by Robert Evert
“Damn it!” She grabbed the last coil from Reg’s saddlebag and fumbled down the stairs. “Maybe if I use all the—”
She ran into something that wasn’t stone. She screamed.
“It’s me!” said Reg, as Natalie fought to free herself from his grasp. “Nat, it’s me!”
“Reg?” She felt the contours of his face, then threw her arms around him. “I’m so sorry! How—?”
“You tilted the stone enough for us to crawl past,” said Reg. “Look, Nat, you shouldn’t have come back; you should’ve run to the—”
“Let’s not stand here chatting.” Sir Edris leaned heavily on Natalie. “That bastard might send another block down and smash us like bugs. Nat, lead on. Quickly!”
Natalie guided them through the darkness, up to the top of the hill. Thousands of stars were twinkling now, while fireflies flickered throughout the valley. Haggard and filthy, Sir Edris collapsed with his back against one of the massive stone blocks. Reg frantically searched through the smaller horse’s saddlebags. Seizing a wedge of smelly cheese, he took several big chomping bites before tossing it to Sir Edris. Mouth still full, Reg then grabbed a loaf of black bread, a wineskin, and four green apples. He staggered back to Sir Edris, who was gnawing away at the cheese.
“Well,” the knight said between bites, “we certainly learned our lesson, didn’t we?” Reg nodded, scarfing down bread and apple. “From now on, we always carry the food and water with us.”
The knight lifted the wineskin. “To you, Nat. The best bastard child anybody could ever have. You saved our miserable hides.”
Natalie burst out crying. “Oh, all of this is my fault! Brago made me give you that map! He had Art, and said he was going to kill him. I’m so, so sorry! Can you ever forgive me?”
“Speaking of Brago…” Reg climbed to his feet and peered about the valley. “Have you seen the son of a bitch?”
“No.” Natalie brushed away her tears. “Not since he gave me the map.”
“Maybe he’s gone to go find the harp,” Reg said to Sir Edris.
Sir Edris shook his head. “He wouldn’t leave a job half done; he’d want to make sure we were good and dead before he ran off to finish the quest.”
“The harp’s here!” said Natalie. “I found it!”
“Found it!” Sir Edris and Reg cried together.
“Well, not exactly found it,” Natalie corrected herself. “I think I know where it is, though. It makes sense, at any rate.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Sir Edris. “Where is it? Tell me exactly what you know.”
Natalie took a deep breath, then pointed to the trees down the slope. “There’s a mausoleum over there. Balen wouldn’t bury the harp in any hole in the ground, right? He’d put it somewhere meaningful, like Reg said. It makes sense that he’d put it with his daughter!”
“It does make sense,” Sir Edris muttered to himself as he ate. He swallowed. “Help me up, Reg.” The squire heaved Sir Edris to his feet; both men wobbled unsteadily. “Show me this mausoleum, Nat. Slowly, now. I can’t go far.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sir Edris staggered between the two marble statues. One was a larger-than-life form of a slightly overweight man marching along, playing a lute. Next to him danced a statue of a five- or six-year-old girl, mouth open as if in mid-laugh. Beyond them, the hillside jutted out to form a flat wall. Sir Edris hobbled up to it and pulled away centuries of moss and ivy. He stepped back.
Two double doors spanned the rock face, each ten feet tall and decorated with musical notes. At their center were carved the words: “Eleanor the Beautiful and her loving father, Balen.”
Sir Edris searched for a knob or a lock. “How do you open this blasted thing?”
Together, they hunted for a way to open the doors as the shadows deepened around them.
“Reg,” said Sir Edris, “keep an eye out for Brago. I don’t want him surprising us again.”
“Yes, sir.” Reg stumbled wearily back into the woods the way they’d come.
“There has to be a way…” Sir Edris muttered.
“Maybe there’s a keyhole somewhere.” Natalie swept her hands across the wall, rubbing dirt away from the designs etched into the stone. Her fingers brushed up against one of the musical notes. It sank in.
“Sir Edris!” she cried.
