Shadows of the Dark Crystal (16 page)

L
ightning lit the way, once even striking the top of a tree so it burst into sparks and flames that were quickly drowned by the rain now cascading sideways from the clouds. The downpour came with a vengeance, though much of it was intercepted by the broad leaves of the tower-trees that increased in number and frequency the closer Naia came to the castle. Though she couldn't yet see her destination, she could feel it. Omnipresent, like thousands of eyes watching her from above.

Naia stopped in her fleet jog when she heard something—a snarl, perhaps, or just thunder. The memory of the sound echoed, though her ears heard nothing more, no matter which way they swiveled. She longed for the bigger eyes of a night bird, or maybe the flanged nose of a ruffnaw. Anything that might let her senses pierce the thick night in the impenetrable wood.

A warm draft of air brushed off the skin of her cheeks and then was gone . . . then came again, and her stomach nearly turned: it was
breath
, wafting from the darkness, from some creature so hot and close that its exhales settled on her shoulders in silent heavy waves. The scent of it was somehow familiar, yet
wrong—
but she didn't have time to puzzle over it.

Holding her own breath and moving as little as possible, Naia
peered through the dark. She both needed desperately to see and yet dreaded to catch sight of whatever was out there. The lyrics from Kylan's song came unbidden and danced through her mind, setting fire to her fears and imagination.

But the cold wind died still and he heard in the dim

Monstrous breath heavy through pointy-toothed grin . . .

Naia clenched her fist and pushed away the idea. The Hunter was a monster of song, recited over campfires to frighten younglings. Whatever was out there, watching her, was probably just a hungry predator who was hoping for a Gelfling feast. That was the way the world worked—in a great circle where the hunters became the prey, and so on.

Yet Kylan had seen
something
the night his parents were taken. The dreamfasted memory was Naia's, now, too, and she didn't know what to believe.

Now the Hunter waits behind him . . .

Something moved in the shadows, and every one of Naia's nerves fired, propelling her in a rapid dash away from the movement and the breath. Amid the thunder and crackling lightning, the sounds of branches and brush snapping under her racing feet, she thought she heard the ragged breath of a monster, but she refused to look back for fear of being snapped up by whatever it was that chased her. She ran and she ran, jumping and ducking, every leap taking her closer to the castle where, she could only hope, the blazing torches and mighty drawbridge would beckon her to safety inside. Tavra would be there, and the Skeksis Lords, and Gurjin—

The sounds of her pursuer abated and then evaporated altogether, and Naia slowed to a cautious, quiet walk in hope of catching her breath. Had she outrun it? Had it given up? Or was it merely waiting to catch her off guard? No, it was still there, just outside her range of sight. She could feel it circling, and in the ultramarine flashes of lightning, she made out shapes—not anything solid, but textures. It was like rustling, gathered cloth or fur, but shiny in spots as well, as if it were scaled, with a long whip-sharp tail that slithered behind it. It moved in and out of the wood as if it were one with the shadows, black and dangerous, wild and ravenous. Naia shuddered with fear when, in a low hissing voice, it spoke.

“Gelfling . . . yes . . . closer . . .”

Naia's heartbeat quickened to a new height. Whatever it was, it was intelligent enough to speak in the Gelfling tongue, to recognize her alone despite all the other quarry in the wood. When it let out a long rasping chuckle, she smelled its breath again.

“Closer . . . come closer . . . so lively . . . so rich . . . come closer . . .”

Out of the dark, a hand-like claw beckoned her. Paralyzed by fear, pressed with her back against one of the tower-trees, she watched the form step half within sight, as if materializing out of the inky black. It was huge, with a long cloaked back spiked in feathers and spines, and on its face was a mask the color of bone, hooked down and carved with two black holes. It loomed closer, but it was not until she could see the glassy burning eyes within that she smelled its breath again and, with a dizzy rush,
realized what the familiar scent was. It was
Gelfling
lacing the monster's guttural, spit-bubbled words—the scent of Gelfling, her people, saturated the masked hunter's entire being, from its thick cloak and toothed mantle to the scaly hooked hand that was outstretched, ready to snare her around the neck.

A rush of fur and spines exploded from Naia's shoulder, shooting toward the monster's claws and latching on in a plume of barbs and teeth. The Hunter screeched in surprise, wheeling backward and thrashing, trying to dislodge the tiny muski that was locked on with spiny poisonous teeth. Jolted into motion by Neech's attack, Naia pulled a
bola
from her belt and swung it, holding the counterweight as a handle and smashing the other end into the monster's head. It landed with a
CRACK
against the grotesque bone mask, and the thing's shrieks escalated to wild screams. It finally flung Neech from its claw, clutching its cracked faceplate and heaving enraged, strong pants. It fixed Naia with a glare so fearsome, it took all her strength to remain standing . . . But then, without another word, the Hunter slithered backward, enveloped again into the night from whence it had come.

