Song of the Dark Crystal #2

by J. M. Lee

  It was a glimpse of hope, even if it still meant they had to find one of the bones, a task that might well be impossible. Kylan listened to the dripping and the quiet sloshing of water. There was no sound of bubbles or movement in the idle waves.

  “It’s it been a while. Should Amri and Naia have returned?”

  “It’s difficult to say. The voices of the spider swarm are growing, though. We will soon be far too late, if we are not already.”

  Kylan put Naia’s dagger in his belt and felt along the cave wall. A moving current eddied below, near his feet, where Naia and Amri had disappeared. It was his role to wait for them to check ahead—not because he was weak, really, but because they were better suited to do the job. Yet if they had run into trouble, despite how impossible it might seem for him to make the journey without their help, it was his role as well to save them if he could.

  “Can you see in this dark?” he asked.

  “Yes. Are you going after them?”

  Her question was mostly neutral, though it had a hint of what Kylan hoped was pride, or respect, or something like that. He didn’t want to. Every nerve in his body was ringing in alarm and fear, but it didn’t matter. He was here, and if he was going to get out of this place, there was only one way to do it.

  “Try to tell me if I’m about to die,” he said.

  Tavra gave a very dry chuckle.

  “I will do my best.”

  Kylan took the biggest breath he could, and dived.

  The underwater tunnel was narrow and had only one route, so at least there was no fear of losing his way. He couldn’t tell whether his eyes were open or shut, pulling himself through the rocky passage with his hands. Tavra held on to him, pressing her body against his shoulder, sometimes pricking him with her legs when he neared sharp rocks or came close to the sudden twists and turns. More than once he hit his head, or shoulder, or ankle when he kicked, and he had to let the air out of his lungs slowly when he realized the saved breath was causing him to float.

  There was no sign of Naia or Amri. His lungs began to burn, and his body wanted to panic, thrashing or swimming upward in search of air, but he took hold of himself and forced a steady pace. Just as he began to fear the tunnel would never end, Tavra pricked him with all eight legs, and he opened his eyes. Overhead he saw a light, and he kicked as fast as he could toward it, swimming up and up until finally he broke the surface and gasped for air.

  “Be careful,” Tavra hissed into his ear, in an even tinier voice than usual. “The enemy is all around us.”

  Kylan’s lungs strained in protest as he fought to breathe as quietly as he could. Though there was light coming from above, he couldn’t see. He couldn’t do anything, at first, but gulp air. If the enemy were to find him now, there would be nothing he could do. His lungs were so starved for air, the most he could do was stay in the water. All he wanted was to drag himself out and onto whatever land was nearby.

  When his head began to clear and his gasps calmed to shallow panting, he opened his eyes. The underwater tunnel had opened into a pool. At his back was a small waterfall coming from higher in the cavern. Though it was not very large, it was steady, and the echoing sound of it had probably masked his gasping for air.

  This was in his favor, for all around him, the rocks, walls, nooks, and crannies were coated in spiderwebs. Some of the webs were elegant, glistening like silver thread, while some were so thick and gauzy, they looked like fleece laid upon the rocks. Crawling on every surface of the cave and along every web were spiders of every shape, every size, and every color. Some had long thin legs like Tavra. Some were large, squat, and furry. Some were small, like black dust, and others much larger. One spider, reclining on its hammock of netted webbing, had legs the size of Kylan’s arms.

  There was still no sign of Naia and Amri, and Kylan took in the cavern from his spot in the pool, submerged up to just below his nose in the hopes that his dark hair and skin would camouflage him in the dimly lit grotto. The cavern that housed the pool was far smaller than the Domrak central cavern, and he could see a single passage that trailed off on the other side. He smelled open air and could see daylight coming from that direction.

  The Sanctuary, he thought. But how will I get there? And where are Naia and Amri?

  There was no way they would have seen this and gone ahead without coming back to get him. The only answer was that they had been captured . . . or worse. Kylan looked over the spider-infested cave once more. Maybe they were hiding, or being held prisoner. Either way, he had to find them. They all had to get to the Sanctuary and find the bone, and the Grottan, if they could.