“What is it?” Sir Edris limped over to her. “Find a keyhole?”
“No.” She pointed to the musical note, but it was no longer pushed inward. “What the—?” Natalie pushed the note, and again it sank slightly. “See?”
“Let me see that.”
As they watched, the stone circle within the musical note reset. Sir Edris pushed it, then several others. Each depressed a fraction of an inch before resetting seconds later.
“It’s a lock!” He pushed more, and watched them all reset. “Brilliant! You have to push the correct combination of notes in order to open the mausoleum!” He laughed. “Reg! Come look at this!”
Reg appeared from farther down the slope.
“Look.” Sir Edris pushed several notes all at once. After a moment, they sprang back to their original positions. “Brilliant, isn’t it?”
“Brilliant,” Reg agreed, examining the carvings that wove around the edge of the doors. “But how are we going to open it? There must be, what, a hundred notes, all told? How do we know which ones to push?”
“By the gods!” Natalie cried in mock dismay. “Men can be so thick sometimes.” They looked at her. “It wouldn’t be just any random set of notes. Clearly, you have to push the notes to a specific song!”
“To a specific song…” said Sir Edris.
“That song he’d written for his daughter, what was it? The Starflower?”
Reg snapped his fingers. “‘Ode to the Starflower!’”
Sir Edris clapped Natalie on the back with a heavy hand. “Nat, you’re an inspiration! I tell you, your share of the reward just increased to one-third!”
Grinning, they all considered the wall in triumph as the night grew darker.
“I don’t suppose,” Sir Edris said to them, “that either of you know how to read music.”
Natalie stared incredulously at the knight.
“You mean neither of you know anything about music? You’re kidding me, right? Don’t you people go to balls, and all of that noble crap?”
Sir Edris grimaced, lowering himself onto a stone bench half-covered by an overgrown bush. “Usually, when we have to do all of that noble crap, we merely listen to the music, or dance. They don’t request that we play. Besides, Reg is far better at that kind of thing than I am. I hate music.”
Reg again peered closely at the line of notes. “I know a little…” He pointed to one high up on the left-hand side of the door. “That’s middle C.”
“And?” Natalie cried.
“And…” Reg pointed again. “That’s a whole note. Those”—he pointed to several along the top of the doors—“are quarter notes. And…” He shrugged. “And that’s it. That’s all I know.”
Natalie tossed her hands. “So close!”
“Now, now,” said Sir Edris, weakly, “let’s not despair. We’ve figured out harder riddles than this.” He took another long drink from the wineskin. “I believe Nat’s assumption is correct. We have to push the notes that play ‘Ode to the Starflower.’ That makes perfect sense, given what we know of Balen.” Sir Edris thought for a moment. “Now, how did it go?” He hummed a bit of the song. “Is that it?”
“I think that’s toward the end.” Reg leaned up against a tree, looking exhausted. “The song begins like this: da…da…da, dum-ditty-dum da.”
“So what notes are those?” Natalie asked, exasperated.
“I honestly don’t have a clue.”
By the ruined tower, the horses nickered. Dry leaves rustled as a breeze shifted through the woods as the full moon rose above the hills.
“Da…da…da, dum-ditty-dum da,” the knight repeated thoughtfu
lly. “So the first three notes would be the same.” He gestured to the right side of the doors. “Like those three?”
Reg brushed away some of the dirt that partially obscured the notes Sir Edris had indicated. “Maybe.”
“So you think the notes are already in the right order?” Natalie asked. “I thought they’d be scattered around, otherwise anybody could start pushing notes and eventually come across it by accident.”
Sir Edris scratched his bearded chin; it was grayer than Natalie remembered.
“No,” he said eventually. “No, I think the notes are already in their proper order, but you’d need to start and end on the correct ones, otherwise the door won’t open.”
Reg sat wearily on the bench next to Sir Edris. “Why do you think that?”
“Remember how quickly the notes reset? Even somebody who knew the song wouldn’t be able to push a note way over to the right, then way over to the left, then up toward the top, then at the bottom, in time.” Sir Edris waved his hand as if tapping notes around the doors. “See what I mean?”
