SPARX Incarnation: Mark of the Green Dragon (SPARX Series I Book 1)
Page 16
The group ahead shot accusing looks back to us. Bobbin was smirking. “Funny, guys,” he said. “You can stop now.”
But it was not us.
Kabor and I turned to scan the waterscape behind us: between the hummocks and the hollows, the grey standing dead wood and the hillocks crowded with alders, there were many places to hide.
“It wasn’t them,” said Holly.
Something slapped the water farther ahead, just off shore. Then another long and dreadful moan from behind us made my heart pump wildly. I watched and waited. Silence.
“It’s probably just a fish,” said Kabor, “or maybe a muskrat.”
“A fish?” I was astonished. “How could it possibly be a fish? Do fish moan? It’s NOT a fish.”
“I meant the splash,” he said.
Jory fixed his eyes on a grassy mound near where the splash came from. “I don’t see how it could be a muskrat either,” he called back. “Maybe some kind of bird though… or a big frog. I know a story about a giant frog—”
“You go first,” Holly interjected, “I don’t want to walk right into it, whatever it is.”
Jory nodded. “Right… I’ll scout up ahead a bit.” Spear readied, he moved forward, alone. All eyes were on him. That left Bobbin with Holly and Gariff, me with Kabor, and Jory on his own: three positions spread over about ten paces, or fifty feet.
While Jory was off poking his spear into large, grassy hummocks, a crackled old voice called from behind, soft and muffled. The voice had a motherly quality, but there was something off about it, something wickedly off. I shivered as though touched by winter’s chill.
“Over here l’il young’ns… ya, ya.
Against the dark blue of a freshly twilit sky, the silhouette of a hunched-over woman rose from behind a large, grassy clump, just beyond the trail’s edge. She was not five paces from where we stood. Her bent frame stood head and shoulders above the tall rushes. Gariff came to join us right away as me and Kabor peered into the off-trail dimness.
“Who is it?” said Kabor. “I can’t see.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his glasses. He put them on and gave the woman a sideways look.
The woman waved her long and bony arms at us to get our attention, as though not sure we had seen her. Long dark hair fell in loose tangles past her shoulders. Scant woven rushes were her only discernable clothes, barely concealing a waif body.
She beckoned us over. Gariff and I took a few steps closer.
“Are you hurt?” called Bobbin, from quite far back. He clung to Holly’s arm.
“Yesums, yesums,” said the woman in the bog, “but I’ll be just fine now. I gots som’emm for you… I do, I do.”
Gariff and I inched closer, Kabor a step behind.
I whispered to the cousins. “Can you see what it is?”
Gariff shook his head. I looked back to Kabor. He mouthed a “No.” I saw Jory in the background. He had planted the butt end of his spear in the mud, and was fumbling for something at his side.
“What’s going on over there?” Jory said. “Is everything all right?”
“Someone’s here,” replied Holly. “A woman.”
“Be there in a minute. There’s something…” Jory trailed off.
I turned my attention back to the woman in the rushes.
Bobbin called out to her. “We don’t need anything, but thanks anyways.” He sounded genuinely concerned, even sympathetic. “You shouldn’t be out here on your own at nightfall. And you’ll catch a draft if you don’t dry off. It’ll be pitched black before you know it.”
There was no response.
“It isn’t safe. Are you hungry?” he added.
Soaking wet, by rights the woman in the bog should have been feeling cold and plenty afraid right about then. Her sunken and shadowed eyes pleaded for compassion.
“Robbers gots to me, hurts me…
The woman in the bog hacked and coughed for a few broken moments, then cleared her throat. Her voice was raspy next she spoke.
“Only grasses for me to wear now… ya, ya, and I sneaks around in the water to gets away, I did, I did.”
I whispered to Gariff. “If everything was stolen, how could she possibly have something for us?”
She heard. “Something special… ya, ya. Something special no one could ever steal.”
