Song of the Dark Crystal #2

by J. M. Lee

  “I know. The book says the firca was left with the Grottan, in the caves. We’re near there, according to this map, so I thought we might go . . .”

  “The Grottan Gelfling?” Gurjin asked. “They still exist?”

  It was a good question, and Kylan didn’t have the answer. The Grottan clan were practically a myth themselves, even more reclusive than the Drenchen. At least Kylan had known Naia’s clan actually existed, and where. When he’d met her in person, he hadn’t been surprised to find that she was real. But the Grottan were like shadows at night. If any of their people still lived, they had not been interested in being seen or heard by other Gelfling in many trine.

  He didn’t want to mislead his friends. There was a very real chance the song in the book was only a song, but he also couldn’t deny the gut feeling that there was something real in it. Something that could mean a victory for them. As Naia had taught him, he had to trust his gut.

  “It’s possible the bone firca doesn’t actually exist, but maybe Aughra knows better. Maybe she sent the book with us for that reason . . . Or maybe it has nothing to do with Aughra. Either way, I just have the feeling that we should go. I wish I had more proof, but the feeling is all I have.”

  “Then we will go,” Naia said readily. “I trust your instinct. Anyway, it’s the only idea we have right now, and if it’s real, it could be the answer we’ve been looking for.”

  Kylan nodded in relief. When Naia looked over her shoulder, then exchanged a glance with Gurjin, Kylan realized he had been so focused on the firca and the song of the Caves of Grot that he had missed something. Naia and Gurjin were brewing a secret, and they were about to share it with him. Naia sat beside him so she could whisper.

  “Tavra might be back soon, so I’ll be quick. After what Aughra told us about the Skeksis and the Mystics, I think I understand why they want Gurjin and me so badly. And even if Aughra says it won’t work, I don’t think they will stop coming after us. If we’re all together, we’re just making it easy for them. So . . . Gurjin and I think it’s best that we split up. I wanted to ask what you thought.”

  Kaylan felt touched that she sought his opinion at all, even if he hardly knew what to say after being ambushed with their bold plan. He glanced at Gurjin, whose ears were alert and listening for Tavra’s return while he sharpened his spear.

  “Where would he go? Back to Stone-in-the-Wood?”

  “Home to Sog,” she replied. “Home, to tell my parents what’s happened. He can recover fully there, and he’ll be safe . . . It’s far from the Castle of the Crystal. Traveling alone, the Skeksis will never find him. Especially not if he’s headed south, away from Ha’rar.”

  If the Skeksis were following Rian’s trail to the All-Maudra, they’d almost be to Ha’rar. Gurjin would be as far away as possible in Sog. There, Gurjin could rest and be healed by Maudra Laesid, their mother. He would be in the best place to avoid the Skeksis, should they pursue him.

  “Are you well enough?” he asked Gurjin, raising his voice only enough to be heard over the fire.

  “If I go at my own pace, yes,” Gurjin replied. “I’m familiar with the Dark Wood, and I know how the Skeksis travel it. I know skekMal’s trails. I may be weak, but thanks to Naia, I’m feeling much better. I might even be able to travel more quickly on my own.”

  “And he’ll take Neech,” Naia continued. “Neech can scout ahead at night, and keep watch, and hunt.”

  “You’re right to say all this before Tavra gets back,” Kylan said. “She will never agree.”

  “She’ll have to choose between going after Rian or Gurjin, and my guess is she’ll pick Rian. That is the path to Ha’rar, where she can finally be rid of us.”

  The last bit was sour. Kylan squeezed Naia’s shoulder.

  “She’ll be mad we didn’t have her approval, but I think you’re right, and maybe she’ll understand once it’s done. If Gurjin can get back to Sog, then at least someone will have made contact with the Drenchen.”

  Gurjin and Naia nodded in unison.

  “I’ll leave tonight, when it’s my watch,” he said. He extended his hand, and Kylan took it. “It was very good to meet you, Kylan the Song Teller. I’m glad my sister met you.”

