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

by K. B. Sprague

  Mayor Otis Dagger’s man? I wondered. His informant in Harrow?

  The dwarf held the door open for the next arriving show-goers and flashed them a courteous smile, extending warm greetings as they strolled on by. As others followed, he graciously accepted the occasional gratuity dropped into his outstretched cap.

  Just like Raven had promised, the commotion started with the guards. I heard the dogs barking from up the stairwell. “Clear the way, coming through,” a voice boomed from the same direction.

  The crowd divided, and through the open path rushed four guards and their two leashed dogs. The dwarf gave them an animated look of surprise and backed against the wall as they shot past, dogs bounding with their masters in tow. They took the down-tunnel, just as Raven had expected.

  Now is my chance.

  I took a deep breath, adjusted the fit of my cloak, and prepared to cross the chamber. The flow of people continued to thicken, but I would not be deterred by the crowded stairwell.

  I can do this, I convinced myself. I just have to keep quiet and weave through them. They were not really paying attention anyway, walking and chatting away, some snacking on fruit or sipping from cups. About to leave, I thought I heard something, half a whisper maybe.

  “Nud, are ya’in there?”

  I didn’t answer. My instincts told me to go.

  “Nud,” the voice whispered again, closer, louder. “I can smell the fish,” it said. “Bobbin cooked’em up the other night.” I looked behind me, down the passage. Rounding the corner was a Stout carrying a pick. Raven followed. They both stopped.

  “Nud, are you there?” He turned to Raven. “What if he’s already gone?”

  I threw back my hood. “Gariff! What are you doing here?” I said.

  “Nud,” he came over and patted me on the back. “Glad to see yer OK.” He gestured to Raven. “I met this feller here who thought I was Kabor.”

  “Shshsh,” said Raven, holding a finger to his lips. “ Too loud .”

  I kept my voice low. “C’mon, we can get out of here,” I said to Gariff. “Now’s our chance.” I stood on the tips of my toes to peer behind them. “Wait a minute… where’s Bobbin?”

  Gariff shook his head. He spoke quietly. “Hear me out,” he said.

  I looked to the stairs, and back to Gariff. “There isn’t much t—” He cut me off.

  “Your friend here told me all about you… and what you said about Holly, so I asks him if he can bring me to ya. Then there’s this big fuss and a loud horn – Did ya hear the horn? – with these little fellas running all over the place like blind mice. We have to talk.”

  “Who’s up there?” called the dwarf by the door. Were it not for a well-timed gratuity and the accompanying obligatory acknowledgement, our presence might have been discovered. We scuttled further back into the passage, out of sight and out of earshot.

  “Kabor’s OK,” I assured him.

  “I know,” he said. “Off to Webfoot.”

  “How d—” I started.

  “I’ll git to it,” he said, “but first, listen.”

  Anxiety was building. “Tell me later,” I said. “I can’t wait. This whole crisis is a fake – it’s just a distraction to get me out – us out… NOW. But we have to get moving. I’m coming back for Holly… Bobbin too. I can’t get them out without help from the Council and help from Gan. Fyorn will know what to do… and whom to raise the issue with.”

  “Whom to raise the issue with?” Gariff gave me a look as though I didn’t know what the heck I was talking about. He shook his head again and folded his arms. He wasn’t going to budge.

  I bit my lip and looked to the stairs. They were empty for the first time in a long time.

  “Gariff!” I complained.

  “First off,” the Stout began, as if he had all day, “Bobbin and I went lookin’ fer ya’s in town here and gots into a bit a trouble. It’s Bobbin – he’ll strike up a conversation with just about anyone. I blame everything on his flapping lips. He just doesn’t know when to shut up sometimes. Anyways, he see’s this humongous off-duty guard sittin’ on a pile of logs set there to make repairs, just outside the Harrow Inn. Well, Bobbin drags me over and starts yappin’ in his ear.”

  “Can’t we sort this out later? We can both hide in Holly’s cloak. The stairs…”

  “There isn’t gonna be a later,” he said. “If we don’t fix this now. You need to hear this.”

