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

by K. B. Sprague

  “I will start the game by fronting you two of my rings,” he went on. “Now we are even at five a piece. The game goes on until one of us has lost all five wagers or we both agree to call it quits.”

  Holly overlooked the fact that she was talking to death incarnate. “That’s not fair!” she snapped. “You would have us lay down our lives against your stupid rings? Forget it. Nud… we’re leaving. Let’s get out of here.”

  “I have no life to bargain with,” said the lichen-covered one, “and if you abandon me now, neither will you, nor will your friends. So sit back and take in the game, and when your life hangs in the balance by little more than a silver thread, relish it! That is what it means to truly live… you must look Death in the eye, again and again, and dare it. You must do so until you can’t bear it any longer, until you are sick to death of seeing Death. And then you must look Death in the eye one last time.”

  As his words faded into soft echoes, I peered into the eyes of the undying one. Staring Death down could not be much worse. I had seen Death already – in my dreams – and he was only a wraith.

  If life did not sustain the thing that sat across from me, then what did? He counted himself not among the living, yet he was more than simply dead. Dead… alive… he seemed to be neither, or both. Perhaps he lay somewhere in between.

  At least for the moment, I owned the lives of my friends. “I suppose you will not agree to end the game at this time?” I said.

  Taradin’s smirk disappeared and he gave me a vile look. He sighed and shook his head. I could almost hear the “tsk tsk” on his mind.

  I agreed to his terms, in full realization of our dire circumstance. Holly nodded to signify her compliance as well. We had no real choice in the matter. We had to play, or die. We had to win, or die. We had to save our friends, and maybe save the bog. Or die.

  The game was a simple two-player contest, and each must start with an equal number of tokens. One player acts as the “attacker” and the other the “defender.” Each turn, the players agree on what to wager, then roll their dice in any order. Whoever rolls the highest die, or rolls a pair (the higher of both pairs if each rolled a pair) wins the toss, the tokens wagered, and defends next turn. In the event of a tie, the defender wins the toss. The game commences with a “roll-off” to determine who defends first. In the event of a tie in this case, the roll-off is repeated until a win occurs. The game ends when one of the players has nothing left to wager. There is no “honor” for a player in Pirates’ Dice. The game is infamous for escalation during play – desperate players down to one token, with odds stacked against them, often plead with their opponent to add new and valuable tokens to the game, at the discretion of the opponent.

  Taradin drew a deck of blank cards from his robe and passed two of them over. Holly took them. I picked up the feather quill, dipped it in ink, and passed it to Holly.

  “You write,” I said to her. “Mine is too messy.”

  Taradin watched as Holly wrote in neat cursive: “Nud” on one card and “Holly, Bobbin and Gariff” on the second. She had a particular way of writing “Holly,” with a curvy “H” and an extra big loop under the “y” that underlined the entire name. When she was finished, the First King handed me two white dice together with the matching shaker, and kept the remaining red pair and shaker for himself. I took my seat and weighed the bringers of fate in my hands. The pieces appeared to be made of ivory, but heavier than expected.

  “Ready to roll?” Taradin asked.

  “Ready,” I replied.

  “Ready,” said Holly.

  We threw dice into the bowl carved into the middle of the slab tabletop. It was flat at the very bottom. A slightly curled lip at the top deflected any high rolling dice back down.

  Taradin won the first toss for defender. I then rolled a “1” and a “2” on the attack. He rolled a “4” and a “5” as defender to win the toss. I gave Taradin a ring, of course. For the next turn, I gave the dice to Holly to role on our behalf. She rolled a “6” and a “1”, and smiled confidently at her luck. The dice, unfortunately, were not kind to her either. Taradin rolled double sixes, winning the toss again. A wry smile crept across his face. I added another ring to his kitty. If we lost the next round, Holly would have to put in her light-giving stone. We gathered our dice to roll again.

