Song of the Dark Crystal #2

by J. M. Lee

  “Can you read it?” Naia asked. She, like most other Gelfling, did not read or write. The combination of the two was one of Kylan’s only talents, taught to him by Maudra Mera in the hopes that he might one day amount to something.

  “It’s the birth-song of Stone-in-the-Wood,” he said in awe, tracing the words. “In the summer ninet and the Age of Innocence, here stood Maudra Ynid the Tree Singer, called by the weeping-trees, at the heart of the Dark Wood where the Black River flows. She drew the shape of the suns in the ground. With the blessing of the Cradle-Tree, stones multiplied from the earth, and there was born Stone-in-the-Wood, and the Gelfling flowered.”

  Naia’s ears perked up.

  “Maudra Ynid! I’ve heard that name . . . She was the sister of Maudra Mesabi-Nara, who brought the Gelfling race to the Swamp of Sog. Who planted Great Smerth, the tree where my clan lives. Written within Smerth’s heartwood is a similar story.”

  “We have something like it in Sami Thicket, too,” Kylan said. “The Six Sisters who left the northern shore and started the Gelfling clans . . . Look! This stone has a tale of Jarra-Jen!”

  Kylan went from stone to stone, reading the songs and telling them to Naia, who trailed behind him. He wasn’t sure if the songs interested her, but she listened anyway. One was a song from the Age of Harmony, of a song teller named Gyr, who traveled the world in search of the true song of Thra. Another stone told how Mother Aughra had come down from the High Hill and brought wisdom to the Gelfling of Stone-in-the-Wood—wisdom of the seasons and the stars—and taught them the shape of Thra’s three suns. Knowing the shape of the Brothers and the path of the heavens taught the Gelfling to understand the ninets, the greater seasons. In turn, the understanding of the seasons led to understanding of the land, and crops, and the cycle of life in the grander sense.

  It wasn’t until the sky was too dark to read any longer that Kylan realized he had spent the entire day with the stones on the rise. Naia had fallen asleep against one of the tablets, snoring gently, while Neech darted in and out of the shadows, snapping up fluttering unamoths and other insects for his supper.

  Kylan shook Naia’s shoulder.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean for this to take all day.”

  She yawned and stretched.

  “You needed to read. I needed to nap.”

  “Well, now we need to get moving or we’ll miss supper.”

  They watched the sky turn from orange to a deep blue as they hurried down the rise. The village torches flickered on, one by one, and as they walked down, it looked as though they were coming back to a sea of fireflies. Somewhere, a musician played on a lute, and the village hearth crackled with flames within and Gelfling laughter without.

  As dismal as Rian’s suggestion to keep their distance had been, Kylan and Naia avoided the hearth. A meal among others sounded nice, but every time Kylan looked at the peaceful faces of the Stonewood, all he could think about was how those faces would change if they knew what he knew. Yet he knew they would have to know, and soon—or what they didn’t know could quite possibly kill them.

  “I feel guilty, almost,” Naia said quietly, undoubtedly thinking the same things. “As if it’s my fault that the Skeksis have betrayed us. That it’s our fault, somehow, that things are the way they are. I don’t want to tell them. I don’t want them to be afraid.”

  “Naia! Kylan!”

  The chipper voice came from below. Mythra was hopping up the steep steps, waving a hand.

  “There you are! Guess what? It’s time for supper. My mother sent me to get you. Are you hungry? I hope you are, because she’s made a lot of food. Come on!”

  As quickly as she had arrived, she was off, bouncing from stone to stone toward the stone hut where Kylan and Naia had stayed the previous night. Smoke came from the chimney, and the windows were warm with hearthlight. His stomach rumbled in anticipation, and they hurried after the young Stonewood girl.

  CHAPTER 5

  Inside the hut, the small fireplace was lit, and some fire jars had been set out on the windowsills. The room radiated warmth with a gold light. Rian sat on the floor by the hearth, toying with something small and blue. When they entered, he pocketed it and raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment.