The way she moved didn’t look right. Every subtle motion came with an off twist or an unexpected jerk, and the surrounding rushes dithered with a dragging sound underneath, as though snakes lay coiling at her feet.
“Come into town with us,” pleaded Bobbin. “You can have my cloak. We have a guard.” He still played the gentleman, but just the same, he reminded her that we had protection. Smart. “You’ll be safe with us,” he added.
“Safe? Guard?
And just like that, as if on cue, we heard another giant splash up ahead. We all turned to look. Then came a thrashing sound from the same direction, a muffled gasp, and the rushes jittered sharply.
Holly’s shrill voice cut through the tension. “Jory!”
She grabbed Bobbin’s arms, frantic. “Where’s Jory? I don’t see him anywhere!”
Something moved in the shallow water. For a long minute, I watched and waited as the disturbance came towards us, whipping reeds in its wake. Then it stopped.
Holly’s voice rang out over the bog once more. “JORY!”
There was no response.
The woman in the grasses called to us again. She’d moved in while our attention was elsewhere.
“A little closer this way comes… ya, ya,” the woman now begged, “come be safe with me… ya, ya. I’ll protects you now, li’l ones.”
Up close, we could see that the demented old woman was dripping wet and naught but skin and bones. Her hair was a tangled mess of mud, reeds and half-decayed twigs. But for an instant, I saw in her expression something youthful and pure, and there was something steady and unrelenting about her eyes. I took another step closer.
The Stouts stood their ground.
“That’s right… ya, ya,” urged the woman, “closer… closer.” She opened her arms, her meek chest scantily clad in her roughly woven half-shirt.
“Protect you… I will, I will.” Though the old crone’s face was largely hidden in shadow, her eyes gleamed in the twilight. Arms wide, she invited me in to her embrace.
Gariff lurched forward and grabbed my arm. “We need to get out of here,” he said. “Now.” He pulled me back. “Something’s not right, Nud.”
I felt hazy. I tried to walk towards her, without knowing why.
“Stop!” he boomed.
I shook my head and came to my senses.
Gariff pleaded with me. “That thing… it… she must be a bog queen… just look at her! She’ll pull you under!”
Kabor was quick to agree. “Gariff’s right Nud! Don’t go any closer!”
“What’s a… a… a bog queen?” asked Bobbin.
“Don’t worry
“Something’s on the road!” Holly screeched. Two hunched figures had stepped out of the darkness ahead, and onto the trail. Holly and Bobbin backed away.
The two newcomers planted themselves in plain view, blocking the trail where we last saw Jory. There was still no sign of him. Only the occasional ripple of water told me something still lurked in the deep pool.
The two figures ahead of us were also women, in the manner of the first: old crones, crooked and decrepit.
One of the two misshapen hags – taller and more hunched than her companion – cleared her throat three times before she spat onto th
e trail. Her shoulders bent in so drastically, they nearly touched one another. She spoke in a raspy gurgle.
“Give us something.
The hunched woman coughed, then spat, then coughed some more and had a coughing fit. When her throat finally cleared, the hag lifted one scrawny arm and pointed a boney finger at Kabor.
“Or maybe we’ll take YOU,” she said to the Stout, and then shifted her arm again, slowly. She pointed to Holly next. “Or YOU my l’il princess… you, you… take you where you can be safe, in the gardens.”
The first hag, the one in the grasses, whined, shrill and accusing. Her body twisted and contorted as she scolded the others. “No, no… you fools, you FOOLS… you were supposed to wait. WAIT, I said.” She sighed heavily and threw her arms down in despair.
Holly and Bobbin slowly backed away from the two hags to join the rest of us.
The hag who had not yet spoken opened her mouth to add her piece. Only a shapeless gargle came out. She coughed and spat and heaved and gurgled and spat again. She shook her head and, finally, the words took form.
“What have you gots for us, l’il Pipses?”
I mouthed the word: “Thieves.” I felt strangely relieved. The cousins heard me.
