Jim Henson’s The Dark Crystal Author Quest (10 page)

Zale flicked the medallion around his neck. “Because luck is on our side.”

Eily gave him an incredulous look.

Zale said, “Normally, I believe that if there's trouble we should just ride it out. Well, this time I intend to sail on this tide all the way to the end. I'm going to that castle to save everyone one way or another, and we can save them, Eily. But I can't do it alone. Will you go with me?”

Eily smiled wiping her tears away with her sleeve. “Yes. I believe you. We can do it together.”

Zale packed so frantically that he barely remembered what he took. They still had trail rations and cheeses and other foods that would last for a few days packed from the sailing trip. He had never been to Claw Mountain, but he knew the road was long and dangerous and the way to the elders would be well hidden. He hoped that they would be able to find it. Their first destination would be the council, but one way or another it would end at the castle. While Zale packed, Eily rushed off to get her belongings.

Zale glanced at
The Seastrider
. Even though it wasn't much, it was the ship he built with his own two hands, and it represented all his hopes and dreams for his future. He felt ill at the thought of leaving it on some unknown beach, but the Skeksis would expect them to sail to a port. Even though it broke his heart to think of losing the ship, the thought of his father and Eily's family suffering at the gnarled hands of the Skeksis made it seem very insignificant.

He thought,
They're suffering because of me. If I had just listened to Eily and thrown that journal into the fire, our families would have been waiting here for us. I'm such a fool. Why did Thra choose me? Why did I have those dreams?

Zale instinctively grasped his charm and took a deep breath. As he stared into the distance, imagining the imposing crystal castle looming somewhere beyond the horizon, he knew they would need all the luck that they could get.

He shivered as he recalled Eily's words:
“Maybe Thra knows when you're going to need your luck better than you do.”

J. M. Lee

Shadows of the Dark Crystal

Early-morning sun touched the back of Ipsy's hand, warming her skin in dappled spots of gold. She dozed, submerged in a dream of colorful, scaled swimmers flitting about in cool, clear water. Their fins were like gossamer, refracting the light in sparkles of red and gold, their gills full and frilled as they darted in between each other likes ribbons. Ribbons at a festival, dancing in the air, the cascading sounds of music—

Ipsy's eyes flew open, and then she was on her feet, digging her toes into the twisted bark of the apeknot limb as she scrambled to gather her pack and her hunting spear. Neech—more furry and less slippery than the swimmers from her dream—squawked in dismay. He wrapped his limber, legless body about her shoulders to keep from falling as she grabbed a handful of apeknot vine and leaped, swinging out of the great, gnarled tree.

“Late!” she cursed aloud at herself. “Of all days to be late!”

Ipsy let go of the vine in time to land solidly on another outstretched limb and dashed along its whorled ridges. She grabbed here and there with fingers and toes as she ran along the grooves of smooth bark. When one branch ended, another was always in reach, and Ipsy made quick time through the canopy web of enormous trees, just another shadow flitting through the deep green Swamp of Sog.

She heard the glen before she saw it—the resonant sound of drums and pipes like heartbeats and the whistles of swamp creatures. Long ribbons of red, orange, blue, yellow, green, and purple streamed from the boughs of trees, and long knotted ropes strung from tree to tree. The streaks of color circled a wide glen and the music filled it, and at the heart of it all was Old Smerth, the hearthknot. The ancient tree towered over the rest of Sog, its branches and roots so big that Ipsy's entire village could be nestled and carved into the living wood.

Ipsy gave a little grunt of effort and took a flying leap from one outstretched apeknot branch toward Old Smerth's open boughs, landing with a big
THUMP
and a little
oof
. She scrambled down the limb and hopped inside the nearest entryway, a carved hole with a circular sill that had been sanded and engraved. Inside, the hall was round like a tunnel, though the color of the wood in which it was carved picked up the light coming from frequent entryways and smaller windows. Ipsy's footsteps echoed against the dry, golden passage, and she squeaked out greetings and see-you-soons as she passed Gelfling bearing woven baskets of fruit and swampweed, pickled treats and sweets. All were cloaked in the warm reds and greens of the summer festival—and here she was, still in her ranging gear!

