The Black Shard (25 page)

Hester didn't bother to look at it; instead, she smirked and stomped past Kristina to the guest cabin. Just before she entered it, she turned and said, "You're such a pitiful princess-wannabe."

L
ying in between the soft silk sheets and shivering—not from being cold, as the weather was far too warm for that, but from sheer anxiety—Kristina held the necklace around her neck. She was afraid to fall asleep in case it might slip off again. The strange object that Elzwur had once possessed now lay inside a small glass dish on the night table beside the bed.
Maybe everything will be okay,
she tried to convince herself.
I mean, come on! It only left my neck for maybe one minute at the most. Margah probably had his crystal off much longer than that.
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to hold back the stinging tears that were filling them. Her legs and arms began to itch, and as she scratched them with her free arm, she wondered if the itching was an aftereffect of her sunburn, or if it was due to her skin changing, possibly preparing to host legions of oozing sores.

As the ship listed to the left and picked up speed, Kristina rolled to the edge of her bed. Her left hand, holding the necklace in place around her neck, was starting to fall asleep, so she switched it to her right hand, and as she did so, the stone pulsated, heated up, and shone so brightly that the illumination came through the comforter, making it seem transparent. The dominating color inside the stone was a pale green, where before a full spectrum of colors swirled through it.

Kristina gripped the stone tightly in her hand and held it to her neck, hoping this would somehow stop anything bad from happening to her—or to anyone else, for that matter.
How did Heerzek find out about the necklace? Why did he have to tell Hester about my necklace? I guess he doesn't realize how jealous that girl gets.

Finally, sleep found Kristina, but it was not restful. She continuously tossed and turned and wound herself up in the silk sheets, like a tightly wrapped burrito. Throughout the night, strange dreams swirled around in her subconscious mind. At times, she found herself falling at a drastically high speed through space—and she was freezing cold, more so than she had ever experienced in her fifteen years of life. She passed by star formations and the remains of supernovas, their brilliant colors resembling that of what she remembered had surged throughout the Magic Warble. Other times she dreamed of the old hag, pulling her down, deeper and deeper into the dark, seemingly bottomless pool behind the waterfall. Then her dream switched to Hester and Davina, who chased her through a dark, rainy forest, their bodies covered in sores that oozed puss. They were yelling out accusations at Kristina, saying that she had caused the downfall of Bernovem, Tezerel and Jalmara. With inhuman stamina, they chased her until she couldn't run any farther. Breathing heavily, and with her stomach feeling like a dagger had been thrust into it and twisted a few times, she huddled down by a large tree, hoping Hester and Davina would pass by her. But there was no such luck; instead, they came directly to her. It was as if they had very keen senses, and they'd smelled her presence. Both had long sticks in their hands—very thick sticks with the bark carved off, and they were pointed at the tips of the sticks, resembling freshly sharpened pencils.

Finding Kristina huddled by the tree, out of breath, Hester and Davina both grinned wickedly at each other and then began to pin Kristina to the tree, jabbing their sticks at her while laughing insanely. Then, just as their spiked sticks came directly at her face, one at each of her eyes, a loud explosion filled the air, and Kristina shot up into a sitting position in her bed. Pale as a ghost, wide-eyed, and gasping for air, she stared up at the five portraits on the wall. Then she looked down at her hands—she was not holding the necklace in place around her neck. Frantically, she patted at her neck and chest, desperately hoping that the necklace somehow might have stayed put. But it hadn't—it wasn't there. Nervously, her eyes scanned the bed for the gold chain, but she couldn't see it anywhere.
Stay calm,
she told herself, but her thought command wouldn't line up with her body's actions. After swallowing what felt like burning acid that had accumulated in her throat, she hastily tossed the embroidered pillows to the end of the bed. She sighed deeply, finally spotting the necklace. It had slid under the pillow while she had slept ... but the stone wasn't attached to it. She got off the bed and yanked off the comforter. The stone was nowhere on the bed. Her heart began to thump faster.
Where could it be?
she thought worriedly, biting down on her bottom lip. She looked under the bed—and there it was, radiating a dark green light. For a few seconds she felt relieved again, but then she remembered the horrifying consequences of what could happen if the necklace wasn't on her. Quickly, she reached under the bed and grabbed hold of the stone. It was warm and pulsating.

