Shadows of the Dark Crystal (13 page)

“When single shine the triple suns,” he whispered, so quietly it had to be to himself. And then she heard nothing but his breathing as he fell asleep. Soon after, she followed.

E
ven on the hard floor, Naia slept soundly for the first night since she had left the swamp. She dreamed of flying through the awakening branches of the Cradle-Tree, and when she woke, her back and shoulders ached. urVa was nowhere to be seen, though a kettle of water was heating over the hearth, and Naia smelled herbs and spices steeping in the iron pot. Kylan was already awake, sitting in front of urVa's wall of writing and studying it with such intensity she thought new words might be dream-etched from his gaze.

She rose, stretching the rest of her body and looking across urVa's etchings and writing again, now that morning had come. Golden sunlight lit nearly every corner of the sparse cozy den. She wondered if there were others of his kind nearby. From the limited belongings he kept, it was hard for Naia to believe he was completely solitary. Life in Sog was very different, with every family keeping their own stock of meat and preserves, ranging gear and ceremonial garments, spears and
bola
, trinkets and family treasure. The Spriton had lived in communion with one another, too, each village hut full of material evidence of life and family and the village as a whole. Even the Podling burrow they'd found had had that same proof . . . but should urVa one day pass away,
or leave for another place, the only thing left of him would be the bare walls with the writing Naia couldn't read. And even then, it wouldn't take long for the wild and the elements to eat away those as well, and then there would be no record he had existed at all.

“Have some
ta
.”

Naia nearly jumped at the sound of urVa's voice. Despite his size and dragging tail, he was surprisingly stealthy and was already halfway across the small den's space, heading toward the kettle. As he walked, his spine snaked in a liquid motion from his head to his tail, giving his entire body a limber movement that contradicted his bulk. He lifted the hot iron kettle in his bare hand and poured the steaming water into three stone cups arranged in a triangle on the windowsill. As the water hit the herbs within, the steam changed from white to a powder-red, and Naia's mouth watered at the sour, sweet, spicy scent. She accepted the cup urVa gave her, holding the warming stone in her chilly hands.

“Did you sleep well?” When she nodded, he added, “I wake to watch the Brothers rise. All three were in the sky this morning. For but a short time . . . though it will grow longer, mm.”

“Is it that strange for all three to be in the sky?”

“Strange?” urVa echoed, tilting his big head. “No, very natural. It may seem strange in the short time, but in the long time, it is no stranger than day and night.”

“In the long time . . . Why? How often does it happen?”

urVa pointed at the shape that Kylan had called the Great Conjunction, then took a sip of his
ta
and said nothing more. Whether he didn't know, hadn't understood the question, or
simply wouldn't answer, Naia wasn't sure. She tried a sip of the hot drink and was rewarded with a tangy flavor similar to the alfen fruit back home. Though she knew in the back of her mind that time—and Gurjin's trial—would not wait for her to enjoy every chance to pause, she set the thought aside for just a moment of rest.

“We're headed to the Black River,” she said. “Do you know if we're very far? Could you give us directions?”

urVa looked out the window.

“Yes . . . ,” he said. Naia waited to hear the directions she hoped would follow, but instead of words, urVa picked up his stringed staff and the satchel of spears and rose from his stool. “Shall we go now?”

Naia grabbed her pack and shook Kylan by the shoulder as urVa left without so much as a “come along.” Scrambling to gather their things and shake off the sleepy warmth of the morning, they darted out the door after their four-armed host.

urVa was not a fast mover, but he was not by any means a slow one, either. Most importantly, he was consistent, never seeming to tire, though they crossed a huge stretch of land within the Dark Wood. In the daylight, now that the Cradle-Tree was recovering, the wood seemed an entirely different being, full of life and the joyous singing of all the creatures that dwelled within it. Naia's heart sang, light and in tune with the forest she had helped heal.

Kylan finally asked if they could stop for lunch, as they hadn't eaten breakfast. Although Naia's own stomach had been grumbling quietly to her for several miles, she hadn't been about
to be the first to say anything, not with one of her companions a Spriton song teller and the other a tireless hermit. urVa agreed right away, finding them a spot near a pool of freshwater and taking his staff and spears. Naia watched keenly as he pulled the cord taut between the ends of the staff, so tight the entire length of the limber wood bent in a more pronounced crescent.

“What is that?” Naia asked. “A way to catch some lunch?”

“Its name is
bow
,” urVa said. “These, in this quiver, are arrows. Would you like to see?”

Naia was already on her feet. “Kylan, do you mind?”

Kylan had already taken off his shoes and was massaging his sore dirt-caked toes.

“As long as you bring back something to eat,” he said, waving them away.

Naia followed urVa into the wood, Neech drifting beside her, until they came to a rocky ledge overlooking a steep hill of moss-covered boulders. Trees jutted out between the black rocks, and from somewhere deep within the rock, a tiny trickling stream wound between and over, all the way down to the next step of the wood below. Naia kicked a pebble down and watched it bounce back and forth between the jutting ledges and narrow crevices. A cool draft rose, heavy with the scent of green and rock. urVa stood close to the ledge and held the bow in his two left hands, taking one of the arrows from the barrel-like quiver that contained them. Naia watched urVa place the notched butt of the arrow against the taut string in the bow. The arrow's feathers would offer the stick a better flight, Naia realized.

“Bow—two ends connected by a single string. Arrow—head and tail connected by a single shaft.”

“For hunting? They look like spears.”

“Bow and arrow do not hunt; a hunter hunts. I am not a hunter.”

He pulled the end back and tilted the stone arrowhead upward, and on release, the arrow disappeared so quickly into the wild below that Naia barely had time to follow it with her eyes.

