SPARX Incarnation: Order of the Undying (SPARX Series I Book 2)

by K. B. Sprague

  “Hold tight,” said Kabor, “especially on the spins.” His companion, who seemed to be in control of the creature, chirred in agreement.

  “Spins?” I nodded and promptly clinched onto the straps of some kind of flat-backed saddle.

  “Wrap your feet in too,” Kabor advised, glancing back.

  Thwunk.

  It was a net this time and it struck the cloaker, partially fouling one wing. Kabor’s companion quickly unhooked it and tossed the net aside.

  The giant cloaker’s wings raised and beat fiercely as we lifted off. As it gained height, the pilot directed the beast away, bearing towards the hazy lights of Dromeron Odoon. We glided like magic carpet riders out of a faerie tale, speeding off into the chamber heights to a chorus of shaking fists, stomping feet, thrown stones and throttled curses in our wake.

  I felt the wind on my face and flowing through my hair while we rode the air currents, as though in a dream. Our mount swooped up, down and sideways as it cut through billowing smoke and ascended to the upper chamber. In the ambient light from the cave mouth leading to Dromeron Odoon, I caught glimpses of the fires within, but little more. Speeding away, our mount effortlessly weaved a path between inverted structures like the ones I seen in the Hanging City, at one point twisting along like a corkscrew before rolling into a steep dive.

  My stomach felt like something quite separate from the rest of me, with its own distinct inertia and resistance to every turn. Still weak, I redoubled my white-knuckled grip and kept my eyes shut for the most part. At times, I heaved uncontrollably.

  A few long minutes later, the beast righted itself and coasted to a steady glide – the most pleasing part of the flight. The motion felt a little like being on a boat ride along a fast river. When my dizziness subsided to some degree, I brightened the light for a brief stint and watched as the ruins raced by. Some time after, the pilot gave the cloaker a few coaxing churrs and sharp tugs. In response, the giant cloaker spun into a shallow dive, righted itself again, and then floated to the cave floor on a cushion of air. I could smell water and hear it too as we neared the landing zone. My ears popped.

  When the cloaker finally came to rest, crouching low and hugging the stone floor, the whole world began to spin. I let go my grip and rolled down a flap until I hit the ground. I must have passed out then; I have no idea for how long.

  Chapter VI

  The way

  I awoke to the hollow sounds of Kabor busily minding his gear and muttering to himself. He didn’t have much, only what he could stuff in his pockets that day we left the Flipside. More than you might think though, and every item counted in the dark zone.

  I opened my eyes to the flicker of the bog stone, still in its place around my neck. Kabor must have unsheathed it to see by. When I lifted my head, the world spun. The giant cloaker was gone. That was fine by me.

  My voice was weak and raspy, my vision blurred. “Kabor,” I said.

  The Stout turned to me. “Good morning,” he replied. “Or ‘Good evening,’ Or maybe ‘Good afternoon.’”

  I smiled. “I suppose you didn’t make it out then, like we planned,” I said. “Unless this is part of some grand rescue scheme…”

  Kabor chuckled and shook his head. “Nope.”

  “At least we’re both all right,” I said.

  “Yep.” He was still busily messing with something… his glasses, all bent out of shape. A long moment of silence passed as Kabor perfected the bend and tried them on. He looked me up and down and spoke earnestly. They were still crooked.

  “I never thought I’d see you again,” he said. “Thought maybe you got caught in the cave-in. I tried diggin’…” He trailed off.

  “How did you find this place?” I said.

  He smiled.

  I wondered how I must have looked to him. Dirty, thin, ragged and bruised, like I had been through hell, yet still carrying a load of useless wood on my back. Not to mention the makeshift spear at my side. I quickly looked about. Damn… my bow. I had left it behind.

  “Slid and flew here,” he said, a touch of pride in his voice. “How about you?”

  “Kabor. Where am I?” I said.

  “You know as much as I do. But we’re getting out soon,” he said.

