The Scribbler Guardian 1: Arks Of Octava Read online

  And where was Kane? He was late. The little runt was fraying his nerves recently. Poe donned his black robe and soft-skinned knee boots. He was glad for the hood. The Bog’s dark interior made flash lights of his eyes and he was in no mood for attention of any sort. Except Kane’s. Poe had decided today was the day he’d insist the boy stay at his home. The boy sleeping in the Horror Bog where Poe first found him was void of even the most common sense. Not to mention he was tired of hunting him down for his lessons. The little rascal was seven going on seventeen and it was time to rein him in. It was especially not safe given the condition of the realm. Poe would take yes for an answer and nothing less; the boy was coming home with him if he had to sack and drag him.

  Mounting the obsidian stallion, he contemplated using the wings he owned to hurry. But he wasn’t sure Kane would be willing to be flown about like prey in a giant falcon’s clutch. Digging his heels in Mage’s warm flanks, he shot out for the Horror Bog, a two-mile span away. Then he’d fetch Kane and head to the Romance Bog. Poe may as well train Kane in the art of gathering energy while he was at it. He hoped he’d been practicing his last lesson of blending with his environment. And it was time to step up other lessons so the kid had a defense when Poe wasn’t there to protect him. Teaching him to read was at the top of the learning list. Not knowing how was another piece of evidence that he was a poorly developed character.

  Poe slowed at the entrance to the Horror Bog, stroking the sweaty fur along the neck of the stallion. “Easy boy,” he muttered. Once in the eerie canopy of trees, he forced the horse to stop. Poe hated the few seconds of solid darkness as his eyes adjusted to the abrupt absence of light. An immediate low whistle drew his attention and Poe returned the familiar signal, hopping off his horse.

  A few seconds later, rustling preceded a small force slamming into his leg. “Mr. Poe! Mr. Poe!”

  “Kane, you were supposed to meet me at my home.” Poe lifted the boy onto his horse and mounted behind him. He didn’t like being in the Horror Bog a second longer than was necessary. Too many beings drifted without purpose—compliments of the Independent Province’s sloppiness.

  “I was scared,” he whispered.

  Mage shot out with no prompting. “Of what?” It was a dumb question, really. Poe was sure the Bog’s energy indwelled the ancient trees there, turning them into silent angry beasts that waited to grab you with clawed branches and stuff you into their distended bellies.

  “The Copy Cat,” Kane said. “He doesn’t like me.”

  “The Copy Cat?” Poe glanced over his shoulder when a shadowy energy glided off his back. “Is this a mystical creature?”

  “No, he’s a bad man and he copy cats,” Kane whispered despite the fact they were already well away.

  “You will accompany me on a job today and then you’re coming home with me. I’ll have no arguments and you will tell me all about this Copy Cat then.”

  “Oh boy! A job? A for real one?”

  “Yes. Have you been practicing your lessons?”

  “Well I sure woulda’ but the Copy Cat keeped watching and I don’t like him copy catting me. Where we goin’, Mr. Poe?”

  “To the Romance Bog,” Poe muttered, wondering if the boy had made up the character or if it was a character in his own story. His brief child psychology studies said new children often did that. There was more to study, but he’d crammed when he found the boy wandering in the Horror Bog some four weeks ago while on Province Patrol. Scared and alone, the boy had behaved as though he was just sloppily solicited by his Independent Scribbler. Poe was all for non-traditional methods of creating, but had the boy been a Traditional Horror character, he’d not have been stranded in the Bog but rather raised in Octava’s Parturition. All characters birthed there were ensured proper development and issuance into the realm. Mark his words, the price of adding any Province without the obligation of adopting Octava’s structured systems would be paid with anarchy.

  Poe had visited Kane daily, gaining his trust, bringing him food. The second day, the boy leeched to his leg but then refused to leave the Bog when Poe tried to take him home with him.

  “The Romance Bog? Is that the one where they have love?”

  “So they say,” Poe said.

  “You don’t like love Mr. Poe?”