We all moved into a tight group and looked to one another. Bobbin checked his pockets and shrugged his shoulders at Holly.
“Come’on, give them something,” said Holly. “Then they’ll leave us be.” She started searching through her pockets. Holly was trembling and her face was white.
“You’re right,” said Kabor, calmly, “we should give them something, whatever we can.”
The two hags ahead of us whispered to one another, inaudibly.
Gariff took control. “Hold on,” he called out to the whispering hags, “just give us a moment to collect our things.” Stout level-headedness prevailed, despite Gariff’s earlier fear of the mere legend of the bog queens. Strangely enough, he was actually more together when confronted with the real thing. That was his strength.
“You have to give Jory back,” said Gariff. “Show him to us first, or you’re getting nothing but a fight.”
The lone hag writhed and twisted and gurgled in the rushes. I felt a light spray on my cheeks when she spat at us.
“Oh… give back?” said the hunched-in hag up ahead. She chuckled. “Hee hee… no, no, silly l’il ones.”
“Silly, silly,” said her companion. She wore a ridiculous flower that hung loosely from her hair. It was old and decayed, just like her.
Gariff kept us on task. “OK pipsqueaks, what’cha got? My pack has two small shovels, a clay jar, a pick-hammer, spare clothes… damn! My compass is in there too.”
“I have nothing,” said Bobbin, “We ate everything I brought… see.” He opened his pack to prove it, and then made a sick face as he glanced down at his ballooning stomach.
Kabor felt his pockets. “I have some change from the market and the stone Nud gave me, and…” Kabor pulled his knife out slightly.
Keep it, I thought. I couldn’t say it straight out though, for fear of being heard, so I just looked at him and mouthed a subtle “Shhh.” He closed his fist around the knife and slipped it back into his pocket.
“What about you, Holly?” Gariff asked.
“Well,” she replied, hesitantly. Holly undid her necklace and passed it to him.
“What else?” he said.
She winced and felt at her side pouch. “I have a… I have a…” She searched and searched. “I have a brush, but I doubt they would use it.”
“The cloak,” said Bobbin.
“Don’t be a fool!” snapped Kabor. “A thief with a cloak like that would be unstoppable.” I cringed, fearing they heard every hushed word. Kabor didn’t stop. “Holly, just turn it insi—”
“Shush!” I said.
Holly nodded her head and then handed the brush over to Gariff. He fumbled and dropped it.
“Let’s put the loose stuff in your hat, Gariff,” Kabor offered, “since you’ll be handing it over anyway.”
“Huh?” Gariff seemed a little taken aback by the suggestion, and I am sure he debated the offer internally. But with the hags waiting and the midges swarming, there was no point delaying any longer.
“Come on Gariff, we don’t got much else,” urged Kabor. “They might like it.”
Gariff grit his teeth, took his hat by the rim and gave it one last farewell look before passing it around for the offerings. “I suppose… I guess you’re right,” he admitted.
Holly picked up her brush, wiped it on Bobbin’s shirt, and placed it in. Then she pulled a clip out of her hair and dropped that in as well. Kabor’s change jingled as he allowed each coin to slide out of his hand and into his cousin’s hat. He took off his glasses and dropped them in as well.
“No way!” said Gariff, a little on the loud side. “D’ya know what Pops paid fer those?”
Kabor squirreled them away. Gariff just shook his head.
Bobbin put in a crust of bread after all. He found it at the very bottom of his pack. The hat still looked more empty than full though.
“What about you Nud, don’t you have anything to offer?” asked Holly. “Stuff is practically spilling out of your pack.”
“I have some wood… but what value would that be to them?” I said.
No one even suggested that I include it. There was also the short bow strapped to my pack. In the dark and unstrung, it was likely to be overlooked. I did not offer the remaining deepwood arrows either, for fear it would tip them off.
Satisfied we had given our all, Gariff called out to the hags. “We have your present, a REALLY good present… yes, yes… really good indeed, but you can’t have it until you give us Jory… no, no.”
