Gabriel Finley and the Raven’s Riddle

by George Hagen

  Far away, an echo repeated her words. “Oh, help … Oh, help … Oh, help!”

  How can I keep going if I’ve forgotten every song I ever learned? she wondered.

  The citadel was two hundred steps away, but Pamela remained crouched in the middle of the bridge. Look at me, sitting here on all fours, like a piece of furniture, she fretted. Just like that poor writing desk!

  That reminded her of the writing desk’s favorite jig.

  How did that tune go? she wondered.

  The rhythm came first, then the melody. De dum, de de dee, da da dum, dee dee dee!

  Concentrating on the music, Pamela tapped the rhythm on the path with her fingers, then raised her hands and clambered to her feet.

  “De dum, de de dee …,” she sang, taking a step, then another, keeping time with each step. A distant echo picked up her voice and repeated it, until it seemed that a hundred voices were singing along with her.

  The deep, mournful drone from below was no match for her.

  Pamela began striding quickly to the jig, and the path started sloping downward as she saw figures waving to her from the citadel.

  The Last One

  The dodo had fallen asleep. Her absurdly shaped bill sank into her chest and she snored while standing. When a cheery whistle echoed across the Chasm of Doubt, she jerked awake, flapped her wings, squinted at Gabriel, and sputtered a fresh welcome. Gabriel had to remind her that he was already signed in.

  “That’s my friend signaling that it’s my turn to cross,” he explained.

  “Oh, dear,” the dodo said. “Be careful!”

  After several steps up the incline, Gabriel felt a rush of uncertainty. Would he get across? He focused on the citadel’s many windows, hoping to spot his father’s silhouette, but saw nothing. Then he noticed a figure at the very top, standing by the parapet. The figure raised his arm; Gabriel was about to wave back when he saw a flock of black birds come swooping from the battlements, as if they had just been released.

  Were they ravens or valravens? He slowed down, wondering what to do if they attacked. Within a few seconds, their eyes—glowing unpleasantly—became visible, piercing the darkness.

  Should he go forward or retreat? He couldn’t decide. “Wait! Think!” he told himself. “If they’re flying from the citadel, they obviously don’t want me to go that way, so that’s the way I should go!”

  He broke into a careful jog as the birds came ever nearer.

  Coark! Coark! Coark! they shrieked, swooping at him.

  Gabriel fell, belly to the path, just before they reached him. An awful odor of rotting meat filled the air.

  The ghouls flew up and around, returning for another attack.

  Caaawwwk! Gabriel ducked, but a valraven ripped at his ear.

  A second valraven attacked from the other direction. Its talons grazed his scalp and a streak of blood rolled down his forehead.

  Dazed, bleeding, Gabriel came to a halt at the midpoint of the bridge. Why did I give Septimus the staff? he wondered. It’s the one thing I could use right now. What a mistake! Am I going to die because I helped him?

  A large valraven was bearing in, jaundiced eyes glowing, its craggy beak set in a malicious smile.

  There was nowhere for Gabriel to go but forward, so he ran forward, arms raised for balance, along the bridge’s jagged path. The bird’s talons would meet his eyes in moments.

  Pop!

  He was running through a cloud of black feathers; the valraven had disappeared.

  Amazed, Gabriel looked ahead and saw Septimus pointing the staff forward with a raised fist. “That’ll teach him!” the man cackled.

  The children began cheering.

  So, thought Gabriel, Septimus has finally chosen a side.

  When he reached the far side, everybody looked giddy and relieved, but no one looked as pleased as Septimus, who grinned with jubilation.

  “The pain is gone! Do you know what that means? I can’t hear his voice anymore. You were right, my boy. I’m no longer a slave to the Lord of Air and Darkness!”

  He pressed the staff into the boy’s hands. “Here, lad! A promise is a promise.”

  At that very moment, there was a cry from the top of the citadel: an unearthly scream of dismay that sent a flock of valravens tumbling and scattering in panic from the battlements.

  The Strange Reunion

  Doves, pigeons, mynahs, and cockatoos perched on ledges; button quail, plover, and sandpipers darted along the passages, with swallows and finches flying overhead. Septimus led them through the great gate at the foot of the bridge, then along a passageway that spiraled up the tower. There were bizarre orange birds that appeared to be feeding the torches on the walls with supplies of twigs and rags.

