Bobbin and I mostly helped to set the posts, while Kabor sorted out exactly where to draw the boundaries on the map. It would be up to Mer to refine Gariff’s estimate and add more posts if needed, and when the time came we would all help cut the claim boundary lines – blazing trees and cutting underbrush between posts. But only he among us, as a recognized prospector, could obtain the special metal tags needed and submit the technical paperwork.
Shortly after completing the task, Bobbin and I, eager to take advantage of the fair weather, made our way to a choice swimming hole nearby for a quick dip. Gariff and Kabor declined, as expected. I stripped down to short pants and dove into the cool, clear water where it was deepest. Kabor managed a seat amidst a cluster of egg-shaped boulders at the creek’s edge where he could put away his specs, kick off his boots, and dangle his feet in the water. I knew he would never come in, but I’m sure he contemplated it. Hill Stouts and water just don’t mix. Gariff, on the other hand, had decided to try out Bobbin’s search tactic. He meandered along the shoreline overturning stones.
“Miss me?” called a voice. It was Holly. She had returned empty-handed.
“Claim’s staked,” said Gariff. Her face lit up.
“Oh good. I can’t wait to talk to Mer about it,” she responded.
“Watch this Holly,” said Bobbin. He ran to the edge of the pool and jumped, backwards. At the height of his jump, the round Pip froze in a perfect nonchalant pose, as though he’d been resting up there all day in mid-air. At the last possible instant, he curled himself into a ball and barreled into the water with a tremendous splash. Kabor got soaked. Even Gariff put his hands up to protect himself from the spray.
Holly flung her cloak down on Kabor’s rock, stepped along the creek to a spot where the bottom hadn’t been stirred up yet, and then slipped underwater without so much as a splash. She swam over to where I was, and popped her head up. Soon, the swimming hole erupted in white water between us, with Bobbin joining in on the fun whole-heartedly.
Afterwards, laughing and refreshed, we set out to sun dry on a few boulders. As resting stones go, they were perfect, warmed by radiance and sheltered from the wind. We soaked up the last strong rays of the evening sun.
“I’m sorry we didn’t find the ‘mother load’ today,” I said to Holly.
“It’s okay,” said Bobbin, chewing on Uncle Fyorn’s taffy. “I still had lots of fun. And now we have a claim!”
Holly rolled her eyes and smirked to herself. She lay on her river boulder, idly caressing the polished surface of a protected pool at her side. The caress became a sweep when she spread her fingers wide to stretch the thin lines of webbing between them.
Bobbin got up and brought his pack around to everyone so that each could grab a snack. Gariff had found himself a patch of shade away from everyone, but still well within earshot. He sat with his hat pulled down over his eyes, ready to doze off. Kabor continued to dangle his feet in the creek.
I sat up and leaned on one elbow. “Maybe there is only one of these in the whole wide world.” I felt for the stone in my pocket and brought it out. It shone steady and brighter than usual, still hugging the left side.
“But if this spot is full of them, we’d be rich beyond belief,” said Holly.
Kabor eyed the stone with a sideways glance, and then offered his own thoughts on the matter. “Even if there aren’t any more bog stones here, there’s still lots we could do with this spot. We could sell the whereabouts to a collector.”
“Whoa,” I said. It finally hit me. “We could sell it to Harrow. They’re looking for the battleground where they fought the Jhinyari a long, long time ago. This might be it! They’ve been looking all over the bog lands and staking all kinds of claims.”
“I can see where they might have went wrong,” said Kabor. “The way the legend is told, you’d think it all happened in the middle of the bog. But there are deep pools right around here too, and it’s all bog water. Maybe the Men from Fortune Bay skirted the edge of Deepweald and met the Jhinyari and the leviathan right here. It sort of makes sense – why go right through a bog where it’s slow going and open, as opposed to along the tree line where there’s hard ground and cover.”
Gariff spoke up. “Are claims fer stuff like bog iron ’n gems different than claims fer stuff like swords and armor?”
“Not that I know of,” I replied. “Some places do that, but not in Webfoot. You just have to state what you’re going to pull out of the ground, and then pay a levy based on assessed value.”