The two hags blocking the trail exchanged confused looks, and then faced back our way.
Finally, the hunched hag replied. Her statement was abrupt.
“Him’s gone,” was all she said. A sinister grin crept across her face.
Her companion jerked her head to a sideways tilt. “All gone,” she repeated, just as abruptly. She sounded the parrot and acted the bubbly clown.
The hunched hag shook her head slowly and spoke. Her face was disfigured as well. “Him’s not comin’ back… no, no. Not from where him is.”
“No, not comin’ back, him’s not,” the other repeated.
All three cackled hysterically at the notion.
Holly scanned the trailside nervously. “What do you mean he’s not coming back?”
“What did you do with him?” said Gariff.
“Us?” said the hunched hag.
“No. Not us,” her companion assured.
Holly called out: “J-O-R-Y!”
The hags found Holly’s antics amusing in the most sinister way, and a voluminous cackling echoed through the bog that evening. When the parrot hag finally regained her composure, she lifted a horn to her mouth and gave it a little toot, smiled, then tossed it aside. It was Jory’s. The two hags ahead of us looked to one another and cackled madly. The parrot hag became so excited she fell over and rolled on the ground in a bout of cruel laughter.
Gariff turned back to us. “Let’s just give them what we have and be done with it,” he said. “Maybe we can’t save Jory, but we can get out of this and send for help.”
“They’ll do the same to us,” pleaded Holly.
Despite fears for the worst, we put the last of our belongings into Gariff’s hat, but kept our pocketknives. Gariff snuck the rock pick out of his pack and stuffed it under his shirt. I kept the SPARX stone tucked away, the bow strapped to my pack, and Paplov’s deepwood.
With slow, cautious steps, Gariff made his way towards the two hags on the trail ahead. Holly, Bobbin and Kabor stayed put, and I hung back to keep an eye on the other hag amidst the grasses, quiet as she was.
With an outstretched a
rm, Gariff offered them the hat and its contents. The two hags did not budge, so he ended up resting the offering on the ground in front of them, along with his pack. They watched with eager eyes.
“Here you are,” said Gariff. “That’s all we got that’s worth anything… and you can keep the hat.” He backed away.
The hunched-in hag looked into the hat and kicked it aside. “More. Need more… ya, ya, you gots to give us more.” Then she spat in the hat.
“More, more” said the parrot hag, dead flower swaying with her stringy hair. She sucked back a huge glob of phlegm. She too spat in Gariff’s hat.
Gariff flushed. “But that’s all we got,” he said through his teeth.
“Them’s won’t do… no, no. Won’t do at all.” The hunched-in hag shook her head and crossed her arms until it looked like they were on backwards. She looked to her partner who began shaking her head in unison.
The hunched over hag pointed to the reeds. “The Shadow in the Water won’t let you pass… won’t let you pass, he won’t.”
“More, more,” said the parrot hag.
It was the hag in the grasses that spoke next. “The l’il girlsies,” she started, then waved her hand at Holly and Kabor. “We want the l’il girlsies – that’s all.”
Kabor leapt toward her and raised his right fist. “Girl! Who are you calling girl you demented… swamp thing!”
Under different circumstances, the look of disgust on Kabor’s face might have been humorous – a contorted blend of terror, disbelief and embarrassment, all rolled into one.
“I’ll take HER! Take HER!” said the hunched hag as she raised her hand to Holly.
“HER, HER,” mimicked the parrot.
“She pretty… she is, she is. Take her… ya, ya. Pretty for our garden beneath the moss.” The hag in the grasses agreed.
Gariff gasped, “That’s it! They are bog queens!”
“I’ll take the other girlsie,” the hag in the grasses continued, pointing to Kabor, “not so pretty though… a shame… ugly. Fix her up nice I will, ya ya, really nice. Take time, it will, she’ll look pretty like the rest. Pretty pretty.”
Kabor drew his knife. “I say we skin‘em all. We can do it – there’s five of us and only three of them.”