  I rolled “6” high and Taradin a “5” high. I was now the defender. He gave me back one ring. Then Holly rolled a “4” high and he a “6” high, winning the turn and making him the defender. The next turn was devastating. Holly rolled a “5” and a “4” – not bad, except for the fact that Taradin rolled double sixes – again! We had no choice but to hand over Holly’s stone.

  Holly leaned forward, palms rubbing her knees. “We would like to quit the game now,” she said, pleading with her eyes as much as her voice. She looked to me.

  I nodded. “This game has gone on long enough.” I met Taradin’s gaze. “You have the stone and the bog. Do you accept our offer to terminate?”

  Taradin took a long moment to mull over the decision, or at least he pretended to do so for dramatic effect. While waiting for his response, I contemplated a passage from the legend of the First King: “He rigged the game so that no matter what the roll, the Orbweaver could devour everything except the First King and his followers…” Could Taradin have rigged this game too? A game rigger is a game rigger, I decided.

  Finally, the lichen-covered fiend offered a way out. “You may quit now, if you like, for the price of one life.”

  Holly grabbed my wrist. “Quit,” she whispered. “I will do it.”

  I shook my head and stared Taradin right in the eye.

  “Next roll, winner takes all!” I said.

  Holly and I were in this together. Together we would seal our fates and the fates of our two good friends. The game had so quickly come down to our lives. My only hope lay in chance and the notion that his dice might be loaded.

  There was no response from Taradin as he weighed his options. It was his way of torturing us. It would be courteous of him to accommodate my request, but nothing bound him to do so.

  “Winner takes all,” I repeated.

  Repeatedly, Taradin ran his fingers down the chain around his neck. I could hear the bone scraping against the links. Slowly, he nodded his head. “Very well,” he said.

  “And we switch dice,” I added. What little flesh that still clung to one of his eyebrows sprung upwards. He sneered when he spoke.

  “What’s wrong with your dice?” he asked.

  “Can’t you see? They’re bad luck,” I said.

  Taradin leaned forward, resting his palms flat on the table. He had a serious look in his eyes. “You must know that I once rolled dice to save the whole of mankind, and won! Do you really think it is possible that I could lose to the likes of you?”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “Well… do you?”

  Rather than nod or shake my head, I simply returned his stare, blankly.

  “You’re short,” my ghastly opponent spat. Part of a tooth flew out of his mouth and clattered as it bounced along the tabletop and onto the floor. He had gotten himself all worked up again and was falling apart, it seemed. Taradin wiped his lip with the sleeve of his tattered robe.

  “You only have two wagers remaining to my eight,” he said, anger in his voice. “To keep the game balanced, you both have to offer something extra. A service perhaps… a small price to pay for all that might be gained, judging from your current predicament.”

  Holly tugged on my sleeve. I saw her head shaking “NO” out of the corner of my eye. But how much could it possibly matter? Whatever Holly’s reservations might be, we would have no choice but to accept once again.

  “What are your terms?” I asked.

  “In addition to providing me with the location of the stones—”

  The First King tilted his head and paused to ponder the offer he was about to make. His jaw hung open.

  “—you mus
t seek out the leaders of your own community in the bog and convince them to join our league. Name it The Rejuvenation League. Webfoot will fall under the protection of Harrow and your village will share in our wealth and knowledge of longevity. A gracious and respectful associate of mine, who is attentive to the needs of Pips, will be assigned to your village council and will aid in all decision making henceforth. All your council need do is accept our generous offer, and a new and wondrous age will enlighten your people.”

  What possible influence could I have over the council? I was barely past pipsqueak in years and wholly new to my position; they would not pay heed to my words at all. My thoughts must have been written all over my face, for Taradin gave me the answer to my internal question.

  “I will outfit you for the task as though you were a high lord. You will have our finest coach drawn by the noblest of steeds in all of Harrow, a most esteemed entourage, plentiful gifts of goodwill as I said earlier, and City Master Garond will accompany you to draw up the contracting arrangements. Your council will have to take you seriously. Tell them there is a great sage in Harrow who will guide them all to riches and immortality. And be sure to tell them this of Karna’s Messenger, whom I speak for—”

  By the way the next words rolled off his rotten tongue, you would think they were sacred.

