Gabriel Finley and the Raven’s Riddle

by George Hagen

  “Why put a gate here that doesn’t open?” Gabriel wondered.

  “It’s clearly not an entrance for humans,” said Septimus.

  “How did you get through when you escaped?” asked Abby.

  “I merged with Crawfin and entered through the hole. Valravens can come and go—that’s what it’s for. If you look carefully at the gate, there are symbols.” He pointed to a symbol of a tower. “Here, you see the citadel of Aviopolis.”

  “What’s a citadel?” asked Pamela.

  “An inescapable fortress,” said Septimus. “It was there that Adam Finley and I were imprisoned by Corax.”

  Abby looked at Septimus. “If it’s inescapable, how did you escape?”

  Septimus rubbed his hands nervously. “It’s complicated.”

  “Even better. Try me,” persisted Abby.

  Septimus frowned. “Well, I made a pledge.”

  “What kind of pledge?”

  The man sighed. “A pledge that I would find the torc … and bring it to Corax.”

  “What?” cried Gabriel with disgust. “That was your pledge? To help him? How could you do that, Septimus?” Disheartened, the boy shook his head. “You called yourself a friend of my father’s.”

  Septimus squirmed. “Look, no matter what I said, all along my plan was to rescue my good friend Adam Finley! Cross my heart!”

  “Except that when you had the torc, you didn’t rescue him,” charged Gabriel. “You went to the finest restaurant in town, remember?”

  “You can’t imagine its awful power!” said Septimus, clawing at the torc that festered under his skin. “Surely one can make mistakes and be forgiven?” He gazed imploringly at the children, but they turned back to the gate.

  “If it doesn’t have a keyhole, there must be a trick to it,” said Abby.

  All this time, Somes had been staring at the gate handle. “There are words,” he said, adjusting his glasses to look closer.

  “Here!” Abby removed a flashlight from her backpack, focusing the beam to reveal four lines etched in the metal:

  All who wish to enter here

  Must first a binding oath declare.

  To Corax swear thy loyalty,

  Then watch the gate swing wide for thee.

  “Swear thy loyalty? I’m not going to do that,” said Gabriel.

  “There’s no other way in, dear boy!” sputtered Septimus. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Look, you don’t have to mean it. If you just say it, the gate will probably open.”

  “Yes, but a binding oath means a promise,” said Abby.

  “I can’t believe the fuss you’re making,” said Septimus. “Why, I’ve made promises my whole life that I didn’t—”

  “We know that,” interrupted Gabriel.

  “Look at it this way,” the man replied. “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me. Here, I’ll go first.”

  Winking at the children, Septimus grabbed the handle and spoke into the hole. “I, Septimus Geiger, traveler and seeker of fine curiosities, hereby pledge loyalty to Corax, Lord of Air and Darkness!”

  Those last words echoed unnaturally, as if his pledge extended far beyond the door, down into the depths of Aviopolis.

  Moments later, a sound came back, deep and ominous like a thunderclap, the handle turned, and the gate slowly creaked open.

  Septimus laughed, and with a jolly grin, stepped inside.

  The gate immediately began closing. Just in time, Somes grabbed a stone and wedged it into the opening. “Gabriel,” he whispered, “use the staff!”

  Gabriel jammed the staff into the gap and pried the gate open a bit more. The staff quivered violently and he felt its familiar warmth spread into his fingers and arms. It appeared to be fighting the very magic that commanded the gate.

  “Everybody in!” said Gabriel, and the children hurried into the little building. Then Gabriel drew out the staff and the gate slammed shut with a bang, pulverizing the stone into dust.

  Ahead lay a staircase that wound down in a seemingly endless spiral. The right side had no railing, just darkness. The children took their first steps clinging to a stone wall on the left side while trying to imagine, deep below, a city of birds—a city called Aviopolis.

  Somes and Septimus

  The little group walked together for a while, but everyone had a different pace, and they gradually separated into two clusters. Abby produced two flashlights from her backpack. Septimus and Somes led with one light; Abby followed with Gabriel, Paladin, and Pamela.

