GUARDIANS OF GAHOOLE EPUB
exigo.pro?download= LEGEND OF THE GUARDIANS: THE OWLS OF GA'HOOLE (Guardians of Ga'hoole) Kathryn Lasky pdf free. Guardians of Ga'hoole # War of the Ember (Trade Paperback / Paperback). By Lasky Guardians of Ga'Hoole #1: The Capture (EPUB ebook). By Lasky. Guardians of Ga'hoole has 41 entries in the series.
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Learn Spanish with our free online tutorials with audio, cultural notes, grammar, vocabulary, verbs drills, and links to helpful sites. She was known for her ferocity of wit and intellect, but not for such unseemly outbursts, and never ones that involved raw power. Imagine, flinging a bloody ground squirrel into the face of a ryb! He found it disturbing that Dewlap had used Otulissa to serve her, literally having her go out and hunt for food.
That did not seem right. He also felt that this could provide a major distraction for the seven of them. He did not want the Chaw of Chaws thinking about flint mops for some boring old owl. Major flint mops have to be approved by the parliament. She would also have to admit that she had been asking Otulissa to hunt food for her while on this flint mop.
I mean, the whole thing is not going to put Dewlap in the best light. I would much rather have Dewlap against me and Ezylryb on my side than the other way around. What Digger had just said made perfect sense. Now the owls would not be distracted by thoughts of flint mops.
They were all very tired from their long flight, which had been mostly against headwinds. They were ready for sleep, and soon they were all snoozing peacefully.
Except for Soren and Gylfie. They were still wide awake and discussing the strategy for their entry into the St. He was a strong fighter. That was why Skench, the Ablah General of St. But Grimble had been imperfectly moon blinked, and something in him responded to the plight of Soren and Gylfie. He taught the two young owlets how to fly so they could get away. On the harrowing night of their escape, Grimble had died, murdered while trying to help them go free.
Soren could not think of Grimble without a quiver in his gizzard and an ache in his heart. But he had to put all that aside now. Such feelings would only be a distraction. This mission was going to require everything that he and Gylfie had, plus more. They must successfully resist moon blinking, convince the owls that they had come to join the horrible evil that was St.
Boron, Barran, and Ezylryb had been very precise about the kind of information they needed. If so, were they sneaking flecks out of the library, where the flecks were stored? Second, they were to find out if the rulers of St. Previously, they had known hardly anything. When Skench had burst into the library as Gylfie and Soren were about to escape, it was only her ignorance that saved them.
The Ablah General had not known to take off her metal battle claws and full battle regalia before entering, and she, pulled by magnetic force, slammed into the wall of the library where the flecks were kept.
Although it was tempting to stay together once they were in St. To achieve their goals, the group would have to separate and spread themselves throughout the academy.
There were many divisions, including the pelletorium, the hatchery, the eggorium, and the battle claw repository. Finally, toward noon, as a dim winter sun hung in the sky, Gylfie and Soren fell asleep. The short days of brief light would afford them only a few hours of rest before the sky would begin to darken and it would be time for them to rouse themselves and face the unthinkable—the return to the most dreadful place on earth: Silverveil was a forest where immense trees hung with ivy and were clad in a thousand different kinds of moss, where oceans of ferns trembled in the ground breezes, where streams made their own sweet music as they laced their way through ancient, wooded lands.
Some said that the forests of Silverveil were so beautiful that it was as close as a living owl could ever get to Glaumora, the owl heaven, without dying. Whereas St. Soren scanned the rocks below, looking for the Great Horned entrance. This entrance was an immense boulder that perched precariously on an outcropping and was said to resemble a Great Horned Owl.
They all nodded. They lifted off and headed for the boulder of the Great Horned entrance. As they approached, two Long-eared Owls lifted off the two peaks, the horns of the boulder, that rose against the colorless winter sky. But it was the Long-eared Owls who had always served as the main guards at St.
This is the territory of St. You are now under our escort. You break formation under risk of severest penalties. They had decided that Martin would be the spokes-owl. Soren knew that both he and Gylfie had changed greatly since they had first been snatched and brought here as captives, but they did not want to risk the slightest chance that some owl might hear a familiar note in their voices or catch a recognizable glint in their eyes.
He realized how much he had learned since arriving at the great tree. It would be brains and not brawn that succeeded here, and this was a comforting thought.
