The Dark Crystal: Trivergence
by Megan Kellermeyer
jade_griffin
Chapter 1
The ragged breathing of skekTek grated on skekLach's ear holes, making him tighten his grip on the Scientist's arm. The feared wafting off this weasel of knowledge was enough to curl his beaked lips into a grin as he whispered, "I'll ask once more and you'd best answer with the truth. Did you make the poison which killed skekVar?"
"No!" The loud rasp of skekTek carried down the corridor. He no doubt hoped someone might hear them.
The Collecter sneered, unconcerned about being found interrogating this lowly Skeksis brother. "Yet you do not deny he was poisoned. I asked skekSa for details on skekVar's death when he made port. The others wanted to know as well. Except you. It was like you already knew." He squeezed the Scientist's arm until he felt bones grating together.
The Scientist struggled under skekLach's grip. "It wasn't me! I swear! Someone else wasn't curious. Someone else knew!"
He'd been so sure it was skekTek, he couldn't recall who else hadn't been keen on investigating the circumstances of the suspicious death of the General. As the Collector, it was his job to gather information as well as rare foodstuffs, objects, and worthy subjects for essence extraction amongst the Podling and Gelfling communities; all for the benefit of their esteemed Emperor.
"Who?" he demanded with a rough shake that rocked the Scientist's whole body.
"Once you know, he'll find out." The Scientist began to chuckle. It crescendoed into hysterical laughter. "Then not even the Emperor can save you!"
He released skekTek with a frustrated shove, not liking his dodginess, nor what was implied.
No matter how they loathed one another, murder was rarely considered. And yet, it had happened. The desire to shift the balance of power to oneself ever-present, there was an order to achieving things; a necessary hierarchy; one which had been completely ignored by someone in their group.
His cackles slipping into whimpers, skekTek told him, "If you seek your own ruination, look at the style of the General's death and who is most expert in such ways." The Scientist pulled away and skekLach didn't stop him, not even when he slunk off down the corridor to his laboratory.
The Collector knew all available details of the General's death before the body deteriorated to dust. The Mariner said the General fell over and died, his body having seized up. Poison was found at the scene, in the General's favorite goblet. Because their most recent acquisition of Gelfling had gotten loose on the ship right before, the Mariner concluded it must've been one of them and executed the lot of them. The Collector doubted such a theory. How would a Gelfling from so far away get hold of a poison distilled from a plant which grew only around the Castle? It must've been Skeksis. What skekLach couldn't get at was why. Beyond hating each other, what could have driven one of them to kill another? More specifically, who hated the General so much they'd mark him for death?
At first, skekUng the Enforcer came to mind. The shock on skekUng's face when the Emperor denied his request of a promotion to General a mere day after skekVar's demise made the Enforcer a prime suspect. However, the Enforcer was not a poison-user. He was more skilled in brute force and throwing his weight around than with more elegant forms of sabotage. Going down the list of fellow Skeksis, only one stood out. Yes, there was another amongst them who practiced the finer arts of execution. Poison a staple in his arsenal, the individual also had motive. His wild nature went beyond the natural evil and volatility of normal Skeksis. So much so that skekLach thought twice about invading his room. He stroked his slim goatee in silent deliberation as he walked, yet still found himself drawn to the floor of the Castle devoted solely to their bedchambers.
The Collector let his eyes move in a slow arc, surveying the eighteen doorless archways attached to the circular anteroom. Caution was tossed aside by the need to know. He strode across the spiral-carved floor, ignoring the beautiful mosaics under his clawed feet. To the left of the Emperor's lavish chambers lay the room of skekMal the Hunter. Carved into that room's archway were images none could ignore: snarling darkhounds, snapping sandjaws, and lunging terrorfowl. They were twisted and gnarled into and out of each other in a threatening dance, their dark eyes sneering in every direction. To even look at the archframe was to receive skekMal's threat but skekLach cast aside the warning and stood peering in from the doorless threshold.
Focus! Ignore the carvings and listen for footsteps! The Collector scolded himself before attempting to scan the unlit interior of the Hunter's room. Last heard, skekMal was on a hunt. That Skeksis rarely did anything else. Still, one must be wary.
He put one foot in, wondering if he dare go back for a small set of glow crystals or simply click the ones together which he could make out along the wall. He'd prefer not to make any noise while infiltrating chambers as forbidden as the Emperor's, and he'd have to time the extent of the resonance so their glow would last a short time and not give away the fact that someone had been within.
Chancing it, skekLach stepped near a long, ornate desk and reached for the closest set of glow crystals. His fingers made the barest calculated contact with them just before he found himself thrown to the floor with a sickening crack, a huge weight on his breastplate and slim, nimble digits clutched around his throat, squeezing ever tighter. The dim light of the jostled glow crystals awoke and illuminated the cold, fierce face of skekMal the Hunter.
In his panic, skekLach writhed under the surprisingly heavy weight of the smaller Hunter. Tiny sparks of breath still made their way to his lungs but it wasn't enough! He scrabbled and scratched but the Hunter easily shrugged off his efforts.
The chokehold skekMal exerted upon his current adversary was not intended to crush a windpipe but to hold the struggling skekLach in perpetual panic. He loomed over his prey, sneered menacingly. "You have poked into my affairs too many times, Collector. It's time I poked back."
With the deftness of his profession, he drew one of the crystal daggers from his belt and made a precise vertical slice down skekLach's face, ruining his left eye.
The shriek of pain thrust from his throat rattled the bedchamber. His struggles turned from attempted escape to anguished writhing.
The Hunter dropped his hold in disgust. He wiped clean his blade on the Collector's own robes and exited his room. Let the Collector howl in agony by himself. No one would care if skekLach hurt himself, and skekLach wasn't stupid enough to tell the others what really happened. Not that it mattered if he did. The Hunter had a great appreciation for prey that challenged him. What bigger challenge than your own kind?