SPARX Incarnation: Mark of the Green Dragon (SPARX Series I Book 1) (18 page)

Chapter XXIV

Heart of Darkness

H
atchet in one hand, box in the other, I made off towards a part of the woods that I knew would be clear of Fyorn and Paplov. The woodsman never brought us that way. “Best keep out of those thickets,” he had once said. “There’s no good wood that way, and the bugs’ll eat you alive.” But it was some hidden place that I sought, away from prying eyes, and the bugs were not out yet.

I trampled over the last remnants of melting snow. My heart quickened with anticipation. The buzz of old growth forest urged me on, alive with its earthy scents. Nature had just been jarred awake by a late rush of spring air and was making up for lost time. I sped up, faster. Small birds flitted from branch to branch as I passed, and foraging chipmunks scooted up tree trunks. Excitement seemed to loom beneath every strip of bark, behind every bush, and below every winter-trodden leaf. I didn’t think much about where I was going.

I had never been alone in those woods before. Countless times, Fyorn had led me and Paplov along forest paths looking for wood salvage: branches or even entire trees felled by windstorms or lightning. He dragged the good pieces all the way back to his workshop, no matter how big they were, or how small. I thought I had been following one of the woodsman’s paths, but when I looked behind it simply was not there. In fact, the forest looked nearly the same in every direction.

And that is how I came upon a clearing I had never seen before.

A rocky outcrop formed the foundation of the grove, surrounded by tall pines. It opened onto a small cliff that overlooked grassy lowlands, still snow-packed in the hollows. Middle ground, a crooked old oak tree stood sentry over a thick bed of fallen leaves. The tree’s low, outstretched branches cupped a family of warblers, puffed up and warmly nestled in. Chilled air billowed up the precipice and into the grove, carrying with it the dank scent of wet earth.

Finally, the time had come. I set the axe down and weighed the box in both hands. After a long, examining look, I wedged my fingernails beneath the lid and pulled up firmly. Tap… tap… tap… came a sound from inside.

A cloud blocked out the sun, the temperature dropped sharply, and the warblers scattered in a whirling flurry.

Try as I might, the box would not open. There was no latch and there were no hinges, so I tried using the axe I had taken, gently forcing the blade under the lid. Working the keen edge inwards and twisting, I pried the lid up to the sound of wood screeching against nails.

Something cold oozed against my fingertips and a slithering, fleshy mass pushed out of the box with the uncanny strength of a coiled serpent. The lid bowed. A black tendril lashed out. I threw the box into the air and heard a splintering crack as it smashed against an overhanging branch. In my haste to get away, I tripped over a root, dropped the axe and fell. Something landed on my face.

It was the thing, sticky and oozing, its tendrils writhing over my face like fifty snakes. Two drilled into my ears, and another pair up my nostrils. More pressed into my eye sockets.

Frantic, I screamed and ripped the black mass off my face. I flung the creature and leapt to my feet. I grabbed my axe and watch as a blur shot across the ground, between sharp rocks and beneath patchy underbrush. I followed.

The creature stopped and perched itself on a mossy boulder at the edge of the clearing. It bore likeness to a giant spider, crouching in the way that jumping spiders crouch, as though poised for a spring attack.

The body of this thing was black and insect-like, but big. Its weight was borne on long, spindly legs
–
tens of them. The thing dripped black oil and the centre pulsed like a beating heart.

With a slight tilt and roll of its eyeless central ball, the thing measured my presence. We stood facing one another, the spider-thing and I, at an impasse it seemed, until a tremendous buzzing sound roared up from the earth. A cloud of flying insects swarmed all around – insects that should not have been there in the first place. All I could do to protect myself was to clench my mouth shut and wave my hands at the swarm. I ran like a madman, barely able to see where I was going. They landed on my arms. They got into my hair. Some crawled up my sleeves. I felt more crawling down the back of my neck and into my shirt. They bit and stung, repeatedly. Stupidly, I swung the axe at them.

Running in circles and flailing about, cursing and squishing bugs out of my hair, I found no practical way to defend myself against the swarm. And when I came to the edge of the drop, I froze, and for a foolish moment, considered making the treacherous leap off the rocky outcrop and down to the fractured ground below. I backed away instead.

Then something unexpected happened, as if enough of the unexpected had not happened already. That old oak tree in the middle of the clearing began to
move
. Not just by swaying in the breeze, mind you. It moved over the ground, from one place to another. The tree closed in on me before I could even think to dash away. And it wasn’t alone. Slender conifers joined in from the sides, forcing me back towards the precipice. And the insects persisted. My next step would meet open air instead of solid earth or rock, and there was nowhere left to go but down. I reconsidered my odds of surviving the plummet to the rocky bed below.