“Mother!”

Ipsy burst into her family's chamber, stopping to lean with her hands on her knees and catch her breath. Neech gave a tiny chirp of relief, sighing with her and fluffing the fur around his neck into place. Ipsy's mother was seated on a small stool while two of Ipsy's three older sisters wound beads and colored string into her thick locs.

“Ah, Ipsumylia, good morning!” said her mother with a warm smile. “Eliona! Ipsy is here after all. Would you fetch her dress? Diara, Sammi, not too many of the white. I'm a maudra, not a bride!”

Already swathed in an embroidered cloth of deep turquoise and gold, kind eyes young with laughter and skilled hands patient with wisdom, Laesid looked every bit the maudra of the Drenchen clan. Her beautiful wings shimmered at her back like a thick cloak of indigo and green; more magnificent than even those of Ipsy's eldest sister, Eliona, who bustled in with an armful of fabric.

“Ipsy!” Eliona cried, not so forgiving as their mother. “Where have you been? Oh, we hardly have time! Have you practiced?”

Ipsy plucked a damp cloth from the basin near where her sisters were tending to their mother, and swabbed her cheeks with it. Her embarrassment for being late eased long enough for her to stand straighter, puffing out her chest.

“Of course!” she declared. “And I'm not going to forget my Words and embarrass myself like Sammi did last season!”

Sammi, only a year older, gave a little, indignant
hmph!
but otherwise did not respond, training her focus on their mother's locs. Eliona
tsk-tsk
ed and shook out the dress she'd brought, a flowing garment of blue and sea-green. Ipsy shimmied out of her ranging gear and stepped into the dress, feeling instantly magnificent. It smelled a bit musty from being in storage for a whole season, but she imagined she looked better in it than Sammi had.

“There,” Eliona said. She shooed Neech away with a gentle gesture and fussed with Ipsy's shoulder-length black locs. Ipsy looked down at herself, liking the way the colors of the dress looked against her dark olive skin. When Eliona finally smiled, flicking her iridescent, dark purple wings, Ipsy felt anxious.

“Can I wear the cloak?” she asked.

The quiet murmuring in the room went quieter still. Ipsy bit her lip, eyes going from her mother's wings to those at the shoulders of each of her three sisters. Even Sammi's had come in, though they weren't quite as beautiful as Eliona's or their mother's. Ipsy imagined standing in front of the entire Drenchen village, her shoulders still bare though every other girl her age had bloomed wings by now. It wasn't a secret that Ipsy's wings hadn't come in yet, but the thought of it being so obvious made Ipsy's courage shrink.

“Why?” Eliona asked. “You look lovely as you are.”

“Let her wear the cloak if she wants,” Laesid said. “Go on. We've no time to get unraveled with small stuff. Ipsy, love, come here.”

While Eliona rushed off, Ipsy joined her mother, who took her hands and held them.

“Ready?” Laesid asked.

“Yes,” Ipsy said with a confident nod. “Is Gurjin back yet? I want to be sure he sees me deliver the best Summer Blessing—a Blessing so wonderful he'll take stories back to the Castle to tell!”

“Gurjin would tell stories of his little cousins no matter what they did,” Laesid assured her. She smiled, then scratched Neech on the chin until he purred. “Don't be distracted trying to impress. Remember, this is for you as much as it is for the rest of the village.”

Eliona returned with the cloak that matched Ipsy's dress. Neech slithered down Ipsy's arm to make room for the mantle, a green, flowing piece that covered Ipsy's back and shoulders.

“Good!” Laesid said. She reached to the floor and grasped her crutch, leaning on it to push herself up. Hidden beneath her cloak, her missing leg would have otherwise gone unnoticed, but like Ipsy's wings, it was no secret that Maudra Laesid had lost her leg in a fierce fight with a vicious tuskin. Ipsy wondered if her mother felt the same way about her leg that Ipsy felt about not having bloomed wings.