Naia stood in the rain, shaking, clutching Neech to her breast and doing everything she could to remain standing. The rain was pouring in sheets now, and the cover from the canopy was patchy at best. A cough came from her throat, and she realized she had been holding her breath tight in her lungs; another cough and a heavy shudder came out as she slowly remembered how to breathe. The Hunter was gone, at least for now.

Neech squeaked and squirmed, nipping her fingers and
startling her to life. He whined, and she nodded, lurching into motion. They had to make it to the castle, to safety. At this rate, she feared she might collapse from the cold that was driving straight through her skin to the bone. Urging her legs to move, she stumbled onward, hoping it was the direction the Cradle-Tree had shown her. Then again, everything looked the same in the dark, and she half expected to find herself back where she had started.

She looked down when her foot landed on something hard and flat. Half-buried in the soil and brush was a stone slab, as wide and long as she was tall. It was engraved with three arcs converging in the center where they formed a triangle, and spiraling out from the center of the shape was writing. What was the tablet doing here, and what did it mean? Searching the ground for clues, Naia was surprised to find another slab—and then another, all trailing end to end. They weren't tablets, she realized. It was a path. Hoping against the complaining of her body and her blistered feet, she followed the stones, one by one, as they became gradually more pronounced, each with a different engraving. With a gasp of relief, she saw light ahead—and then, suddenly, the wood cleared and she was standing at the foot of a humped drawbridge spanning a thick murky moat.

Towering on the other side of the bridge, magnificent black against the backdrop of the electric storm, was the spire-capped Castle of the Crystal.

N
aia gave the Dark Wood a last glance before gladly escaping it. Her shoes echoed on the drawbridge as she crossed it, the thick planks and heavy draw-chains lending a well-missed sense of safety to the night. Any moment, she half expected the masked monster—she dare not call it by the name she
wanted
to, lest her imagination run wild with fear again—to lunge from the shadows and drag her back into the wood, where she might be lost forever. But it didn't. If it had followed her to the castle, it stayed away, and soon she felt the warm heat of the blazing torches that were lighting her way across the wide cobbled path that met her feet on the far end of the bridge. The path was made of more carved stones, some with writing and others simply with pictures, many bearing a strange similarity to the inscriptions in urVa's den. Over and over, she saw the circles within the triangle, though it took different shapes and characters. The path of engravings snaked around the warped castle base, below the extended leg-like buttresses until it finally arched in again, leading to an enormous set of thorny doors that made Naia feel like nothing but a fly at the mouth of a gate made for giants.

“Oh—”

Tavra stood in front of the closed gate, in her silver cloak.
Naia's
heart dropped into her gut. But her presence here confirmed what Naia had guessed—that her destination was the castle—and that Gurjin must be there, too. . . although she had not expected to find the Vapra soldier waiting at the gate. Naia wasn't sure, after her trek through the wood alone, that she was prepared for a confrontation so soon, but there seemed to be no getting around it. The only explanation that wouldn't sound completely ridiculous would be the truth, but Naia withheld even that, determined to make her stand no matter what Tavra thought. She was here for the truth, and if that meant facing Tavra—or even the All-Maudra—over punishment, then so be it.

Instead of getting angry, though, Tavra only paled in the bright gold torchlight. Her eyes widened, and she gripped Naia's shoulders.

“Naia, in Thra's name, what have you done?”

The urgency and fear in Tavra's voice took Naia by surprise. Then came a thunderous groaning sound as the gates drew open, pulled slow and wide like the wings of a giant beetle. The two Gelfling were showered in light from the hundred-flame chandeliers that hung within the main entrance hall. From inside, Naia heard cacophonous music and crowing, laughing, cackling voices, and saw a looming, lumbering shadow that danced along the lit side of the massive doors. Lips pressed thin, Tavra put her hands against Naia's cheeks, holding her face firmly and locking eyes. Naia knew it was for a dreamfast, for Tavra to tell her the truth, so instead of accepting the fasting, she simply said, “I want to hear it from Gurjin myself.”

“They're coming,” Tavra whispered. “You need to go. Now.”