  Footsteps crunched in the shadows beyond the campfire. Tavra returned, silver hair drying over her shoulder, and tossed her freshly washed cloak over the line. Next to it went her sandals, tied at the laces, dripping clean with river water.

  “Welcome back,” said Kylan. He tried not to sound nervous, though each new secret he kept from her felt like one more fluttering unamoth inside him. Yet when he really listened to his gut, he realized it wasn’t lying to Tavra that felt uncomfortable, but Tavra’s presence itself. He didn’t know what it was, but after Naia’s remarks, he agreed something was not right with her. He hoped that when they reached Ha’rar, the All-Maudra would be able to do something. Perhaps she knew of a spell or serum that could heal what the Skeksis had done.

  Tavra blinked twice at him, as if surprised he had said anything. Without even a thanks in reply, she sat on the far side of the fire and began weaving her damp hair into a braid. In the firelight, her single earring cast sparkles on her pale neck, and Kylan wished he could find the right words to untangle whatever caused the animosity radiating from her. If only there were a song that could touch her heart, the way one had touched Rian’s—but not every problem could be solved with a song. Kylan knew that more than any. For the meantime, he would just have to hope that Tavra would not be too angry when she woke the following morning and Gurjin had left without her approval.

  When the fire had settled to embers, Naia took first watch, and Kylan pulled his cloak around his shoulders, facing away from the others so it wouldn’t be too obvious that he was wide awake. He lay there, wondering how Tavra would react in the morning and whether or not Aughra had known about the song of the firca in the book. Maybe Mother Aughra was right: Perhaps the future was unchangeable, and knowing the greatest machinations of the heavens was the only way to know the truth of the present.

  Or maybe Aughra was wrong, and it was right for them to take things into their own hands, to say goodbye to Gurjin in the dead of the night, betraying Tavra’s trust and authority. Would she understand, or would she scold them like children? Or worse! She was the daughter of the All-Maudra, and acting against her could be interpreted as treason if Tavra were serious enough about it. No, that was extreme. Even if she were more serious and stoic than they remembered, she was still Tavra. She believed in them, and their cause.

  Kylan worried himself into a doze, and only noticed he had drifted off when it was suddenly dawn. The fire was almost out, smoke sizzling in the early makings of dew, and the sky was the faintest of blues, barely visible through the trees above.

  Someone knelt over him. He didn’t stir, in case his motion might wake Tavra and ruin their hastily laid plan. A hand settled on his shoulder, and he heard Gurjin’s dreamfasted voice in his mind.

  Until we meet again, brother Kylan. Be safe.

  Then the Drenchen boy was gone, with not a sound to mark his footsteps as he vanished into the wood.

  CHAPTER 13

  Kylan woke to the sound of Tavra and Naia arguing. He didn’t think it would be possible to fall asleep again, so close to morning, but his body felt heavy and his cheek was cold where it had been pressed solid against the earth. He considered pretending to sleep until the argument had blown over. By now, Gurjin would be far away and virtually untraceable—assuming his skill in traversing the wood was as good as he claimed. Tavra, despite her anger, would be fighting a battle already lost if she were to pursue him now.

  “He left this,” Naia said, showing Tavra a flat stone with a dream-etching in it. Gurjin might not be literate, but he had marked it with a symbol most Gelfling knew, whether they could write or not: his clan’s sigil. The sign of the Drenchen was the whiskered muski, which seeme
d fitting in trade, since Neech had gone with Gurjin, as they had planned. “It must mean he’s going back to Sog. To my family. He’ll be safe there!”

  “Safe? Maybe once he reaches the swamp! But he could get lost anywhere in the wilderness, not to mention the Dark Wood. We’ll never find him!”

  “We don’t need to find him. We know where he’s gone, and that he’ll be safe there. That’s what’s most important, don’t you think? If we traveled together, the Skeksis could capture us all at once. At least now we’ve made it more difficult for them.”

  Tavra had not put her cloak back on yet, leaving her wings free to buzz in irritation. Unlike Naia’s, they were translucent, rainbow colored in the morning sunlight. Kylan sat up and yawned, making a show of his awakening with a stretch.