  “Where’s the pilot and the…?” I trailed off. “Are you preparing for a trip to Dromeron Odoon?”

  The flashing light was hard on my eyes and my head, so I steadied it. Kabor looked down at the stone. He was so taken aback that his “answer” came out slow and soft, barely spoken.

  “Dromadoon? Where the heck is that?” The Stout pointed behind him with his thumb. “You must mean that despicable trash heap, thataway.”

  I nodded.

  He looked back to the stone. “The flashing – how did you fix the light?” said Kabor.

  “I didn’t fix it,” I said. “I just figured out how it works.”

  “How does it work?” he said.

  “I mean, I just figured out how to control it,” I corrected.

  Kabor just stared at me, face cut and scraped, hair matted and his cloak torn and soiled. He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking more ragged and battered than I had ever seen anyone look. I can’t possibly look worse than him, I thought.

  “How do you control it?” he asked.

  “I just think of being thirsty.”

  Kabor looked confused. “Can I try?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “I’ll give it back, promise.”

  “Sure.”

  I hesitated a moment, and then handed him the stone.

  Try as he might, the light continued to flicker on and off in the usual way. Frustrated, he returned it to my hand.

  “I guess it just doesn’t work for you,” I said, replacing it around my neck.

  I never told Kabor that at one point, he nearly had it – the stone had initiated a steady light. Amazing, really. And so soon. But I crushed his emerging glimmer with a single dark thought. He had nearly dropped the pendant, and passed off the slightly long flash as part of the normal pattern. One thing was for certain, his lackluster performance put the possession issue to rest once and for all; the stone was mine and mine alone.

  I rephrased my unanswered question: “What about Dromeron Odoon?”

  “You wouldn’t last a day in there, Nud.”

  I stood up and leaned against a boulder. “Why not? The lev—” I stopped myself. Kabor didn’t waste any time speaking his mind over my fragmented speech.

  “Your kind belongs in a bog. Day in and day out, Pips hop around in the mud, but… how do I say this… not delicate…” The Stout sighed. “The whole lot of you get bent out of shape about fumes and bad air and impure water and such. The topic of your… sensitivities… yes, that’s the word, comes up quite a bit in the Hills.”

  “What are you getting at?” I asked.

  “It’s too dirty, in every way and every sense of the word. Nud, they’re not civil folks that live down here in the dark. Not most of them anyway. Some yes, but not most. We can’t go there.”

  “But Dromeron Odoon is the way out.”

  Kabor shook his head. “What makes you say that? No Nud. We have to go this way.” He gestured upstream.

  “But the White Whale said…” I lost my train of thought.

  “White Whale? I don’t think your head is right, Nud. And if that’s the place you were heading to, Dromodoon or whatever, then you’re nuts for trying. They enslave anything that walks on two legs or hops on one. They even sell ‘em to the highest bidder. I know because I saw my fill of what happens down here and talked enough about it with… the pilot, as you say.”

  “Did you go there?” I asked.

  “No,” he replied, “but I heard all I need to hear about it.”

  I was in no condition to argue. Plus the encounter and my brief glimpse at the city supported everything he was saying. Then why would the leviathan send me there? The question lingered in the back of my mind. I felt dizzy still, light-he
aded. The light began to flicker again. I sat down on a large rock. Kabor sat next to me.

  “So, what happened to you?” he said.

  “OK,” I began. “Well, first I was chased down a tunnel by smaller versions of the beast that brought us here – cloakers, I call them. One was following us the whole way before… and it tried to smother me – that’s what we saw near the pool, remember?”

  Kabor nodded. “Stone ghosts,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I’ve heard old miner’s tales about them. They call them ‘stone ghosts.’”

  “Well I call them ‘cloakers,’” I said.

  I continued the story of what had happened to me, but omitted any specific details about my encounter with the leviathan. When I was done, Kabor started his own story in a hushed tone. There was a waver in his voice.