  Kylan held his breath and sank into the water up to his eyes when a shadow fell against the corridor that led outside. From the feather-ornamented mantle and wickedly hooked beak, he knew what it was before it came into view: a Skeksis, in a black-and-red cloak, holding a crystal-topped staff as it came striding down the tunnel.

  The spiders chittered and scurried out of the Skeksis’s way, some of the smaller ones kicked up by the many layers of ornamented and embroidered fabrics. The Skeksis held the staff out, letting the light glinting out of its crystal head illuminate the cave.

  “skekLi,” Tavra whispered in Kylan’s ear. “The Satirist . . . The Skeksis’ entertainer. Krychk’s master. Be careful!”

  Kylan shuddered in the water as the Skeksis Lord’s gaze passed over him and stopped. He hoped that maybe the Skeksis hadn’t seen him, but the gasp that followed was proof to the contrary.

  “You!” called the Skeksis, jabbing in his direction with the staff.

  His voice matched the one that had been speaking to Krychk through the Crystal shard. Kylan wanted to duck into the water and swim back through the terrible tunnel below, but the Skeksis strode forward so quickly and with such ferociousness that his joints locked up and he could not move. When he finally regained enough control to push away from the lip of the pool, he was too late. The Skeksis towered over him and splashed a clawed hand into the water, grabbing him and pulling him out.

  “You!” he crowed again. “So you took the Spriton after all! We thought you would fail us. Yes, we did. But here we are.”

  What was he saying? Took the Spriton?

  He thinks you are the spider, Kylan answered himself. The realization was like lightning, just another force charging through his fear-racked body. He pushed himself to look the Skeksis in the eye. Tavra, still attached to his neck, did not move. He hoped she had realized the same thing.

  “Y-yes,” he stammered. “My lord. The . . . the Vapra’s body failed me. So I am here. I trust . . . you found the Drenchen and the Grottan?”

  The Skeksis set him down with surprising care, though the carnivorous sneer still cut beneath his pointed beak. He was thinner than the other Skeksis that Kylan had seen, with a long neck and sinewy fingers. On each finger he wore a ring, and each ring was connected with a web of silver chain, decorated with dangling charms. The same chain-and-charm decorations cascaded from a three-pointed fascinator, pinned to the Skeksis’s head with a pair of long narrow feathers.

  “Yes. We have them in the Sanctuary. Of course, would’ve been better with two Drenchen, but . . . Come, come! We have the Grottan maudra as well. That is fine in trade. At least for now.”

  The Skeksis whirled, flourishing with his staff, and strutted out of the cavern. Kylan caught his breath. The spiders all around were quiet, twitching their mandibles while they watched him. Did they know? Could they know that he was not being controlled by Krychk? He didn’t want to wait to find out, and pulled his chin up as he had seen Krychk do when in control of Tavra’s body. With a forced sense of self-importance, he marched after the Skeksis toward the Sanctuary, heart fluttering with worry at what he might find there.

  CHAPTER 25

  Kylan followed skekLi into a passageway and toward the sound of rushing wind. Like the Grottan caves of Domrak, the w
alls were thick with dream-etching, but as they neared the end of the tunnel, the organic facets of rock and moss gave way to architecture of a grander scale. The dirt underfoot became brick and steps, and around them moss and other green plants prevailed—so much so that the exit was completely overgrown with brush and ferns.

  skekLi pushed his way through the veil of green at the end and they emerged beyond the foliage. The space beyond took Kylan’s breath away.

  It was a corrie, the remains of some ancient, dried-up mountain lake. It looked as if a big hand had reached down and scooped out the rock and lifted it away. Growing from the bottom of the open corrie were a dozen giant mushrooms, with pillar-like gray stems and wide flat caps. They were enormous enough that some had structures built on top, torch circles and dream-etched stone pillars. Between the mushroom caps were a network of rope bridges, so one might wander between the caps in a peaceful labyrinth of contemplation. At the very bottom of the corrie, Kylan could make out water flowing from a deep spring, perhaps the origin of the Black River that quenched the thirst of all the Skarith region. The air was thin and cold, and carried the sounds of bells, though none could be seen. The sounds were echoes from a distant past, and Kylan knew he had reached the Grottan Sanctuary.

