SPARX Incarnation: Mark of the Green Dragon (SPARX Series I Book 1)

by K. B. Sprague

  “Do you think we’ll find the ‘mother load’ that old coot was talkin’ about?” he started.

  Kabor took him on. “Mer’s a bit delusional,” he said. A wolfish grin began to form. “Do you really think a bunch of frogs are sitting on a gold mine? I mean really, it’s a bog.”

  “Not gold,” Gariff countered. “A ruby mine. And why not?”

  Holly set them both straight. “Put it together dimwits – it was blue sapphires. Don’t you two remember?” She lowered her voice and roughed it up a little. “It’s the sto-wo-wo-wo-wone of dest-tiny.”

  Mer doesn’t sound anything like that, I thought, with a slight shake of my head.

  “Whatever,” said Gariff. He gave Holly a dismissive wave.

  “It’s not whatever,” said Holly. “It’s blue frikken sapphires… blue sapphires… blue sapphires… get it?” She flicked Kabor in the ear.

  “Ouch!” said Kabor. “Why’d you hit me?”

  “That’s what you get,” she said playfully, and giggled. Then she turned to Gariff. “Boggers and whatnot have been scouting the place forever. I see them all the time at the inn. Don’t you think they would have found everything there is to find by now?”

  “No,” answered Kabor, on behalf of his cousin. “Take Nud’s little mud hut, for example. He could be sitting on a stack of gems half a league high and he’d never know it.”

  “Wait a minute,” I contested. “Which side are you on, Kabor? You can’t be on both sides of an argument.” I was convinced that he said that just to annoy me. “And I don’t live in a mud hut. It’s sticks and, well, fired clay.”

  “Cuz is right,” said Gariff, “ya gots to know the grounds. Mer knows the ground better than most Stouts, and most Stouts know the ground better than any Pip, even if the they’ve been rollin’ on it fer fifty years.”

  Kabor chuckled. “And even if the Stout is a little delusional,” he added.

  Holly frowned, as if something not quite satisfying was on her mind. “I don’t see why we should split equal shares with Mer,” she said.

  Bobbin, strangely silent since we left, suddenly spoke. His voice sounded muffled.

  “We shoul’ge just share wi’sh everyone,” he said. Bobbin was already snacking on a bun, thick with butter. No one minded his naive comment.

  I turned to Holly. “It’s more complicated than you might think,” I said.

  “Sure is,” said Gariff, nodding in agreement.

  “Mer knows the process and he knows the competition,” I went on, “and he can help us secure the rights so there are no mistakes, no oversights, and so we don’t get scooped. I’m sure Paplov could help us too. All we have to do is convince him.”

  “Would we be rich?” she said, eyes sparkling.

  “If we get the claim staked right and the paperwork in on time, then maybe,” I said.

  “Look,” said Bobbin, pointing up, “a sailboat.”

  We all looked up. Slowly, we came to understand Bobbin’s interpretation of the soft boundaries of a sail and the puffy outline of a boat’s hull, set against the true blue backdrop of the surrounding sky. No one mentioned anything for a long minute. We just stared up into the sky where the lonely cloud sailed on a chance current of air. My mind drifted right along with it, dreaming of untold riches. I could finally get some answers, I decided. I could finally find out what happened to my parents. I could hire an investigator. I could pay informants. I could go to Harrow and find the underlying cause of what happened to them. And if they were being held captive, like Wyatt had been for so long, I could have them rescued or campaign to pressure the Iron Tower into releasing them – shame Harrow in front of the whole world.

  Holly broke my trance. “How long can we stay at Fyorn’s?”

  “Pffaaa!” protested Gariff. “Half an hour, tops. We have a claim to stake.”

  “Let’s start by getting there early – well before noon,” I said. “It’s still a bit of a hike. That’ll give us maybe three hours to visit and the same for treasure hunting and claim staking. We need to get back before dark.”

  “What?” said Gariff. “You’re not pulling that one on me again.”