Within a minute, they were sliding into the dense shadows of a deep crevice. Down, down, down they plunged, until they lighted on the gritty floor. Above, only a thin sliver of the sky was visible. There were enough bad things about St. Oftentimes it was not even visible. In just a handful of places did the sky cut through. One of these places was the glaucidium and the moon-blazing chamber, where the horrible moon-blinking procedures were endured.
Get used to it, Soren thought. This is the world of St. It was a stone world riddled with seams, slits, and slots through which owls seemed to simply disappear. Soren was looking around when he sensed that Gylfie was quivering. He looked down and saw that the little Elf Owl had edged in closer to him. Her eyes were blinking open in a staccato rhythm.
He felt her calm down. We are smarter than they are. He willed the words that took shape in his head to somehow get through to his best friend. He knew how scared she must be.
He was terribly frightened of meeting up with Aunt Finny, the old Snowy Owl who had been his pit guardian. Although the pit guardians were not considered the highest level of guards, there was something dreadful about them. They were, of all the owls of St. They were masters of falsehood.
They pretended to be warm, but it was all part of their strategy to suck a young owlet into their power. But now it seemed that Unk was no longer a pit guardian. His words, no longer jollied and honeyed, sliced the shadows of the crevice. How did you know about us? What is your purpose? In a quavering voice he began. You shall be given a number designation. Someday you might earn a name. Until then, I repeat, names mean nothing.
Hardly a minute had passed before a Western Screech stepped from the same crack, followed by an immense and ragged Great Horned Owl. It was Skench. Soren and Gylfie felt their gizzards almost split with fear. I am told you come from the Northern Kingdoms—and yet two of you are desert owls. Now tell me how desert owls found their way to the Northern Kingdoms.
And he began to tell the story they had concocted of williwaws and violent winds. Soren looked on with amazement. Martin was doing a magnificent job. He even threw in the Lobeleian current, which the St. In a brief time, Martin had laid the perfect groundwork with his cover story. The Chaw of Chaws appeared smart, but not too smart. They were owls who had seen a lot of the world and become disenchanted with the Northern Kingdoms.
Although they had not known one another before they had been sucked up into the Northern Kingdoms, they found that they had shared their dislike for the place. We are humble owls. Soren tried to imagine such a thing. But here he was, the Great Gray dipping his head submissively to Skench.
And most incredible of all, Skench was buying it!
But first they must begin the processes of the glaucidium. Soren now hoped fervently that the owls remembered all that Gylfie and he had taught them about the strategies of resistance.
Ruby began to think of Grank and the time of the endless volcanoes. She pictured the first collier flying high over the exploding cone of the volcano and fielding the fiery debris that scored the sky. Twilight thought of the Battle of the Tigers that happened in the time of the long eclipse when the huge cats that roamed the world in those ancient days went yoicks from lack of sun and began a murderous rampage.
It had been a Great Gray named Long Talon who had plunged down from the black one night and killed their leader—a tiger one hundred times his own size. The Chaw of Chaws was ready. Ready with their legends burning feverishly in their brains, ready with their courage, ready to fight the evil that was held in this dark, shadowy, skyless place.
Their blood boiled, their wits were keen, and their hearts grew bold. It would be four days until the newing began. Then the first faint glow of moon would appear like the thinnest white strand of down, a mere wisp. But each night it would grow fatter and more brilliant. They would hope for cloud cover, but the skies in the St.
Aegolius Canyons were usually clear, as it rarely rained. Their mission, of course, had been planned with this in mind. If they arrived near the end of the dwenking, the Chaw of Chaws would have four dark nights before the moon would, as it began once more to fatten and grow bright, batter their exposed heads, dull their brains, and make still their gizzards.
These four days would give them some time to figure things out. It was different being an almost mature owl as opposed to an owlet, as Soren and Gylfie were when they had last been at St.
There were only two stone pits for newly arrived larger owls, whereas there were least a dozen pits to accommodate the hundreds of owlets. Four members of the Chaw of Chaws were together in one pit, and three in another. Twilight, Soren, and Ruby were in a stone pit watched by an Eastern Screech who had just received his name, Mook, and had dispensed with his number.
He was quite full of himself, strutting around snapping commands and making dire threats about the consequences of asking questions. Wh words—what, why, when, where, or any question at all—were strictly forbidden at St. But that did not prohibit Skench from calling the seven owls out of their stone pits at various times day or night to ask them endless questions about the Northern Kingdoms.
