by J. M. Lee
Kylan clenched his fists on the table.
“I don’t need to be kept safe! Especially not if skekSa is out looking for us . . . All four of us. Naia, Gurjin, Amri, and me. And Tavra, the All-Maudra’s daughter. And a Sifa Far-Dreamer, and Rian. If you’re going to take them captive, you’ll have to take me, too. Our resistance against the Skeksis was a task given to us by Aughra herself.”
“Aughra!” Maudra Mera laughed, though it was strained. “Aughra, who turned her only eye away from the Gelfling once the Skeksis appeared? It was the Skeksis who helped us. The Skeksis now who threaten us. The Skeksis who we must fear and obey. Unless you have another proven way for us to defeat them.”
There it was again. Defeating the Skeksis. Stopping them forever. One time, not too long ago, Naia would have had an answer to that. But now she didn’t. No one did.
“Maudra Mera, please,” Naia tried once more. “Maudra Fara lost to the Skeksis because she was alone. If the Spriton join us—”
“I have seen sixty-four trine of Skeksis rule, Naia,” Mera interrupted. “I have seen more of it than you and more than even your mother. I know what the Emperor is like. I know the path he will take. Now that their eyes have turned on us, the Gelfling, I can see no other way to survive. This is the path that is laid before us. Subservience and survival is our destiny. We cannot deny what is plain before our eyes. We must instead do with it what we can. It is our duty as maudra—mine and yours—to ensure the survival of our clans.”
Maudra Mera swept up and waved them sharply to the door. Kylan followed without protest, pulling Naia up to do the same. The four of them followed her back out to the pavilion. No guards waited, and Maudra Mera didn’t call for any. Naia glanced at Kylan.
“So you’re . . . not taking us captive for skekSa?” he asked.
“I will permit you to remain in Sami Thicket until tomorrow,” Mera said. “But you must not wander into the wood, and you must be prepared to depart first thing in the morning. Am I making myself clear?”
“Very,” Naia said.
And with that, Maudra Mera left them, like a pair of sandals half-finished. Naia folded and refolded her arms. The news of Stone-in-the-Wood was a sign that the Skeksis were now wide-awake to the Gelfling resistance. What had been a secret was out in the open, and there was no way to call it back. And what had been Naia’s solution was no longer an option. And on top of all that, skekSa was after them with a personal grudge.
“Do you think Maudra Mera’s right?” Amri asked. “Will your mother attack the Spriton?”
Naia tilted her head back, wishing all her worries would tumble out so she could think clearly. A thin veil of clouds were stretched across the sky, shedding light rain that quickly dried under the heat of the hearth fire and the torches that were being lit around the pavilion. The Spriton were preparing for their communal supper, probably of roasted squash as usual, and the flames in the hearth were big enough to make enough of the stuff for all of the villagers.
“Not unless they attack first,” Gurjin said. “So long as things remain this way, no one will get hurt. We have to stay calm and not cause trouble. That’d only make it worse.”
“But how long can things stay like this?” Kylan asked. “The scales are in balance, but barely. The moment one of the two clans makes any move, the other will react. It’s only a matter of time. And the Skeksis . . .”
Naia gazed across the pavilion, watching the Spriton make ready for supper. The distant clanging of a hammer on an anvil reminded her of someone tapping their foot, waiting. Just a reminder that time was always passing, whether they wanted it to or not.
“Then we’ll just have to light the Spriton fire before it comes to that,” she said.
“So what do we do now?” Gurjin asked. “How do we change her mind?”
“I could try to talk to Maudra Mera alone, but I don’t know that it’ll make a difference,” Kylan said. “She can only see one path. One future.”
Amri sighed. “Too bad she can’t see the dream-etchings that happened when the other fires were lit. It might inspire her.”
When they’d joined hands with Maudra Ethri, Onica, and the other Sifa aboard the Omerya, lit the Sifa fire, the mystic flames had etched their song across the coral ship’s deck. The same etchings had appeared in the cloisters of the Dousan Wellspring, and even now the song of the Vapra was emblazoned on the crystalline citadel in Ha’rar.