  Finally, what he was trying to say hit me. It hit me like a heavy weight sunk deep into my stomach. I had an awful feeling… very awful… about what he was going to say next. I didn’t want to even think about that feeling, let alone have it. But it wouldn’t leave. The worried expression on Gariff’s face only amplified my fears. I lowered my head and nodded. His words were changing everything. There would be no quick escape up the grand stairwell leading out.

  Gariff went on with his recount of all that had happened.

  “So the big lug asks him, ‘Is you a Pip?’ And so Bobbin says, ‘Yep, pippy as they git.’ Then Bobbin sneaks me a smirk, and this guy stands up and blocks out the sky – not just the sun, the ‘whole’ sky, clouds and all. Then the guard says to ‘im, point’n his giant finger at me, ‘Is this oaf a Stout?’ I didn’t fancy being called an oaf.”

  “‘Yep’, says Bobbin, ‘as stoutly as they git.’”

  “Well, Bigfoot cracked a big’ol half-toothless grin from up there in the clouds. ‘Well, it’s me lucky day,’ he says like he’s some kind o’half-ass pirate. ‘Looks like yer comin’ with me, maties, you’s them two the tower guard’s been after.’”

  “Unbelievable,” I said, recalling the moment Fyorn heard the whisper. I shook my head.

  “Well, we protested that we was not ‘them two,’ whatever two he was talking about. Turns out half the city was looking for you and Kabor, and it just so happens we fit the description perfectly – a froggy Pip and… er… a stumpy Stout.”

  “I know all about it,” I said. “Fyorn warned me. That’s why I’m here – to get you out.”

  “Well, fine job at that yer doin’,” he said.

  “You’re free to go, aren’t you?” I said, gesturing to the stairs.

  He gave me a scornful look, and then continued with his story. He started by shaking his head, in genuine disbelief.

  “That there hairy mountain giant just picked us up one at a time – Bobbin no less than by the scruff of his neck – and slung us over his wide shoulders like sacks of potatoes. Then he brought us to a room in the tower. The guard in there just sits around guarding keys, by the looks of it.”

  A group of young girls on their way to the stadium giggled loudly as they raced through the chamber below. A few seconds later, an older man laughed and commented to a middle-aged woman about their exuberance.

  Gariff kept talking. “That giant got a reward for us too, the lousy lug – the guard flipped him a few coppers. And he smelled awful too. Bobbin said right to’im on the way over that he smelled like old beer and farts and sweaty shorts. Now that earned him a solid thump on the giant’s shoulder. Knocked the wind clear out of the poor hopper!”

  “How did you get here then, if you were jailed?” I said.

  “Before we even get thrown in the slammer, this pompous sort strolls in with a glass of red wine in his hand, acting like he’s King Prissy. He says to the keys guard, ‘These are not the thieves we are looking for – one is too round and the other is too stocky. But thank you for your excellent service.’ Then he flips him a silver. Imagine that! Just fer sitting there look’n at keys!”

  “Gariff, that probably was the king,” I said, “King Taeglin.”

  “Well, he didn’t seem much like a king. Whatever… ‘Let us go then!’ I says, but the bugger just waves his hand like we don’t matter and then leaves.”

  “And how did you get here?” I said.

  “Oh ya,” he said. “It gets really bad, Nud, really bad.” Gariff shook his head again, pursed his lips and stomped o
ne foot hard to the ground. “It’s like Bobbin joked, but worse – oh ya, you weren’t there.”

  “Where is Bobbin?” I said.

  “I’m gettin to it,” he replied. “We weren’t in the clink long before some crazy bag’o bones comes to visit.”

  “You mean Taradin,” I interjected. “The first King.”

  “Whatever,” said Gariff. “Anyhow, first Bag’o Bones looks at me and says ‘This one won’t do.’ Then he takes one look at my pipes…” Gariff patted his biceps. I have to admit, they were impressive. “…and he sends me down to the mining level with a pick and a bunch of eyeless freaks that just never shut up.” Gariff looked over to Raven, “No offence intended.”