  Poe looked down at the small, dirty brown hair below him. “I never said that.” Although he wasn’t sure if he knew what love actually was. The only example came from a genre split to smithereens. “I just think a lot of the inhabitants there are… confused about it.”

  “Confused about what?”

  “About what love is.”

  “You know what it is?” Poe felt the burn of curiosity in his eager voice.

  “I think I know what it is not.”

  “Well that’s just weird.”

  “What is?”

  “I don’t get how you know it by not knowin’ it.”

  Poe slowly grinned. “Well, I know you haven’t washed your hair in weeks, even if I haven’t seen with my eyes.”

  “What you seein’ with Mr. Poe?”

  “My nose.”

  Kane gave a giggle. “Is that what the holes are for? Seein’?”

  “Yes, they are. My eyes guess you haven’t washed your hair and my nose says my eyes are correct.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Wash hair. Is it hard?”

  Divinities, had they taught the boy nothing? “Not at all. I will show you when we return home.”

  “So what we getting at the Love Bog Mr. Poe?”

  Poe stifled a sigh. “I’ll explain it at home. We haven’t much time. Now lean in.” Poe kicked the horse’s flanks and rode hard for a few hours, needing to get this done before the couple made it to his home that evening.

  At the bank of the river dividing the provinces, the horse neighed and pawed the ground next to the mile-wide waterway that ran from the great ocean to the center of Octava’s capital. For lack of time, Poe whistled for the water transporter rather than rowing the little boat across.

  “What you whistling for?”

  Poe noticed Kane had buried his face on Mage’s neck. “You’ll see.”

  Poe hopped off the horse and slung the boy on his back, getting a whiff of his stench. “I should make you swim across; what have you been doing, wallowing in the marshes?”

  The boy’s limbs locked in a choke hold on Poe’s body and neck, his little frame rigid as he shook his head, whimpering. Poe quickly fought to remove the boy from his back, only he refused to let go.

  Poe hurried to put his mysterious fears to rest. “Is it the swimming? I won’t make you swim.” The manner of head shaking that came with that, said Poe was correct. “You don’t like water?” More vigorous head shaking. Dear Divinities. “Okay. No water. No water, I promise.”

  “No water, Mr. Poe. No water.”

  Kane gasped in Poe’s ear when a giant spray erupted next to them.

  “It’s okay, it’s only Taka the transporter. He’s going to help us across the water.”

  Head shaking resumed with neck breaking momentum. “No Mr. Poe,” he cried. “Please. Don’t. Please.”

  “Taka is very friendly, he will make sure not a drop of water touches you. Isn’t that right Taka?”

  The giant dog-fish nodded eagerly, clapping his paw-fins and dangling an enormous tongue from his furry white snout. His giant ears—wind sails Poe called them—twitched and shuddered with his excited yelp barks that served to frighten the boy rather than entice him.

  “Thank you Taka,” Poe shook his head at the large beast and shooed him with a wave of his arm. “I promise to come ride you another day,” he added at seeing the droop in the beasts mouth and large emerald eyes.

  “I’ll be good,” the boy whimpered. “I promise. Don’t make me.”

  Dread snaked through Poe at the boy’s unusual words, followed by something he’d only describe as his own panic and need to assure him. “Okay, o
kay,” Poe whispered. “We won’t go. We just won’t go.”

  Poe dismissed the transporter and mounted his horse, keeping hold of the boy. He’d get the energy from the Paranormal Bog after he took the boy home and fed him. Maybe he’d locate this Copy Cat and find out who he was and why he followed Kane. And if he was somehow responsible for the boy’s odd confusion with fear. He should have no real fear. Not on Octava.

  Kane clung to Poe with a death grip the entire ride back home. It gave Poe enough time to process everything. By the time he dismounted his horse, Poe’s body ached from attempting to absorb the boy’s energy. It was an abyss with no bottom.

  Poe hurried inside his home and attempted to unlatch Kane’s limbs. “Welcome to my home,” Poe announced in bold volumes. “And see here, I’m locking the door. Do you see that lock? It is fortified with much power. Nothing bad is allowed to break through it.”

  That got his attention. “What kinda power, Mr. Poe?”