  Mythra greeted them in a more forthcoming manner. She led Kylan and Naia into the cooking room, where her mother was chopping merkeep tubers and humming softly to herself. Like most Stonewood Gelfling, she had long dark hair, and her soft wings were brown and red, with two large black eyespots accented by other dapples of orange, gold, and tan. A youngling sat on the floor by her feet, chewing on his fist.

  “This is my mother, Shoni,” Mythra said. “And my little brother, Timtri.”

  Though Kylan and Naia had spent the night in the hut, Rian’s mother and younger brother had been asleep when they had arrived and away early in the morning before they had awoken. Shoni set down her chopping knife and rounded the table to cup Naia’s face and then Kylan’s. Her hands smelled of spices and carrots. It was a warm gesture Kylan had seen many mothers do, although he couldn’t remember much about his own mother, and certainly Maudra Mera would never have done something so kind to him.

  “Hello, my sweets. I’m glad to finally meet you. Please, sit down. Ignore Rian if he’s cold to you. Rian! Fetch our guests something to drink, would you?”

  “I can do it, Mother,” Mythra suggested, but Shoni waved her away.

  “I want him to do it. It will be good for him.”

  Rian didn’t protest, though he showed the bare minimum in care as he splashed water from a gourd into two clay cups. He held out a cup each to Kylan and to Naia. Once they’d taken the offering, he went back to his place by the hearth.

  Kylan took a polite sip of his water, elbowing for Naia to do the same when she stood and stared after Rian in mild disapproval. The water was earthy, likely from a well. Though he had grown to enjoy the flavor of river water, the well water reminded him of home, and he drank slowly to savor the taste as long as he could.

  “Can we help at all?” he asked. He wasn’t very skilled with proper cooking, though he had learned to roast just about anything over a campfire.

  “No, no. We’re almost done. Please, sit.”

  She waved them toward the table, a large flat stone that grew straight from the floor near one wall of the hut. Kylan wondered which had come first, the stone or the hut. Shoni set the table with three serving bowls of nuts, spiced peach-berries, and diced root. Rian was the last to join them, sitting next to Mythra and focusing on slowly eating a modest portion.

  “So. Swamp of Sog, and Sami Thicket,” Shoni said. She pushed more food onto Naia’s and Kylan’s plates. Mythra needed no help, though she clearly favored the spiced peach-berry, taking twice as many of the fruit than nuts or roots. “That’s quite a long journey. I’ve never traveled farther south than the Dark Wood reaches. Did it take long?”

  Naia licked her fingers before replying.

  “Not too long. I traveled only a few days before I reached the plains, though we were carried by Landstrider to Stone-in-the-Wood. I guess it would have taken much longer if we were on foot.”

  “I can believe it! Was it your Landstrider, Kylan?”

  Shoni asked because the Landstrider was the sigil creature of the Spriton. Although it was an unsurprising assumption, Kylan couldn’t help but feel mildly ashamed when he shook his head.

  “No. It belonged to a friend of ours.”

  “Are Spriton Landstriders as tall and fast as those we have in the Dark Wood?” Mythra asked. “I’ve only ridden once, on a fawn—and it was not on top of its legs yet. Is it as fun as it sounds? Galloping across the plains!”

  Kylan shook his head again. He didn’t want to tell them about his brief foray into riding, the majority of which involved falling off, spooking the beasts, or a combination of the two. Galloping across the plains was on
e of the many Spriton traditions Kylan had seen much and done little of. There was that, and spear mastering, and bola throwing . . .

  “I don’t do much riding,” he said.

  “Enough that you could guide ours,” Naia reminded him. “I’m thankful.”

  Rian had already finished his meal, though the rest of them had hardly begun.

  “You should be,” Rian said. “If you hadn’t had a Landstrider, you would certainly have been caught by the Skeksis.”

  “Rian!” Shoni scolded. “Now’s not the time. Can’t we enjoy one meal as a family without mentioning . . . that?”

  “I don’t know, Mother. Can we even call ourselves a family when Father—”

  “Enough.”

  Kylan hurriedly put a piece of fruit in his mouth, giving himself something to focus on as the air between mother and son grew hot. Rian didn’t press the matter, though. Shoni flicked her wings once, shrugging off the little argument, and turned her attention back to her guests.

  “What about you, Naia?” she asked. “What kinds of sport do the Drenchen do for fun?”