Her hands shook so badly that it took her a few tries to get the chain through the small hole in the crystal. Then, once the crystal was back on its chain, she quickly placed the chain around her neck and tried to tie its broken ends together.
Hester's such a jerk for jealously ripping it off my neck,
she thought. Finally, she managed to tie the ends together. She looked in the mirror as she positioned the crystal on her neck ... but then shrieked, almost pulling the necklace off her neck a second time. The reflection she saw of her face was covered in many red sores. She looked down at her arms and hands, but her vision was blurry. Then there was another loud explosion, this one causing the ship to teeter-totter on the sea. Immediately following the ear-splitting blast, loud cheers came from above her on the main deck.

Kristina rubbed her eyes to try and focus, and then glanced again in the mirror; the reflection she saw was no longer hers. Again, it was the old gruesome hag, wearing the wrinkled summer dress that Kristina had slept in. The hag began to laugh wildly, causing the nerves running through Kristina's arms and legs to burn as if fire ran through them. Then the hag stopped laughing and hatefully narrowed her sunken eyes. "So we meet again, dear
chosen one,"
she said in a tone that dripped poisonous sweetness.

"Who are you? And what do you want from me?" Kristina asked, her voice shaking.

"Oh, no, little nosey one, there's no need for you to pry into my business. The only thing you need to know—for now—is that you and I are quite like each other."

"You're nothing like me!" Kristina said angrily between clenched teeth, "other than the fact that you're wearing the same dress I'm wearing, which I'll have you know looks horrible on you."

"But wouldn't you agree that you thought that you looked like me? You even told your dear Werrien that your face was changing into an old hag."

"Shut up!" Kristina yelled, clenching her fists at her side.

The old hag cackled softly, seeming pleased by Kristina's feistiness. "So fiery, you are, and a tad bit humorous, I might add," she said in a gravelly voice—it sounded like she smoked three packs of cigarettes a day.

Kristina rubbed her arms. They were beginning to feel stiff and extremely cold. "There was no humor in what I said," she responded very seriously.

"No, I guess you are right. There is actually nothing humorous about you or your low self-esteem. But don't fret about it, child. In time you will see that we hold the same vice in our hearts, and it is this vice that will make you strong."

"We don't have anything in common. You're nothing but a wretched old hag," Kristina said as her teeth chattered.

"Oh ... but I am so much more." Suddenly, the old hag's face began to warp in the mirror, like spilled motor oil in a puddle of water. It changed into an evil old man's face. Kristina's eyes widened with fear. He smiled wickedly at her. "What's the matter, girl? Are you shocked to see that I am both female and male?"

"I don't care what you are!" Kristina yelled. "Just get out of my cabin!"

"A little hot-tempered, are you?" he said in a deep, gnarled voice. "How about I cool down the fire that burns within you." He began to laugh, and an icy, gray mist streamed out of his mouth and through the mirror, billowing into the cabin and filling it from wall to wall with bitterly cold fog.

Kristina suddenly felt like she was trapped in an ice locker. The air became so cold that she could barely feel her hands and feet. Every breath she took was painful, as if ice crystals were forming in her lungs. She knew she had to do something fast or she'd probably turn into an ice statue. Very slowly, because she couldn't have gone any faster, even if she had wanted to, she made her way to the night table on the right side of her bed. The fog was so thick that she could barely see the vase, which was now filled with frozen meadow flowers—they had turned black from frostbite. She reached for the vase, almost knocking it over. It wobbled a few times and then was still again. She picked it up, turned, and hurled it at the mirror, where it hit with a loud crash. Though she could hardly see it, she could hear the glass shatter, crisply clinking and clanking as it fell all around the vanity. The laughter stopped abruptly, and immediately, the fog dissipated.