  “What’re you two so worked up about?” he asked. Acting—lying?—was not a strength of his, but he knew better than to jump directly into the conversation. In fact, he’d rather not be a part of it at all, but there was little avoiding it. He was Naia’s accomplice and the only other person in their party, now that Gurjin had gone.

  “Gurjin’s left,” Naia informed him. “He’s gone back to Sog, and I think it’s best that he did.”

  “He’s been brash. He’ll ruin everything,” Tavra muttered, but she knew it was a lost cause. “But there’s no way we’ll find him now. We can only hope he will make it to the place he says he will. We’ll have to get him later. Now, come on, get up. We’re making the Black River by nightfall, or so help me.”

  Naia crossed her arms and planted her feet.

  “No,” she said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I want to reach Ha’rar, of course, but Rian’s already far along on his way there. In the meantime, you’re not the leader of this traveling party, and I’m tired of you treating us like children you’ve got to watch. Kylan found something in the book Aughra gave him, about a magic firca that might be able to send the message to the Gelfling. So that is where we’re going. To the Caves of Grot, to look for the firca. Rian can address the All-Maudra himself, and we’ll join him once we’ve done the job we promised we would do.”

  Tavra’s wings spread in anger, a hint of red pinching her cheeks.

  “Tch! Don’t make me remind you which of us was about to be dinner to a weed, or who was nearly poisoned to death by spiders, and all that only in the last two days!”

  Naia stomped her foot, not as a tantrum but as a challenge.

  “We didn’t ask for your help, and we’d be happy to thank you for it if you weren’t being such a salty kelp-sucker about it.”

  “How dare you speak this way to me. My mother is the All-Maudra!”

  “Oh? Don’t forget, my mother is also a maudra—and unlike you, I will succeed her one day!”

  Kylan swallowed quietly in the silence that followed. The tension had finally crowned, and in a way it was a relief. He wasn’t happy that Naia had pulled rank on Tavra in the way she had—it certainly wasn’t the most diplomatic way to assert her dominance, but it had worked. Kylan had nearly forgotten that Naia was the daughter of a maudra. Her mother, Laesid, might not be the All-Maudra, but it was possible that once Naia took her place, she might even hold more sway with the All-Maudra than Tavra. Kylan didn’t know how far down the line Tavra was among her sisters, but the fact that she was out here in the wilderness and not in Ha’rar was a sign she was not near the top.

  Kylan braced himself for a return attack. Tavra was holding her breath. Was this impetuous, hostile Gelfling really the soldier who had looked out for them so selflessly? What had happened to her after the draining at the castle?

  She finally let out the most exasperated sigh Kylan had ever heard.

  “Fine,” Tavra said. “We’ll have it your way, Drenchen. Let’s go looking for a flute that probably does not exist, and in the meantime, likely be trapped inside a mountain tunnel. But it makes no difference to me. Let’s go to die straightaway!”

  Naia clenched her fists, and Kylan interrupted before things got even worse.

  “The Caves of Grot are on the east side of this lake, if this map is accurate. The book says Gyr left the firca there, with the Grottan Gelfling.”

  If they had Tavra’s approval, then at least they might be able to get out of the confrontation with that. They should take what they could get. He looked expectantly at Naia to salvage as much peace between them all as she could, and although she puffed out her cheeks, she let the breath out and spoke calmly.

  “Then we’ll go. Around the lake. If the Grottan still exist, we can ask them, and tell them about the Skeksis if it seems they might believe us. If we don’t see them, then we will find the firca ourselves.”

  “And if we don’t find the firca at all?” Tavra asked. “Will you agree to abandon this fool’s quest and go with me to Ha’rar?”

  Kylan didn’t want to think about what they might do if there was no firca, but it was possible. If Aughra couldn’t help them, and the firca was a dead end as well, then perhaps it would be best to do as Tavra said and try to catch up with Rian. On top of that, he wanted Tavra’s help.