  Naia perked up at the opportunity to share.

  “Oh! We do bola tourneys, and during festivals, sometimes compete with feather-darts. When I was younger and argued with my sisters, my mother used to throw gems into the deepest parts of the swamp and make us find them before they sank into the mud. If we couldn’t find a gem, we had to do chores under Great Smerth, cleaning mites from the roots and such. Oh, and during fall, when the apeknots droop, we do pole-vaulting dashes! Even the children play with us for that one.”

  Kylan thought it bordered on bragging, in an endearing way, and he welcomed the change of subject. The farther away from him, the better. He picked at his food and listened to Naia explain pole-vaulting dashes to Mythra, who got just as excited about it. Even Rian twisted an ear toward them.

  “Gurjin told me about the bola tourneys,” he said, his voice a sudden, but not unwelcome, surprise. “He showed me his Drenchen bola. With shorter rope, so it has more force, but less to tangle in the swamp.”

  Naia agreed readily.

  “Yes! They’re heavier, and take more to swing, but they’re so much better in Sog. Or the forest, I suppose . . . Though in the field, I think the Spriton have it right, with longer rope and smaller stones. Isn’t that right, Kylan?”

  Kylan shrank a little into his shoulders. He appreciated her attempt to include him, but the truth was, he didn’t know how shorter or longer rope changed a bola, or whether smaller or larger stones would be better in the field or forest. He didn’t know, and a part of him didn’t even care. He shrugged.

  “I guess,” he said.

  His contribution was so small and green, it almost killed the tiny flame of conversation entirely. Naia was ready with kindling words.

  “Kylan is a song teller, and a dream etcher. A very good one! And even so, he can still throw a bola. He struck skekMal the Hunter square in the face.”

  Again, Naia was only trying to help, but to Kylan, it sounded less like an endorsement and more as if she were trying to excuse him. As if being a song teller explained his athletic ineptitude, and his single victory in combat redeemed him.

  Rian said, “Hm!” almost in approval. Then added, “I would love to knock skekMal one or two in the face. I will, someday.”

  A tap on the door brought Mythra to her feet. Rian stood, too, not in fear but in duty, moving to the back of the hut so he was out of view of the doorway. Once he had moved out of sight, Shoni waved for Mythra to open the door.

  An older Gelfling stood outside, dressed in indigos and greens, her dark burgundy-and-gold wings folded along the length of her back like a cloak. From the beads and ornaments woven into her dark hair, Kylan realized who she must be.

  “Maudra Fara!” Shoni said. “Good evening . . . come in.”

  “Good evening, Shoni. Little Mythra.”

  Kylan pretended he didn’t hear Rian move to the back of the hut, softly closing the curtain to one of the rear rooms. Maudra Fara came in, ruffling Mythra’s hair. It was not the youngling or her mother who had brought the maudra to the hut, though. She looked over Naia and Kylan, and reached into her sleeve.

  “So there is a Spriton here. I thought I saw you on the rise this afternoon. Are you called Kylan?”

  He stood when he was addressed by the Stonewood maudra. She withdrew a note from her sleeve.

  “Yes, Maudra.”

  “This just came from Sami Thicket. Before you wonder—it is bad news.”

  Kylan’s heart raced. No one spoke, though Naia put her hand on Kylan’s shoulder as he unrolled the note and read it.

  To my maudra sisters:

  Take note. Lords skekLach and skekMal arrived early this morning. They sought one of mine, a runaway named Kylan. They say he is a traitor. When they did not find him, they took three others as collateral. If you know of Kylan’s whereabouts, send him to me, and I will take responsibility for him.

  In Thra’s song,

  Dream Stitcher Mera

  “They went to my home,” Kylan said, cheeks cold with fear. “They took people from my village . . .”

  “It’s not your fault,” Naia said sternly, before he could go that far. “They’re not even hiding it, then! They didn’t find Kylan in the Spriton village, so they just scooped up a few others? For what, a traveling snack?”

  “You should not say such things.” Maudra Fara’s warning was quick, though from the urgency, Kylan felt it was born more of fear of the Skeksis than of loyalty to them. She grimaced, her face a knot of responsibility and regret. Naia didn’t quit.