  At getting the slightest break in the boy’s wall, Poe hurried through the crack. “Oh, I never told you. It’s a secret.”

  The boy looked around. “This is a funny house.”

  Poe laughed, relieved. “You like my tree friends?”

  “Are they alive?” he asked.

  “No, no.”

  “They’re… dead then?”

  Kane’s tone got little. “Asleep,” Poe hurried. “Merely asleep.”

  “Oh,” he whispered. “They sleep a lot?”

  “All the time. That’s their favorite thing to do.”

  “I don’t think I’m so good at it.”

  “At what?” Poe hurried with him to the kitchen for further distractions. Food. He needed to let him see food.

  “Sleeping. I don’t do so good at it. Maybe you can teach me.”

  Poe’s stomach knotted and burned with an odd sensation. “I can teach you that. I happen to be a Master at it.”

  The boy shot out a giggle at seeing Poe’s dinette. “Can I sit on it?”

  “You sure can,” Poe deposited him gratefully on the small stool. “I think this one has your name on it.”

  “My name?” He leaned and looked all over it. “I don’t see it. What’s my name look like Mr. Poe?”

  Poe suddenly had an idea, and the urge to try it followed instantly. “I do say,” he began carefully, putting his power into the words, “it is under your bottom.”

  The boy hopped off and Poe held his breath then released it with relief. It worked. Dear Divinities it worked. Poe had written his name with mere thoughts!

  “Wow! That’s my name?” He traced the burned marks with his finger.

  “It most certainly is,” Poe said, laughing.

  “How did you know to put my name?”

  Poe straightened and went to his cupboards. “I told you, I have great powers.” Poe boomed the words extra big and the boy beamed with a huge smile while wiggling in his seat.

  “Like the Wizard of Oz?”

  “Ohhhh,” Poe said, pulling out his container of oats. “I don’t know. He’s pretty great!”

  “I sawed that movie,” Kane said.

  Poe drew water from the hand pump, realizing what Kane said. To see the movie meant he’d watched it in a story. His own story. Poe added the puzzle piece to the boy’s dreadful existence with great unease.

  Poe turned and realized the boy’s countenance had gone to frightened, his eyes on the sink. The water. Something bad happened to him with water and Poe needed to find out what, how, and why he suffered such a fracture in his emotions.

  After Poe fed him, he slung him on his back.

  “Hey, I can walk. I’m not a kid.”

  Poe laughed, heading to the little spare bedroom in his home. “You’re not? Then what are you?”

  “I’m a half-made man but I’m still a man.”

  “You don’t look like a man.”

  “You shouldn’t judge a man by his body size. You told me that.”

  “Yes, I did,” Poe said with a grin. “And you still don’t look like a man.”

  “Well I am. A famous hero, too. My Scribbler’s gonna write me into the best book ever, and I’m gonna become a classication, like Hercules.”

  Poe’s laughter boomed out. “A classical, you say.”

  “I know. I can feel it in my fictional bones.”

  Poe deposited him onto the wood box that had the air mattress in it. “Well I wished he’d hurry and write it, I could use a Hercules to help carry my load in work.”

  “I would too.” Kane wagged his legs, looking around. “I’d carry you all the way to Octava and back again. Running. Fast.”

  Poe boomed another laugh, opening the small shutters on the two quark-shaped windows, allowing sunlight in. “Good, I need a new ride. My horse is getting old and slow.”

  “I’m not gonna get old and slow,” he pushed on the air mattress with his palms and looked down at it. “What kind of bed is this, Mr. Poe?”

  “It’s an air bed.”

  His eyes popped. “Wow. Like a balloon?”

  “Yes, just like a balloon in the belly of a box.”

  “Like the box Count Dracula sleeps in? I heard about him you know.”

  “Did you? I don’t think the count sleeps though. But if he did, he’d certainly sleep in such a fine bed as this. Is it to your liking?”

  He gave exaggerated nods. “Who blowed it up?”

  “I let Mage do it.”

  Kane laughed. “Mr. Poe! Mage can’t blow balloons!”