  “We’ll see,” I said.

  Without warning, Holly darted ahead. “I have to run,” she called back to us. The sudden need to burn off energy came as no surprise. A spontaneous run is something Pips tend to do from time to time, without rhyme or reason to it. A Pip in the middle of just about anything will just up and run, then walk for a time, then run again, and then walk some more.

  “I can’t run with you, I’m eating,” said Bobbin, apologetically. He had just taken the last bite of bread and was already probing his pack for more.

  “Hold up,” I said, and started after Holly myself. She kept a tight stride and it took a minute to catch her, after which we jogged together. The waddling Pip and the two cousins in our wake continued along at a walking pace.

  As Holly and I passed the first stand of old tree snags, she began to make small talk about life at the inn, huffing in between short sentences. The two of us eventually slowed down to a fast walk to better accommodate our conversation.

  She had started off talking about the regulars she encountered on a weekly basis at the Flipside, and then turned her focus to our coastal neighbors to the South.

  “And a good number of the merchants from Abandon Bay are very well-to-do,” she said, “and some of the wildest partiers – they could go all night.”

  She paused. It was my turn to say something.

  “Really,” I said, trying to sound interested. Claims and riches still occupied my thoughts and I had missed most of what she had been talking about. I was at a loss for words. Then something struck me.

  “Your necklace!” I said.

  “Oh,” said Holly. She placed her hand on her chest, feeling the necklace under her fingertips and looking down at it. “Do you like it?”

  “Yes, I do,” I replied, “very much.” It looked a little too familiar. “Can I take a closer look?”

  We both halted. Holly turned to face me directly. She parted her hair casually and leaned in so that I could see the necklace more clearly. But I felt awkward. The necklace – it hung quite low on her, and her shirt could be revealing when she took on a certain stance… that stance. Quite revealing, I told myself.

  Holly, on the other hand, appeared to be completely free of any inhibitions whatsoever. So in the end, I just went with it. I stooped for a better look.

  “Ahem… Ahh… Hmm,” was all that came out as I studied the necklace – and her to a shameful extent – ever so carefully.

  At first glance, the necklace appeared much like a string of pearls with a red and green leaf pendant. On closer examination though, it was as I had thought. Each bead was actually bell-shaped, which I recognized as the tiny flower and winter leaf of the leatherleaf plant. The dangling leaves on the pendant, of course, were the leather leaves themselves.

  “Yep, that’s it,” I said.

  “What is it?” said Holly.

  “My mother had one just like it. Those beads look like they come from the leatherleaf plant.”

  “Yes, I know,” said Holly. “They’re quite unique.”

  “Paplov talks about her necklace sometimes,” I continued. “He says my father gave it to her – ‘Leatherleaf’ being the family name and all. It was supposed to be a family heirloom. I also recall a set of matching earrings – crystal and sort of bell-shaped.”

  “I have never seen the earrings,” said Holly, “but they sound nice.”

  “I’ll buy you some if I ever see any,” I said. I stood up straight and looked into her eyes. “Wherever did you find it?”

  Holly adjusted her shirt and let her hair fall over her shoulders. “Well,” she began, “I get to talking to lots of people at the Flipside. Do you know Councillor Mrello?”

  Harrow’s man, I recalled. I was not fond of Mrello. Years back, he held a grudge against my mother because she won the council position he
had petitioned for, which was Liaison to Harrow, even though Mrello had managed to produce a written recommendation from the Iron Tower supporting his application.

  “I know of him,” I replied. “The braggart that’s always spreading his money around?”

  “He’s the one,” said Holly. “Some nights, he buys rounds of drinks for everyone in the Flipside.”

  “I bet he does,” I said, a hint of disdain in my voice. But with who’s money? I grit my teeth, and felt my face flush hot with resentment. And why did he have a necklace just like my mother’s? I didn’t like the possible answers. My family’s past dealings with Mrello and Harrow all came back in a flood of memories.