Soren had been given the number He did remember, however, his old pit guardian Finny, or Auntie, as she had insisted on being called. She had turned out to be the most brutal owl Soren had encountered at St.
He dreaded meeting up with her again. Hortense was the most courageous owl Soren and Gylfie had ever met, but when they had first arrived, it appeared that Hortense was the most perfectly moon blinked of all the owlets.
Her number had been Odd, Soren thought. It had turned out that she was not an owlet at all, but a fully mature Spotted Owl, small for her years, with slightly crippled wings.
And she was a double agent. Assigned to the hatchery as a broody, she had been sneaking some of the eggs snatched by St. But then she had been discovered. From a split in the rock where Soren and Gylfie hid, they had witnessed the terrible battle that had raged between one of the eagles against Finny, Skench, Spoorn, Jatt, and Jutt. They could not see it all, but they could hear the horrendous fight. Soren would never forget the voice of Hortense growing dimmer and dimmer as she fell from the high outcropping, pushed, they knew, by Auntie.
Oh, Glaux! Soren did not want to see Auntie ever again. But that was not to be the case. Four days passed. Then came the first evening of sleep marches. Along with the hundreds of newly snatched owlets, the older owls were herded into the glaucidium.
They knew, perhaps not as well, the sagas of others. Martin stood near Soren and looked up at the newing moon. That I would ever fear the moon? Martin thought. How extraordinary!
He tipped his head up. There would be new constellations in this part of the world, for they were far to the south of Hoolemere and the Island of Hoole. He had learned about these constellations in navigation class with Strix Struma, the navigation ryb, but had never actually seen them or traced them with his wing tips as they did in class with her. It did not seem long before the sleep alarm sounded and the owls were required to march.
Just as Soren and Gylfie had warned, the owls were told to repeat their names as they walked. But the Chaw of Chaws very quietly did just the reverse—they repeated their numbers. This was perhaps the easiest part of their resistance strategy, for there was such a babble of voices that no one really knew what anyone else was saying.
If a sleep monitor did come near the owls, each had a fake name that he or she would say for that moment. It was a Boreal Owl with dim yellow eyes. When he passed by, Soren resumed repeating his number very quietly. Soren had planned to move his way up toward that Barn Owl.
Every Barn Owl in St. And this was perhaps the most important part of their mission: He was right next to the Barn Owl. Hundreds of owls instantly stopped repeating their names and tipped their heads back so that the small scrap of moon shone down on them.
His gizzard seemed to tingle with delight. Soren had heard him say it right before the halt was called. But now Soren had a disturbing thought.
If Flint was an infiltrator, how was he supposed to resist moon blinking? What use would a moon-blinked owl be to Kludd and the Pure Ones? He would have to discuss this with Gylfie when he got a chance. He stole a glance at Flint. How could he tell if this owl was an infiltrator? He was a Tyto alba, which was the only possible clue. But not all Tyto albas belonged to the Pure Ones, and certainly very few believed this ridiculous notion of owl purity.
Well, Soren could not think of that right now. He had chosen the very same saga that he had repeated when, as a young owlet, he and Gylfie had been taken to the moon-blazing chamber to be scalded by the light of the full moon.
Soren was bitterly disappointed that he had not been sent to work in the pelletorium, or at least the inventorium, for these places would have provided him with the most access to activities connected with flecks. Instead, he had been assigned to the eggorium, along with Martin.
Guardians of Ga'Hoole Series
Ruby had been assigned to the hatchery as a broody. Gylfie was in the pelletorium, which was good because she knew her way around there. Digger was in the inventorium along with Otulissa, and Twilight was in the armory—a seemingly perfect match. He was to learn how to polish the battle claws. As they were about to enter the eggorium, Soren turned to Martin.
Soren had told him about the hundreds upon hundreds of eggs that patrols from St. Soren had said that one of the worst things he had ever witnessed was a hatching of an owl chick at St. It was loveless, unnatural, despicable, and cruel. Martin gave a little gasp now as hundreds of white eggs of all sizes glistened in the dark. But then he felt Soren freeze beside him. A scarred old Snowy had waddled up to them. It was cloudy so that its yellow color seeped out pale and foggy.
