by J. M. Lee
Metal flew in splinters, reflecting the afternoon sky. The azure light flickered as it struck the shards of the now-shattered sword blade that exploded out from between Rian and skekMal. Rian stepped away as metal pieces crashed to the ground.
Then all went still. The reverberation of Rian’s sword breaking echoed like a funeral song, a dirge that made Naia’s bones want to weep. Everyone heard it and everyone stopped. The Skeksis, weapons raised for slaying Gelfling. The Gelfling of the seven clans, scattered between them, many climbing the rise of stones that towered at the center of it all.
skekMal let out a booming laugh, holding up his weapon. Its scarred blade remained intact, whole and proof of what it had just destroyed.
And in Rian’s hand was a hilt with a jagged twist of broken of metal.
Every face that could turned upward. Every eye saw Rian, staring numbly at what remained of the golden-hilted sword, falling to his knees in disbelief.
“Naia!” Amri called out.
A shudder went down her spine as she felt ugly breath on her neck. Before she could get out of his reach, the Chamberlain grabbed at her from where he’d been lurking. She twisted against him and beat him with her stone, but he had three other claws with which to grab. He latched on and held her up, away from Gurjin and Amri.
“Here, my lord!” the Chamberlain cried. “Here!”
Naia gritted her teeth as he shook her violently, then threw her. The world swung and swamped like a boat on the sea. The only way she could tell which way was down was the dirt in her mouth as she collided with the ground. She heard Gurjin and Amri call her name, saw them thwarted by the Chamberlain as they tried to get to her. Saw in her memory the terrible flash of light as Rian’s sword broke against the Hunter’s blade.
She pushed herself up as the Emperor’s shadow hovered nearer. Clutched her stone and dug her fingers into the earth and met his eyes, even as he raised his sword to kill her.
“I won’t give up,” she said. She felt a tear that had finally slipped past her lashes, one of grief and anguish, that had seen what she had seen. The tiny drop of water slipped off her cheek onto the ground and disappeared. “You can kill me. But you can’t change me. The forest is forever.”
Orange and red wings flashed in front of the sun. The Emperor’s cries were garbled as a Gelfling shot through the air. With a mighty cry, Maudra Fara struck him in the face with both feet, hard and fast as a bola stone.
“Naia!” she shouted. “Go to Rian!”
She groaned as the Emperor’s talons pierced her body. At first Naia thought she was gone, but before she went, she drove her spear beneath the Emperor’s metal mask and jerked, snapping it off his beak with a grisly spray of gore.
“Go to Rian,” she said again over the Emperor’s screams. “Go—”
Her final command ended abruptly on the Emperor’s sword. Naia pulled herself to her feet. She wanted to go to the Stonewood maudra, even if she could do nothing for her. But Fara had wanted her to go to Rian, and . . .
“What’s that sound?” the Chamberlain squawked suddenly.
Amri and Gurjin finally broke past him as a strange lull interrupted the din of the battle. It was a rumbling in the earth, a vibration in the air. A wind gusted and the treetops churned as dozens of shadows raced across the sky. Even the Emperor was at a loss, clutching his bleeding face where Maudra Fara had ripped his mask from his head. Naia and skekSo both looked up in a daze, at first not sure what they were seeing. But when a volley of egg-shaped satchels dropped behind the Chamberlain, exploding in flame and red-hot fire dust, she knew.
“The others,” she gasped. “They came—”
Wings of every color filled the sky: Sifa and Dousan, Grottan and Vapra. Fire and swords rained upon the Skeksis, spears and arrows flying from the Gelfling who rushed from the woods on foot and on the backs of Landstriders dressed in the indigos and silvers of Ha’rar. Rainbow light filled the smoking ruins, flashing off iridescent wings and the banners of seven Gelfling clans.
The Skeksis cried out in shock and rage as fire dust crashed upon them, burning their eyes and inflaming their senses, each fending for themselves against the burst of Gelfling forces strengthened from the air and with the speed of their fearless Landstrider mounts.