“We could be rich six different ways then!” said Gariff. “This is bigger than the mother load… it’s the… it’s the—” Bobbin interrupted.
“Grandmother load!” he said.
Holly’s enthusiasm was uncontainable. “I’d take my share of the money and run away to Kel Faeriz. It’s hot there all year long, and they are so sophisticated… with such lavish homes.”
“Too close to ‘the Scar’ for me,” said Kabor.
“You’d leave?” said Bobbin.
Holly shrugged. “What would you do Nud?”
Gariff answered, “We all know what Nud would do.”
“Yep,” Kabor interjected. “He’d be outta here. Where would you start looking, Nud? North to Dim Lake where they were last seen headed? Maybe the Western Tor. No one’s looked there. You don’t still have your sights set on Harrow do you? Only a fool would try that.”
“I don’t know where I’d start looking,” I said, “somewhere like that, I guess. I can’t wait to tell Paplov.” I did not inform the others, but another plan had entered my thoughts. Maybe this is just the sort of leverage Paplov needs to swing a deal and get my parents out, if they really are prisoners.
Holly looked confused. “I thought you liked it here,” she said.
“I do,” I replied. “It’s complicated.”
“Great,” said Bobbin. “So everyone would leave?”
“Not me,” said Kabor. “I don’t need to look for my parents. They’re dead.”
“Well, what would you do Bobbin?” asked Holly.
“That’s easy. First, I would buy you that dress you were staring at the last time we went to the market. Then I would show you all the wonders of Webfoot so that you’d stay.”
“All the wonders of Webfoot,” Kabor repeated. “That shouldn’t take long.” He looked to his cousin. “Got a few minutes to kill?” Both he and Gariff laughed.
“Have you ever seen the bottom of Everdeep Pond?” retorted Bobbin. “Well I have. You’d never believe what’s down there.”
Gariff scoffed. “No one’s been to the bottom. That’s why she’s Everdeep.”
“I have,” said Bobbin.
“Bobbin, you’re the sweetest,” said Holly. She stroked her hand through the young Pip’s hair, then she gave him a big kiss on the cheek.
“Treasure’s totally lost on you Pips and yer whimsical fancy.” Gariff shook his head. “Us Stouts would put a fortune to more practical uses. That’s fer sure.”
“I would use my money to make more money,” said Kabor. His scheming smile was back.
“It’s getting late,” I said, placing the stone back in my pocket. “We better head to the trail or we’ll be mud-flapping in the dark.” I sounded exactly like sensible Paplov. “We’ll catch up with Mer first opportunity. That ole prospector gets around. Someone ought to have seen him – maybe the guards at the new post. When we find him, we can head back here with the right equipment, the right paperwork, and daylight to spare.”
Bobbin packed the remnants of our snacks and finished off whatever he could stuff in his mouth. Holly and I put on our cloaks; then I grabbed my pack. Gariff upturned one last rock before departing.
I was the first to cross over to the homeward side of the creek. In the few waiting moments that I stood there, I pulled the stone out one last time to gaze at it. Curiously, the spark was still steady, but opposite.
“I guess it likes east better now,” I said to Holly when she drew up besi
de me. I showed it to her.
She gazed into the light. “Some compass that turned out to be.”
CHAPTER XIX
Stick’N Twine Outpost
Late into evening, we finally arrived back at the “Stick’n Twine Outpost.” Before long, the sun would descend upon the bog and our worries would double, if not triple. The site had already progressed, and now featured a manned gate that restricted access to the Mire Trail. In our absence, a thatched roof had been erected atop the hut, affording the guards refuge from the next rain – if it wasn’t too serious a rain. Behind the hut on the east side, stables and a corral were in the works to accommodate more riding lizards. At the rate construction was proceeding, the crew might have something altogether functional by the end of the week.
The young guard that had caught Holly’s eye on the way in was working hard, still shirtless and now swinging a sledgehammer. Noting our approach, he wiped his brow with the back of his hand and blinked from stinging sweat. He had been busy erecting a flimsy wall on the compound’s west side, a “polite” security barrier to encourage travelers not to circumvent the gate.