There was a nasty gash that ran down her face and across her beak at a steep angle. It appeared to Martin like a bolt of lightning in reverse—black on white. But despite the mangled face, Soren would recognize this owl anyplace.
It was Finny. She had an odd smell about her. But now Soren saw that the reason her voice creaked was that there was another large gash like a black necklace around her throat. Great Glaux, thought Soren. Finny might have killed Hortense, but the eagle certainly did a job on Finny. Is she looking funny at me? Does she recognize me? Got a passel of Barn Owl eggs. Soren was familiar with this and although his gizzard was quivering madly, he managed to pretend to pay attention and nod as she explained that they were to look for eggs of their own species and roll these eggs into a designated area.
Being moss tenders would give them greater range of movement. They would not only spend time in the eggorium, but in the hatchery where Ruby, as a broody, was sitting on a nest. Soren and Martin worked hard and efficiently for several hours, rolling egg upon egg to the designated areas. Maybe this will lead to something.
None of the seven had yet discovered anything substantial about Barn Owl infiltrators. The jagged scar gleamed darkly on her face. You shall now be permitted to work, on occasion, as moss tenders.
You shall begin tonight. With the additional duties, you have earned additional dietary supplements. I think it will be a treat.
That will set you up just fine, dearies. Soren saw him flinch. There was something even scarier about Finny when she was being all honey-beaked and charming because Soren knew it was false. And there was always a price to pay. She might slip you an extra piece of vo le, or one of the plump rock rats that scurried through the canyons, but then you were expected to give her something in return—information, or perhaps to spy and report to her.
That was the way it worked and, little by little, an owl dug himself in deeper, owing her more, making himself more vulnerable to her power, deceit, and brutality. Nonetheless, they had no choice now.
This is what they had wanted and this is what they got. At least they would get to see Ruby in the hatchery. But it would not be until their third day as moss tenders that they would have a good opportunity to speak with Ruby. Moss tender! Attention, please! She was broody on a nest of Barn Owl eggs. There was never any attempt to match up the species of the broody with that of the egg.
El Rescate / The Rescue (Los Guardianes De Ga'hoole / Guardians Of Ga'hoole) (Spanish Edition)
It seemed that they tried their best to avoid matching up the broody with the type of eggs. Love was not part of hatching. These chicks were not supposed to love; they were supposed to obey. And the other, I know, will fetch me that rat from the crack over there where I just saw the tail of one disappear. He and Martin had managed a few fleeting conversations with Ruby before the end of this third day as moss tenders.
But this was the first time that she had actually called them over. The previous day she had been sitting on Spotted Owl eggs.
But they had hatched out, and she had been assigned to a new nest. The other Barn Owl seemed relieved to not have to fetch anything for the broody. Broodies were treated well.
They were constantly being offered a great array of delicacies and nutritious foods that the other owls hardly ever saw. Ruby nodded toward two Barn Owl moss tenders who were tucking in bits of moss and dry grass into some nests on the far side of the hatchery. Oh, the sound of those wh words were like honey in his beak.
He could almost taste them! Ruby stirred in her nest. Because she was such a superb flier, she was able to loft herself very quickly into a low hover inches above the nest. Martin and Soren gasped. Deep amid the woven twigs and grasses of the nest were three eggs.
Between them, in the strands of moss, glinting fiercely, were small sparkling bits. The truth suddenly broke upon Soren like a clap of thunder. There were infiltrators.
They had somehow escaped being moon blinked. They had gained control of at least some of the flecks—but why were they weaving them into the moss that they poked into the nests? What could flecks do in a nest with unhatched eggs? Soren felt his gizzard grow still and cold.
I am sure! I must get to Gylfie. If only we were in the same pit! And there was still so much of the day left.
It would be hours until tween time, when they could return to their pits. Their gizzards twisted painfully, and they both thought they might yarp. She had been working there for several days with Digger and two other owls. When the trays were filled, they were taken for storage in the library. But she, Digger, and the other two owls—a Barn Owl and a Whiskered Screech—were not permitted any farther than the entrance to the library.
Once there, they would hand over the trays to Skench or Spoorn, the only owls allowed in the library. Otulissa and Digger wanted to know more about this library, which was so heavily guarded. Flecks slipped away all the time from the inventorium. Otulissa had figured this out just the night before.