“No—”
Naia backed away from Emperor skekSo. He sighted her, but this time he didn’t even have the chance to raise his sword. A helmeted Sifa soldier on a Landstrider struck him so heavily, he was knocked to his knees, his sword flying from his claws. As he reached for it, another Landstrider tackled him from the other side as it galloped across the clearing. He went flying in a rolling cloud of dirt and pinions.
The first rider wheeled her Landstrider about with perfected ease. Naia had never seen a Sifa on one of the tall beasts before, let alone such an expert rider. When the soldier raised her visor, though, she understood. The sunny, freckled face was a welcome one.
“Go!” Tae called down. She turned her head so Naia could see the crystal spider clinging to her hair, whispering in her ear. “Tavra and I will take care of these Skeksis fools!”
“Naia, wait, please—” Amri grabbed her arm when she turned to go. He knew what it might mean. He knew what she was willing to do.
“I have to go,” she said. “I have to protect Rian. I don’t know how, but I have to.”
“Let her go,” Gurjin said, holding Amri’s shoulder. His cheek was bruised and caked with dirt and blood, but his spirit had not been broken. Not even after what had happened at the top of the rise.
“Hmmmmm,” sneered the Emperor, pulling himself to his feet with an awful cough. He spat blood, weaponless, surrounded by the chaos as the battle shifted to the Gelfling’s favor. “Let her go. Let her die up there, too, for all the Gelfling to see.”
“Trust me,” she whispered. First to Gurjin, then to Amri. “Trust me.”
Amri’s fingers tightened, then released. Naia gave her brother and her friend a last look, trying to pour every feeling into it, then turned away and ran for the rise.
CHAPTER 29
Naia leaped up the first boulder, and then the second, grappling the hard stone edges and ancient moss. The top of the rise seemed impossibly far, as if it were ascending into the sky even as she raced to reach it. She couldn’t see the top as she climbed. Had no idea if Rian had survived the Skeksis Hunter or fallen under his unforgiving claws. Her heart ached at the thought, which seemed as though it might be inevitable—but she swallowed the feeling and climbed instead.
The sound of a horn hammered in Naia’s ears. She pulled herself over the top of the rock in time to see a monster’s broad, gaping face fly overhead. The shadow of a fledgling Crystal Skimmer covered her before it flapped its wide fins, propelling itself up in a spiral around the rise. On its back, a crimson-cloaked Dousan with tattoos across his shaved head cupped a hand around his mouth, his feet hooked into the harness on the Skimmer’s shoulders.
“Need a lift?” Periss called. “Get on! We’re coming around again!”
The Skimmer whistled with effort, circling the rise. Naia curled her toes around the boulder, spreading her wings and leaping when the Skimmer banked. She landed with a heavy THUMP behind Periss and grabbed hold of him as he yanked on the reins.
“Up, up, Massimassi! Up!”
The Skimmer blurted an earnest howl, banking once more and pounding the rise with air. skekMal had just reached the summit of the rise as Periss brought his Skimmer toward the peak. He took a short dirk from his pocket and gave it to Naia.
“You sure about this?” he asked.
She pushed the dirk back to him. “I’m sure.”
“Then good luck,” he said. “Blue Flame maudra!”
Naia jumped.
She landed on the flat peak of the Stonewood rise, where more than a dozen ancient obelisks jutted like the spires of a crown. skekMal tossed Rian t
o the ground before him, letting the Gelfling roll across the dirt and moss and rocks. Rian’s knuckles bled, but he still held his sword in his hand. He pulled himself to his knees, an equal distance from both the Hunter and Naia. The three suns blazed from above. One sun for each of them, casting both light and shadow.
“Naia, what are you doing?” Rian groaned. “It’s over. Aughra lied. The sword broke. You don’t need to die up here, too.”
“Get up, Rian,” Naia urged him. She didn’t take her eyes off skekMal, who watched them with his burning, cold eyes. As if trying to choose which of them to kill first. “Rian, get up. Don’t let him defeat you. Prove to him that you’ll rise against him. Prove to Thra that we’ll resist—even if we die.”