  “You can’t believe he’s a traitor,” Naia said. “He’s not the first to say it.”

  Maudra Fara looked Naia straight in the eye, then turned away as if nothing had been said.

  “If Shoni has welcomed you to her home, I won’t betray her hospitality tonight. But the Skeksis are looking for you, and my duty is to my clan. By the time the suns rise, you must be gone from here. Go to your maudra or do not. Go anywhere but here. I’ve got enough on my hands with Rian missing in the wood we share with the Skeksis. I can’t risk the safety of my people any more. Please understand.”

  Kylan understood the words, but they left a hole in his heart. He tried to remind himself that this was the maudra of the Stonewood clan, the same maudra Rian did not trust to protect him when he had been labeled a traitor by the Skeksis. Now Kylan stood with the note in his hand and the same sentence. She was not his maudra, and this was not his home. In a way, he was not surprised. Had the Skeksis come for Naia while she had been in Sami Thicket, he guessed Maudra Mera would have done the same to her.

  “It’s all right,” Naia said quietly. She squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll go.”

  Maudra Fara touched Kylan’s cheek.

  “I am sorry about your people. But this is for the greater good.”

  The maudra left without another word, but Kylan wasn’t sure what else she might say. It was the maudra’s burden to do what was right for her tribe. That much was the same for all the Gelfling. Yet to be kicked out so suddenly, and with so little compassion . . . Kylan threw the note from Maudra Mera into the fire, watching as it wilted. It was enchanted to resist dream-etching heat, so it would take time to burn, but soon it would be gone.

  Once Maudra Fara had gone, Rian came back, knuckles whitening in his fists. Shoni waved Mythra toward the table to clean up, giving the rest time alone. Kylan sat heavily near the hearth. Naia stood beside him, and Rian joined them, keeping his voice low.

  “This is bad,” Kylan said. Naia was more offended than worried.

  “I just can’t believe your maudra would kick us out like that!”

  “I can,” Rian said. “She would have sent me away, too, if she’d known I was here. I can’t fault her for it. It’s her duty to do what’s best f
or the entire clan, not just one or two, or even three of us . . . The Skeksis will eventually come here, and they will do what it takes to scare the others into giving us up. The only thing that may save us is if no one knows our whereabouts and if we reach the All-Maudra as soon as possible. We should do as Maudra Fara says and leave. Tonight.”

  Kylan cupped his hands together to keep them from shaking. He couldn’t stop thinking about Maudra Mera’s message. Whom had the Skeksis taken? Phaedra, the village sandal-stitcher? Little Remi, the one who rang the hour bell? Were they being taken back to the Castle of the Crystal to be drained like all the others, or had skekMal killed them right away, as he had Kylan’s parents? Should they try to find the two lords and rescue the Spriton captives—or was that a waste of time? Kylan and Naia had barely been able to escape one Skeksis alive, let alone two.

  “It’s not good enough for us to leave,” Kylan said. “That might keep the Skeksis from Stone-in-the-Wood, but what about the other villages? The other clans? The Skeksis won’t stop coming after us now that we know the truth. The All-Maudra needs to know, but so do the rest of our people. If Maudra Mera or my friends in Sami Thicket had known the truth, maybe they could have been prepared when skekMal came. Even now, they don’t understand what’s happened. Wasn’t that what you were fighting for all along, Rian? A way to tell the truth?”

  “Yes. And the fastest way is to tell the All-Maudra.”

  Kylan didn’t want to say what he thought. Maudra Fara hadn’t even asked whether he had a response to being called a traitor. She hadn’t even cared. He and Naia were a risk to her, just like Rian, whether or not they were what the Skeksis said they were. It only proved what Rian had said in the forest: People were unwilling to listen to the truth, especially when it was dangerous.

  “We will tell the All-Maudra,” Naia announced. “But Kylan’s right. The rest of the Gelfling need to know, too. If we focus all of our efforts on reaching the All-Maudra and waiting for her decision, many of our people could be taken by the Skeksis in the meantime. We have to find a way to spread the message faster, and sooner. Like dreamfasting.”