  When Paplov came out of retirement and returned to politics, intent on resuming the role he had once passed to his daughter, he made all kinds of accusations against the Iron Tower over her disappearance. After all that had happened, the Council ruled it a conflict of interest to keep him as liaison, and so assigned the position to Mrello instead. But Mrello was crooked and Paplov complained to the Council that the man lives well beyond his means and that the authorities should investigate his spending habits and dealings with the Iron Tower. That investigation never happened.

  My blood boiled in frustration. My head began to pound like a beating heart. No, I told myself, remembering the strange things that had happened when I felt that same rush earlier: the stake flinging through the air at Kabor while we searched the bog body site, the door slamming on Paplov in the shed when he was holding an arrow up to his eye, and the lights going out at the mayor’s house. Something is happening; something is not quite right. The sensation continued to build. Not again. I fought against the surge of emotions. I fought it and cleared my mind. I don’t want Holly to get hurt.

  I heard her voice. It sounded small and distant. She repeated herself.

  “Is something wrong?” she said.

  I snapped out of it. “No,” I said, blinking. “I’m OK.”

  “It looked like you went into recall for a minute.”

  “No… not quite… not really,” I lied. “Where were we… oh ya. How did Mrello get the necklace?”

  “Are you sure you’re all right? You look a bit pale.”

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “Well then,” she continued, “Mrello said he bought it in Harrow.”

  Could it be? I wondered. My mind reeled with the implications. It was almost a confirmation. I pressed my hands to my temples. I couldn’t stay still. I started to walk. Quickly.

  “Wait,” said Holly. She jogged to catch up. “Nud, what is it with you?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine,” I said. “Why did he give it to you?”

  “Well,” she started, as if the explanation could go on all day, “he didn’t really give it to me. He just loaned it to me. At first, I said ‘no’ of course – I didn’t want to lead him on or anything, but he insisted there’d be no strings attached and I gave in because it’s so pretty. He was hoping I’d just try him on for awhile.” Holly covered her mouth. “Oops,” she giggled, “I meant to say try it on – Mrello made the same mistake. And then—” I interrupted.

  “What?” I said.

  “Oh,” she replied. “When he gave it to me he said, ‘If you like it you can try me on for awhile,’ and then he pardoned himself.”

  “I see.” Well that figures, I thought.

  I began to wonder about Holly and the company she keeps. Maybe I had been missing something about her all along that everyone else knew. I thought back to something else along the same lines that I had been mulling over; something I had heard about the Flipside that nagged at me. But it was more than just something I heard. It was something I knew tended to happen there.

  Before I could speak my mind, Holly had more information to offer about Mrello.

  “He’s very nice,” she said. “I always get the best tips from him and Fort Abandoners, and he has lots of fun stories to tell.” Holly giggled again. “I’m not sure if he’s married or spoken for, but by the way he carries on, I suspect not.” Her comment opened the door to my doubts, and the way she said what she said just fed the unsubstantiated notions rolling around in my stupid head.

  “Holly,” I said.

  Anticipation ripened her voice. “Yes, Nud. Do you want to look at the necklace again?”

  I shook my head.

  Words popped into my mind and spewed out of my mouth before I had time to think about how dumb they were.

  “You don’t work… upstairs ever, do you?”

  Her eyes narrowed instantly. “Do you mean the dormer rooms?” she said. “With the red windows?”

  “Ahhh…”

  “What’s that supposed to mean, Nud?”

  “Ah… I mean—”

  “I clean up there, sometimes.”

  “Ahhh…”

  The Flipside serving girl had only one word to say about that. She made it good though. She made it sound like the last word she would ever say to me.

  “JACKASS!”

  Holly stormed ahead, leaving me to wallow in a sea of loneliness and idiocy.

  I looked over my shoulder to see if the others had heard. Of course they did, I thought. Sure enough, all three had stopped dead in their tracks to gawk at us… me.

