Shadows of the Dark Crystal

by J. M. Lee

  “You know, no one’s going to believe us,” he said. “I hardly believe you! How are you going to convince the All-Maudra that the lords—the Skeksis Lords—have done this? All they’ll need to do is call us liars and then it’ll be our word against theirs . . . Rian, unless we have proof, we’re doomed.”

  “Then we’ll get proof,” Rian said. “The bottle of her life’s essence. Lord skekTek took it with him. If we could get the bottle, maybe we could save Mira—maybe we could use it as proof to bring to the All-Maudra.”

  “Rian. Rian, Rian, Rian. Do you hear what you’re saying? This is death!”

  “Isn’t it death if we let them continue?” Rian insisted. “Whatever it is they’re doing?”

  Gurjin paced, tugging on his locs, thinking. They had made Mira look upon the Crystal . . . but why would looking upon the Heart of Thra cause such a terrible thing to happen? The Skeksis were the sworn keepers of the Heart of Thra, the Crystal of Truth—not even the castle guards were allowed in the Crystal Chamber where it resided. Only the Skeksis, but once in daily ritual, were permitted to enter the chamber and look directly upon the Crystal. It gave them life, in return for their protection.

  The Crystal is cracked, Naia said within the dreamfast, answering the question in her brother’s memory. I saw it in the chamber. It is no longer the Crystal of Truth, the Heart of Thra. It’s broken.

  Yes, Gurjin replied. But we didn’t know that then.

  The dreamfast changed, time passing, memories condensed and flying by in flickers that Naia’s mind could not separate. Rian and Gurjin kept their secret from the other guards, waiting for an opportunity. Slowly, their ranks diminished, guards disappearing here and there from different wings of the castle. Once they were gone, they were never seen again. Darkened creatures began appearing in the wood that surrounded the castle; even the forest itself seemed bespelled by whatever it was the Skeksis had done to the Heart of Thra.

  The crystal veins have always spread through the earth, Gurjin’s voice said from within the dreamfast. Bringing life. Bringing light. But the Skeksis realized they could use its power. Once that happened . . . once they turned the Heart of Thra against its own creatures . . . that was when the Crystal began to darken. That was when the shadows grew. They are perverting the power of the Crystal and turning it black.

  Once more she took Gurjin’s place within the dream. It was twilight, and she was running through the Dark Wood. Someone was running alongside her—Rian. In his hand was a glass vial, a tight cork the only thing preventing the precious blue liquid within from splashing out, evaporating their only chance of convincing the All-Maudra of the Skeksis betrayal.

  The vliya? Naia asked. In the vial?

  Yes. They drink it, like nectar. It gives them life . . . our life. Now that they have tasted it, they are mad for it . . .

  Behind them, screams of the Skeksis shrieked like a murder of crow-bats, their enraged echoes making it seem as though they numbered in the hundreds.

  “Traitor!” they screamed. “Traitor to the castle! Traitor to the Crystal!”

  “They’re gaining!” Rian shouted. “How can something so old and big be so fast?”

  Gurjin’s heart labored in his chest, and then his boots sank into wet dirt—they had reached the Black River. Here it cut through the Dark Wood in a sunken miniature valley, and for the moment they were hidden behind the higher land on either bank.

  “We need to split up,” Gurjin said. “It’s the only way. If we’re found together, we’ll be caught together. You go ahead and take the river. I’ll distract them here as long as I can and then meet you in Stone-in-the-Wood.”

  “I know what you’re doing, Gurjin, and I won’t accept it!” Rian retorted.

  “Come on! We only have one bottle of that vliya, and you have allies in Stone-in-the-Wood. You think your people are more likely to hide a stranger from the Swamp of Sog, or one of their own? Now get out of here, they’re coming!”

  Gurjin made to shove his friend into the steady current of the river, but Rian took hold of his jerkin first.

  “If you’re caught, I’ll come back for you,” he said. “I’ll save you.”

  “Should it come to that, you cannot save me,” Gurjin said, and listening within the dreamfast, Naia recognized the words. “If you do, you’ll meet with the All-Maudra empty-handed—you’ll stand before her alone. Our clans will be marked as traitors, and it will only be a matter of time before the Skeksis come for retribution. You’re a better leader than I am, and you saw what they did with your own eyes. It’s more important that you escape. Now go!”