“But the Skeksis Lords—”

With a gasp of desperation, Tavra made to dreamfast once more, but they were interrupted as the bearer of the enormous ornamented shadow appeared at the gate. Seeing the creature sucked the breath from Naia's lungs. Although she had seen Lord skekLach and Lord skekOk in Sami Thicket, it had been from a distance. Now, tall and decorated, here was another standing before her, so close she could smell the musty sweet perfume that saturated his robes and oily skin. His cloak and mantle were propped high above his head with a complex structure of ribbed boning, adorned with jewels and shining metals. The cloak itself was crimson red with beaded patterns in black, studded here and there with furry black kiznet tails. Protruding from the mass of shining fabrics and extravagent ruffles, the Skeksis Lord's pale-eyed face dangled off a long muscled neck, sinewy lips pulled back in a wide smile as he took in the Gelfling standing before the gate. Whatever Tavra had been trying to say was lost in the moment as they stared up at him. The silence was broken when Tavra fell into a kneel before the lord, yanking Naia down with her as she bowed her head.

“Chamberlain Lord skekSil,” Tavra said. Bowed, her face was hidden from the lord's gaze, but from the side, Naia saw her furrowed brow and pensive frown. “I have come from Ha'rar on behalf of the Gelfling All-Maudra for your council. This is Nadia, my . . . retainer.”

Naia watched the pleats at the hem of Lord skekSil's cloak as
he rustled it around, leaning far down and inhaling deeply over the both of them. When he spoke, his voice was high and bleating, almost in singsong as it resonated through his hornlike face.

“Katavra!” he cried. “Daughter of Mayrin! Come, come! Retainer, yes! Bring, bring! Everyone in!”

Daughter of Mayrin?

Tavra passed Naia a last urgent glance before Lord skekSil grasped the back of Naia's tunic and lifted, barely giving her time to pull her feet under her before moving briskly inside, half pushing, half dragging with his clawed hand. On his other side, he jostled Tavra forward with playful, rough shoves. Was the soldier really the All-Maudra's daughter? Maybe she had only told the Skeksis so—no, now that Naia looked closer, she saw it: the silver hair and fair cheeks and, now that the Vapra was standing within the halls of the Castle of the Crystal, there was even a fine silver circlet on her brow, finished with a single pearl drop above the bridge of her nose. There was no doubt—all along, Tavra had been no mere soldier of the All-Maudra.

Naia swallowed the realization and her surprise, falling in line behind Tavra—Katavra, one of the many Daughters of Mayrin—as a retainer might do. Ahead, Lord skekSil weaved back and forth in eccentric zigzags, as if his two feet had differing minds of their own, in a constant battle to dominate his trajectory.

“Always, Vapra from Ha'rar, oh yes, yes, come! Tasty! Feast! Food! Welcome!”

Naia's eyes couldn't widen enough to take in all that lay within the castle gate. The entrance hall was vaulted, carved in arches and
curved beams, winding and lit by torches and chandeliers covered in melted, dripping wax. Every wall was adorned with some kind of carving or relief, astronomical shapes connected by lines and dotted paths pigmented with dyes or round gems. Chamberlain Lord skekSil bustled between them, his shuffling steps kicking his skirts and robe hems out in frantic waves as he hurried down the hall and sharply to the left. As soon as he disappeared from sight, Tavra reached for Naia's hand—but caught only her sleeve before the Chamberlain was back, clutching their shoulders with a loud shreiking sigh and walking them swiftly through a set of double gabled doors. Whatever Tavra was trying to tell Naia was lost again, and then Naia's senses were overwhelmed with the scene that lay before her.

Two long tables were arranged in a cross formation, draped in gathered silk sheets and dozens of runners and linens. Metal platters overflowing with squirming savory-smelling delicacies were lined up, one on top of the other, barely leaving room for the goblets of wine and glass decanters that poked out of the banquet settings like saplings. Banners and curtains in gold, red, coral, navy, ivory, and white dropped from the high vaulted ceiling like sails, drawn and bunched in an array of textures and colors with braided, tasseled cords and chains. Seated at the banquet table, in feasting thrones resembling the hands and fingers of the castle itself, were the purple-skinned razor-beaked Skeksis.

None looked up when Lord skekSil and the Gelfling entered. They were too engorged in their feast, most elbow-deep in one dish or another, stuffing their shining scaly beaks full of fatty noodles and scurrying whiskered crawlies. Naia looked from one
lord to the next—each was garbed in an elaborate mantle, each structured in a different shape and decorated with a different ornament. One had feathers, thick and glossy, and another wore armor, his cloak more of a cape and the plates of his shoulder pieces clanging together as he wrestled with a piece of his dinner that had not been fully cooked. Yet another wore bronze and leather, and a headpiece barbed with half a dozen viewing lenses held by tiny metallic arms.

