The Keepers of the Keys by Kathryn Lasky

Author:Kathryn Lasky
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.

Third did not squirm or wiggle or yell out. There was no use. These were three powerful bears. The wounded one was no longer bleeding, so that meant the trail would not be so easily followed. But would Stellan, Jytte, and Froya follow? It was not that he doubted their loyalty. In fact, he hoped they would follow, but should they first go to the Brad and get help from the greenowls of Ambala? However, at this moment, Third was unsure if he was even still in the territory of Ambala. The tiny bear felt his heart race, and his breath became short, as if he couldn’t catch it. As if there was not enough air for him to breathe. Panic surged in him like a rising tide. We have all of us gone through so much—am I now to die? Shall I never see Froya, Jytte, Stellan … again?

He had to stop thinking such thoughts. He looked about. Was there any way he could escape? These bears were huge. Stellan might have been able to fight them off, but he was locked in the grip of the largest one, who was dragging him across a rutted landscape. Each time he tried to twist out of the grip, the bear tightened his paw. The pain was excruciating. He could hardly breathe. Would they really kill him if they didn’t get the key? He had to think, but he could hardly think.

“Let up a bit,” he gasped. “If I die, you’re never going to get the key.”

“Oh, they’ll get it.” An owl swooped down. “We have our methods.”

“Hireclaw scum!” Third shot back.

The owl darted in and gave him a sharp peck on his head with her beak. Third refused to cry out. Let them tear him apart. He would not waste a breath. He couldn’t waste a breath. He had to focus on breathing more steadily, more slowly, not tearing at the air as if it were raw seal meat. Slow but steady, that was what he must do. He was small, he knew it. He was scared. But he had to think, save his energy, and somehow, some way, he had to escape.

He had no idea where he was being taken. They had barely talked. But he had a feeling that the owl was directing them, showing them the way. The terrain had shifted. The ground was harder, rockier. There was nothing green, and the trees grew sparser. They appeared to be entering an entirely new landscape. Slender needles of rock thrust up into the dark and starry night. They were passing through a canyon bristling with stone. This must be the Canyonlands of St. Aegolius, a place of infamy in owl history. They had learned about it from their lessons with Otulissa. This was where the treacherous owls known as Pure Ones had dwelled and kept captive young owlets they had seized, owlnapped to serve in their wars. Soren and his friend Gylfie, an elf owl, had been snatched as very young owlets.

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