Jim Henson’s The Dark Crystal Author Quest (14 page)

“Not you, too,” Koa asked Grandmother with a sigh. “The Sifa also owe much to the Skeksis. SkekSa himself has helped improve our ships immensely. Now he uses our vessels for his own work. You cannot deny that the Vapra benefited from their help. They do much to keep you safe and well.”

“But for what purpose?” Grandmother questioned, but quietly so that only Usha, the Ranee, and Nipa seemed to hear her. Addressing the entire room, she suggested, “If they are so concerned about us, then it would do no harm to ask about the disappearances. It has gone beyond what could reasonably be put to runaways and accidents.”

“We need not disturb them,” Dani insisted.

“We do not want to look as if we are accusing them of anything,” Koa agreed.

Valda slapped her hand on the dagger she kept perpetually at her side and declared, “I say we demand answers. We are many and they are few. They couldn't stand against our persuasion.”

“Is it not up to our queen to decide?” Nipa announced with a drawl. “We need not stir ourselves into needless arguing. The Drenchen will stand by any decision the Ranee makes.”

“As long as it involves no work for them,” Valda muttered, but the others ignored her.

The Ranee closed her eyes, deep in thought. It was well known that she wanted to avoid causing strife among her chiefs, but if she could feel something dark growing, and if there was any kind of threat for her people . . . She opened her eyes and announced, “I will go to the Castle of the Crystal myself. Perhaps by going personally it will convince Emperor skekSo that we are not accusing him or his people of anything, but expressing concern for our own. I, of course, will need some special supplies for the journey. I rely on you, Grandmother, for your help.”

Usha, watching carefully from the outside, was the only one who noticed the knowing, almost secretive, look that passed between them before Grandmother replied, “Of course. I am at your service.”

“At your service!” the chieftains chorused together.

As the clan chiefs began to take their leave, Usha crept quietly away, sure it was not right for her to have listened in on the private council. She knew, of course, that the queen trusted Grandmother's words, but she did not know that Grandmother was part of the Gelfling Council. She had never sat in honor at the public meetings. Even stranger were the reports she had overheard. Were Gelfling really going missing? Usha had known some from her village had been there one day and then gone the next, but travel between villages and marriage between clans was common. Disappearing and not being seen again . . . that was something she had never considered before.

As she walked from the hut, lost in thought, strains of a sea shanty drifted toward her from the fields. The dance! She had promised to play, and this was one of her favorite dances. If she did not hurry, she would miss it. Shaking the gloom from her mind, Usha ran for the fields with a smile. After all, what were some faraway shadows compared with the joy of today?

• • •

“We all know Fanfins are fierce creatures, all sharp teeth and powerful legs. Though they are small, they travel in packs of dozens. No Gelfling would dare tangle with them alone, but that nightfall all that could be found of the entire herd were a few scattered bones. The Hunter had struck again.”

Several of the Gelfling gathered around the fire gasped in fear as the designated storyteller ended his tale, the flickering light from the fire playing on his long face and making the story that much more thrilling. No celebration would be complete without the storytelling. As the Gelfling often said, a well-told tale was worth more than all the jewels in Thra. Recently, their tales evolved into stories of the Hunter, a lightning-fast beast of darkness and hunger that filled many nightmares. The young enjoyed the scary tales while sitting safely surrounded by friends near the fire at the cliff base. The next storyteller took her place before the fire, and with a slow look over her audience, she began with a grim warning, “Never wander into the wild lands, for that is where the soul stealers live. If they catch you, they will drain your living essence—your Vayu—from your body, leaving you a shell, a being without life or death. My tale will show how our Skeksis protectors banished the soul stealers from the Castle of the Crystal.”

Everyone huddled closer together to enjoy the tale. All except one. Usha could not sit and listen any longer; the words exchanged at the council meeting weighed heavily upon her. Standing from the log where she had been sitting, she turned from the fire and began to walk away, she knew not where. Instantly, her friends were at her side.