Reg nodded. He flicked his chin to the bottom of the right-hand door. “There are three whole notes in a row, followed by three quarter notes. Plus, the first quarter note is lower in pitch than the three whole notes. That would go with the song’s pattern.” He hummed the song again. “Da…da…da, dum-ditty-dum da.”
“Nat”—Sir Edris pointed—“be a dear and push those three notes there at the bottom. Start with the one on the far left. Let’s see if my guess is correct.”
Natalie did as she was told. The stones comprising the round whole notes slid slightly into the wall, then returned to normal after a few seconds.
“Now”—he pointed to the top of the left-hand door—“push those three whole notes, just like you did with the ones at the bottom.”
The notes at the top went in, then returned to normal.
Sir Edris clapped his hands in delight. “I think we have it!”
“What?” Natalie stepped back to see the doors better. “What happened? What did you notice?”
“When you pushed the notes in at the top,” he explained, “they popped back out much quicker than the ones at the bottom did.”
“Suggesting that if you push a wrong note,” said Reg, “it resets quicker than if you push a correct note.”
“Exactly!” Sir Edris slapped the bench. “Therefore, those three notes at the bottom are what we’re looking for. Now, Nat, do what you did before, but this time in rhythm with the music. Da…da…da, dum-ditty-dum da. Got it? Da…da…da, dum-ditty-dum da.”
Kneeling in the knee-high weeds, Natalie pushed the notes as she hummed. On the sixth note, there was a click, and the double doors creaked open ever-so-slightly.
“Aha!” Sir Edris cried.
“That was incredible!” said Natalie. “How’d you figure that out? You didn’t even know how to read music!”
“That, Natalie”—Sir Edris rocked himself to his feet—“is the thrill of being an adventurer! Solving problems with only your wits and what you have around you.” He pushed the doors open wider. Beyond them lay a room filled with deep shadows. In its center stood two sarcophagi surrounded by gilded pillars of white marble. Hanging from each pillar were unlit crystal lamps. Everything was blanketed in grey dust and cobwebs. “Reg—”
“I’m way ahead of you.” Reg jammed several large rocks underneath the doors so they couldn’t close.
“Natalie,” said Sir Edris, “stand watch.”
“Me?”
“Alas, I’m afraid you’re the only one armed at the moment.” Sir Edris parted his cloak to reveal an empty scabbard. “We broke our swords trying to pry that blasted stone out of the way. You’re also the most fit to fight, if it comes to that.”
“Me?” Natalie repeated nervously. Her grip tightened around the handle of her sharp knife. “Well, what do you want me to do? I mean, if Brago comes back. Should I stab him or something?”
“That’d be lovely. However, all you need to do is scream, I think. Seriously, he’s a skittish little fart. Scream your head off, and he’d probably run, especially if he thinks the guard dogs are coming to investigate. He hates dogs.”
“He’s more of a ‘stab in the back’ kind of fighter,” added Reg.
“Or a ‘toppling some stone down a stairwell’ sort of coward,” Sir Edris sneered.
“Okay.” Natalie glanced about. “So—so where should I go? Should I hide somewhere? Behind some tree, maybe?”
“No, stay here. I’ll be damned if we get trapped a second time today. Stay here and make sure nobody sneaks up on us.” Sir Edris patted Reg on the back. “Now, let’s go get a golden harp.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Sir Edris blew on the sarcophagus to the left, causing a great cloud of dust to drift across the dark chamber. “This is it. Ready?”
Reg stood across from Sir Edris and nodded.
“One…two…three.”
Both men attempted to lift the stone lid, struggling mightily against its weight. Sir Edris gave up first.
“It’s no good,” he panted. “I’m going to need a week to regain my strength. Curse that miserable bastard.”
“What if…” Reg began, out of breath. “What if we both stood on one side and, and pushed it off?”
Sir Edris rested against the sarcophagus. “Good idea”—he wiped the sweat from his face—“come over here.”
They positioned themselves on the same side.
“Ready?” Sir Edris asked.