No… instead, I planted my feet as firmly as I could in a wide stance. Precariously perched on the cliff’s edge, I readied the axe with both hands. Bugs crawled over my face, but I ignored them. Sweat stung my eyes.

The crooked old oak tree led the advance. It bent down in front of me with a loud crackling sound. I swung Fyorn’s axe, but missed my mark. The momentum of my swing nearly sent me spinning off the edge and I teetered for a long moment, but held my own.

The tree paused and made a deep, windy sound. A large hollow in its trunk opened wide like a gaping jaw, twisted and contorted. Black, pointed spikes made for jagged teeth.

My body tensed. I swallowed my breath. With a deep inhale and sudden burst of energy, I feigned to the left and lunged right, intent on making a run for the “real” tree line. But I was a beat too late, for in that very same instant a branch lashed out and struck me hard in the chest. It lifted me right off the ground and sent me flying backwards, out of the clearing and over the drop.

Up and then down I went in a rush of backwards acceleration, farther and faster. I waited for the back of my head to smash a tree, or a stray boulder, or hard ground.

Something went wrong with my recall at that point.

The sky flickered, and then went dark. When it flashed back on, I was in freefall, and a thousand disembodied eyes filled the space around me. They watched me as I fell, floating and swirling everywhere; they studied me and they studied everything. It went dark again, and in the flurry of red bursts that followed, they were gone.

I should have hit the ground in a pair of heartbeats after being thrown off the cliff, but I continued to plummet. A stinging branch whipped me on my way down, and then another. Soon I was crashing through a canopy of whipping branches. All at once, the foliage became so thick that it broke my fall. A branch caught me and I hung there, suspended, facing down.

A young woman with beautiful auburn hair stood on the ground. It was Holly, staring up at me from some fifty feet below. Except it wasn’t Holly for long. The young woman looked to her feet before the next dark interval, and in the light of the next flash, she lifted her head and I saw she was a hag. Soothing olive eyes begged for affection in a motherly way. Her hair had turned stringy and dripping wet, and she was covered from head to toe in muck, moss and grasses. She started to regurgitate something, shuddering in the midst of her effort. On her second try, the young woman heaved and spouted bile. And while greyish fluid oozed down her chin and neck, gargled words rolled out from deep within her gut.

“Down … down… down,” she chanted in a drowning voice. “Down… down… down…”

With a rising roar, the wind shook the branches and flung me off. Flailing, I grabbed at anything, and landed solid on a spread of thick branches. At that moment, I locked eyes with a gnarled face set in the very trunk of the colossal tree that held me in its grip. I let go. The face glared after me as I began my third descent. It was Fyorn’s. Again, the branches whipped past me, until I landed in a giant web. The black spider-thing scurried out of its nest and rushed me. I twitched and jerked and slashed at the strands, and broke free. But there was nothing left to cushion my final descent.

The inevitable happened; my back struck the ground with a tremendous CLUNK! I heard my spine snap. I felt my body crumple. There could be no denial.

Then all went black, and in the instant that followed, I beheld a grim figure of death looming over me. He stood at my feet, tall and dark as a long shadow, and he wore a thick, hooded cloak. The grim figure grasped a long scythe taller than he was. The tip of the wicked blade was a hook for the unwilling. His face – if indeed he had one – lay shrouded in the black cloud of his cowled hood. Death stood there, judging. And… flat, as though lacking depth. My heart seized, my chest tightened.

I am dead and the Grim Reaper has come to claim my
soul.

In the flurry of that realization, the budding of that free and rational thought, the dark apparition began to dissolve. First, he flickered, and then faded into tiny specks of patchy, utter blackness. One by one, the dots disappeared until there was nothing left to see of the Reaper. Nothing but empty space.

Chapter XXV

He who holds the light is King

M
any years would pass before knowledge of the strange creature unleashed in the forest ever came my way. It was not a mere spider. The thing, the
Heart of Darkness
, was a danger to us all, returned to the hands of its maker for destruction. Just possessing it violated the Treaty of Nature. My uncle would have to answer for that, eventually.

I opened my eyes. Slowly the pale glow and familiar flicker of the crystal melted into view. My head was spinning, my mind charged. It had only been a recall, but the transition to reality had not been without doubt. And some of it, at least, had been false.