The second guard – balding, middle-aged and well rounded – still rested on his log outside the hut, soaking in the withering sunshine. He seemed a little slow on the uptake and merely smiled dumbly at us. The third guard hammered away at a doorframe inside.
Leaning on his sledgehammer, the young Pip dolled out a sideways grin to Holly. Then he looked to our little round companion. He seemed eager to take a break and chat.
“Catch any glowfish lately?” the guard asked.
“Nope,” said Bobbin, “we’re sparkle free. And—”
Gariff was quick to cut-off Bobbin’s revealing double-talk this time. “Has anyone left a message for us?” he said
“Like who?” said the guard.
Bobbin’s quick tongue cut in before the Stout could answer. “Mer Andulus – looks and smells like Gariff here, ‘cept older and not as sweaty. Mer likes sparkling fish too; wants us to show him where to find them.”
Gariff folded his arms across his chest and drew in a slow, deep breath, nostrils flaring. He did well not to whack Bobbin. I know he wanted to.
“That ole rock-hound?” said the guard. “Sorry… not that I heard. Why? Was he supposed to show you the ‘mother load’? That’s all he ever talks about.”
“He’s the one,” I said. “Can you give him a message for us, if he comes by?” I took out the map.
“A map? I don’t see why not,” said the guard. He called to the building. “Grof, did you hear that?”
“Yep,” said a voice from within the structure. “They can leave it here.”
I took out the town hall papers as well, which listed all of our names as partners in the claim, folded it in with the map, and then handed the bundle over. The young guard walked it over to his comrade on the log. Next, he looked to the empty corral, then addressed the lot of us.
“You just missed the handler,” he said. “Wyatt set off with a load of merchants from Fort Abandon and he won’t be back ‘til morning. He’s bringing us a fresh new load of sticks and twine.”
The words stung my ears.
“Sounds about right to me,” said Gariff, with a smug look on his face. Behind the guard’s back, the Stout wiggled a nearby gatepost. It was tall and it moved easily, plus the wood was warped. Kabor stood in front of the post and tilted himself sideways to match its lean.
The young guard didn’t seem to notice the Stouts’ mockery. “It’s nigh too late to cross on your own,” he stated plainly. “As you know, by order of our own Lord Mayor Undle, I must insist that I accompany you back. Jory’s the name.”
“Pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Jory,” said Holly, with a coy smile and a gentle handshake. Her wrist bent up ever so slightly. Jory’s gaze met hers, and he held her hand longer than necessary. Holly could pass for an older teen, and she knew how to greet people and make them feel at ease. Not only did she give Jory her name, but Holly told him where she lived, her occupation, and went on to invite him to the Flipside for a free barkwood. The rest of us introduced ourselves in turn, with flat words by comparison.
Gariff pressed Jory for more information. “Why all the fuss?” he asked. “Is there a problem on the trail?”
“Nope,” he replied. “Not unless you believe in the Boggyman. Truth is, I’m just sore all over and I’d rather sleep on a warm, comfortable bed in Webfoot than be stuck out here in the mud with these fly-bitten oafs.” He waved a hand behind him at his fellow guards.
The guard on the log continued to smile dumbly. The one in the hut leaned out of a window and shook his hammer at Jory. He had thick white hair, cropped short, and his eyes were wide and round. He reminded me of a great gray owl.
“Did Undle really make that order?” said Gariff.
“Sure did,” Jory replied. “The only exception being those who are judged capable of defending themselves… and that ain’t yous.”
Bobbin puffed out his chest at that, in jest. It only served to make him even rounder. Kabor imitated Bobbin. As far as I could tell though, it just looked like the Stout was standing up straight for a change.
“Is it thieves from Proudfoot?” I asked, recalling the innkeep’s comments and Mayor Otis’ concerns.
“Sounds about right,” said Jory. “I haven’t seen any signs of them myself though, so I’m sure it’s just precautionary. Orders is to escort travelers and be on the lookout for anything suspicious.”