Reg grunted, hands placed against the underside of the lid’s edge.
“One…two…three!”
They threw their weight forward, boots sliding on the dirty floor.
“Stop!” cried Sir Edris. “This isn’t going to work, either.”
“Maybe use a horse?” Reg suggested, breathing hard.
Sir Edris shook his head. “No,” he said, then called out, “Nat! Nat, we need you.”
“A girl?” Reg replied, astounded.
“A woman. And don’t forget, young master Reginald, she saved our lives.”
Natalie poked her head into the mausoleum. “What’s wrong?”
Sir Edris rubbed his arms. “Any sign of our cowardly friend?”
“No. But I really can’t see much under these trees. The moon and the starlight make it easy to see in the fields, but if he’s hiding in the hills, he’s as good as invisible.”
“We’ll have to risk it.” Sir Edris waved a tired hand. “Come over here with us. We need your help.”
“To lift that thing?” Natalie laughed. “You’re joking!”
“Do you want your share of the reward?” he asked. “Then show us how strong a woman can be. We only have to push this over a few inches, just enough to look inside.”
Natalie recoiled. “It’s going to be all…?”
“All what?”
“The body. Is it going to be all bony, with its skull grinning at me and everything?”
“Grinning?” Sir Edris repeated doubtfully.
“Actually,” said Reg, “sealed in a sarcophagus, a body usually keeps its skin. It’ll probably be all wrinkled and—”
“Not helping,” Sir Edris muttered.
“What?” Reg noted Natalie’s expression. “Oh. Sorry.”
“But if our guess is correct”—Sir Edris tapped the sarcophagus lid—“there won’t be anything in this tomb except for the gold harp. Legend says the grandson burned Balen’s body. I highly doubt he took the time to lay Balen’s ashes to rest next to his beloved daughter.”
Natalie forced herself to exhale. “Okay. But so help me, if spiders come crawling out—!”
Sir Edris shot Reg a look, as if warning him not to mention the possibility of spiders.
“So, what do I do?” Natalie asked.
“Come stand between us,” said Sir Edris. “Put your hands here, and help push it up and over. There’s a little lip we need to clear.”
“Okay.” Natalie braced herse
lf.
“Ready?” Sir Edris asked. “On three. One…two…three!”
The sound of stone grinding against stone echoed through the chamber.
“Stop!” Sir Edris called out. “Now, let’s take a peek at—” He peered into the sarcophagus, then straightened. “Damn it!”
“Nothing?” Natalie checked for herself. Other than a rotten silk pillow and a thin mattress upon which a corpse would lie, the coffin was empty. “Damn it!”
Sir Edris slid her a wry smile. “You’re taking after my side of the family!” He inclined his head toward the other sarcophagus. “Same plan.”
Natalie cringed. “This one’ll have the daughter’s body, won’t it?”
Sir Edris and Reg exchanged glances.
“Nat—”
“Oh, never mind.” She grabbed the lid. “Let’s get this over with.”
The knight and the squire took up their positions.
Sir Edris gritted his teeth. “One…two…three.”
They pushed.
The stench of death hit Natalie hard. She turned away, gagging. “By the gods!” She coughed. “That’s horrid!”
Sir Edris swore.
Covering her mouth and nose, Natalie peered inside. There was a woman’s body, wrinkled like a bruised winter apple, still dressed in a gem-encrusted gown. But there was no harp. Natalie retched.
Sir Edris leaned against the sarcophagus. “I would’ve bet my life you were right.”
“Ugh!” Natalie gasped, eyes watering. “Let’s get out of this place. The smell’s awful!”
She dashed out of the mausoleum and drank in the cool, forest-scented night air in great gulps. Sir Edris shuffled out, leaning heavily on Reg’s arm. They collapsed onto the stone bench.
Sir Edris rubbed his forehead. “Blast it!”
“Back to square one,” Reg agreed.
“No. No,” the knight said. “Let’s not give up yet. I still think Natalie’s correct. It’s in there, or nearby. Curse this fatigue. I can’t even think straight.”