Kristina plunked her exhausted body down on the edge of the bed, and she stared at the few pieces of jagged glass still stuck in the frame of the mirror. Drawing in a deep breath and closing her eyes, she tried to regain her sanity, but she was so very exhausted that she felt herself dozing off. Only a moment later, a knock at her door brought her back to her senses. She quickly went to see who it was.

Kristina was still partially dazed from the horrifying event that had just taken place, but at the same time, she was dazzled by how handsome Werrien looked, standing in front of her in the narrow hall. She pushed her hair out of her face and swallowed awkwardly.

"Did you figure out what the hint was that I mentioned to you last night?" Werrien said, smiling. Kristina shook her head. "Come on. You had to have heard it—actually, twice, for that matter," he said enthusiastically.

With the whirlwind of haunting events that had just taken place, Kristina couldn't figure out what he meant.

"Anyway, it was the two cannon blasts, signifying we've arrived in Tezerel."

"Oh, yes, I did hear them," Kristina said soberly, keeping her gaze to the floor—she was embarrassed by how she looked in her wrinkled dress and unkempt hair.

Werrien wondered why she was acting so indifferent. "Hey ... about last night ... I'm really sorry that I didn't meet up with you. My father and I talked longer than I expected. I did come down here afterward to see you, but when I arrived at your door, there was no trace of light shining under it, so I figured you were sleeping. I didn't want to wake you."

"Werrien there's something I need to—" Before she could finish her sentence—she was going to tell Werrien about the strange and horrible things that had been happening to her—the door to the upper deck squeaked open.

"Werrien? Are you down there?" a raspy voice called down.

"Yes, Dargin," Werrien called back.

"You need to come now. We will be disembarking the ship in a few minutes. Remember, the people of Tezerel are waiting for you."

Werrien sighed. "I hate to have to rush you, but do you think you could meet me on the main deck within in a few minutes?" he asked Kristina.

"Yes, of course," Kristina said, trying to be enthusiastic, even though she felt overwhelmed.

Werrien took hold of her hand. "Cheer up. I plan on making your visit to Tezerel one you'll never forget." Then he headed back up the ladder to the main deck.

T
he once tidy and elegant cabin that Kristina had first seen now looked quite the opposite—as if a hurricane had torn through it. Among the glass chunks from the broken mirror and vase that were scattered on the floor were the frostbitten meadow flowers in a puddle of dark water. The shiny silk bedding that had previously laid on the bed so neat and smooth now sat in the middle of the bed like a twisted strudel.

With only half her wits about her, Kristina scrambled around the room, trying to avoid stepping in the broken glass, looking for the clothes she had worn when she first boarded the ship. Finally, she spotted them lying on the floor in a wrinkled heap in between one of the night tables and the bed. As she picked them up, water dripped from them—smelly, frostbitten meadow-flower water that had drenched them when the boat leaned.

Great!
she thought, and then glanced at the shorts and tank top lying on the vanity chair. They were even in worse condition—damp and smelling of the sea. She went to the drawer where she had previously found the shorts and tank top. She opened it, but it was empty. Quickly, she shoved it closed and opened the next drawer down. A white flannel nightgown lay neatly folded in it.
Definitely not going to work.
She sighed and tossed it over her shoulder. It landed on the edge of the bed and then slipped to the floor. The next item in the drawer was a bright, orange tie-dyed T-shirt. She let out a short gasp of joy and quickly took it out.
Just my size! Yes!
Next, a pale blue color caught her eye—faded blue jeans? For a moment she was suspicious, wondering again how these modern clothes had come to this magical world. But she let the suspicion go.
There definitely have been weirder things than this happening here.
As she pulled the jeans out of the drawer, something gold, about the size of a quarter, flew past her face and hit the floor. She glanced about the floor but couldn't see anything.
Oh, well, I don't have time to look for it,
she thought as she dressed in a hurry.

In another strange coincidence, the shirt and jeans fit her slender figure perfectly. She put on the white shoes, and while doing so, she glanced at the vanity and spotted the gold comb lying under a few small chunks of broken mirror. She carefully pulled the comb out from the broken glass and then shook the tiny shards from it.