SPARX Incarnation: Mark of the Green Dragon (SPARX Series I Book 1) (9 page)

“Fyorn,” I said.

“Fyorn,” she repeated, “that’s a nice name.” She said it again musically, teasing out the syllables with inflection. “
Fy
-orn.” Dreamy-eyed, she raised a hand to her chest and ran her fingers along the beaded necklace that she wore. It was the same one she had worn that night when I first saw her.

Holly granted me a mischievous smirk and a gentle shoulder nudge. Her voice was playful. “You tried to kiss me,” she said outright.

“I… err… sorry. I don’t even remember the part about kissing girls—” She cut me off right there.

“Girl-
ss
,” she said, emphasizing the ‘s.’”

“I mean…”

Disaster.

“Great. How nice for you,” she said. I don’t think she really meant it.

“Humph. I have to put my book away.” She turned to go.

“What book is it?” I asked, my attempt at damage control. She paused and turned her head, nose slightly in the air.

“Elderkin legends,” she replied. “Your friend Kabor helped me to track it down. He is quite resourceful
and
good company. Does he ever mention me?”

That was
not
what I wanted to hear. “No,” I said.

Holly shrugged and left me standing there alone again. I shook off my carelessness as best I could, and then took out the claims map to study more carefully than I had at the hall.

*

Gariff returned first, fully laden. His adventuring gear had already been packed and ready. Kabor followed soon after and then Holly, minus the book.

Gariff addressed me about the map. “What do we have here?” he said, peering over my shoulder. Kabor and Holly came over to have a look as well. As we went over it, I explained to them everything that Old Remy had told me.

“I can make the claim posts on the fly, no problem,” said Gariff. “I just need to know what to put on them.”

“Do you know
where
to put them?” I said.

Gariff scratched his scruff. “I have an idea. I can bang them in the ground where I think they should go, but Mer should be the one to verify that they’re placed right.”

“Do we really need him?” said Holly.

“Sure do,” said Gariff. “Like I said, I know enough to get us started and I can make a few pretty good guesses… maybe, but a professional has to look it over. There’s lots to know when it comes to prospecting, if you want to do it right.”

Bobbin was taking his sweet time.

“NUMBIT!” Gariff’s voice boomed, and then echoed back.

From the cookhouse, our well-rounded friend squeaked back politely. “Coming,” he said. Moments later, he repeated his assurance: “I’m coming… just a minute…”

Bobbin’s jolly red face eventually bobbed into the great room, arms fully laden with everything he would need – food. His pack was already so stuffed he could not close it properly. Holly approached him and began fussing with it. She quickly became frustrated with his lack of organization.

“Don’t worry,” said Bobbin. “It’ll be a lot less full on the way back.”

“Not if you fill it with Fyorn’s maple candy,” I said. His eyes lit up. Holly grunted as she pulled hard on the straps, sealing the pack tight.

“The last thing he needs is more candy,” she said, her voice stern. Bobbin’s face went sour.

Despite all the antics and minor setbacks, all were eager for an adventure that morning. We set out for Deepweald together.

It promised to be a fine day for travel – cool and foggy so early in the morning, but it wouldn’t be long before the sun burned through the mist and a good breeze blew up. That would keep the bugs down and spirits up.

Chapter XII

Interlude - Some great thing

O
nce, I was much like a typical flesh-bearer, awake at dawn and asleep after nightfall. But now that I am scaled and bark-skinned, sleep is more of a seasonal thing. So I have no qualms about carrying on after sunset and into the dawn, and all the next day again and the day after that too, if need be. The real night for me is long and cold and goes by the name of “Old Man Winter.” Not to say that you will never see a Green Dragon about in the winter months – it just doesn’t happen very often.

No worries then, plenty of time, everything will be recorded before its too late… if I hurry. All must be scribed before that ranger’s perfect storm arrives. The winds are howling tonight; it’s the fury from the east he’s been waiting for so patiently, all through the fall. So many colorful leaves will be blown to oblivion if this keeps up.

You might recall that early on, one of the first comments I made was that this tale is “the beginning of the end for some great thing.” I suppose all beginnings are the beginning of an end of sorts. What begins and never ends? – sounds like a child’s riddle. Maybe that all eternal Time is not a bad answer, but even Time is so constrained. Then so must everything be… well, almost everything…

It is coming. I can feel the surge through my heartwood. In all the days I was my former self – my flesh-and-blood self – I believed this saga began with the coming journey, the outing from the Flipside that I am about to tell tale of. But now that I am tapped into the Hurlorn consciousness, and as I near the very end alluded to, I know better. This part I speak of next is more of a tipping point than the beginning of an end.

My involvement was inevitable, really, and integral to the progression of a cycle that I had no idea even existed. I had become an important cog in a great wheel without even knowing it. It’s the little things that the Hurlorns seem to pick up on, the subtle ways that can make all the difference when you sum them all up. I am sure that the stubbornness of the Leatherleaf family played a crucial role, as did an engrained independence streak and an overwhelming sense of civic duty. The ability to negotiate a deal factored in as well. Contacts also had to be an indispensible part of the grand scheme. But more importantly, it was the interplay of these factors on the great undertakings of my time, hanging in the balance, that made all the difference, together with the right combination of means to adapt to whatever came of them.

As so often seems to happen in life, the chains of events loop in on themselves. In a sense, the beginning and the end are ever entangled. Recognizing such things for what they are is important to a Hurlorn.

Chapter XIII

Friendly passage

G
ariff obsessed over the prospect of buried treasure. He kept our wandering minds fixed on the “real purpose of the trip” as we made our way out of town. “Nevermind Fyorn,” he told us straight away, and “Don’t waste yer time on Elderkin fancy,” whatever that meant. My personal favorite: “Save yer energy for diggin’.” He spoke over anyone that tried to get a word in edgewise, which was unusual for Gariff. Not even Holly chose to take issue with him, which was unusual for one so contrary. Excitement bubbled into every word, every breath, and that was all before we even reached the gate out of town. Once beyond the tall, oaken arch, the Stout seemed satisfied to have said his piece. For a long stretch, I took simple pleasure in the sounds of our footsteps and the fading voices of wall guards as they chatted endlessly about town gossip and the weather. But Gariff wasn’t quite done talking yet.

“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.