  “When the shaft caved in under me, I lost my footing and slid down with it a ways. The light-stone just popped out of my mouth while I was scrambling to stay above it all.”

  “Anyhow, I dug into the sides with my boots. The walls started falling apart above me too, and it got real slurpy. I had to move my arms like this.” He began waving his arms frantically in the horizontal direction. “Like the butterfly – that time you showed me how to tread water, except tighter.”

  I nodded, eager to hear more.

  “Well, the sloppy earth rose right up to my shoulders before it stopped filling in. Once it settled, I had to push myself up just a little farther, but it was pitch black. I tried digging to find the crystal and get back to you, but it was no use – too much earth and clay blocked the way.”

  “Then what?” I said.

  “I couldn’t go down, so I tried to go up, but I didn’t get far – dead end. I didn’t know what to do, so I started feeling the walls. I felt a really soft spot and started to push and dig. It was soaked through and gave way real easy.” Kabor held his hands up and showed them to me. Several fingernails were worn off and the tips of his fingers were red and raw.

  I shuddered at the sight. “You dug your way all the way here with your bare hands?” I said.

  “Not quite. More like I poked my way into a parallel shaft, except it didn’t lead to the same cave system. It took forever to make an opening big enough to get my whole body through, but eventually I forced my way in, pushing and clawing at the earth until it all gave way.”

  “Then what did you do?” I said.

  Kabor took a moment to compose himself. He sucked back a few deep breaths.

  “Anyhow,” he continued, “I pretty much crept, wriggled and slid after that, right down into this cave system. It’s a rabbit warren up there – little tunnels leading every which way. When I heard rushing water, I headed for it – thirsty as Bone Hill in a drought for the digging. I rinsed off and rested by the river, taking my fill o’ water, but not for long – had to keep moving. Had to get out. I felt like something was watching me the whole time. It’s odd when you think about it. What can watch you in the dark?”

  Kabor paused, waiting for some acknowledgement that I was following his story. He was sounding more and more like his cousin. When you strip away Kabor’s nonsense and back-handedness, what you are left with is pure Stout, which pretty much describes Gariff.

  I nodded to him, letting the obvious pass – many animals use scent to track their prey, which works perfectly well in darkness.

  “My biggest problem was that I couldn’t see anything. I tried hitting two rocks together to make them spark so I could light up some cloth, but that didn’t work. Just made lots of noise and attracted attention. I called your name, but…” Kabor’s voice began to falter a little. “I thought maybe you were buried alive when the shaft collapsed.”

  “Anyhow,” he continued, “I started hearing noises in the dark. It scared the heck out of me at first. I followed the river upstream and stumbled upon an odd sort of fellow – heard him banging on some rocks with a pick, a familiar sound. I couldn’t see him in the dark and right from the start I could tell he was… different, but he seemed decent enough. Spoke with a Dim Lake accent, but with lots of weird beeps in between words. He knew what torches were, but didn’t see the need for them apart from setting fires for cooking and metalwork and such. I got a better look at him later when we passed near Dromadoon and something appeared off – all deformed, and his eyes were… I don’t know. He was so dirty it was hard to tell.”

  Kabor turned away and peered into the vast darkness. He took a deep breath, and then continued with his story. “Anyway, this fellow gave me the run-down of the place and all the crazy things happening down here in the dark. It’s like a separate little universe. I was so happy to be talking to someone. Said he was a ‘slave driver.’ Saved my life, no doubt.”

  Then he laughed to himself. “I thought he meant he was in charge of slaves. You know, with a whip and all that, but after talkin’ and ridin’ with him, I find out he’s a driver that happens to be a slave – he drives other slaves from place to place on his stone ghost – ‘cloaker’ as you say – and gets’em to their work. Does some prospecting on the sly too, hoping to one day buy his freedom. There’s whole flocks of them flying carpets in these caves, and lots of drivers – pilots – working for their freedom. Sometimes though, the stone ghosts eat their riders. It’s a dangerous business to be in.”