  Poe concurred with a nod and smile. “You’re right. I used my air machine.”

  “An air machine! Mr. Poe. Guess what? One day I’ll be faster than Mage, and strong. Stronger than you.”

  “That’s pretty strong,” Poe said, sitting on the bed next to him. “How do you like this room?”

  The boy went still and looked at his twirling fingers in his lap.

  “Ohhh, no, no, no. There will be no frowny faces in Mr. Poe’s home,” he commanded.

  Kane looked up with his big brown eyes that reminded Poe of soft caramel when he was sad or sorry. They changed hues with his emotions, ranging from dark hazel to light. “I’m sorry I messed up your job Mr. Poe.”

  “Not at all,” Poe said eagerly, moving to kneel before him. “I already told you, I have a Bog right at my back door I’ll use.”

  “But you needed it from the Love Bog,” he muttered quietly. “Why did you need the love one, Mr. Poe?” He cast a shy look at him.” Are you in love?”

  “In love,” Poe stood with a chuckle. “Quarks and hadrons, no. I’m helping a mother and father.”

  His interest piqued. “What’s wrong with them?”

  Poe considered how much to tell the boy. Perhaps having other things to worry over would be good for him. “Well, they have a daughter.”

  “That’s a girl,” he said.

  “Yes, a girl.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Five I do believe. Just started school.”

  “Is there something wrong with her?”

  Poe was suddenly torn about how to say this, not so sure it was a good idea to introduce the concept of death, given his state of confusion. “Nothing is wrong with her. She just…” Poe regarded him then sat on the bed and looked down into his eager face. “Remember when I taught you about Scribblers, and what you and I are?”

  “Yep.” He nodded a lot.

  “Well, the little girl… wants to be something when she grows up but her Scribbler is going to make her something else.”

  “Oh,” the boy narrowed his gaze, curious.

  Poe realized how frivolous it all sounded to even his own ears. “And if she doesn’t become what she wants to be, then… she won’t be able to do all the good things she has planned.”

  Kane cocked his head a little. “Maybe she can still be good things… even if he makes her do bad.” He eyed Poe. “Do you think?”

  That odd burning snaked through Poe’s gut again. “I do think, yes. With the ri
ght good power, there is no amount of bad that can defeat you. Ever. Thankfully there is no real bad on Octava. And aside from that…” Poe tapped the boy’s chest, “...there is only one who has power over you.”

  “Who is it?” Kane asked, curious.

  “I happen to know him,” Poe said.

  “You do? Is he good? And strong?”

  “Very much so.”

  “Is he my hero? Like you?”

  Poe grinned. “Yes, he is. And his name…” Poe leaned in closely to the boy and whispered, “Is Kane.”

  His mouth dropped and he whispered, “He’s got my name?”

  Poe chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Yes, he does. Because he’s you!’

  The boy was officially confounded. “Me? But I’m not good and strong at all Mr. Poe.”

  “Why, indeed you are,” Poe argued.

  He shook his head vehemently. “Am not.”

  “Then why does it say so?”

  “What says so?”

  Poe pointed to his chest. “It says so right there.”

  The boy jerked his head down and peeked in his shirt, not realizing Poe referred to his pure heart.

  “You can’t see the words for that one.”

  “I can see’em! Look Mr. Poe.”

  Poe leaned in and looked. “My word,” he whispered, holding the material aside, studying it. Quarks and hadrons, he’d done it again. Without meaning to. “Indeed you can see it!” Poe exclaimed, touching the silver looking words on his skin.

  “What’s it say for real, Mr. Poe?”

  The scrawl was quite fancy and Poe knelt to read it. “It says Kane…” the final word froze on Poe’s tongue.

  “Kane is strong and brave?”

  Troubled to his core, Poe barely had the sense to nod. “Yes. That’s exactly what it says.”

  “Are you sure? I wish I could read. Can you teach me that power?”

  Poe nodded absently. “I can. In due time. All things in their due time.”

  Kane went back to bouncing himself happily on the bed and Poe fished out one of the many Quark puzzles he once busied himself with. “See if you can figure this out.”