“I have heard that tale so many times. I do not need to sit through another,” Flyn declared as he joined her.

“There seem to be more dark tales than before,” Kirsi observed, catching up to her friend and hooking Usha's arm with hers. “I prefer the stories from the birth of Thra, and Aughra and the great Gelfling of the past. Do you think the stories are true?”

“What? About Aughra?” Akil asked, surprised, taking his place at Kirsi's side. He had grown increasingly fond of her company, which the maiden did not mind at all.

“No, silly,” Kirsi answered. She gave a pretty shudder as she continued, “I mean the Hunter and the soul stealers. Do you think such dark things exist?”

“I've never seen such things,” Akil stated dismissively.

“But there have been so
many
Gelfling going missing,” Usha stated, her voice catching in her throat.

“Have there?” Kirsi asked with fear.

Usha only shrugged. If Kirsi insisted, she would have to say how she had heard it, and she did not think that would be right.

Puffing out his chest, Flyn declared, “Well, do not worry. I can protect you, Usha! I am, after all, in line to be a castle guard. My father, my grandmother, and many of my family have been faithful guards. I would never let anything happen to you.”

Just at that moment, in the silver light of the moon, Flyn did look like a warrior, a hero. Yes, many Gelfling were strong and great, and if they could protect the castle, then certainly they could protect the village. Perhaps there was nothing to fear after all.

The Hunted

The next day's suns shone brightly overhead. In the shade of the forest, a shadowy figure moved quickly between the trees. Even the small widgets did not know of his passing until he was upon them, although he did not bother with them. He'd had his fill of widgets and crawlies, and even Nebrie. His meals were large and lavish, but they could not sustain his hunger for long. No, he hungered for challenge. He was the Hunter, and he relished this appetite. Donning his mask and cloak, enchanted to hide his true form, he had set out to satisfy his desires. Melding into the shadows held a strange freedom: he
was
shadow, he
was
darkness, and none could stand before him.

He ventured close to that Gelfling village, although he knew the Emperor would grumble if he found out. Perhaps later he would bring the Emperor a gift or two, but today he hunted for himself. A noise, sickeningly like a tinkling bell, caught his attention and he paused. Somewhere, so close he could smell them, Gelfling played. So innocent, so naïve—he hated them. The Hunter would teach them, he would show them that even sunny days hold dangers.

• • •

“I found you!” Usha declared triumphantly as she grabbed at the flowering berry bush. With a laugh as sweet as tinkling bells, a second Gelfling appeared where there seemingly had not been one before. Both girls happily fell to the soft forest floor, Usha declared, “You're getting much better at this, Hema. Now, it is my turn to hide.”

Hema, a trine or three younger than Usha and at least a foot shorter, sat up with a smile. “But you are so much better at Hide than I am. It will take me ages to find you.”

“And so you'll learn how to hide better next time,” Usha replied. She enjoyed teaching the younger Gelfling the tricks of blending in. “Come on, I'll give you the advantage. You can give me to a mere fifty count before you come looking. What do you say?”

Hema nodded eagerly. Putting her hands over her eyes, she began immediately to count. Usha ran off quickly. Once out of the clearing, she hesitated, wondering where to hide. Then, with a mighty push of her strong wings, she jumped easily into the trees. Flitting from tree to tree, she finally settled in comfortably among a distant antari's leaves. Usha waited. And waited. Even after the counting should have been over, she heard nothing. Surely, she should have seen some sign of her friend by now. Growing strangely uneasy, Usha began to wonder if she had hidden too well. Then she heard the scream. Hema!

Usha shot through the canopy, searching for her friend. Below, she found a crushed berry bush and a tree stripped of its limbs—something bad had happened here, but where was Hema? Moving on through the trees, Usha tracked her friend. Finally, she saw her huddling in the shadow of a large, dead log, only half-hidden and shivering. As Usha made to call to her friend's name, the shadow grew darker. Suddenly, a creature loomed over Hema. Usha blinked. She had never seen a creature like this; it moved like a liquid shadow, its darkness flowing about it as if by its own wind, its face blank and pale as the moon.