“Off we go,” Eliona said, ushering her mother and sisters out the doorway. “Neech, you can stay with me while Ipsumylia gives her Blessing.”

Neech spread his webbed wings and gave a little flap, lifting himself from Ipsy's arm to Eliona's. He purred when she scratched his ears. Eliona held Ipsy's cheeks in her hands and gave her sister a kiss on the forehead.

“Good luck,” she said. “Remember—a Blessing is not a race, nor a contest. Take your time and the Words will come. There's as much to be said in the silence as there is to be said in song.”

Ipsy grinned and shoved Eliona with a friendly push.

“Hush, you're not maudra yet!” she teased. “I'll be fine! See you after the ceremony!”

Ipsy gathered her skirts and sprinted down the hall toward the Grand Balcony. It was harder to move about in the dress and cloak, but she didn't need to be leaping from apeknot to apeknot right now. As she neared the balcony, she could hear the excited voices and music coming from the glen down below as the rest of the Drenchen tribe waited.

Her father, Bellanji, stood at the outlet to the balcony, stout and sturdy with his hunting spear wound in ribbon and streamers. He gave her a big hug when she reached him, pounding the butt of his spear against the wood floor to signal that the ceremony was about to begin. Drummers on the balcony began an invigorating crescendo of rhythm, exciting the crowd below to cheers.

“Ready, little leaper?” her father asked.

Ipsy felt her shoulders quake once with excitement, and then her father patted her shoulder and nudged her out onto the balcony.

“You'll be wonderful.”

The sun was at its highest point now, warming the glen and shining on the smiling faces of the Gelfling scattered across the walkways and rope bridges below. Ipsy grinned broadly and waved as the drummers finished her introduction. As the jubilant beat came to a close, the Gelfling of the Drenchen tribe quieted. With all eyes on her, Ipsy suddenly felt a nervousness she hadn't expected. What if she said the wrong thing? What if she forgot all her Words and said nothing at all? She'd never hear the end of it! As the glen fell silent, waiting for her, she searched the crowd. She saw familiar faces; this was her village, and these were her people. She took in a big breath.

“Greetings, Drenchen!” she called, projecting her voice as loudly as she could. Cheers responded back to her and she felt a bit of a smile forming on her lips. Her mother had taught her that smiles changed the sound of her Words, but it was even easier when it was genuine. But now what? What came after the greeting? Oh, yes:

“I am so honored this morning to lead the Blessing and commence the Summer Festival! We have all worked so hard through the cool season. I know that every one of you—
us
—has waited for this day of celebration, when we can—
may
—reap the benefits of our hard diligence both near and far.”

Ipsy thought of her cousin, Gurjin, that moment, and she scanned the crowd quickly to see if she could pick out his face. From up on the balcony, though, it was hard to make out features. She could only hope he was down there, somewhere. The thought gave her a boost of determination; despite all his travels outside Sog, she would make him proud of their people.

“May we revel in the summer bounty. May the season be long and warm. May the apeknots grow twice as tall. May Wise Old Smerth embrace us with a thousand more rings of heartwood. May the three suns shine warmly in long days, and may we dream of beauty through peaceful, star-filled nights. May our stomachs grow fat and jolly with feast and our hearts and dreams overflow with the warmth the season brings!”

Cheers rose up, one at a time. Ipsy felt as radiant as the sun shining on a field of wildflowers bursting into bloom. It was as if her Words were magic, conjuring the same invigoration in her people that she felt in herself. She threw both hands in the air, throwing back the sleeves of her cloak with rampant enthusiasm. She shouted with joy in her lungs and the Drenchen shouted with her:

“The season is here! Let the Festival of Summer begin!”

Ipsy's mother and sisters gave big hugs and kind words when Ipsy first emerged from the heartknot. Around them, the festivities were beginning: contests, games, music, and, best of all—food. Ipsy was anxious to be part of it, but her mind was still abuzz from the excitement of giving her speech. Her mother, seated on a stoop near the foot of Old Smerth, clasped Ipsy's hand.