  Even here, the spiders crawled and spun their webs on every surface. It was not as infested as the cave, but Kylan saw that there were many other exits that pocked the interior wall of the space, and spiders were lazily spinning webs and crawling up and down the corrie walls. They were not vicious now, as they had been during the confrontation with Krychk, but they were thousands, if not millions, in number. Over time, the entire Sanctuary would become one huge spider nest. If Krychk was any indication of the spider folk’s feelings, it would mean complete exile for the Gelfling from this sacred place.

  skekLi proceeded down the nearest rope bridge. The ancient bridge creaked and swayed under his weight, but he went on without a care. Kylan followed, tiny parts of tiny plans flitting through his mind as he picked his way across the wood slats. If he could get Naia’s knife out in time, he could cut the bridge and hope the Skeksis might fall to his death. Or would he? He realized he didn’t even know if a Skeksis could be killed. They had hurt skekMal, most certainly, but the Hunter remained at large, at least enough to have stolen Spriton from Sami Thicket. And even if they could destroy skekLi, it would mean doom for his Mystic counterpart, wherever he was.

  As they approached the nearest mushroom cap, Kylan pushed back a tremor of fear. What he had mistaken for more webs clustered around a circle of pillars were actually Gelfling bodies, so wrapped in web, they were almost unrecognizable. They were mostly Grottan, and mostly unconscious, though one let out a whimper when skekLi approached.

  “Yes, cry, little Gelfling. Cry because you ran right to us. Did you think we would not know where you would flee when the spiders took Domrak? Stupid Gelfling. Fled right into our arms, like children.”

  Kylan breathed slowly to control his impulse to cry out or flee when he saw Naia and Amri, bound to one of the pillars in thick, sticky webbing. Naia was unconscious; her head hung to the side and was dark with a big bruise and cut. Amri was awake, eyes nearly closed in pain against the growing light, but he saw Kylan. Before he could say a word, skekLi whirled, holding his staff over his head and laughing so loudly, it echoed one-hundredfold against the mountains.

  “Krychk, behold! The Drenchen girl. The Gelfling Sanctuary. All the wisdom of the ages!”

  skekLi let out another round of laughter, taking huge strides across the cap while holding his staff high. After trine upon trine under the open sun, the mushroom’s surface was petrified and nearly stone, littered with chipped-off, fossilized fungus and shards of what Kylan realized were giant eggshells.

  “And who brought it to the Emperor? ME! skekLi! Not the Hunter. Not the General. Not even skekGra the Conqueror. No, it was skekLi. The clown, they said. The jester. Ha! See what this court clown has done that not even skekMal could do! We’ll see what Emperor skekSo thinks about that! HA! HA!”

  Although Kylan knew he should fear the towering black-quilled creature—should hate it for what it had done—a tiny part of him connected with the Skeksis, and he understood. Why skekLi was so overjoyed, even in his terrible way. The connection, as repulsive as it was, gave him a handhold in the situation where he had otherwise been slipping, and he grabbed on.

  “You succeeded where others failed, my lord,” he said. He cursed at the quavering in his voice, pressing it out like he would wring water from a washcloth. “You did what the warriors could not do. You . . . you tricked them. Led them straight here. It was a genius plan.”

  “Oh, wasn’t it? Yes. Yes, it was. Oh, bask in my glory, Krychk. A great victory for me means a great victory for you. Now, we must hurry. To finalize this conquest, with Rian and the other Drenchen. Ohh . . . yes, soon . . .”

  Under the watch of all the spiders, Kylan could hardly glance at Amri to reassure him. He looked at Naia and hoped she would be all right. He could see that she was breathing, but she did not look well. The size of the welt on her forehead matched the crystal at the end of skekLi’s staff. He hoped that she would be able to run if she were able to wake at all.

  But where would they go? They were completely surrounded by spiders, and one sweep of skekLi’s staff or clawed hands and they would topple over the unguarded edge of the cap. Even Naia’s unpracticed wings would not slow her fall enough to save her.