The Hunter!
Usha thought to herself with horror.
There is nothing else it could be. The Hunter is real, and right here.

Hema screamed. The Hunter bent down and covered her with his cloak. Then the screaming stopped. Usha paused, perched on a treetop, stunned and frozen in fear. She could not move, and her mind refused to accept what her eyes saw. The black figure stood. The blood, Hema's blood, stood out on the creature's dark cloak, spattered on its blank face. Red and black. Later, that was all Usha could remember of the scene, the horror of the red and black. Still, she sat frozen in place. The Hunter raised a skeletal-looking hand up and pulled off his face.

No, no it was a mask. Skeksis!
The Hunter was a Skeksis.
How? Why?
So many questions flooded Usha's mind, and they seemed to energize the rest of her. With enough thought to move as quietly and as hidden as she could, she raced back to the village, not knowing what to do or say when she got there, but knowing she had to tell someone.

Using her wings and the treetops, Usha flew home, not caring for the cuts and bruises, or for who might see her. She could not think or care of anything until she found herself back in her hut. Standing, dazed in the middle of the front room, she called hysterically for Grandmother. Nothing.
No! No, the monster could not have been here!
Usha panicked, yelling louder and louder until she could do nothing but cry.

The flap to the hut opened and Grandmother entered with fresh herbs ready to be hung and dried. She saw Usha curled up and sobbing on the floor. Dropping the bundles, she rushed to Usha's side, encircling the maiden in her arms. Grandmother said soothingly, “Hush, my sweet. Grandmother is here now. Tell me what could be worth so many tears.” Raising her head and finding her voice, Usha confessed, “I saw it, Grandmother. It found Hema and, the blood . . . it was the Hunter, Grandmother. I saw him. It was Skeksis!”

Grandmother's face turned grim; she did not doubt Usha's words. There was anger in her voice as she said, “It is worse than I feared. We must act.”

Relieved to have Grandmother at her side, Usha pleaded, “But what can we do?”

Looking at her charge with sympathy and affection, Grandmother answered, “You must rest from your shock. I must inform the Ranee of what you have said. There is much to be discussed.”

Usha shook all over, needing Grandmother's help to reach her cot. Obediently, she lay back on her cot, but she could not fathom how she could sleep. Her heart, her soul was exhausted, but her mind could not rest. Gently, Grandmother pressed a cup of something to her lips and Usha drank. Grandmother sat, humming and stroking her hair as she used to do when Usha was a very young Gelfling. It was familiar; it was safe. For a while, Usha's mind revolted against it; how could anything be the same again after what she had just seen? Eventually, the herbs did their work and she slipped into a deep, restorative sleep.

• • •

Usha woke slowly. Judging by the light coming from outside, it was late afternoon; she must have slept for hours. Why had Grandmother let her sleep so long? Slowly, reluctantly, Usha's mind recalled the events of the morning. A knot of fear and mourning twisted in her stomach. Her heart felt so heavy, she was not sure she could ever rise from her cot again.

The sound of clattering pots and hurried searching disturbed the silence of the hut—Grandmother was back from speaking with the Ranee. With great effort, Usha forced herself to stand and walk to the front room. The room was in chaos! Pots were open and overturned, every trunk and sack rifled through. Before Usha could do more than wonder at the state of things, Grandmother came rushing in from the back, her hands and clothes spotted with soot.

“Grandmother?” Usha voiced hesitantly, the knot in her stomach growing.

Grandmother paused and turned as if she had not seen Usha standing there. Hurrying over, she grabbed Usha's hand and spoke urgently, “There is little time, my sweet. Please, grab your traveling cloak and meet me in the supply tent. Quick now.”