“You were wonderful,” Laesid exclaimed. “Just wonderful. I felt real energy in your words. How do you feel?”

“I feel in a daze,” Ipsy said. “Did it sound all right? Could you hear me?”

“Yes, yes,” Laesid said. “Especially that last bit!”

Sammi and Diara giggled a little, and even Eliona couldn't completely hide a smile. Ipsy felt her cheeks warm, but she shook off the blush with a fierce grin.

“I really meant it!” she said. “I was worried for a moment I might forget my Words, but I felt so happy, it didn't matter. And now it's time to celebrate!”

Ipsy spent the afternoon flitting between villagers, friends, and relatives, snatching a bite to eat here and there. Once or twice, she saw the broken sunlight glint off tempered steel and thought it might be Gurjin, but it was always an ornament dangling from someone's spear or a flash of light reflected off a musician's instrument. She threw feathered darts at overripe squashes and dunked her head underwater to snatch floating marsh pods in her teeth, laughing when they popped open and let loose flurries of fluffy, floating seedlings into the air like miniature clouds. Neech flew into the air and chased them, snapping his whiskered muzzle in a vain attempt to catch each one before it was lost into the young summer sky.

As the sun set, the dinner feasting tables were spread out inside the Great Hall within Old Smerth. Ipsy sat with her parents and sisters at a long table, eagerly watching servers push carts of the best traditional Drenchen fare to and fro. On each cart were three trays, each stacked with wide wood-and-leaf bowls filled past the brim with squirming delicacies: fuschia wort beetles and fermented Nebrie-milk dumplings, mushroom wing-fronds, and Ipsy's favorite—blindfish plucked from the very bottom of the swamp floor. She took her helpings by the handful as the carts passed, piling them on the wide leaf in front of her. Neech stirred from his coil around Ipsy's neck, sliding until he balanced over her shoulder, and stretched his wings before he chirped and darted out to catch a leaf-hopper that had leaped too far from the table. He munched on it lazily while the band beat on drums in the center of the dining hall; the tumultuous song resounded off Old Smerth's interior. All sorts of creatures from the swamp had heard the music, and even now they were creeping in through the carved windows and between the chair and table feet, hoping to catch a delicious bite that had fallen to the floor.

“Ipsy! My dear Ipsy, congratulations on a beautiful Blessing!”

Ipsy's aunt gave Ipsy a hug and kisses before squeezing into a place on the bench near Ipsy's father. Bellanji gave his sister a nod and offered her a leaf-wrapped dumpling, but she waved it off distractedly. In fact, it looked as if she hadn't eaten at all, which was near impossible to do when surrounded by so much food, in Ipsy's opinion.

“Thank you, Aunt Mella,” Ipsy said, remembering her manners. She looked around, waiting, but it seemed Mella was alone. “Is Gurjin with you? I still haven't seen him!”

Despite the festivities around them, Mella's mouth drew into a taut line and she wrung her hands. Ipsy felt herself frown in response; something was wrong.

“In fact, no. And I'm worried! He hasn't sent word in so long, and he's never missed a Summer Festival.”

“He's probably busy at the Castle,” Bellanji said. “It's a shame, but duty is duty. For all the banquets and feasts the Skeksis throw, they must have at least one celebration for summer.”

“It's not the same,” Mella said with a sigh. “Gurjin loves summer in the glen. He loves Nan Wimena's dumplings. He loves playing pranks on the girls after they get done hanging the streamers from the apeknots. None of that happens at the Castle.”

“What do you think could have happened to him?” Laesid asked while her husband stuffed another of Nan Wimena's dumplings in his mouth.

“Who knows, Maudra!” Mella exclaimed. “I wish he had never taken the job. He was too eager to leave Sog. The worst befalls castle guards, you know. They're the first to be in danger!”