  Reluctantly, but knowing time was precious, Rian nodded and waded out into the river. It was then that the clambering claws and bays of the Skeksis in pursuit mounted the bank—over the hill they came in their black hunting cloaks, six of them with eyes burning in rage, skekMal the Hunter at the lead. Gurjin drew his sword, and they converged upon him, so quickly and ravenously, he didn’t even have time to run away from the river, to lead them from his friend. As skekUng the General seized him in his crushing claws, hoisting him into the air with a guttural cry, Gurjin saw skekMal lunge into the river, raising froth in the black waves as he pursued Rian and the tiny bottle of blue vliya.

  “It’s me, I’m the traitor!” Gurjin cried, grasping for any words that might keep them from the Gelfling in the river. “I’ll tell everyone the Skeksis are the villains—I’ll turn them against you, the castle—”

  “Quiet, Gelfling!” roared skekUng, shaking Gurjin so hard, his teeth rattled.

  “Even the All-Maudra,” Gurjin gasped. “Your power will end! Just you wait and see!”

  In a fit of rage, skekUng howled again and brought his big clawed hand across Gurjin’s head like a club, and everything went black.

  When Gurjin awoke, his head pounded with pain that seemed to pulse through every part of his battered body. Even the tips of his ears and nose ached, and when he opened his eyes, his vision was blurry. He tried to move, but he could not—his wrists and ankles were clamped to a cold metal chair. He was bound to the throne-like contraption in a drafty chamber that groaned with the sounds of the earth, as if he were many miles underground.

  “Awake,” said a Skeksis voice behind him. “Just in time.”

  Lord skekTek the Scientist took his time crossing the room, pulling his sleeve back from his artificial arm so he might reach the lever appendage jutting from the wall. The metal claw was the only thing more terrifying than his biological one. It gleamed in the dim light of the chamber like silver-black bone. When he pulled down the lever, a clanking and mechanical moan shuddered through the chamber. The panel in the wall Gurjin faced began to rise, and a draft of burning, dry air spewed forth. Though the panel was raised only a crack, the red light blazing from the furnace-like shaft beyond was blinding, burning all other images from Gurjin’s already failing sight. He could only hear Lord skekTek grunt, pulling another lever to release a control arm from beyond the panel, within the shaft. Gurjin knew what was coming next and struggled, trying to pull his arms and legs free from the metal clutches of the chair.

  “Gelfling always cry about not seeing the Crystal,” skekTek said, ignoring Gurjin’s fruitless attempts to escape. The chair had been engineered to hold a Gelfling, of course, and Gurjin knew that—still, he couldn’t bear to remain passive knowing what was coming. If he didn’t escape . . . A surge of panic renewed his efforts as a loud CLANG resounded from within the shaft of light. The reflector, a mirror mounted on a long metal arm, was coming into view. Though Gurjin did all he could to look away, the mirror began to shine, then hum, as it caught the light from the darkened Heart of Thra high above it. Its rays found him and its song consumed him and he could not look away.

  The Scientist gave a delighted coughing cackle as his captive’s struggles died.

  “Don’t cry, Gelfling,” he sneered. “Gets to see the Crys
tal now.”

  “Wait!”

  skekTek let out a loud hiss, throwing back the lever so the mirror drifted just out of view. As the reflection of the light wavered, Gurjin broke out of the gaze, though his body was still strapped to the awful chair. He couldn’t see behind him, but the Chamberlain’s voice was unmistakable.

  “Wait!” he cried. “Wait, wait. Emperor skekSo orders wait. Not this one. Save this one.”

  “Save? Why?” skekTek hadn’t removed his claw from the lever, ready to shove it back into action at any moment. The Chamberlain sighed his melodious sigh.

