lyze was still alive! That was the most important thing of all. Lyze, whom these owls called Ezylryb, lived. And Ifghar still nurtured his deep hatred for his brother.
So, Gragg thought, all we need to do is find out exactly what these Guardians are planning, and then alert the Pure Ones. If they then defeat Lyze and the Guardians—because of the invaluable information that we brought to them—well, would not these Pure Ones honor us as true heroes deserved to be honored? Both glory and vengeance will be ours!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Island of Dark Fowl
T hat’s it, Twilight, that’s it! Slash down on the diagonal.” Moss and Orf, the blacksmith of Dark Fowl, were perched on a jutting needle of rock while Twilight fenced with a member of the Glauxspeed unit. Their ice swords were swaddled with lichens and mosses so as not to cause injury.
All the owls of the Chaw of Chaws were back now from their individual missions. Some of these missions had been less successful than others. Soren was acutely aware of this. Otulissa perhaps had the most success. In the library, she had discovered some vital information concerning something called cold fire. Martin and Ruby felt that Hoke of Hock would indeed speak passionately for their cause when the parliament convened and had even received Hoke’s assurances that he would begin the groundwork as only these snakes could do with the other Kielian snakes. But Soren had received no assurances andno indication that Moss would speak passionately to the parliament.
For two days now, the young owls had been training on the island of Dark Fowl under the tutelage of Moss and Orf. Owls from two of the most elite forces, the Frost Beaks and the Glauxspeed units, had been called in to spar with them as they learned the use of ice in combat. Twilight, of course, was in ecstasy. “Just think of it, Soren,” he kept saying. “The weapons
As he listened to the owls, Gragg began to realize that this invasion they spoke of really could be his chance to redeem himself and Ifghar. But, in all honesty, he knew that he was thinking of himself more than Ifghar. He, after all, was considered just a no-snake from the provincial backwater of Slonk. All the other Kielian snakes looked down on those from Slonk. Slonkish, they called them. But hadn’t he proven himself when he had flown with Ifghar? Hadn’t he seen action at the Tridents and all over Firthmore, not to mention the battle of the Ice Dagger? Hadn’t he served well before they had turned feather and scale to fight for the League of the Ice Talons? But a snake from Slonk could get nowhere within the Kielian League. They were all so snooty. Just thinking of it made him wish that he could have a tot of bingle juice.
But no. He would not succumb to temptation. If he could make a new life for himself and Ifghar where they would be recognized for the truly distinguished creatures they were… My liege. Yes I used to call him that, for Ifghar was my lord and I was his vassal. And I vowed to serve. But it all went wrong after the League of the Ice Talons lost. Oh, he and Ifghar had tried to rally them to fight once more. But they wouldn’t. Bylyric, the old Snowy commander of the Ice Talons, wanted nothing to do with them. In his defeat, he had turned against them, blaming the turnfeather owl and the turnscale snake for everything. Those last scalding words of Bylyric still made Gragg shiver. You know what we do with turnfeathers and turnscales, don’t ye? We turn them out!
And that was exactly what they had done. But now there was a chance. And Lyze was still alive! That was the most important thing of all. Lyze, whom these owls called Ezylryb, lived. And Ifghar still nurtured his deep hatred for his brother.
So, Gragg thought, all we need to do is find out exactly what these Guardians are planning, and then alert the Pure Ones. If they then defeat Lyze and the Guardians—because of the invaluable information that we brought to them—well, would not these Pure Ones honor us as true heroes deserved to be honored? Both glory and vengeance will be ours!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Island of Dark Fowl
T hat’s it, Twilight, that’s it! Slash down on the diagonal.” Moss and Orf, the blacksmith of Dark Fowl, were perched on a jutting needle of rock while Twilight fenced with a member of the Glauxspeed unit. Their ice swords were swaddled with lichens and mosses so as not to cause injury.
All the owls of the Chaw of Chaws were back now from their individual missions. Some of these missions had been less successful than others. Soren was acutely aware of this. Otulissa perhaps had the most success. In the library, she had discovered some vital information concerning something called cold fire. Martin and Ruby felt that Hoke of Hock would indeed speak passionately for their cause when the parliament convened and had even received Hoke’s assurances that he would begin the groundwork as only these snakes could do with the other Kielian snakes. But Soren had received no assurances andno indication that Moss would speak passionately to the parliament.
For two days now, the young owls had been training on the island of Dark Fowl under the tutelage of Moss and Orf. Owls from two of the most elite forces, the Frost Beaks and the Glauxspeed units, had been called in to spar with them as they learned the use of ice in combat. Twilight, of course, was in ecstasy. “Just think of it, Soren,” he kept saying. “The weapons
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