For the most part, such “town orders” safely can be ignored without consequence, but with Holly keen on Jory we had no choice but to accept the guard’s offer. Jory went into the hut, gathered his travel sack of belongings and tied it to a stick, located his pot helm and hung it on the end. He also took a canteen, which he sipped from often, and a horn that he fastened to his belt. And of course, he grabbed his long spear.
“You’re in charge, Grof,” he said to the ‘owlish’ guard inside.
Grof poked his head out of a window.
“I’m already in charge, Newt!” he spat back. “Don’t get lost.”
Jory laughed him off and shook his head, smiling.
“You’re lucky,” Grof added. “I’m letting you off easy today; tomorrow you’ll pay double! Be back by dawn or I’ll have yer hide.”
We turned our backs on the trailhead and began the trek home.
I have to admit, Jory was pleasant and interesting company. He displayed practiced manners and had an easygoing way about him. It all made sense once I learned that his father was from Everdeep and his mother grew up in Watergarden. The first leg of the journey went quickly on account of all the stories Jory had to tell about strange sightings in the bog, people disappearing, and ghosts that drifted in the mist. On our side, we kept the day’s events out of the conversation: meeting the Elderkin, Holly’s cloak and the search for sparking – not sparkling – crystals. None mentioned the bog bodies, although at one point I was about ready to open my mouth and spill the story. I never had the chance to.
CHAPTER XX
The ruse
We were halfway to town and Jory was nearing the climax of yet another bog horror story. Gariff looked as wide-eyed as I had ever seen him. Bobbin and Holly hung on his every word. Our guard had a way of holding back the telling in such a way that you couldn’t stop listening if you tried. Gariff had become his biggest fan on this journey, topping even Holly’s enthusiasm. Maybe all the attention Jory was getting was the reason Kabor and I hung back, both hooded and pretending not to be overly interested. But for me, there was another reason.
“Kabor, I—”
“Shhh.”
“I think something is following us,” I said anyway.
Kabor shot me an irritated glance. “It’s just the bog stories. You’re as bad as Gariff. Now shut up. He’s almost done with it and we’re missing the ending.” His voice became pleading. “The ending’s always the best part.”
There was no dis
missing instinct though, even despite the fact that the telltale signs, like the usual snap of a twig, or footsteps, or wildlife scattering, were all absent. It was the little things that made me suspect we were being tracked: a soft shuffle in the rushes that didn’t quite fit with the wind, a shadow seen out of the corner of the eye, a small splash. And then there was the gut feeling. The gut feeling sums up all the other little ways the mind opens up to the world that the conscious self doesn’t even know about, the things that can’t quite be put to words. Any one of the more subtle signs could be ignored, but together, and with a gut feeling on top, they could not. That would be foolish.
Finally, over Jory’s talk, I caught the sound of an undeniably peculiar stir in the rushes off the trail. It was not alarming at first, but it was not the natural sort of rustling that a bird or a small animal was apt to make either. The sound was too quick-paced and there was something about it… a soft shaking trying to be loud, perhaps. I stopped and pricked my ears. The noise ceased. Kabor, hiking beside me, noticed the sudden change in my composure. He grimaced and followed my example. The others kept on ahead.
I whispered to Kabor. “Did you hear something?”
“I think so, that time,” he whispered back.
For a brief moment, we stood in the middle of the trail, eyes searching far and near. On the horizon, the pale violet sky warned of the coming of dusk. Jory’s voice still floated back to us, but suddenly it seemed half-empty. The mossy silence and stillness of the bog soaked up the other half.
At the end of Jory’s story, Gariff made a loud gasp, followed by a nervous laugh. Bobbin and Holly groaned and guffawed. Kabor gave me a disappointed look – he hadn’t caught the last of it.
In low tones, an unfamiliar sound began to build. It rose from underneath the chatter like a growing moan. It rose and filled the still, boggy air while the laughter of my friends turned uncertain, and teetered off. Then, without warning, the moan shot to the height of a decapitating wail. If pain had a voice, it would sound just that way. My ears hurt to hear it.
SPARX Incarnation: Mark of the Green Dragon (SPARX Series I Book 1) Page 15