“We could dreamfast with her and show her,” Naia suggested.
“It won’t make a difference to her,” Kylan said. “Whether we tell her or show her in dreamfast. Those are the songs of the other clans. Maudra Mera is concerned only with the Spriton.”
“Eel-feathers,” Naia swore. Dreamfasts were only of things that had already happened. A sharing of memories, not hopes. None of them were Far-Dreamers like Onica. Telling the songs of the future in dreamfast was out of their grasp.
Naia straightened as an idea bolted up her spine and down her arms.
“What if we show her without dreamfasting? What if we show all the Spriton a vision of the future?”
“How, Far-Dreaming?” Amri asked. “Onica is probably already in Domrak by now.”
Naia pointed at Kylan’s firca where it hung at his breast.
“We don’t need a Far-Dreamer. We have a song teller. What’s the difference between a memory of the past, or an idea of what could happen in the future? Maybe we can’t show Maudra Mera what will happen, but when you tell songs, Kylan . . . it’s magic. You could tell a song of how things could be.”
Kylan looked down at the firca, then back at Naia. “I can’t make up that kind of song on the fly.”
“You’ve done it before. The song you told Rian—Jarra-Jen and the Dew Tree?”
Kylan’s ears flattened. “That was different. I was just trying to make him feel better. This is more important—the whole fate of the Spriton could be riding on whether I tell the song properly. I don’t think I can do it.”
The fleeting sparkle of hope fizzled out, and Naia drooped again. She couldn’t make Kylan do it, and even if she could, if he didn’t believe in himself, there was no way anyone else was going to.
“What’s going on over there?” Amri asked, nodding with his chin toward a group of Spriton maneuvering a wood handcart close to the hearth where the food was being prepared. The cart handlers weren’t dressed in the heavier leather of a spear thrower, instead outfitted in lightweight armor. They stood by while the food preparers collected squash rinds, stems, and branches and tossed them into the cart.
“Looks like feed,” Gurjin said. “That’s the kind of stuff we fed the Landstriders and the armaligs back at the castle.”
“But out here in the plains, the Landstriders forage,” Kylan murmured. “There’s plenty for the small herds we keep, in the thicket and the meadows nearby.”
“Then what—or who—are they feeding?”
They watched as the cart was filled, nearly overflowing with produce. Then the Spriton at the front lit a torch from the cooking fire and led the way while the three in the rear pushed the cart along the dirt path that led out of the far edge of the pavilion into the forest.
“Remember how Maudra Mera was very adamant that we don’t wander into the wood?” Amri said, arching a brow. Naia nodded.
“Yes, I do. You remember that, Gurjin?”
“Yeah,” he said. She waited for the twinkle of curiosity to light in his eye. Instead, he said, “And I think maybe we should do as she said. We’re already treading lightly here. If she finds out we’ve gone sneaking around, she’ll probably kick us out sooner, and how will we light the fire with the Spriton then?”
Naia frowned. There was a time when her brother would have been the first to suggest following the wagon drivers. She remembered his hesitation to go after Amri on skekSa’s ship, too. Another sign of how they were growing apart
.
“Then you don’t have to come,” she said. “But I’m going to find out what’s going on.”
She didn’t wait for him to agree. Amri followed her, and then Kylan. Gurjin sighed, and the four of them headed into the thicket together.
They followed the Spriton as they wheeled their cart all the way out of the thicket, to the far side where the hills dipped into a gentle valley. Naia and the others scampered after, staying just far enough away. The moment they crested the hill, they froze.
The valley glittered with torchlight. Naia hadn’t seen it from the other side as they’d approached Sami Thicket, hidden by the wood and meadow grass. Tall, dark shapes moved in the valley, and the misty night air murmured with the snorting, nasal grunting of the long-legged, wide-eared creatures that flocked below. Naia didn’t need Amri’s night vision to know what she was seeing.
“Landstriders,” she gasped.