  Why did I ask such a stupid question? My pace slowed as I pondered that very thought, until the others caught up. Holly eventually fell back to walk with the group as well, but from that point onward, there was always someone between us, and if not someone, an invisible wall of indifference. She made small talk with Bobbin and Kabor and all the while would not even look my way.

  To break my isolation, I caved in and mentioned a few desperate words to Gariff, playing up our prospects. Relief poured over me as he got all revved up again. Gariff did all the talking for a second long stretch of trail. I didn’t process a word of it.

  *

  In due course, we arrived at the last strip of corduroy road that would bring us to the trailhead. Bulging hillocks welled up alongside the trail, matted in grass. After rounding a scraggly patch of alders that grew out of one of them, we caught our first glimpse of the upgraded Handlers’ Post. As we closed in, it became apparent that the compound was unfinished. I let out a deep sigh and couldn’t help but shake my head.

  “What?” said Gariff.

  I rubbed my forehead and looked again. It was dreadful. I will never hear the end of this, I told myself.

  “Oh,” said Gariff looking to the outpost. A satisfying grin crossed his face.

  The Handlers’ Post appeared rickety and the newly raised walls were already leaning, truly a pathetic sight. The main “building” didn’t even have a proper roof to speak of. On top of that, the doorway lacked a door and the windows were shutter-less – that much at least could be accounted for by the fact it was still under construction.

  Holly smiled at a young guard as we passed. He was hard at work erecting a post. The guard was shirtless, wore no boots and his leggings only went down to his knees. A second guard sat on a log nearby and someone else banged away with a hammer inside the main structure, unseen. The young guard waved in return, sporting a friendly smile. He couldn’t have been more than two or three years older than I was, with a fresh complexion, bright green eyes and short-cropped, sandy hair. Tall for a Pip, he seemed an easy-going sort. Near where he worked, a long spear, more for reach than for throwing by the looks of it, stood leaning against a wall that was itself leaning.

  He called out to us. “Greetings,” he said, addressing the lot of us. He sounded my age too. And very polite. “Are you good folks coming back this way later today?”

  We all stopped, and Bobbin jumped in to answer.

  “Yep,” he said, but it was Gariff who took it upon himself to speak on our behalf.

  “Yes, sir,” he replied, “Back by evening.”

  “Will you be here all day?” said Holly.

  “Sure will,” replied the guard. “Where are you folks off to today?”

  “Err�
�� we’re off to do some hiking in Deepweald,” said Gariff. “And then we’re off to Blackmuk Creek to… ahh…”

  Kabor finished the sentence for his cousin. “What he means is… uhh… were going to Blackmuk to catch some fish.”

  “Really sparkly fish too, yep, if you catch my meaning,” said Bobbin. He winked at the guard, who then flashed him a confused look.

  “Fish, eh?” said the guard, sounding suspicious. “Where’s your fishin’ gear?” he inquired. He rubbed his close-shaven chin and gave us all suspicious looks. Not real suspicious looks though – they were only for show… for jest.

  “Something’s a little fishy all right,” he added.

  “We use our hands,” Bobbin interjected.

  “A Pip might, but not a Stout,” replied the guard, eyeing Gariff.

  “He’s so ugly, he scares them our way,” said Bobbin, “…not much good for anything else.”

  Gariff raised one arm, backhanded, and shot the Pip a stern look of warning. The guard laughed outright.

  “I’m the spotter,” said Kabor.

  “But your half blind!” said Bobbin.

  “So let me get this straight,” began the guard. “A blind Stout spots the fish, an ugly Stout scares it towards three Pips who corner the fish with their hands and try to catch it. Do I have it right?”

  “Yep, that’s about right,” said Bobbin.

  “You’re missing one part,” he said to all. Then he winked at Holly and flashed her a smile. The next part he said only to her. “You must charm the fish with your beauty to draw them in.”

  Holly returned a confident smile. “It’s true,” she said, and shrugged. “They like me, poor things. Sometimes I even feel sorry for them.”