  Septimus led the children through the busy courtyard by the bridge as an uproar emanated from the birds all around them. They looked very excited to see newcomers.

  “You’d think they’d never seen people before,” said Somes.

  “Some probably never have,” said Septimus.

  “But aren’t the prisoners people?” asked Pamela.

  “No, mostly ravens,” replied Septimus.

  “Ravens? Why?” said Gabriel.

  “Have you forgotten that ravens are Corax’s enemies? Their ancestor Muninn stole the torc from Huginn, first of the valravens.”

  Gabriel immediately thought of Paladin, and wondered if he was safe.

  His thought was interrupted by a dodo who came striding down the spiral corridor. She was slightly pink around the wing feathers, but she had the same reddened eyes and exaggerated smile as her counterpart on the bridge. There was one other difference: a robin stood on her back, reminding Gabriel of a captain at the prow of a ship. The robin’s little black eyes settled coldly on the children.

  “Septimus!” the dodo said, waddling forward. “You’ve come back! Welcome, welcome!”

  Septimus looked startled; he hadn’t expected a friendly greeting after defying Corax.

  “We’ve missed you so,” cooed the dodo. “And you’ve brought friends!”

  “I’ve come to visit Adam Finley,” Septimus replied. “Room 1515, I believe?”

  “Room 1515? No, I believe Adam Finley is—”

  The robin interrupted with a sharp chirp. The dodo immediately changed her answer. “Yes, 1515 it is!” She cocked her head. “Your friends should wait here!”

  “I’m coming with you, Septimus,” said Gabriel.

  The robin tilted its head at Gabriel.

  “This is the son of Finley,” explained Septimus.

  The robin issued another sharp command, and the dodo’s expression abruptly turned into a demented grin. “Ah, we’ve been waiting a very long time for the son of Finley!”

  They followed the dodo up the winding corridor. Gabriel felt excited. It was like Christmas morning, when you wake knowing presents are waiting under the tree—but a thousand times better. He had waited three Christmases to see his father.

  Septimus was no less hopeful that Adam Finley would know how to remove the necklace festering under his skin. “You know,” he told Gabriel, “I dare not think good thoughts for fear of wishing something.”

  Soon they arrived at a door marked 1515. The numbers were coarse and jagged as if carved by dagger or claw. The robin issued a trill, which seemed to trigger the silver lock to snap open.

  “Come, lad,” said Septimus as he pulled at the immense door.

  Inside, there was a small bed with a sack mattress, a set of shelves with a few books on them, and a desk where a man was seated. He had large, round brown eyes, a prominent nose, and a small mouth. Gabriel recognized his father’s features, but he also felt slightly disappointed. Was it possible that he had imagined his father’s face being gentler? Nicer? Handsomer? Adam Finley’s hair had been brown the last time Gabriel saw him; now it was gray. He had more creases around his eyes than Gabriel recalled, but, again, it couldn’t have been easy to live within these four walls, never seeing the sun, th
e trees, a blue sky, or even his own shadow.

  The man raised his head and turned from Septimus to Gabriel.

  “Dear me!” he said. “Do I see my son?”

  Gabriel rushed forward, tears filling his eyes. He hugged his father, burying his face in Adam Finley’s chest.

  “Oh, Dad,” he said, but sobs interrupted Gabriel’s words. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t explain all the longing, all the wishing, all the nights he’d fallen asleep hoping his father would return. So instead, he held on tight, eyes clenched shut, waiting for his father’s arms to tighten around him and restore the love and warmth that had been missing.

  This didn’t happen, however. His father clasped him, his hands concealed in the sleeves of his shirt. “Forgive me; I’m very frail,” he said in a voice as raspy as a rusty hinge.

  “It’s okay,” Gabriel assured him.

  “Adam,” said Septimus gruffly. “Apologies for taking so long to come back for you.”

  Mr. Finley looked at Septimus for a brief, scrutinizing moment. “Septimus, old friend.”

  Septimus nodded. “Thanks to young Gabriel here, we found the torc and the staff. He’s a bright boy, your son. Brave, too. Very brave!”