She looked so serious, Usha could not argue. With a nod, Usha turned and ran back to her room. Throwing open her trunk, she dug out her cloak and threw it over her shoulders. After a moment's hesitation, she grabbed her herb hunting sack and her new gemshorn, though she couldn't say why. Taking one swift look about her room, wondering if there was anything else she should grab, Usha turned and ran for the tent behind the kilns.

For the first time in Usha's life, the kilns stood cold and silent. It felt unnatural. A chill crept into her bones, caused by more than just the chill in the air. Something had gone terribly wrong. Usha jumped as the tent flap flung open. Grandmother strode in, holding a square bundle, the outside stained with countless years of black ash.

“Sit, child, for there is much to explain,” Grandmother advised, now looking calmer, but just as grim. They both sat in the dirt, remnants of the rune circles still present. Laying the bundle between them Grandmother said, “You deserve to know all, but I am afraid there is not time. You will have many questions, but I will tell what I can. What do you know of Rian?”

Rian.
It was a name not often spoken of, but Usha managed to reply shakily, “He is the traitor—a Castle guard who, many trine ago, betrayed Skeksis and Gelfling, trying to spread lies and war.”

That was the story the Chamberlain had given, and she had never questioned it, but now . . . could she still trust so completely?

With a sigh, Grandmother bent forward and unwrapped the bundle to reveal an old, leather-bound book. She explained, “This is the journal of Rian. All he learned, all he discovered. It is not all complete, but it was entrusted to my family to keep safe. The Skeksis would do much to destroy it, for in it is described their lies and their dark works. They need Gelfling, Usha, stealing our lives to give themselves strength. I believe it all. Rian died protecting the truth. We Gelfling, we were just not ready for it, and I am not sure we are ready now.”

Usha touched the book cover hesitantly, as if fearful in might burn her. She was not sure what to believe. She demanded, “Why tell me all this now?”

“Because much has happened,” Grandmother replied, the urgency returning to her voice. “The Ranee has fallen into Skeksis claws, and I fear she is lost.”

“What?” Usha exclaimed. All of this was coming at her much too fast.

“We can ignore the growing darkness no more,” Grandmother declared. “You must take the journal, Usha. You must go to Aughra and ask her advice. We must convince the tribes we are not safe. The Thra-Mother will know how.”

“But why me?” Usha sputtered, her mind in a reel, “This is for the council, or some warrior. Not me.”

“The task belongs to you,” Grandmother insisted. “Usha, I—”

She froze. Usha's heart jumped to her throat. With a speed incredible in one so old, Grandmother pounced and captured something in her hands. Usha stood to look. At first she thought it was one of the crawlies, but she gasped when she saw it clearly. The thing was black and eyeless, with a slash of dark purple down its spine. Without hesitation, Grandmother smashed it to the ground and it shattered. Before Usha could ask, Grandmother exclaimed, “A spy! How did it find me? No matter, it cannot see, but all it heard its masters, too, have heard. They know the journal is here. The Garthist will be coming. We must get you away.”

Turning to a corner of the tent, Grandmother pulled out the traveling pack she had prepared and handed it to Usha. Taking it automatically, Usha managed to say, “But the Garthist are like the Slaves—empty. They are used by the Skeksis to carve stone and crystal. They wouldn't hurt Gelfling.”

Already that sounded like a lie to Usha's ears. Quickly wrapping the journal back up in its rags, Grandmother replied, “The Garthist may only be the size of a young Nebrie, but their claws can crush stone. They would have no trouble crushing Gelfling. Do not worry. I will turn them away—this old lady has some tricks in her pots. I'll take care of everything.”

“Aren't you coming with me?” Usha asked, frightened. Already there was a scuffling and clicking noise nearing the hut, the sound of claws scuttling over stone.

“I cannot,” Grandmother answered, clearly pained at this separation. Usha flung her arms around the old Gelfling's neck. She could not find a voice to say good-bye, but the old woman understood her heart. Gently pulling away, Grandmother looked deep in Usha's eyes and pleaded, “Now run.”

With tears in her eyes, and so many questions in her heart, Usha forced herself to turn away, to run and leave everything behind.