  “Yes. I’d agree that even if we do find the firca, we will go straight to Ha’rar after,” he suggested. “So either way, Tavra, we will go north. If you give us your help, I think we will be the better for it. Help us find the firca, and we will depart for the capital even sooner.”

  He thought it was a good proposal, if not to smooth over the rough water between all of them, then at least to offer Tavra motivation to stay with them. The unspoken alternative, of course, was that Tavra left them and went to Ha’rar alone.

  She started taking down the laundry line. The invincible knots melted in her hands, falling away as if they had never been tied, and for a moment she held the loop of white cord as if considering tying the two of them up and dragging them to Ha’rar.

  “Let’s get this over with,” she said.

  It was a short walk to the lake, and when they arrived, Kylan stopped to take out the book. Naia waded into the clear water, her skin turning greener as it soaked up the moisture. She gazed out over the flat water, thinking about her brother, Kylan guessed. Or thinking of Neech, whose disappearance Tavra had not noticed and probably wouldn’t, as the flying eel was prone to wandering off on his own or sleeping hidden in Naia’s hair during the day.

  The sky was clear, the sun bright, and the pages of the old book easy to read. Kylan had marked the pages with maps, and turned to them quickly. He found north by looking at the moss on the trees, and based on the swoop of the highlands that rose up around the low lake, he resolved their position rather quickly. Through the pristine air, even the High Hill was visible, making him even more certain that he knew where they were and where they should go.

  “That way,” he said, pointing over the lake to the east, where the water met sheer red cliffs that went straight up into the highlands. It looked like nothing but mountainside from here, but the surface was porous and rippled, and Kylan imagined many tunnels and caves could hide within.

  “Shall we walk the beach or fashion a raft, o navigator?” Tavra asked, so flat it was probably rhetorical, but Kylan answered anyway.

  “I think the beach will be quicker. We’re on the closer side, anyway, and making a raft will take too long.”

  Tavra sped off toward the beach. “Too bad we didn’t bring the boat,” Naia said as they set off after her.

  The beach was sandy, speckled with rocks and sometimes the discarded exoskeletons of lake critters. Naia even found a large bronze fish scale and pocketed it as a souvenir. Kylan struggled with the maps, trying to decipher the scribbles and ink-blotted markings. There were times when he feared it was all made-up, just some abstract drawing by a madman of a place that only appeared to be real.

  He must have been making a face, because Naia noticed and asked him what was wrong.

  “I
’m worried we won’t find the caves,” he confessed. He didn’t burden her with the rest of his worries, that there would be no firca when they got there or that he was making this all up in an attempt to feel worthwhile.

  “Well, don’t worry,” she said. “We’ve got you. We’ve got that map. And Thra knows, we’ve got Tavra. If it’ll get us to Ha’rar quicker, she’ll find those caves if it’s the last thing she does.”

  He gave her a sideways glance.

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not not enjoying it.”

  It was tense, but at least Naia was on his side. The beach curved, heading straight for the cliffs where the caves would be, according to the map. As they neared them, Kylan realized how much bigger the cliffs were. The wall of black fern-studded rock looked like it would block out the sky. The cliff’s shadow fell over them, and Kylan shivered.

  “She must have a lot on her mind. And she must be exhausted . . . maybe even in pain, after what the Skeksis did. I’m surprised she’s still walking, and without a complaint. When she gets back to Ha’rar, she’ll have to explain everything to her mother . . .”

  “Don’t make excuses for her,” Naia said before he could go too far. “All that may be true, but none of that means she has to be so rude or mean. Hard-talk is one thing. Treating us like dirt is another. I’m done with it, so if she wants to keep taking out all her hardships on us, she better be prepared for some talk-back.”

  At any point, Tavra could have decided to leave them, yet she’d agreed to accompany them. That meant she cared, despite her attitude, and Kylan decided to take that as a good thing.

  “I know, I know.”

  “Aughra could have done well to be more prepared for talk-back, too, eh?” Naia asked. Kylan chuckled, though his cheeks warmed.