She had not yet been able to tell Soren. But this Barn Owl, , while on duty, had slipped some to another Barn Owl. Otulissa was sure was an infiltrator, and she planned to watch her closely. Otulissa had become a master of disguising questions as statements in order to extract information.
She and Digger had planned a small dialogue between the two of them that they hoped would encourage the two other owls to contribute some information. Digger yawned elaborately. You know, a Burrowing Owl like myself never minds a long walk. What a shame it is forbidden.
Ah, it worked! Otulissa thought at once. The statement was drawing out an answer to a question unasked. An owl who had betrayed Skench and Spoorn was killed, and Skench, through some strange event, was made powerless.
When an owl went yeep, its wings seemed to lock. It lost its instinct to fly and would suddenly plummet to the ground. What does she have to be snooty about after all? But she was soon to find out. All right, Digger thought, time for you to show off what you know, Otulissa.
Gently, gently. It was magic. It was higher magnetics, probably a typical higher magnetic reaction. It was clear to both Digger and Otulissa that she was dying to ask a question. Otulissa took pity on her and fed her just a bit more. She looked almost in pain as she tried to contain the unasked question.
Later, after Digger and Otulissa had finished their work, they were able to talk in private on their way back to their stone pit. Where is she sneaking them to? How would the Pure Ones get them? We need to talk to Soren. The moon had dwenked again, and it would be another two days until they could meet up with the other owls in the glaucidium when the moon-blinking process would begin again.
In the meantime, they were allowed to sleep in their stone pits. Otulissa was startled when, in the middle of a very pleasant dream of swooping through a verdant forest on the track of a plump vole, she was nudged gently by her stone pit guardian. He was a large oafish Great Gray who liked his charges to call him Cubby.
In the tradition of all the pit guardians, he was always promising Otulissa extra treats. You were sleeping so nicely. The air always seemed dead, for nary a breeze stirred so deep in this rockbound place. And when one was required to fly, it was usually straight up from the ground with powerful wing flaps. Otulissa had never been there before, but she had heard talk of it. Now Cubby led her into a wider space and began to spread his wings. His span was immense as all Great Grays, and the wafts of air shook the comparatively small Spotted Owl.
Otulissa decided to take advantage of the moving air and launch herself onto its billows. It would be easier to gain altitude on these drafts than on the still, unmoving air. The two owls spiraled upward. A pale rose-colored stone needle projected horizontally out from the cliff, piercing the air.
Two Great Horned owls stood as guards. They nodded to Cubby and Otulissa as they lighted down. What could Skench and Spoorn possibly want with me? Otulissa wondered. Not more about the Northern Kingdoms, and never before in their cliff cave. Every other time it had been down in one of the pits.
Otulissa stepped into the cave and blinked. A white, heart-shaped face seemed suspended in the dim light of the cave. Otulissa blinked again, this time in confusion.
It was , the Barn Owl, the infiltrator. You know all that nonsense about the Pure Ones. She had thought that , or Uklah, was a spy for the Pure Ones. But whose side was she on?
All Barn Owls. All Barn Owls immediately fall under suspicion. The Pure Ones are dying to get at our flecks.
They want to take over the St. Aegolius Canyons. What is going on here? The flecks she sneaks out are tucked into nests by the spy moss tenders in the hatchery, the nests with Barn Owl eggs. We retrieve them during shift changes. There are two other Barn Owls who work as double agents up there.
They pull out the stolen flecks for us. But she had to guess that putting magnetic materials into nests with eggs could cause a major disturbance in the gizzards or the brains of unhatched chicks. And Soren had told them about how that brave owl Hortense had felt that the reason she was so small for an owl of her age was due to the large deposits of flecks that run through the creeks of Ambala. Perhaps flecks in the nest would cause the Barn Owl chicks to resist moon blinking and to identify in some way with the Pure Ones.
Now Otulissa swiveled her head toward Uklah and carefully began to phrase her question as a statement. Be the first to like this.
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The River of Wind (Guardians of Ga'Hoole, n. 13) by Kathryn Lasky...
She looked almost in pain as she tried to contain the unasked question. Rites of Way: Gylfie was in the pelletorium, which was good because she knew her way around there. Click to remove ads. Guardians of Ga'Hoole 2: Soren blinked at them in dismay, and they seemed equally puzzled as to why they had been called. English for Business Studies Student's Book: Remember, St.
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