Dozens of them, the buckles of their riding gear shining in the dim torchlight. Spriton warriors groomed and dressed them for battle, some of the Gelfling wearing pointed black and shining armor and billowing capes.
“There are so many of them,” Amri said. “Are there usually?”
“No,” Kylan said, the single word like a stone.
Gurjin grimaced. “Those Gelfling in the black armor—they’re not Spriton. They’re guards from the Castle of the Crystal.”
“So the Skeksis sent reinforcements when they asked the Spriton to stop the Drenchen from advancing?” Amri asked. “Naia, what are we going to do?”
The rotten feeling in her gut grew bigger by the moment. The anger wouldn’t do anything to solve the problem, but she didn’t know what else to feel in that moment. Amri’s question echoed through her head, louder every time she couldn’t calm it with an answer: What are we going to do?
She took a deep breath. This wasn’t a time to get lost with worry.
“Depends on what they’re doing,” Naia said. “Amri, can you see?”
He gave her a sideways glance. “Just because I can see in the dark doesn’t mean I know anything about Landstrider gear,” he quipped wryly. “What am I looking for?”
“Look at their legs,” Gurjin suggested. “Are they armored?”
Naia scanned the creatures below, even though she knew Amri would be able to make a much better assessment. One of the Landstriders let out a piercing whistle through its bony proboscis as a Spriton came too close with a torch. Its rider pulled it away by the reins, though the grumpy creature still kicked up clods of dirt with its hooves. It was finally sated by the cherry-squash rinds being distributed by the Spriton wagon drivers, but not before Naia saw black panels of leather strapped to its long, thin legs.
“There’s something strapped on near the knees,” Amri said, just as Naia noticed the same thing. “It’s hard to tell if it’s armor from here, though. And not all the Landstriders are wearing it. Why, what does it mean?”
“If they’re armored, it means they’re more likely preparing for a blockade,” Gurjin said. “Armor weighs them down and restricts their movements, but it would help protect them against enemies on foot. You would never take a fully armored Landstrider into a headlong attack. It wouldn’t be able to run or maneuver. Maudra Mera is just preparing the Landstriders to make a stand and defend in case the Drenchen come.”
Naia frowned.
“But Amri said they’re not all armored. If Maudra Mera wanted to ambush the Drenchen first at night, with full force, wouldn’t it be more strategic if some of the Landstriders were armored and some weren’t?”
Naia couldn’t stop imagining what damage they and their riders could do to the Drenchen sleeping out under the open sky. Out of their element, whose wings couldn’t carry them like the Spriton, and whose unshod feet were used to the soft swamp. Not the prickly, rocky earth and the biting brambles. If the Spriton brought the Landstriders against the Drenchen, especially in the dead of the night, the Drenchen would surely lose. Maybe permanently, if Maudra Mera’s fear of the Skeksis made her ruthless. If that happened, no amount of time would be able to restore what might be lost.
“It’s always more strategic to have both,” Gurjin said, but he wasn’t swayed. He crossed his arms. “I still think she’s preparing for defense in case the Drenchen come.”
“Then why are they armored now? At the end of the evening like this? Look at that soldier—he’s in full gear, spear in hand.”
“He could be preparing to go on patrol,” Gurjin replied. “If she’s expecting the Drenchen, naturally they have to be prepared. It takes time to dress a Landstrider, and they can be fussy about change. If the Drenchen approached suddenly and the guards had to jump quickly into the saddle and rush into battle, the Landstriders might spook.”
Naia took in the scene below, trying not to bristle. Gurjin might have the experience of working with Landstrider riders and guards from the Castle of the Crystal, but it still didn’t feel right.
“What do you think, Kylan?” Gurjin asked. The song teller had been quiet as they’d assessed the scene. “Do you think Maudra Mera is preparing to strike tonight, or do you think they’re keeping at the ready to form a blockade?”
Kylan pressed his lips into a flat line.