“It's so simple,” she said. urVa handed the bow to her. Though it was nearly as tall as she, it was light. When she tried pulling back the bowstring, it was very difficult, even without an arrow. Upon reflection, she realized urVa had twice her number of arms, not to mention his size and weight.

“It is, isn't it?” urVa replied, with almost a hint of surprise. He notched another arrow, this one with a bone head and wound with string, and held the bow for her, gesturing for her to try drawing. With both hands and urVa's help steadying the arrow, Naia drew back the string, using her entire body to do so. When the tension became too great, the string slipped from her hands, and the arrow flew with a rackety
TWANG
, shooting away with an unsteady, audible wobble. It clattered into a rock and ricocheted away.

Neech, responding to his instinct and training, puffed and waited for Naia's command to retrieve the arrow, though she wasn't sure the flying eel had even been able to track the shooting spear's final landing spot. She calmed him with a wave of her hand, and he settled on a rock nearby, fussing with little chirps. urVa chuckled.

“We need a Gelfling-size
bow.”

Naia let a few more arrows loose with urVa's help, getting better and better at holding the string steady with each release. He let her hold the bow itself, after, and she memorized the way the string was tied in the notches at either end of the bow—the degree of curve and flexibility the piece of wood required. She set the bow aside and sat cross-legged to look at the remaining arrows from urVa's quiver. Each was unique, with a different engraving or colorful adornment. Some had glittering sea-green scales along the sides, some had feathers or barbed orange leaves. The arrowheads were an array of hard materials, from stones and claws to bone and ancient wood. One even appeared to be made of a tooth. Every arrow was different, made with painstaking care and detail.

“Shall I retrieve the others, from earlier?” she asked. Although they had fallen a long way down, she wasn't afraid of heights, and with Neech's help, she hoped they might find the arrows with not too much trouble.

urVa waved a hand. “I'll make more.”

Naia looked at the arrows in the quiver, knowing it may have taken days just to weave the feathers into the shafts. Ornaments like these were displayed with love and pride in Sog, and even
bola
were retrieved with the help of hunting eels. To think they were lost forever in the Dark Wood gave Naia a pang of guilt, and she prepared to climb down the mounds of boulders, anyway. Before she could begin the descent, however, urVa put a hand on her shoulder and gently pulled her back.

“Ah, Gelfling, little Gelfling,” he said. “Let them go. They were made of Thra and have returned to Thra. Now that my quiver is
nearly empty, I have room for new arrows.”

Naia considered waiting until urVa wasn't looking and going down the rocky valley, anyway, but he fixed her with a placid gaze, and she realized he was truly uninterested in reclaiming them. In fact, he was already gathering handfuls of leaves off a bushy purple and green plant. Furry berries dangled from the tips of the leaves, still wet with dew. This was their lunch, not any hunted quarry. urVa patted her shoulder with his fourth hand, as if he were trying to shake her from her fixation, and said, “A stone in each hand leaves no room for a fifth . . . Mm, or in case of Gelfling, a third. Holding on to things too tightly will prevent you from moving forward.”

It didn't feel right, and Naia said so, though she also stooped to help gather their leafy lunch.

“If I let go of the things I care about, then what's the point of going forward? I understand stones-in-hand, but there are things more important than stones.”

“Little stones, pebbles,” urVa said. “Big stones, boulders. Even bigger, Thra itself. Stones come in all shapes and sizes. All things are connected. What we surrender, we may be given. What we lose, we may find again. For every one there is another.”

“Well, I'm trying to find the truth about my brother. That's not some stone I'm going to throw out into the wilderness.”

urVa didn't argue, simply bobbing his head from side to side. Though she hadn't really expected to change his mind, Naia felt a pinch of frustration when he didn't reply at all, but she kept it to herself. It was fine to disagree, after all, so long as neither of them
held the feeling in contempt. As they returned to Kylan, Naia felt crowded in her own mind. She had pushed so many thoughts away in order to make her way north. That was the best thing she could do, she had told herself. It was better than dwelling on all her fears, anyway. But now, as she couldn't shake urVa's parable from her mind, the worries were surfacing. The same worries that had been projected into the words of the phantoms created by the guilt of the Cradle-Tree.

You aren't strong enough.

“urVa,” she said, pausing. She wanted to ask her question while they were still alone. urVa slowed his gait, swinging his big head around to peer down at her. She pushed her toes into the dirt and squeezed her locs. “I heard voices. Last night. Saying horrible things. But . . . those were just part of the Cradle-Tree's magic, right? Echoes of my fears, trying to scare me into loneliness, the way the crystal veins had done to the tree.”

“Hmmm,” urVa murmured. “Yes, and no.”

“Yes and no are opposites,” Naia said, though it pained her to state the obvious.

“Some things are . . . Listen. Olyeka-Staba's magic can only show us what is already there. What
was
already there. If you heard it, someone said it. If you saw it, something did it. But remember. Words can take on many forms.”

Naia tilted her head, bordering on the edge between wanting to understand his riddles and wanting to give up on them.

“Then are you saying what I heard was true? Or are you saying it was only in my mind?”

urVa smiled and nodded, and she wondered if he was hard of hearing.

“Words can take on many forms,” was all he said before he looked away and continued his ambling walk.

When they returned, Kylan was sitting cross-legged on a stone, his tablet and book in hand, dream-etching. From his concentration and the amount of words he was enchanting, Naia guessed he was writing about what he had read in urVa's den, making a copy of the words he could take with him, so he might never forget.

“Smart one, this one,” urVa said with a chuckle. He set his bow and the nearly empty quiver against the rock and began tearing the thick leaves into bite-size pieces. “What words are for, you know. Passing along a message from one place to another, even when the original dreamer has, himself, passed along and gone.”