  “We Finleys are all brave,” agreed Mr. Finley.

  Gabriel smiled.

  “Now, may I see the torc?”

  Septimus loosened his collar to reveal the burned mark around his neck.

  “That is the torc?”

  Mr. Finley raised his arm to draw back Septimus’s collar. A shocking claw with sharp black talons appeared from his sleeve. Swiftly, he drew it back.

  Regarding Mr. Finley with fresh scrutiny, Septimus fastened his collar. “Adam, I should think you of all people would know what has happened to me. The torc is buried under my skin. You must know how to remove it.”

  Mr. Finley looked puzzled for a moment. “I shall consult my books. Why don’t you simply wish it gone?”

  Septimus’s eyes flickered at Finley’s concealed hand. “Because it might remove my head, too!”

  “And where is the staff?”

  Gabriel held it toward his father, but Mr. Finley regarded the gnarled piece of wood with skepticism. “This old stick can’t be the staff,” he said. “Where is the real one?”

  Gabriel was about to reply when Septimus cut him off. “I could never fool you Adam,” he said with a crafty smile. “Naturally, I put it in safekeeping until I could be sure that you were alive and well. Such a vital tool would be of extraordinary value to Corax.”

  Mr. Finley rose from his seat. “I’ll come with you to get it.”

  Septimus gave him a sly glance. “Adam? You said you needed to consult your books.”

  “Ah yes! How silly of me to forget.” Frowning, Adam Finley walked them to his door. “Go, then,” he said. “When I have consulted my books, we shall proceed.”

  As Gabriel accompanied Septimus back along the corridor, he tried to make sense of the conversation. “Septimus, I don’t get it,” he said. “You know there is no other staff.”

  “Of course not,” scoffed Septimus. “And your father knows this very well, which is why that man was not Adam Finley! It would have been a grave mistake to give him the staff.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, this was a clever masquerade by Corax. I should have realized when he revealed his talons. Adam’s hands are perfectly normal.”

  Reunited with Abby, Somes, and Pamela, Septimus explained what had happened.

  “The first clue was when he called me ‘my old friend.’ The real Adam was very angry with me when I escaped because I offered to cooperate with Corax. Second, Adam has seen the staff before; he knows what it looks like. Our impostor is Corax. All he knows is the torc’s legend. Adam spent years studying the torc’s secrets. He knows its entire history.” Septimus’s expression crumpled. “What’s to become of me, if I can’t be rid of this awful thing?”

  “We don’t have much time,” said Abby. “Corax will be trying to figure out how to get the torc.”

  “He’ll need to ask the real Adam Finley,” said Gabriel. “Septimus? Where could my father be?”

  Where Is Adam Finley?

  Paladin and Caruso had been flying in circles around the citadel, peeking in every window for Gabriel’s father. In one they saw dozens of what appeared to be metallic ravens dangling from the rafters.

  “What are those, Caruso?”

  “Corax’s wretched cages,” said the owl.

  Paladin slipped through the bars of the window, and Caruso followed.

  A shocking sight lay before them. Each device contained a raven, with round holes for the eyes and rivets along the back and front. A metallic beak with a hinge served as a feeding hole for the desperate prisoner trapped inside.

  “Get out, go as far as you can from here!” one caged raven cried.

  “Escape!” cried another. “While you’re still able!”

  “If Corax finds you, he’ll lock you up like us!” cried a third.

  Overcome by their misery, Paladin cried out to the ravens, “How do I set you free?”

  “It’s hopeless. Our cages are locked and unlocked only by the song of a robin. And all the robins in the citadel serve Corax.”

  “I could try to imitate a robin’s song,” suggested Paladin.

  “We’ve all tried. No raven can sing such high notes!”

  Caruso fluttered up to examine one of the cages. The raven inside trembled, for the owl’s prominent horns and beak were terrifying.

  “Diabolical,” said Caruso. “Why have you been imprisoned?”

  “We have all refused to join Corax,” said one of the trapped ravens.

  One raven emitted pitiful throks. “Oh, who can help us?”

  All the imprisoned ravens began to sway in their cages, uttering pleas for rescue, until the air was filled with such deafening cries that it felt like a madhouse.