“I don’t know anything about Landstriders and war, but I know Maudra Mera. She is afraid of the Skeksis, most certainly, and if the Drenchen come to Sami Thicket with spears bared, she won’t hesitate to bring the Landstriders against them. But as it is, I have to agree with Gurjin on this one. I don’t think she’s the type to ambush anyone in the middle of the night. Especially if she hasn’t been attacked first.”
“So that’s that, then,” Gurjin said, before Naia could protest. “They’re forming a blockade. No one’s going into battle tonight. We found out what’s going on, and it doesn’t change anything that we’ve already learned. Let’s get out of here before they see us snooping around. If Maudra Mera finds out, she might take us captive after all.”
Without waiting, Gurjin spun toward Sami Thicket, and Kylan was quick to follow. Amri waited with Naia, following only after she let out a huff and took off after them.
“That’s that, huh?” Naia said as they hurried through the wood. “You didn’t even ask Amri.”
“No offense, but Amri wasn’t a castle guard around Landstriders or a Spriton who knows his maudra,” Gurjin said.
A dozen replies bubbled up, but Naia bit them all back. At least, at first.
“I know you think I’m overreacting,” she said. “But if I am, then you’re underreacting. You saw yourself that those riders weren’t just scouts going on patrol. They were in full combat armor. All that, and you won’t even consider the idea that she might be planning to attack.”
“She’s not planning an attack! It doesn’t make any sense. The Drenchen are far away, and Maudra Mera isn’t going to risk a confrontation. She’s shrewd, but she doesn’t want to hurt other Gelfling. Why would she strike first when she doesn’t have to? You can’t assume Maudra Mera is going to attack the Drenchen tonight just because it’s what you would do!”
Naia almost missed a step. His words seemed unnecessarily harsh, and they stung.
“That’s not what I would do.”
“We’ll figure out what to do tomorrow. You’ll see. The suns are going to come up tomorrow, and those Landstriders are going to be right where we left them. You have to trust that the Spriton don’t want to go to war any more than the Drenchen.”
Naia bit her tongue. She didn’t want to believe that the Spriton were preparing an ambush, but she had seen Maudra Mera grovel before the Skeksis. She had seen the fear.
“Gurjin . . .”
He let out a big sigh and put his hands on her shoulders. It was something a big brother would do, as if he had forgotten they were the same age.
“You’re always jumping without looking. It’s going to g
et you hurt. Please, promise me you won’t do anything brash.”
She stepped back, out from under his hands.
“You’ve changed,” she said.
He let his hands drop. She waited for them to ball into fists, but they didn’t. He pressed his lips together and shouldered past her, heading through the last trees before the wood gave way to the Sami Thicket pavilion.
Kylan cleared his throat after an uncomfortable moment, then said, “I guess I’ll find a place to sleep for the night.”
Then he followed Gurjin, and Naia was alone with Amri. He hadn’t said a word during the whole exchange with Gurjin, and now she wondered if she was going to get a scolding from him, too. Or maybe he would say nothing. She didn’t know which would be worse.
“Naia, I . . .”
He trailed off almost before he started. She watched his gaze, as if he were thinking about something else. He glanced down at her and she thought he might say something. But he didn’t, and they returned the rest of the way to the pavilion in silence.
CHAPTER 13
Gereni found them later and offered her family’s garden for their sleeping place for the night. The hut was on the edge of the pavilion, between the central area of the small village and the thicket itself. Behind the hut was a patch of earth, turned up and soft from a recent harvest. They put down hay and quilts and lay down below the viny trellises, watching the light of the hearth fire flicker off the trees that bordered the thicket.
Gurjin said nothing as he pulled his cloak over his head and went to sleep. Naia almost asked Kylan to tell a song, if even just for the silence to end. But she didn’t, worried that it would be asking too much of him. Instead, she watched the sky as Amri settled next to Kylan.
“Doing all right?” the Shadowling asked quietly.
“No,” Kylan replied. “There’s so much to take in. Maudra Mera, skekSa, the Drenchen, the Landstriders.” Naia and Gurjin fighting, he almost seemed to add. Naia wished she were part of the conversation. Wished she could encourage her friends while they encouraged her. But she kept her nose out of it.