  Amri flicked his ear. Kylan looked furtively in the direction he gestured. Along the vertical cliffs, he saw massive tangles of shrubs and roots. At first he thought they were merely mountain-growing brambles, but the more he looked, the more he could make out other shapes. The structures were woven, a combination of large branches and sometimes what looked to be whole trees, overgrown with giant hanging moss and the broad-leafed ferns that sprouted throughout the valley. It wasn’t until Kylan recognized the broken shaft of a huge feather jutting out of one of the structures that he understood. These were nests, once, though the birds that had built them had been gone for over a thousand trine.

  “The bell-bird nests,” Tavra whispered. “Where we might find a bone . . .”

  It was a nice thought, but far from possible right now. So much could go wrong, and in very little time. Even if Kylan made a run for the nest, he’d be intercepted by spiders or skekLi. Not to mention that he’d have to leave Amri and Naia to do so. Trying to free them from the webbing would take more time than he had. Once he betrayed the fact that he was not being controlled by the crystal spider on his neck, it would be over.

  He tried to think strategically, as he thought Tavra might. If he could get rid of the spiders, he might be able to at least outrun skekLi. All their weapons and supplies were in a pile where the river left the mountain. All he had with him were his wits and his quick Gelfling feet. Tavra had said the bell-bird bone could do it, but they’d never find it like this. He needed help.

  “So, my little spider friend. We promised your kind the Caves of Grot. Take them, and do not forget our great generosity despite your failure. Remember this moment, when we conquered the Gelfling who infested your domain. We will call upon you soon for later matters.”

  That was all the Skeksis had brought him here for? To witness his gloating?

  “Thank you, my lord,” he began. “Might I ask one other favor of you? This Spriton body is not to my liking. I know you must bring the Drenchen back to the Emperor, but the Grottan . . . It is like the Vapra. Might I . . . ?”

  skekLi chuckled. “Yes, the Spriton is tiny. It makes no difference to us. Take the Grottan if you like. Its eyes may serve you better in the caves anyway.”

  Kylan approached Amri and began tearing the webbing away. As he did, he tried to make some work on the web that bound Naia, too. When his careless-seeming ripping and shredding jostled her, she stirred and opened her eyes.

  “Kylan . . . ?”


  “Shh. Play dead. Amri, go with Tavra. Find the bone. When you cross the bridge, cut it down.”

  “What? But how . . .”

  “Use a rock, a knife, one of those eggshell shards. I don’t care. Just do it!”

  The webbing was thick and his fingers were sore, but Kylan finally freed his friend.

  “Amri and I will find the bone,” Tavra said. “Good luck, Spriton.”

  Tavra detached from his neck and darted down his arm, leaping to Amri’s shoulder, and Kylan took on his next character, the weakling Spriton the Skeksis thought he was. He yelped and fell back, putting his hand to his neck.

  “No!” he cried. “What have you done?”

  Amri pulled himself free of the remaining web, casting about with an unsure frown. Tavra moved to a place on his shoulder where Kylan hoped she was whispering to him. Her voice, if she was, was imperceptible to him over the echoing wind.

  “Ah, yes!” Amri said suddenly. He snatched one of the sharp eggshell pieces that were scattered about, pointing it at Kylan as if to silence him. “This Grottan body is much more appealing! Stay down, puny Spriton!”

  It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do. skekLi didn’t seem to notice the change in attitude, much more interested in preening his robes. Amri brushed himself off and stepped toward the bridge. The motion was stilted, as if he was both reluctant to leave his friends while desperately wanting to run as far from the Skeksis as he could. It was a mixture of emotions Kylan knew well.

  “Yes,” Amri said again. “Well, thank you, my lord. My lord, skekLi. I will now . . . go. Back to Domrak to claim the prize . . . Goodbye.”

  Kylan stayed where he was, pretending to be immobile, but every muscle ready to leap when it was time. skekLi waved a dismissive claw as Amri started across the bridge.

  “Stay at arms. Soon we will finish what we started.”