  Somes brooded as he walked with Septimus. He wished Gabriel trusted him, but he felt like the odd man out—last to know about ravens, riddles, and Gabriel’s extraordinary power. The man next to him smelled of ashes and mice and kept rubbing the unpleasant scar around his neck. Why was he stuck with this loser?

  Septimus was silent for an entirely different reason. A voice had started talking to him in his head.

  Ah, my old friend, it said. You’ve come back when I thought you had forgotten all about me.

  Crawfin? Is that you? replied Septimus doubtfully. A throbbing pain in his head seemed to accompany each word.

  No, it is your Lord and Master—Corax!

  The man’s face collapsed into horror. My Lord, of course. Greetings!

  Don’t you remember your promise to me? “Set me free,” you begged. “Get me out of that cell and I’ll bring back the necklace.”

  The voice was mocking and abrasive—like a bone grinding into broken glass.

  How is it that I can hear you in my head? wondered Septimus. I thought I could only talk to my amicus this way.

  Oh, Septimus, my foolish friend. He who pledges loyalty to Corax opens the gate of his own soul. Did you not realize?

  Yes, but—

  In return for your pledge, I may speak to you whenever I wish, said Corax. I can see inside your thoughts. All your forgotten promises. All your tricks. All your lies. For example, I know now that you never intended to help me. You’re a selfish man, Septimus. And you must pay for it.

  Septimus raised his hands to his head, horrified at what might happen next.

  Please, don’t hurt me! he begged, for the pain was getting worse.

  Redeem yourself by serving me. You have the torc but not the staff. I want them both.

  The boy never lets go of the staff, Septimus replied. I’ve tried, believe me!

  There is another boy, a stronger boy. Use him to get it. Whatever happens, the staff must not reach Adam Finley. If it does, my valravens will hunt you down and take your eyes first!

  Septimus uttered a small whimper, then put his hands up to his eyes. Somes looked at him warily. Sensing the boy’s scrutiny, Septimus attempted a jolly smile.

  “Your company is a pleasure, dear boy,” said Septimus. “You and I, sadly, are in the same rut. No one trusts us.”

  “Why do you say that?” said Somes.

  “I saw you being humiliated,” Septimus replied.

  “Humiliated?”

  Septimus nodded. “Gabriel wouldn’t lend you his staff, would he? You know why? Because it makes him feel important. Better than the rest of us. It’s a bad sign when a fellow thinks himself superior to his friends. A very bad sign.”

  “I don’t care.” Somes shrugged. “He can have it.”

  “But is it right?” murmured Septimus.

  “I told you,” muttered Somes. “I don’t care.”

  “Perhaps, but after you did him such a great favor?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Why, you helped everybody get through the gate,” said Septimus. “How enterprising! How skillful! You’re a lad of great potential; it’s a shame, that’s all.”

  “What’s a shame?”

  “Not to be trusted by anyone. But never fear. I’ll stand by you, my good lad. You have a friend in me.” Septimus gave him a chummy pat on the back. “That’s a promise!”

  Musical Light

  The travelers had been walking for
an hour when their flashlights dimmed, then fell completely dark. Fearful of taking a wrong step into the abyss off the right side of the staircase, they came to a halt.

  Septimus uttered an exasperated sigh. “Well, it seemed a good idea to come this way,” he said to Gabriel. “Still, I see no choice now but to give up and turn back.”

  “What are you talking about?” said Gabriel. “No way!”

  “Right, no way!” agreed Abby, Pamela, and Somes.

  Outnumbered, Septimus winced uncomfortably. “Well, the last thing I would say is ‘give up’!”

  “You just did,” said Pamela.

  “And I doubt it’s the last thing you’re ever going to say,” added Abby.

  Septimus blew his nose. “Nonsense! I never … It was more of a philosophical position.”

  He doesn’t make any sense at all! Paladin remarked to Gabriel.

  “Let’s have a snack and think what to do,” said Abby. Dipping into her backpack, she passed around pieces of her sister Viv’s taffy. Even in the damp darkness, the salty candy raised their spirits.