  “This one. Has a sister . . . hmmm, a twin. One and one. Two halves, same soul, yes? The Emperor thinks it is worth saving until we have the sister. Special Gelfling. Rare Gelfling. Like us. Two halves, yes? Worth waiting for, yes? Maybe special essence. Maybe powerful essence.”

  skekTek’s grip on the lever hadn’t wavered at first, but now his eyes narrowed in thought, and he hobbled toward the Chamberlain, leaving the lever where it was. Gurjin’s heart hammered against the strap that was buckled across his chest so hard, he felt it might even break him free. He twisted his ears to listen, in case he might survive. He couldn’t let them bring Naia into this—but how would he stop them?

  “I see what you mean, Chamberlain,” skekTek was saying. “Yes, now I see . . . Perhaps the essence of one-and-one Gelfling can revive . . . what we’ve lost since the separation . . . But how to get the other one here? The twin?”

  The Chamberlain let out a giddy hum of anticipation.

  “skekSo has plan, and skekSil puts it in action. skekTek just has to wait. Twin will come, yes.”

  “Then we drain them both. Drink them up. Oh yes, yes.”

  skekTek chortled, his footsteps echoing as he approached the back of Gurjin’s chair. Roughly, he plucked Gurjin from the chair. Gurjin struggled once he was free, but there was no use fighting the unforgiving metal of skekTek’s arm. The Scientist held the Drenchen soldier aloft as if he were a wild animal, casting about the crowded room until he gave a sharp chortle of success when he spotted a wood crate with a metal latch.

  “Let go of me!” Gurjin shouted, kicking when skekTek’s beak was almost in range. His heel bounced off the lord’s snout, winning an annoyed hiss. skekTek threw his captive into the crate and as the darkness crowded in, violent panic struck Gurjin, and he fought with what life he had left in him, grabbing the mouth of the crate and screaming. The Chamberlain screamed, too, and together the two Skeksis shoved Gurjin in, slamming the top of the crate shut.

  The last thing Naia heard within the dreamfast was the clink of the heavy latch, locking her brother in darkness.

  Chapter 26

  When the dreamfast ended, Naia felt her cheeks wet with tears. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but at that moment, she didn’t care. Miserably, she grabbed Gurjin’s tunic front.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

  He hugged her and kissed her cheek, though she could feel in his embrace that he was shaking, barely able to stay standing.

  “Then this is the best I can do for you,” he said. “Find Rian and go to the All-Maudra. I will only slow you down. If it’s my fate to fall in these woods, then I’d rather do it as a hero than a burden.”

  “No,” Naia said. She shook him, then ducked within the walls of their hiding place when a huge crash exploded very near, so near that dirt and bugs fell from the ceiling of the old rotting tree trunk. They scattered when another blow destroyed the tree, all three separated in the dark of the wood and clouds of dirt and bark. Then it was quiet. skekMal had vanished.

  Naia scrambled on all fours until her back was to the trunk of a tree. She searched for Gurjin, for Kylan, but she couldn’t find them in the chaos of the wood. Heart racing, she inched around the tree, eyes darting back and forth, trying to find the beast that hunted them. If she could find him, if she could stop him—or if she could at least find Gurjin and Kylan, maybe they could escape.

  Naia turned, fear snuffed with numbness, when she smelled familiar breath. Behind her, close enough that she could see the pink and red veins in the whites of his eyes, was skekMal the Hunter, eyes alight from within his terrible mask of bone.

  Closer than ever before, now brimming with excitement from the chase, skekMal spread his arms and gaped with his toothy maw. For an instant, the rain subsided, and as if for the first time in many days, the clouds thinned enough that two of the Sisters were nearly visible in the sky. Their light fell upon skekMal in a blanket of eerie blue, and he turned his head so the eyeholes of his mask were filled with shadows.

  “Gelfling twins, all mine!” skekMal cried, and lunged, but his claws only scraped chunks of bark from the tree behind which Naia had been hiding. Naia rolled, dragging her hands through the wet muddy brush in the hopes of finding a rock or a stick—anything she could use as a weapon.

  “Hey, you!”

  Kylan, on the other side of skekMal, waved his arms before bolting in the other direction. His motion caught skekMal’s attention, but Naia’s fingers had finally found a hefty stone and she threw it, cracking it against the side of skekMal’s temple. Quick as a whip, he turned his hollow mask on her, and she found another rock. She held it ready as skekMal lumbered toward her in his terrible black cloak.