Rian swore in protest but pulled himself to his feet. A gust of wind buffeted them all, unfurling Naia’s wings and ruffling the blue streaks in Rian’s hair. Her empty palms sweated, painfully aware she had no weapon, as skekMal raised his sword like a battle ax.
“First we finish what we started,” he said, and charged at Rian.
Naia lunged. Without thinking, diving between skekMal and Rian, throwing open her arms and thrusting her empty hands forth. Closing her eyes as the blue light shined outward, uncalled and uncontained, blazing against the fangs in skekMal’s ravenous, open maw.
It was all she could do. To protect Rian. To protect anyone.
The pain never came, and Naia opened her eyes.
skekMal’s sword dangled above like it was caught by an invisible hand. He struggled within his skin, twitching and quivering, but he could barely move. Not just his sword, but his entire body.
“What?” he croaked, barely able to even move his mouth. “What is this? WHAT IS THIS?”
“skekMal!” the Emperor cried from down below. “What are you doing? Finish them!”
skekMal lurched again, and for a moment Naia thought he might break free of whatever mysterious power had hold of him. Steam poured from his nostrils, as if boiling water were slowly filling his entire being, as he struggled against his own body. Like an unamoth caught in a web, believing that if it struggled long and hard enough, the strands would surely break.
“Naia.”
The voice that came out of skekMal’s throat was not the hissing, cold one that had screamed at her in the Dark Wood. It was grave, determined, familiar. Naia slowly lowered her hands, unable to look away from the Hunter’s eyes as she saw a spark within them. The recognition of another, who had gazed upon her once before with respect and admiration.
“urVa?” she whispered.
“Do not fear,” came the Archer’s voice through skekMal’s lips again. “And do not despair—” Then skekMal came again: “DESPAIR UNTIL THE END OF YOUR—”
CRRRR-CRACK.
skekMal screamed as the sound of splintering bones erupted from his chest. Black blood dribbled out of the seams of his armor, in both the front and the back, as though he had been pierced by an invisible arrow.
Tears welled in Naia’s eyes. The arrow was not invisible; it was real enough. But it was elsewhere. Where urVa was, far away in the valley, in the place where he had plunged it through his own heart.
skekMal the Hunter could not even pull the shaft of the weapon from his breast. He clawed at his chest, snapping his armor off in twisted plates of spiked metal, but there was nothing he could do. He coughed and screamed, blood spraying from between his pointed teeth.
“Don’t despair—DESPAIR—raise your voice in SCREAMS—song. Sing—of your annihilation—and believe . . .”
Then he burst into flame.
When he was gone, the entire wood was silent. Even the Emperor, who stared in shock as his champion was reduced to a pile of smoking bones and singed armor, did not know what to say or do. Gurjin and Amri had reached the dais at the top of the rise, running despite their exhaustion when they saw both she and Rian were still standing. Gurjin was the first to make it, throwing his arms around Naia and Rian all at once and hugging them so tightly Naia was surprised they didn’t break.
“I told you to believe me,” Naia mumbled into Gurjin’s shoulder. She could almost make out Rian’s weary smile on her other side, and caught Amri wiping a stealthy tear away just before he winked at her.
Something rang. They stepped back from one another when light sprang forth, vibrating in time with the eerie tone that filled the air. It was coming from Rian’s sword.
“Why is it ringing now?” Rian whispered, holding up the broken blade. “After it’s been broken?”
Rian stood, raising the hilt. The ringing grew into a drowning song, calling to her, to them all, in a voice Naia had known since she had been a childling. It held every body immobile in its power. Even the Skeksis, whose beady eyes widened and shook as they beheld it—as it beheld them.
“What is that?” Gurjin whispered.
“I think it’s—”
She could hear the song. Vividly now, as clear as it had been when she had stood before the Crystal in the castle. As clearly as when Aughra’s message had reached them in the dream-space. As strongly and as unmistakably as it had sung to them in Onica’s Far-Dream, when Amri had asked how they would stop the Skeksis.
Now it answered in its ever-present song. The voice that sang the earth to life, that called upon the rivers to flow and the tides to change. Naia knew its name and shivered.
Somehow, the Crystal was here.