  “Somes?” Abby whispered.

  “Yes?”

  “It was incredibly clever of you to think of keeping the gate open with a rock.”

  “Oh. Thanks.”

  “It was genius,” added Gabriel.

  “Great, Somes,” Pamela chimed in.

  Septimus sniffed. “Not that I’m asking for praise, but if I hadn’t opened the gate by pledging to Corax, none of you would be here.”

  “Thank you, Septimus,” the children replied with considerably less enthusiasm.

  “Oh, please. It was nothing!” Septimus said with a little laugh.

  If it was nothing, why did he mention it? Paladin remarked to Gabriel.

  “Does anyone else hear that?” said Abby.

  There was a noise in the air shaft beside the staircase—the very distinct sound of wings fluttering. It came and went, as though something (or many things) were flying past in the darkness.

  “Birds,” said Pamela.

  “Yes,” said Septimus. “This staircase is a passageway between the world above and the city of Aviopolis. Only birds live here now.”

  “Who lived here before?” asked Pamela.

  “An army of dwarfs, imprisoned for trying to overthrow their king.”

  “I remember this story,” said Gabriel. “It was in Baldasarre’s parchment. The dwarfs were jailed in dungeons underground. They made the silver necklace as a gift to the king so he’d release them.”

  “Precisely,” said Septimus. “They were brilliant silversmiths, and dwarf silver was highly prized. But the king didn’t trust the gift.”

  “Why not?” said Abigail.

  “His raven, Muninn, thought it was a trick,” Septimus explained. “They were banished underground for years. When the king went down to free them, he found the most marvelous city and the dwarfs long gone.”

  “Why did they go?” asked Pamela.

  “Isn’t it obvious? An underground palace without sky or sun is still a prison,” said Abby. “They probably dug their way to freedom.”

  “Nevertheless, it’s one of the wonders of the subterranean world,” said Septimus. “A shame we won’t see it.”

  “We’re going to see it,” Abby replied.

  “Yes,” said Gabriel. “We’re definitely going.”

  Septimus uttered a sigh. Then there was another fluttering sound nearby.

  “More birds? How do they know where they are going?” wondered Gabriel.

  “Who cares?” muttered Septimus. “We risk our peril walking in the dark for miles before we reach the bottom. This is hopeless. Now, let’s turn around. Who agrees with me? Somes?”

  Then another bird flew by; as it chirped, Gabriel noticed a faint flash of light on the wall. “Did anyone see that?”

  “I saw nothing,” replied Septimus. “As I was saying—”

  “Wait, it was a flash!” interrupted Pamela.

  Several more flashes lit up the walls as birds flew past them, down the shaft—flashes so faint that they would never have been seen in the glare of their flashlights.

  “What’s doing that?” Abby wondered.

  “Something in the air?” suggested Somes. “Like the birds’ chirps are making light!”

  “It must be the high notes, because our voices have no effect,” said Pamela.

  Paladin uttered a high chirp. The wall flashed faintly.

  “Hardly enough light to see a staircase,” complained Septimus.

  “I have an idea,” Pamela said, unlocking her violin case.

  She played a high note on the violin and a strong orange light lit up the walls.

  “Do it again!” said Gabriel.

  Pamela played another long note, then a trill. This time, several colors shimmered across the staircase. Now the children could see the thousands of steps heading down below, and many birds of all shapes and sizes flying up and down the shaft.

  “Way to go, Pamela!” said Abby.

  “Marvelous,” muttered Septimus bitterly.

  As Pamela played a scale on the violin, a quivering series of colors danced upon the staircase wall, and the children walked on.

  “Be careful you don’t fall and break your neck, dear!” said Septimus.

  “Marching bands walk and play at the same time,” Abby reminded him.

  “I was never fond of marching music,” he replied.

  Ignoring Septimus, they continued forward. Pamela played as Gabriel steadied her with one hand, holding the staff and violin case in the other.