  “He knows the Way. He can get you what you Want.”

  The words struck me. They were the words the guard had spoken, and they were the words of the leviathan.

  “I will hold your lives to ensure that you do your utmost to fulfill the task agreed to. Holly, you would do well to help him. If you succeed, I will give you back your lives and the lives of those you seek to rescue.”

  “And if I am not successful?” I asked.

  “Hmmm… then I would have to say that your life’s work would become mine,” responded Taradin, “to do with as I see fit… perhaps you would make a good serving boy, or maybe an acrobatic fool. You seem clever enough though, so the laboratory may serve you best – if you could learn to click with the Gropers. You are a good reader, I presume? The Gropers can do most anything BUT read. How are you at story time?”

  I offered him a blank look. He turned to Holly. “As for you, my dear, I have other uses in mind for you. Perhaps Harrow could use a Red Room.” He laughed a sinister laugh.

  I did not like the idea of leading the council down this path, nor did I like the idea of becoming a slave. But it seemed better than bribes that would only benefit a precious few, and it would buy me time…

  “If I did not succeed,” I pleaded, “and if I knew of a stone like Holly’s except brighter, could I trade that for one life back?”

  “Have you seen such a stone?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure, but I have an idea where one might be.”

  “Agreed,” he said, all too quickly.

  Taradin and I swapped dice. My knees went weak and I felt a sickness in the pit of my stomach. The next words to hit my ears sounded alien to me: “Then I agree to your terms as well,” the voice said. The words were mine.

  In a moment of clarity, I realized it was stupid of me to have listened to a forest of trees in the first place. And why Holly had insisted on accompanying me to pursue this folly, I could not fathom. She had her sense about her by then though, it seemed, signifying her disapproval with flared nostrils, pursed lips and a shaking head. She was scared too – really, really scared. I wondered if Holly truly realized that I had no real choice in the matter. I had to keep the game going at all costs… I had to give luck a chance.

  Taradin handed me two more cards. On one of them I wrote: “Convince the council or be a slave – Nud.”

  Holly reached for the quill to write on her card. She spilled the inkbottle and knocked her wine cup off the table. The pewter clanged several times before rolling underneath a chair. Tardin rolled his eyes. His patience with her was up. Holly ducked down to retrieve the cup.

  My hands trembled as I dropped the red dice into the shaker. I rattled them for a good long time, and then rolled my fate. Taradin threw his dice into the bowl as well. All four dice, red and white, bounced and jittered up and down the gentle slope. They clattered and they skidded. One die of his and one die of mine collided, stuck together, and began to slide down the arc of the bowl towards the bottom. My die was on “6” and his on “1”. I gasped in anticipation. The other two dice were still in play.

  The fact that I had not revealed that the stone was on my person gave me solace, as did the knowledge that the toss likely would be mine. Win… WIN!

  But just as the final two were about to settle, I toppled. I did not even see the numbers, for my chair suddenly tipped over and I tumbled onto the floor. I heard dice clatter in the bowl one last time before they came to rest.

  Two sixes for me, I bet.

  I believed it whole-heartedly, but I will never know for sure. Only Taradin was privy to how the dice landed. A condition of diplomacy is that a witness must attest to the events that transpire during a negotiation and what is agreed upon, or it simply does not count. As far as I was concerned, the last roll had become null and void and the game forever spoiled.

  Chapter XXII

  Into the gloom

  I met the steady gaze of the sea serpent. Its painted eyes shone bright and yellow with the glaring constancy of a common house cat. The creature had small green legs that could pass for fins, and webbed feet tipped with black, hooked claws. A sinuous tail wound its way up and around the pedestal base of the table. It was so life-like; it could have passed for real.

  My elbow had broken my fall. It stung like mad. I lay flat on my back, sprawled out on the floor and under the table, my chair overturned.

  “Whoa… what the—”

  Before I could finish, Holly pounced on top of me. She slapped her cold, clammy hand over my mouth and draped the wild elderkin cloak over the two of us. To the outside world, we suddenly disappeared.