Rian lowered the sword and gazed into what remained of the blade, into the glowing pommel and hilt. As he did, the ringing subsided, as if it had been a single note that had reached its end. Rian’s ears twisted back and he looked to Naia, as if to ask her how to make it begin again. How to call it to life, to unleash its power once more, again and again, endlessly.
A single, clear note cut through the air clouded with Skeksis breath and the scent of ash and blood. It was strong, like the wind, ringing through the hollow bone of the bell-bird firca.
Kylan the Song Teller stepped onto the dais at the top of the rise. The wind blew through his braid, as if sharing breath with him. As if encouraging the song to be a thousand times louder. His fingers played without thought, drifting through the notes as if they came from beyond him. Within him, and through him.
As the firca rang with the song that had once moved mountains, the sword Rian held cried out in return, with more volume and energy than before. The Skeksis let out gasps of pain, holding their heads and horns, trying not to shrink away from the light and the sound that filled Naia’s heart with a fragile hope. Though she did not want Kylan in this deadly place, she had never wanted to see him or hear his firca more.
“No,” breathed Emperor skekSo. He stared, transfixed, paling with light and fear, at the thing that burned in Rian’s hand. He ripped the dagger from the Chamberlain’s claws and charged up the rise himself. “Kill them. Kill them NOW!”
Naia advanced at Rian’s shoulder, Gurjin and Amri close behind.
“Don’t stop playing,” she called to Kylan. She took Gurjin’s hand in one of hers, Rian’s in the other. “Throw down your weapons. Hold one another. The song of Thra. Sing it! Everyone, together, now!”
Without waiting for the others, she raised her voice and sang.
She had never been a strong singer, gifted neither with an instrument nor with the talent of story like Kylan, but that didn’t matter now. She sang the words that she had heard before. In Mother Aughra’s dream-space, and in all the worlds within their world. The song of Thra.
Deatea. Deratea. Kidakida. Arugaru.
Gelfling voice after voice called out after hers. She heard Gurjin’s and Amri’s beside her. The Stonewood and the Spriton, the Grottan and the Drenchen. All their voices lifted in a symphony. Then the Sifa. Tae, hand in hand with Onica beside Maudra Ethri. And the Dousan—Periss and Erimon had come, with Sandmaster Rek’yr and Maudra Seethi. Scattered across the boulders of the rise,
white-winged Vapra alit like a flock of unamoths. Among them, Naia recognized Tavra’s sisters, Brea and Seladon. The All-Maudra’s other two daughters, united with the third and the rest of the seven clans.
Light burst from Rian’s sword, the metal of the hilt melting away as if it were paper smoldering in a candle. What remained, clasped in his fingers, glowed with all the light of the inner sun of Thra. The Crystal of Truth.
It was a crystal shard.
The Skeksis Emperor stumbled backward. His cry of dismay struck out against the chorus of Gelfling voices and the singing of the Crystal. Rian held the shard as it if were the deadliest weapon imaginable. The other Skeksis recoiled as the light radiated in the reflections of their fearful eyes, the shard’s deafening song overpowering their cowering hearts.
“Dreamfast,” Naia called. She squeezed Rian’s hand, and as if by pure instinct, he squeezed back. Following her lead, the Gelfling held one another, some closing their eyes and bowing their heads. “Open your hearts. Hold one another!”
Rian’s heart was pounding so hard Naia could feel it through the pulse where their palms were pressed together. Naia let the vibrating song of the Crystal, pulsing through the shard, overwhelm her.
“Do it!” he cried.
For an instant, she saw space.
Infinite stars scattered across an abyss of radiant darkness. Planets—her world, and others—blinking in and out of existence. Each with a heart that beat, giving life, glowing at each world’s core. Each with its own song, the lifeblood of all that lived upon it.
This one is ours.
She didn’t know whose voice it was that said such a simple thing. Dreamfasting with so many Gelfling, it was impossible to know. Perhaps it was not one person, but all of them. It didn’t matter. It was the truth.
And we have only one, Kylan added.
Amri’s voice echoed hers: And we will protect it.
Fight for it. That was Rian.