  “You could have maybe mentioned that when you picked me up,” I said.

  “What choice did you have?” he retorted.

  Kabor seemed to have trouble deciding what to say next. For a long moment, he looked up to the ceiling of darkness before shifting his gaze back to me.

  “Anyhow,” he went on, “I told him about you and he said I should try some place he called ‘clickity clackity something-or-other,’ but he said I couldn’t go alone because of the slavers, so he was nice enough to bring me there and… I had already given up.”

  I mouthed the word “Yep” and nodded. Me too, for a while.

  “You see,” he continued, “like I said, that one’s a slave too. I told ‘Clickety-clack’ – the pilot – to come out with me to the Hills, but he says they need him. Not his masters, mind you, but the other slaves he helps out. For some reason he gets lots of freedom and privileges compared to some, and that includes air riding.”

  “Unbelievable. You were lucky to find Clickety-clack when you did,” I said.

  “Anyhow, then I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the bright light and… I guess it was the right thing to do because here you are and we’re getting out now. By the way, that Clickity-clack told me about a way out, sort of. I would never have found it alone in the dark though. But with your light, it should be easy to sort out.”

  “What was his real name?” I asked. My head was still throbbing.

  “The slave driver?”

  Kabor thought for a long moment and cleared up his voice. “Clack-click jitter-jit snap something-or-other pop,” he said with a smirk, “…really. But he could speak our tongue as good as some foreigners, except like I said he kept clickity-clacking between words, which was distracting at first, but I got used to it.”

  There was a long pause. I could smell the vomit on my shirt.

  I stood up and went to the river, filled up my waterskin, then took a small sip. It had a metallic taste to it, but at least it wasn’t salty.

  “This water isn’t very clean,” I said, as I took off my shirt and started washing it.

  “You’re right. Water’s no good for drinking unless you’d die otherwise,” said Kabor. “It’s slurry: polluted runoff from a mine. That’s what made me wonder if miners were down here. There might be arsenic and all kinds of chemicals and minerals in that water.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” I said.

  With my toes in the water, small blind fish gathered around my feet, chasing little bits of debris that I had stirred up from the bottom. They went so far as to nibble at my skin and toenails. The brave little fish were different from the ones in the Dim Sea, smaller and thinner fo
r starters. They had no idea what I was – just random potential food to them, I imagined. Straight away, I set out to steer as many as possible into a shallow area, closing off their escape.

  “We’ll see who’s food!” I said.

  The naive fish were easily cornered and I scooped out a handful. Kabor noticed and tried his own hand at trapping them. Without the cover of darkness, their evasive maneuvers were useless against our herding tactics. The small fish were white, eyeless, and probably tasteful. I stopped short of swallowing one whole though, thanks to Kabor.

  “Don’t eat the fish either,” said Kabor. “Toxic.”

  I released my spoiled meal back into the river. We didn’t linger long afterwards. The toxicity of food and water sources and the threat of slavers in the area inspired us to move on immediately.

  “Did your gloomy friend say where this river leads?” I said.

  Kabor shook his head. “He just said ‘falls.’ There was never time enough to get into the nitty-gritty details. But I’d bet Gariff’s hat that it leads to a mine.”

  I smirked at the thought of ending up at a familiar waterfall, but I knew what he was saying meant we could no longer be anywhere near the bog. The closest “real” falls lay north, spilling out of Dim Lake.

  Putting our worries behind us, we headed upstream with renewed hope. I brightened the light to its maximum intensity just once, stopped, and took one final look back at the way we had journeyed.

  Chapter VII

  Spears of the gods

  “The jaws of gloom,” I said, more to myself than to Kabor. Indeed, the thought of entering gave me the shivers.

  “What is it?” said Kabor.

  “Leviathan – it can only be a leviathan,” I said.

  “They’re just myths,” said Kabor.

  “No. I saw one,” I countered. “I spoke with one – he knew everything about everything and he sent me to Dromeron Odoon to find you.”