  Caruso uttered a loud WHOOOO!, which instantly silenced the room. “Listen to me!” he bellowed. “Does anyone know where Adam Finley is?”

  “He has been moved,” said one raven. “I heard the sparrows say that he had been sent down to be hidden from the newcomers.”

  “Down where?” asked Caruso. “Do you know?”

  The raven told him about a room in the lowest depths of the citadel where no other birds dared roam.

  It was only a matter of moments before the owl and the raven were spiraling around the tower in search of this room. They soon found it: a dim cell with the smallest crack of a window.

  The man seated inside didn’t look very different from Corax, except that his hair was darker, his skin less wrinkled—which made sense, as Adam Finley was ten years younger than his brother. The biggest difference was that this man had warm eyes and his mouth looked poised to smile.

  He was holding a candle near a book he was reading, but looked up with surprise when he saw the two birds on the windowsill.

  “Well, well!” he said curiously. “A raven and an owl—what an unlikely pair!” He beckoned to them. “Please come in. This is a rare honor.”

  “I am Paladin, grandson of Baldasarre. My amicus is Gabriel Finley.”

  “Gabriel?” Mr. Finley jumped from his seat. “Paladin, you say? How is Gabriel? Is he in Aviop—”

  “And I am Caruso!” interrupted the owl, bursting through the narrow window like a cork from a bottle. “You saved my life, long ago, with the raven Baldasarre!”

  Adam Finley laughed. “Ah, Caruso. Yes, of course I remember. Please, tell me about Gabriel!”

  Quickly, Paladin explained how Gabriel had solved the raven’s riddle and gotten the torc from the owls. When he described how Septimus had become tormented by the torc, Mr. Finley didn’t seem surprised. “Yes, Septimus was bound to fall under its power,” he said. “Corax will want to know how to extract the torc. I imagine he’s coming for me now. It would be best to leave immediately.”

  “We could paravolate,” suggested Paladin.

&
nbsp; Adam Finley shook his head. “Unfortunately, Paladin, I can paravolate only with my amicus. As Baldasarre has passed on, I cannot fly anywhere.”

  Finley paced about the room, then examined the locked door. “It’s a pity that the robins are so loyal to Corax. If we could simply convince one robin to cooperate and open this lock.”

  “Leave that to me,” said Caruso. He flew up to the windowsill, then balked at the narrow opening. He turned to Mr. Finley. “Lend a shove?” He patted his belly. “I’m an owl, not a dove.”

  Finley eased the owl gently through the narrow window.

  “Much obliged! No more rich food for me. From now on, it’s strictly mice and beans!”

  Caruso spread his wings and flew up the walls of the tower. His awesome wingspan made him the most formidable bird in the chasm. Others veered away from him in great flocks. Eventually, the great horned owl arrived at the tower’s vaulted entrance by the bridge. There, he swooped in, sending terrified little birds scattering in all directions. The owl perched above the courtyard and waited until he spotted a dodo walking down the corridor with a robin chirping commands on her back. In a flash, Caruso swooped, seizing the robin in one of his claws.

  Moments later, Adam Finley heard the triumphant hoot of the owl. He peered through the postcard-sized window of his door and saw Caruso hovering in the corridor, holding a protesting robin in one of his daggerlike talons.

  The robin was putting on a very brave show. “I’ll never open this door! I serve Corax himself! I am a general, do you hear? I fear no one. I’ll fight to the death!”

  “I have one question for you,” replied Caruso, tightening his claws around the robin’s bright red breast. “How do you prefer to be eaten? With salt and pepper, or would you like a little thyme?”

  The robin uttered a high-pitched trill, and the door lock clicked open.

  “Oh, very good, Caruso!” said Mr. Finley. “Let’s hurry—there’s no time to waste!”

  Septimus Finds a Friend

  The half man, half raven was shedding his disguise as Gabriel’s father. With a hoarse cry, he ripped the shirt from his chest. Black feathers burst from skin follicles all over his body, and satin-sinewed wings sprang from his shoulders. He leaped from the battlements of the citadel and flew in a descending spiral to the bottom, throwing smaller birds into tailspins in his wake.