I lay frozen in a cold sweat, afraid to stir. My neck was stiff and sore. I found myself wishing that I had flattened out the lengths of deepwood in my pack before resting on them.

I reminded myself that what I had just relived was not an accurate portrayal of how the events really unfolded. I reminded myself that the gaping maw in the oak tree had opened a second time and swallowed the spider-thing, that I had landed far afield on a bed of thick moss, with only slight injuries, and that I had fled back to the cabin.

Kabor lay beside me breathing shallow and steady, fast asleep – so much for guard duty. The bog stone rested between us. I lay still for some time, staring into the shadowy red void, pondering my dream and the notion of death. I hadn’t really thought much about death before. Sure, in recent memory I had known Pips and Stouts with relatives who had passed on. I just never really thought much past it. I was too young when I lost my parents and when my grandfather, Paplov, had taken on their roles. Apart from a few scraps of distant, but fond, imprints from the earliest times, all that really stuck with me about them was a feeling… kindness. I can still see the blur of light behind my father’s head as he stood tall above me, looking down kindly. “Little Newt,” he would say as he patted my head. But I can never see the face. And Mother…

I shook it off. Morning or night, we would have to measure our time by the number of “sleeps,” which got me wondering about just how many sleeps we could last. And what if the light…

No one will ever find us
here.

I woke Kabor from his slumber, nudging him until he finally retaliated with a push back.

“Where… What is it?” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“Wake up. Get your stuff together; we have to go back… we have to go back and swim out. This was a mistake.”

Kabor responded by closing his eyes. Gently, I shook him again until he was awake.

“We might not last if we continue this way.”

“Go back?” said Kabor. “But you said we can’t swim back – you can’t just flip sides like that, not now.”

“We tried, OK. We tried but now it’s taking too long and we’re just getting deeper and deeper into this system. Who knows where it ends, or if it ever ends.”

“But the animals… we can’t be too far from the surface. We could live off them, like you said.”

“What if the light goes out Kabor? What if it just stops? Then what?”

“It won’t go out.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just know. Have you forgotten about the bog queens?”

“I don’t forget.”

“That doesn’t mean you know what you’re talking about, Nud. And this tunnel leads out. I can feel it in my bones.”

“We don’t know where it goes or what’s waiting for us. Worse things than bog queens could be skulking about in these forsaken caves. Besides, in broad daylight with people looking for us all over the bog, the hags will make themselves scarce.”

“Who’s looking?” he said.

“Well… Paplov knows we’re overdue, and Gariff’s father, and the Numbits. The guards at the trailhead would be wondering what happened to Jory. They
must
all be looking for us.”

I stood up, determined to get moving. I hooked in my bow and slung my backpack over my shoulders.

“If we leave right now,” I continued, “we can get there for daylight – I think. I can make it to the surface; I know I can. Once I’m back on the trail, I’ll fetch help to bring you up… and maybe a long rope would be all we need to guide you. You could follow it and—”

“No. I’m going with you from start to finish.”

“You’ll drown. I don’t know the way, and I don’t want to have to babysit you trying to find it.”

“You want to leave me alone down here? I’ll need the stone to see.”

“You’re half blind anyway, just sit in the dark and wait.”

“I’m not half blind. If it’s daylight like you say, you won’t need it. Just swim towards the light.”

“I’ll need it to see through the dark water, and to get back to you.”

“You have a perfect memory, just use it.”

“I can’t remember my way through the dark.”

“At least if I have the bog stone, you can just swim to the light again to find me.”

“If I have the light with me, I can probably remember my way.”

“Probably? Weeds are weeds, Nud. And if you don’t find your way back, what then? I’m left here to die, alone and in the dark.”

Neither of us said anything for a long moment. When the light flickered on, Kabor turned his head sideways to fix his gaze directly on the stone. I sensed a scheme forming behind those dull eyes, lurking. He broke the silence.

“Maybe we can bust it into two pieces,” he said, “and each take one.”

“That’s the surest way to snuff it out,” I retorted, “and way too risky. You’ll just have to wait in the dark for a little while. Like I said, I’m sure someone’s already looking for us. All I need is some rope and…”

“No. I’d rather take my chances moving forward than backtracking. Up is up, it’s not that complicated.”

“We’re lost down here. There’s only one way out! We have to go back.”

“I’ll make it on my own then,” he said.

Stubborn
Stout.

“If we stick together, we stand a better chance,” I said. “And you won’t be able to see, remember?”