  Raven just stood there, blank.

  “But before I go, Bag’o Bones looks at Bobbin and says to the guard, ‘Find out more about this one.’”

  Gariff had more to add. “After he sent me away, I pick’n hammered all day and slept back at my cell at night. Bobbin was right across from me. One night I came back and Holly was there right next to’im. At least we got to talk some when the guard dozed off. Bobbin said a tall, thin man visited him three times and asked him all sorts of questions about himself, and then wrote it all down. Holly too.”

  Gariff drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He put his pick down against the wall.

  “But that’s not the worst of it, Nud,” he continued, shaking his head, “That’s not the worst of it.”

  “So, Raven freed you with the other slaves?” I said.

  “Raven? Oh… this fella? Yep, but there’s something you gotta know.” Gariff steadied his gaze, his eyes on mine. Then he looked down, shoulders slumped, deflated.

  “Nud,” he said, staring at his boots.

  The strange feeling worsened in the pit of my stomach. The Stout looked up, eyes begging.

  “‘Bag’o Bones’ has Holly pegged for some kind of wicked ceremony; Bobbin too. It don’t sound good, Nud. It don’t sound good at all.”

  I felt sick.

  “We have to do something,” I said. Gariff nodded.

  And then I remembered my deal with Raven. I felt even more sick. I looked to him. His hopes hung on my shoulders – all their hopes, the Il’kinik. We had a deal.

  “I’m sorry,” I said to him, “Isotopia has to wait.”

  Raven shrugged. “Plans change,” was all he said.

  It put me off guard, how easily he accepted the collapse of our grand scheme. I thanked him profusely for his patience.

  “Time short,” he went on . “Burning arch . Kechekenibek take knowledge .”

  “What does that mean?” said Gariff.

  I already knew the answer and it was not pleasant. It came from all the legends. He meant devour and archive. It finally occurred to me that the central platform in the stadium was not just for show. It was an altar, with stairs descending into the waters of the leviathan. And through the act of devouring, knowledge lost by one would be gained by another.

  Chapter XXVI

  Clear as mud, Nud

  No, it just won’t work.

  Fleeing from Harrow just to organize a long-winded political response through official channels would be a death sentence for my good friends. How could I ever face Mr. and Mrs. Numbit again, after losing two at once? How could I live with myself?

  No, circumstances called for a new plan. The lives of Holly and Bobbin depended on it. They depended on me. And all I had to work with was my bog stone, an obstinate Stout, and a blind but friendly Gloom with underworld connections.

  Gariff was fidgety. His hands seemed to have minds of their own, acting as though they could do something about the situation just by pulling at one another or waving about. He kept staring at his boots as he shuffled back and forth.

  “Nud,” he said, “can’t you just call a meeting or something right here and now, and spring them with fancy talk? Yer diplomatic mumbo jumbo? That’s what yer good at, isn’t it?”

  I shook my head. “I thought I was good… until now. I can’t reason with the leadership here. They just do what they want to do. And I have nothing to hold over them to make them listen.”

  Gariff shook his head. He looked pale.

  “Dealing with Taradin is out of the question,” I continued. “He’s just mad. Maybe Taeglin, if I could meet with him. But I really doubt it from everything Paplov told me. Even if he agreed to see me, what do I have to offer that might compel him to go against his own flesh and blood?”

  “There’s barely any flesh and blood on him,” said Gariff. “There has to be something you can do, Nud… Anything.”

  My mind was still numb with all the bad news.

  Gariff kept talking. “Maybe we can just rush in, grab’em, and rush out.”

  “No,” I said. “That won’t work.” I turned to the Gloom. He seemed very interested in everything that was happening.

  “Raven,” I said. “I need to speak with Gariff alone for a bit… we need to make an important decision.”

  “Arone?” he replied.

  “Yes, alone,” I said.

  Raven nodded politely and disappeared down the passage and out of earshot. If he was offended, he didn’t show it. The Stout leaned against the wall of the tunnel and put his hands in his pockets. I gathered my resolve.

