Amri found the inlet just as the sky began to lighten. Kylan wished they could stay on the surface of the world at least long enough to see the suns rise, but they had no time. He would have to believe there would be endless other chances in the future.
The inlet was barely a tunnel, just a place in the mountainside where a river flowed out of a narrow crack. In times when the water level was high, the entrance would have been invisible. Kylan stared at the inlet as he shrugged out of the travel pack and any excess clothing. The others did the same, stowing their traveling bags and extra belongings beside the pack. Kylan was reluctant to leave the book and Tavra’s pearl amulet, but getting snagged on a rock or tangled in their own travel gear would mean sure death. Even Naia shed her cloak and tied back her locs, baring the gills on her neck and upper shoulders. At least if they were caught underwater, one of them would be able to attempt to rescue the others, but Kylan desperately hoped it would not come to that.
They gathered at the entrance and waded into the river where it flowed from the mountain. The water was cool, but slow moving and clear. Amri bent to sniff the faint draft coming from inside the tunnel and looked back.
“The tide will stay low for a few more days, and there are no currents here, so as long as we keep calm, there’s no danger of being washed away. I’ll lead. Naia should be at the rear in case of . . . Well, just in case. If we could walk it, the path would not take long, but crawling it will take longer. Remain calm, and your body will thank you for it.”
“Ready?” Naia asked. It was to the group, but specifically for Kylan. He took what he hoped would not be his last breath of open air.
“After you, Amri.”
The tunnel was everything Kylan had dreaded it to be. It was so dark, he might as well have been blindfolded, with none of the luminescent plant life to light the way. The floor of the riverbed dropped away quickly once they were inside the tunnel, leaving them to pull themselves along by handholds on the cave wall. In some places, the surface of the water was so high, Kylan had to tilt his head up to reach the meager sliver of air above it. When he did, he could almost kiss the ceiling of the tunnel, his ears dunked below the water, so he felt deaf as well as blind. Tavra made matters more uncomfortable by riding on the top of his head, her prickly legs tickling his face.
The going was slow. Amri navigated ahead, checking back frequently, and Naia touched Kylan’s back occasionally to let him know she was there. When the tunnel seemed to end, they paused in the pocket of air. Here, there was enough air for Kylan to get his entire head above the water, but the closed-in space felt like it was closing in even further.
“There’s a low area ahead,” Amri said. “We’ll have to swim through it.”
“Should I go ahead and check it out, first?” Naia asked. Unlike how Kylan felt or how Amri sounded, she was hardly out of breath.
“You won’t be able to see it. I think we should go together. Once we make sure it’s clear, and see how far it is, we’ll come back. Will you be all right, Kylan?”
He tried not to panic at the idea of being left alone in the dark. If something happened to them, there was no way he would be able to even backtrack out of the tunnel. There was no other choice, though. They were far enough in that, if they could make it, it would probably be faster to find the exit on the other side.
“Yes, I’m fine,” he said, feeling like a liar. “I’ll wait here.”
Naia squeezed his shoulder. He felt the hilt of her dagger in his hand.
“Take this. We’ll be back soon.”
Then the water rippled and bubbled, and Kylan was alone in the dark with Tavra, who perched on his forehead. She was so light that he almost couldn’t feel whether she was there at all, but then she spoke.
“We are close. I can hear the voices of the other spiders. When Naia and Amri return, we will pass through this tunnel and enter the Sanctuary . . . but I fear we are too late to warn the Grottan that fled Domrak.”
“What? Then . . . what do we do?”
He felt like he was talking to himself, the dark was so thick and Tavra’s voice was so small. She sounded like his conscience, disembodied and pensive.
“What we came here to do,” she said. “Find a bone of the bell-bird. Perhaps we can yet save the Grottan if we could find one.”
“You mean there’s a chance we won’t be able to save them . . . just like we couldn’t save those they took in Sami Thicket.”
“Don’t misunderstand. Even if we’re unable to save these Grottan now, if we can find the bone and you’re able to make the firca to warn everyone, it would still be a victory. This is the beginning of war with the Skeksis . . . Lives will be lost, and sacrifices made. To endure, we must focus on the greatest good.”
Kylan couldn’t help but think Tavra was speaking to herself. Her brand of optimism was that of a seasoned soldier, a sort of bitter take on the constant bright hope Kylan had tried to commit himself to for so long. Even Naia’s optimism came from a place of wishing for the best; Tavra’s words, though not exactly comforting, were nonetheless realistic.
“You think the bone could stop the spiders?” he asked, trying to fill the silence so it didn’t overwhelm him. “How?”
“The spiders are sensitive to sound, and they are close to the heart of Thra. They are an ancient race. If the bell-bird’s song cannot make them submit, I know not what else might.”
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.