“Something’s following us,” he countered. “You saw it last night. No way. I’d rather take my chances with whatever’s up ahead than be left in the dark wondering who will find my bones.”

“I’m done arguing. We’re going back and that’s final.”

I had the light, which gave me the upper hand, so I turned to go back the way we came. But before retracing a single step, Kabor grabbed for the SPARX stone with a sleight of hand so fast I didn’t know what hit me. He swiped it and stepped back deftly.

“What are you doing? Give it back!”

“No.”

“It’s mine! Give it back!”

“You stu—,” he started, before I cut him off with a surprise cuff to the head.

Kabor lurched backwards.

“Filcher! Liar!” I grabbed for the stone. He pushed back, holding it out of reach behind him. I muscled my way in closer, swiping to regain my prized possession.

“You… would just leave me here?” he said.

Kabor executed a swift maneuver and wriggled free. He backed away. “You need my help to get—”

I cut him off.

“You’re the only one that needs help,” I shot back.

“We’ll see about that,” Kabor replied. “So what will it be?”

The chamber went dark, and stayed dark. I took advantage of the moment and charged at Kabor before the stone lit up again. But he wasn’t where I thought he would be. Kabor had sidestepped. I tumbled to the floor of the cave. Scraped and bruised, I brushed the dirt off and regained my footing. The light shone again. But it had grown dull and barely flickered for long at all. Kabor stood in front of an undiscovered section of passage. He was panting.

“I’m getting out of here,” he said. “If you don’t like it… TOUGH!” A kind of venom began to seep into his words. “And if you try to take the stone, I’ll cover it up and bolt. I’ll try smashing it into two before I give it up. You might never find your way out unless you follow me.”

I burned like fire inside.
I never should have turned my back on the filcher. How dare he, after all I did for him.
I didn’t rat out Kabor when he stole from the town, I introduced him to an Elderkin, I cut him in on our claim, and I saved his skin when he was drowning. I was stupid to think he was selfless back at the Mire Trail.
He just wanted the stone for himself, all along – my
stone.

“Last chance,” he taunted, poised for a sprint.

Kabor knew I could easily outrun him. But with his blind sense, he could cover the light and disappear in the dark tunnels. He could even hide in plain sight, or double back while I fumbled for him in the dark.

“The light is getting dimmer,” I said. “It doesn’t like you.”

He hesitated.

“It’s just a
thing
,” he said. “It doesn’t like or dislike anyone. And I’m not kidding about what I said. You’ll get your stone back when we reach the surface. Until then, it’s mine.”

“It doesn’t belong to you. Give it back. You’re making it go out. Then we’re dead meat.”

“Oh ya?”

All went black. Long, lightless seconds passed. A shuffling noise sounded away in the tunnel, away in the dark.

Chk-chk-fwip… chk-chk-fwip.

I screamed at him. “STOP!” I had the eeriest sensation that this wasn’t going to end well.

Kabor did not respond at all. The shuffling sounded again.

Chk-chk-fwip… chk-chk-fwip.

Then silence.

I spun around, searching for a glimmer of light.

“Open your hand! It’s coming closer!”

Kabor made me wait for it. He made sure I understood what it meant to be alone in the dark with the lurking presence of danger nearby. He made sure I understood who was in control. Finally, after a long minute, he opened his palm. The light erupted into view.

“This place is full of strange noises in the dark,” he said. “Do you want to be one of them?”

I said nothing. The anger burned inside.

“Well, do you?”

“No,” I said. “OK then. We’ll do it your way. Give me back my stone and we’ll see what’s up the passage.”

“You’ll get your stone back when we reach the surface.”

It was worth a shot, but there would be no swaying him.

“Fine,” I said, but my compliance was a thin veil. In bitter silence, I vowed to retrieve my gift from the Hurlorn’s at any cost, the first chance I got. I also vowed never to trust Kabor again.

“One more thing,” added Kabor.

“What now?” I said.

“Promise you won’t try to take the stone back before we get to the surface.”

“But it’s mine.”

“Just promise,” he repeated firmly. He knew.

I crossed my fingers behind my back. “Fine, I PRO-MISE,” I said, drawing out the syllables to the point of mispronunciation. “We’ll do it your way, BUT… it’s my stone and don’t you EVER forget it.”

The matter was settled. I gathered my gear again that had become scattered during the scuffle, and then adjusted my backpack, belt and pouch fittings. Kabor didn’t have much of anything to collect, but the one thing he did have was everything.

In utter darkness, he who holds the light is king.