  “All Gelfling brought to castle supposed to be saved for Emperor skekSo,” skekMal said. “But skekMal found ways. So gets vliya from Gelfling that come to castle . . . But maybe not all Gelfling get to castle. Hmm! Ha! One for Emperor? One for skekMal . . . and tonight, one and one.”

  He grinned, sharp uneven teeth glinting in the moonlight, as if he expected Naia to commend him for his cleverness. He took a step forward and she backed away, keeping distance between them, but also leading him farther from Kylan. If only one of them escaped alive, it would be enough. Naia didn’t want to die, not here in this awful forest, but she had to think beyond her own life right now. If she could buy Kylan time—and where was Gurjin?

  “How many of us have you . . . have you taken?” she asked. “How long have the Skeksis been betraying us? How long have they been feeding us lies, and then . . . then feeding on our people?”

  skekMal tilted his head, then followed the motion with a dizzying sidle as he began to circle her, rolling his neck at the shoulders and fixing her with those awful ravenous eyes.

  “Crystal cracked,” he said. He shrugged, as if they were having nothing but a casual conversation. Soft-talk over dinner, more like, but one of them was intent on eating the other. “An accident. Skeksis taking care of it, taking care of Gelfling. How’s Skeksis to protect little Gelfling when Crystal cracked? When growing old? Growing weak? Little sacrifices. Is payment. Is Gelfling purpose.”

  It was a remorseless sentiment. The thought of skekMal slurping down her life essence like a goblet of banquet wine made Naia sick.

  No, she thought. I refuse.

  Summoning her courage, she let out a battle cry and charged. When he reached to snag her in a claw, she leaped, landing nimbly on his wrist and running up his outstretched arm. He shrieked and clawed at her with his three other hands, but she was already to his shoulder, and then his back, and she brought her stone down on the prickly dome of his skull with both hands. The blow transformed his piercing cries into a sudden ribbed wail, and he clutched after her as she brought the stone down a second time. The mask on his face cracked further, splintering into three jagged pieces, and she caught one shard before it fell, flipping it in her free hand like a knife. skekMal tore the remaining pieces from his face before they cut him, sharp edges slicing into the skin around his cheek—and that was the opening where Naia aimed, preparing to drive enough force through her attack that it might pierce straight through the Skeksis’s hand and into his vulnerable eye.

  As she brought the bone shard back and drew in a breath, a gust of wind blew the last of the thinning clouds
from the sky. Vivid moonlight dawned upon them, and her eyes locked on a fresh scar that had been etched into the Hunter’s tough, scaled hand. There was no mistaking it, even in the dark, even with her heart beating her blood in a feverish race to survival. In the distinct shape of an X was a mark that exactly resembled the wound urVa had suffered in breaking free of the Cradle-Tree’s curse.

  The sight of it confounded Naia, and it was her undoing. She had counted three arms when she’d calculated the opening, but she’d lost track of the fourth until he snagged her from behind, little pinching fingers almost Gelfling-size as they wrapped around her neck. She pounded at the little black hand with the stone, and skekMal roared, snatching her up with one of his larger claws, this one big enough to clutch her neck as well as her shoulders and the tops of her wings. She dropped the rock and made to cut him with the shard, but he caught her wrist and held her arm immobile where she’d raised it.

  “Why do you have that scar?” she asked.

  “Halfies, halfsies, half and half and halfsies,” skekMal chanted, cracking his beak with a wicked SNAP between each word, spraying droplets of hungry saliva. She struggled against his grip, but it was like iron. She didn’t know where Kylan was and could only hope he had escaped. skekMal craned his head up toward her and let out a long eager wheeze, the scent of Gelfling on his breath threatening to send her unconscious in repulsion. “When single shines the triple sun. Halfsies, halfsies, halfsies—”

  “One.”

  The word was so small, yet when it came through Naia’s lips, it brought skekMal to a shuddering silence. Even Naia felt chills, though she didn’t completely understand it—all she could think of were urVa’s words:

  For every one there is another . . .

  “Not one,” skekMal said, angling his head away and eyeing her suspiciously. His grip tightened and he shook her. “Not one. skekMal, my own. Just this. Not one!”