“Part of the job,” Bellanji said. “Listen, I'm sure he's fine. Have you asked that friend of his—the Spriton? Maybe he's got a secret romance to hide. In that case, he's in more danger from you than anyone invading the Castle of the Crystal! Ha!”

Ipsy looked back and forth between her parents and her aunt. Despite her father's attempts at consolation, Mella continued to wring her hands. Ipsy wanted to believe her father, and it made the most sense; when Gurjin did return home, he always told stories of walking the Castle corridors from sundown to sunrise, of long shifts patrolling the gate and sleepless nights standing guard near the Ceremonial Chamber. It sounded boring, but not dangerous. Still, Mella was right. Gurjin had never missed a festival, and he certainly wouldn't have done it without sending word to his mother.

“It doesn't seem worth sending someone out to find him, is all I'm saying,” Bellanji continued. “He'll come home on his own when he's ready. No one here wants to leave right after a festival like this one—”

“I want to go!” Ipsy blurted, hardly realizing she'd interrupted until after she'd done it. Mella startled before her ears swiveled backward with a hint of guilt. Before her aunt could reject the offer, Ipsy added, “I'm a great aim with a slingshot!”

“Ipsy, I appreciate it, but . . .”

“But what?”

Before Mella could elaborate, Ipsy's mother mildly interjected, smoothing down the sleeve on her husband's tunic.

“Don't fret, Mella,” she said. “My gracious husband will leave to visit the Spriton village first thing tomorrow morning. He'll ask for Gurjin's friend. I'm sure she'll have an explanation. It's only two days' journey from Sog, so we'll have news before the children have finished eating tonight's leftovers.”

Bellanji huffed through his nose, but when he saw the immediate relief in his sister's eyes, he gave no more sign of reluctance. He wiped his mouth and beard on the back of his forearm and nodded gruffly.

“Right,” he said, as if it had been his idea all along.

“Oh, thank you,” Mella said. She rose and clasped her hands together, bowing at the waist and embracing her brother. “Thank you!”

Bellanji waved her off and she retired, leaving Ipsy and her family to themselves again.

“Wish she would have just asked up front!” Bellanji rumbled. “All that soft talk and roundabout! Harrumph!”

“She was trying,” Ipsy's mother said. “Thank you for going. It will calm her spirit.”

“I tell you, Gurjin's probably with the Spriton as we speak,” Bellanji continued with a sly grin. “Singing sweet songs to that Spriton girl, what's her name!”

“Jun,” Eliona said.

“Jun!” Bellanji burst into melody:
“Oh, my dear Jun, my love, my sweet! Let me take off your sandals and clean your feet! And when they are clean, I'll take you home! To the swamp, the swamp, the Swamp of Sog! Bong, bong, bo-boooong!”

Ipsy and her sisters melted into laughter. Even Eliona cracked a grin.

“Can I come with?” Ipsy asked after her father's bellowing laughter had died down. He swallowed his bite and roughed up Ipsy's hair. At first she was sure he would turn her down. He would say she was still too young, or that it wasn't worth two Gelflings' time to run an errand just to calm Aunt Mella's worries. Instead, though, he assumed a thoughtful pout and stroked his beard. Finally, he clapped his big hand on her shoulder.

“You know, why not. It's about time you left Sog,” he said. “But it won't be all fun and games. You'll need to be sharp, stay on your toes! When I took Eliona out her first time, she nearly got carried off by a flying kriknat!”

Eliona blushed and put her face in her hand. “Father, please.”

Ipsy's heart leaped. She had a brief, vivid fantasy of dashing through the swamp toward the northern border, of reaching the edge and looking out onto the endless sea of golden-green grass she'd only imagined. She turned to her mother, grabbing her sleeve. Even with her father's word, there was no way she was going without her mother's blessing.

“May I, Mother? Oh, may I?”

Laesid only smiled and patted the top of Ipsy's hand with her own. “You're asking permission, but I think your mind is already made up,” she said with a chuckle. “Could even I stop you if I wanted?”