  Presently, the music was drowned out by an unearthly shriek that turned the walls a deep blood-red. A bird with glowing yellow eyes spiraled down the shaft and swooped, claws extended, toward the violin.

  “Pamela, look out!” warned Abby.

  The music stopped suddenly and all was dark. There were sounds of a struggle.

  “Help!” Pamela cried.

  “Where are you?” answered Gabriel, for he had lost his grip on her.

  “It’s got my violin!”

  Gabriel fumbled for his staff, dropping the violin case, which clattered down the staircase. He pointed the staff above him.

  There was a sudden pop! and then a faint smell of rot.

  “Pamela?” called Gabriel.

  “Pamela!” said Abby. “Where are you?”

  “Here!” replied a very anxious and weak voice.

  Gabriel fell to his knees and felt along the side of the steps that edged the abyss. He found her fingertips gripping the very edge. Pamela was gasping as she held on.

  “Give me your other hand!” he cried.

  “I can’t. I’m still holding the bow!”

  Gabriel reached down and tightened his grip around her forearm. Slowly, he hoisted her up. “There,” he said. “We’ve got you!”

  Trembling, Pamela rested on the steps. Then she came to an alarming realization. “I’ve lost my violin.…”

  “No worries!” announced Paladin, alighting on Gabriel’s shoulder, the neck of the violin in his talons. “Now we’d better get going. More valravens are sure to be on their way.”

  As Pamela started playing, light returned to the staircase, and the others smiled, relieved to be able to see each other again.

  “That was brilliant, Paladin!” cheered Abby.

  Septimus uttered an exasperated sigh. “While you congratulate yourselves,” he snapped, “some of us wish to carry on!”

  He placed his hand on Somes’s shoulder.

  “Come, dear boy. Nobody appreciates us.”

  The Gatekeeper

  After several minutes of walking, the pain throbbing in Septimus’s head intensified.

  Well, Septimus? said Corax. Can this boy Somes be relied upon?

  I believe he and I have much in common, Septimus replied.

  Good. Then I have no need for either of the girls.

  Surely you’re not asking me to—

  Oh, you cowardly fool, you’
re no more capable of killing anyone than you are of keeping your promises. Since our little group is so fond of riddles, my gatekeeper shall complete that task. Listen carefully to my directions.…

  It was a surprise to everybody when Septimus pointed out a doorway that was barely noticeable in the wall of the staircase.

  “As I recall, we must make a turn here,” he told the children.

  “But you said we had to walk all the way to the bottom,” said Gabriel. “I remember.”

  “Did I? I don’t believe so.” Septimus laughed, but his smile wilted under Abby’s intense scrutiny. “What is it, young lady?”

  “You change your mind faster than a chameleon changes its colors.”

  Septimus attempted another laugh. “Look, it doesn’t matter what I said before. You asked me to help you find the way. This is it!”

  “Is your nose getting longer?” Abby replied.

  Septimus directed them through the doorway with one of his graceful gestures.

  They entered a long hall of stone. Several torches flickered, casting little pools of light along the floor. On the walls were carvings of human armies in battle against great flocks of black birds with glowing eyes. The faces of the soldiers and birds were fearsome and sharply drawn.

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” said Pamela, putting her violin away. “What about you, Somes?”

  Somes shrugged toward Gabriel. “He’s the leader.”

  “I can assure everyone that this is the correct path,” Septimus said.

  What’s wrong, Gabriel? Paladin asked, sensing Gabriel’s doubts.

  I’m not sure, Gabriel replied. But back on the staircase, I had a hunch that my father went that way, too. I felt something close and familiar about it. He looked around doubtfully. Not here. He never came this way. I’m positive.

  Paladin gripped Gabriel’s shoulder. I have an idea. I’ll continue down the staircase and see where it leads.

  Gabriel stroked Paladin for a moment. Thank you.

  We’re going to find your father, Gabriel. Don’t worry.

  You’ll look out for valravens, right? Gabriel said.

  Of course, Paladin replied. I’ve dealt with eagles, I can manage any old valraven.