  There was a “tap tap tap” from above.

  On its own, the cloak would not be enough to hide us for long. As quiet as I could, I sat up and slung my pack over my shoulders, then rose to crouch for a quick getaway. Holly moved with me, positioning herself on my right so we could both share in the cover.

  The tapping stopped.

  “What is going on down there?” said Taradin, sounding mildly frustrated.

  “Ouch,” I said, faking my pain. “Half a moment, if you will.”

  “He’ll be fine in a second,” said Holly. “Is your knee all right, Mr. Leatherleaf, Sir?”

  We took the opportunity to creep away from the table.

  “Come now!” he complained. His voice became grandiose. “Rise now, and behold your fate, Webfooters! Rise! Feast your eyes on the treachery and glory of Pirates’ Dice!”

  Taradin’s patience soon wore thin. He slapped his hands on the table. “Come now, this is absurd!” he said. “You are taking too long. What are you two doing down there, anyway?” Then I heard his chair slide. “Get up here! No farewell kisses under the table… Whaaa?”

  Surprise, surprise.

  Holly and I actually did rise back when he bade us to, but wrapped in the cloak, careful not to budge a chair, knock the decor, or drag against the floor during our hushed escape. We snuck towards the door with small, quiet steps, practically invisible. There was no way for us to look back though, only forward, and only Holly could see enough to guide us by the slight gap in the hood.

  The Flipside girl continued to usher me on and I followed her lead. Still, I could not see a thing. I kept my voice to a low whisper. “What are you doing?” My question was rhetorical.

  “The door,” was all she whispered back.

  Taradin burst out at us, his voice suddenly hoarse and monstrous: “Get back here!” he growled. “Where are you hiding?” His anger was multiplied by our silence. “Come out!”

  We were almost there, almost to freedom, when I bumped into one of the Red Maiden statues beside the door. It was a hard knock, a
full check. The statue toppled over, smashing into the other on its way down. We jumped back as the two stone figures crashed to the floor. Bits of red stone exploded out from the impact and bit at my ankles. Holly let out a squeak. She leapt to the door, found the handle and pulled. But it opened only slightly – the bulk of the statues blocked the way. The cloak slid off me.

  “STOP!” commanded the lichen King.

  I shuddered and cringed.

  “The game is not over until you behold your fate!”

  To hell with that. I dropped to the floor, braced my back against the wall, and pushed with my legs at the broken statue blocking the way.

  I saw Taradin coming for us, and redoubled my efforts as Holly yanked on the door handle with all her might. The piece gave way just enough for a Pip to squeeze by. Holly passed through the doorway. Clandt, on the other side, I thought, as I scrambled to my feet. I felt ready for him though. I thought maybe, in the initial confusion, we could slip past or even trip him up before he caught on to what was happening. I forced my way through the doorway, mentally prepared to meet the challenge that awaited.

  But there was no initial confusion, at least not on his part. Although not the brightest conversationalist, Clandt proved to be quick-minded when it came to, well, being a guard. Before I even realized what was happening, he had pulled Holly up off her feet and with a kick sent me stumbling backwards. The back of my head smashed against the edge of the doorframe with a sickening thud. He grabbed hold of Holly’s cloak and flung it down the hall. Knowing the Lich King himself would soon be upon us, in all his horrid gore and glory, I rolled away from the door and into the middle of the passage. I was just in time.

  Taradin swiped at me, but he became stuck in the doorway while trying to force his way through. He was holding his scepter. The wall turned translucent again. “GUARDS!… GUARDS!” he called out.

  I struggled to my feet and charged at Clandt to free Holly from his forceful grip. In one hand, he held her firm, and guarded his prize well. With the same fluid motion displayed earlier, Clandt extended one foot and effortlessly redirected my charge into the wall. I tripped and fell, hitting the wall face first and then the ground. There was a glint of steel, and his stance suddenly changed to that of a swordsman. He stood with a short sword drawn and upon me.