No music played within the hall, so it was filled only with the gurgling and grunting of their feast, punctuated by the clanging of their knives and skewers as they attacked their food as if it were prey still on the run. Two Gelfling soldiers stood at the door, silent. Had Naia not been looking for them, wanting to see those that shared her brother's duties, she doubted she would have noticed them at all.

“Gelfling! Gelfling! Silverling and Sogling!” cried Chamberlain skekSil. He held their shoulders and shook them slightly, as if giving them motion would attract the attention of his brethren. “Daughter of the Silverling!”

“Daughter?” shouted one of the lords, finally taking notice. His face was blunter than the others, with long black whiskers sticking out of his muzzle like spines. “Here?”

“Now?” asked another, fourth from the left, with a needle-narrow beak and squinting eyes. With a start, Naia recognized Lord skekOk, his claws and arms nearly covered inch to inch in jeweled bands, a tattered stained napkin shoved down the front of his ruffled collar. “Why?!”

“Shut up!”

All went quiet at the voice of the last, which came from the lord seated at the center of the table arrangement. He was not the largest of the Skeksis by size, but the immediate response his sharp voice garnered carried more weight than any of the others were willing to contest. Atop his head was a spiked crown, its metal nearly hidden beneath the faceted gems inset into the band. Hanging from his neck were more jewels, clustered in tripart configurations and dangling from his neck to the table, where they currently were half submerged in a gourd of thick chunky stew. When he rose, the broth from the stew dripped from the amulets onto his robes, where the color was lost in the dark crimsons and burgundies.

Tavra bent at the waist in a stiff bow, and Naia followed her lead. Her cheeks burned under the gaze of the lords, now that there was only silence and all eyes were on them. She had expected to speak to attendants or servants—even Gelfling guards, perhaps, or a retainer to tell her that Gurjin had been proven guilty, that she might see him, but she had never expected to be standing before the sixteen Skeksis Lords so soon after stepping foot within the Castle of the Crystal. And now here she was, coated head to toe in mud, bruised and battered from her race through the wood, with Tavra desperately trying to impart some message to her.

Skeksis Emperor skekSo—for that was the only person the lord at the center could be—cleared his throat and leaned with both claws on the table in front of him. His neck craned forward, drilling down on them with a leveling gaze that had surely brought
even the proudest Gelfling to their knees. Yet when he spoke, his voice sounded almost cultured, his accent in the Gelfling tongue much more perfected than the stilted broken phrases of the Chamberlain.

“Katavra,” Emperor skekSo said, his voice now the only sound echoing in the hall. “What might the All-Maudra's daughter-soldier be doing here at the Castle of the Crystal, yes? And so late? What's this green thing, a Sogling? Ahhh!” The Emperor shot a look at the Chamberlain. “Is this the one, here, at last?”

Naia looked at the floor, clenching her fists at the accusation, but she knew better than to speak back to one of the lords, especially at a time like this. Did the Skeksis know their guards so little they mistook her for her brother? He'd hardly acknowledged her, much less looked at her long enough to realize she was a girl. The Chamberlain made a humming noise, but Tavra answered first.

“No, Emperor,” she said. “This is not one of the guards you asked my mother to find. We have still not been able to confirm his whereabouts.”

“The guards? . . . Oh. Yes, of course—the guards. Then what are you doing, wasting time here? Gelfling need to find them. Gelfling need to punish them. Get out, get looking!”

“I wished to directly report to you, Your Greatness, the status of the assignment with which you have so honorably endowed us.”

“Waste of time!” Emperor skekSo repeated, so harshly the spines along the sides of his head jutted out like quills on a muski. “
Gelfling
are the ones causing problems, so
Gelfling
the ones that
do the fixing! However long it takes, search Skarith, search all of Thra—we care not, just make it clear that Gelfling causing problems for us, Lord Skeksis. Now, get out! Leave! Back to work!”

It didn't seem right to Naia, how focused the Emperor was on finding and punishing Rian and Gurjin. If they
were
traitors, then the rumors they were spreading were just lies—certainly nothing worth being so defensive about! Yet it seemed the Emperor wanted nothing more than for Tavra and Naia to leave the Castle of the Crystal, leading the Gelfling on a vicious hunt for their own people.

Judging from the heavy reservation in Tavra's next words, it seemed the Vapra was of the same mind.

“We will resume our search, of course, my lord. But there's a storm tonight, making travel difficult. I'm sure the All-Maudra would be willing to extend our search efforts if she knew we had the support of the lords of the Castle of the Crystal.”