  “Gariff,” I said, “I need you to go with Raven.”

  Looking down at his boots again, he bit his lip and shook his head.

  “What am I gonna do with the likes of him?” he said. “No, no Nud. I’m stick’n with you.”

  I chose my next words carefully. “I need you to go with Raven. You need to convince him that if he can get help to rescue Holly and Bobbin, we will show them the way to Isotopia.”

  “Isotopia?” he said.

  “Yes. It’s like ‘Heaven’ to them. They’ll do anything to get there – the slaves will, not the slave masters. They will need to be convinced though… and fast.”

  “What makes you think they’ll believe we can bring’em there?” said Gariff.

  “They have a prophecy, that someone with ‘The Fifth’ – who can see – will lead them to Isotopia.”

  “That could be just about anyone, ‘cept them.”

  “But they’ve only ever known wicked Harrowians here in the Catacombs. That’s why they keep asking about Isotopia. We’re the first they’ve met that don’t treat them that way, and I’m sure the fact we are more their size doesn’t hurt either.”

  “So, ya think they really believe it?”

  “Yes, I do. And we can deliver. You know the Bearded Hills will make a place for them.”

  Gariff nodded. “It won’t be Isotopia.”

  “They can call it that, if they want to. Tell them about the mines you admire the most. Tell them about the vein of gold that runs like a river. They’ll like that.”

  “I sort of made that one up.”

  “Tell them anyway.”

  “Why me? Why not just send Raven?”

  “You have to find the one named ‘Clickety-clack’ or something or other – Kabor got to know him. He flies… giant beasts – Kabor calls them stone ghosts.”

  “Stone ghosts are real?” he said.

  “Sure as I’m standing here,” I said. “And tell him you’re Kabor’s brother.”

  “But he’s my cuz—”

  “You two are practically brothers.”

  I gave Gariff some time to sort through the proposition. In the minute that followed, the Stout measured his worth. I could nearly see the indecision churning in his head, weights balancing on a scale. In the end, and without another word to the contrary, he nodded.

  “I’ll do it,” he said.

  I smiled at his nervousness. “It’s the only way,” was all I could say. Gariff grabbed his newly acquired pick and we caught up with Raven.

  I tried to repeat the pilot Gloom’s name to Raven, as Kabor had said it to me, but “Clickity-clack” did not ring any bells with him.

 
; “ I will ask ,” he said.

  My plan was for Clickity-clack – or whatever his real name was – to swoop in from the open water on his flying mount, drop out of the dark heights and whisk Holly and Bobbin away the moment they appeared on stage, just as Kabor had rescued me. Unprepared, I wagered that few, if any, of even the half-giant variety would dare mess with such a frightful beast as a full-grown cloaker. And it would happen fast – a quick “grab and go.” I explained everything to Gariff and Raven. When I was done, I turned to my Gloom friend.

  “Watch out for the guards,” I said to Raven.

  “ I will,” he chirred.

  I didn’t realize until later that I had used the word “watch.”

  “Catch ya at the Flipside after this one,” said Gariff.

  “I owe you a barkwood,” I replied.

  With those parting words, the two unlikely companions went on their way.

  *

  Until their return, my role was to do the only thing I could think to do: keep tabs on events in the stadium and be prepared to act when the time came, with or without help from the stone ghost riders. I had no idea exactly what I might try to do, especially if things did not go as planned. Something would be done though, no matter what. I had to, for Holly’s sake, and Bobbin’s… and for Mr. and Mrs. Numbit.

  Chapter XXVII

  Diversion

  I’d like to say I had a plan. And I’d like to say that plan included a clever diversion, a coordinated break out, and a daring escape, all orchestrated by yours truly. But there was no real plan. A real plan does not hinge on an off chance, in this case, an uprising of disgruntled stone ghost riders. That might be called “hope” or “desperation.” Most certainly, it does not constitute a well-defined course of action. That is what I needed – a well-defined course of action. No, the odds did not look good, but there was still time. And a little time can reveal its own mysterious value in equally mysterious ways.