by George Hagen
Only with the riddle’s answer
Will its grip upon you cease.
If you err in your solution,
Surrender to a wretched state—
Eternity inside this chamber
With the souls who share your fate.
Now Pamela asked the question they were all wondering. “Mr. Finley, what if you fail?”
“As the words say, I shall become captive in this chamber. But I have absolute confidence that Gabriel will do the right thing and walk out of here.” Mr. Finley gave Gabriel a long, intense stare. “Is that clear?”
Gabriel looked anguished. “Just walk out? Mom’s been stuck inside a rune for twelve years. And if you get the riddle wrong, you become a prisoner, too?”
“That’s the way it works. You see, the ancient dwarfs who built Aviopolis loved riddles,” explained Mr. Finley. “A king banished them underground—so, for one hundred years, they shared riddles to pass the time. It was just a game to them, like bowling or chess—”
“Riddles all day? For one hundred years? I would have gone bonkers,” muttered Septimus.
“Actually,” said Adam, “there are five words in Gutnish for being driven bonkers by riddles. One of them is—”
“Please, may we proceed?” said Septimus with a sigh.
Mr. Finley gave Gabriel a tight embrace. “I know you’ll do the right thing,” he repeated. Then he rolled up his sleeves. “Well, I’d better get on with it.”
“Dad, please, don’t help Corax—” Gabriel began.
“He has no choice,” interrupted Septimus. “He promised.”
Mr. Finley put his hands through the circle of flames. The fire did not burn him, but when he clasped the rune, his body went rigid. “I—I can’t move my arms or legs,” he said.
On the stone ceiling, letters appeared. They made no sense at first, but as Gabriel stared, they slowly changed into familiar words:
What gets shorter as time grows longer?
“Let me see….” Adam took a long breath as he thought. Beads of sweat began to roll down his cheeks. He offered a brief smile to Gabriel, then turned back to the rune and said, in a loud voice, “The answer is trees!”
“No!” protested Abby. “A candle gets shorter as time grows longer. Why did he say something that gets longer?”
There was a tremendous earsplitting roar in the room, and Adam vanished.
“Dad!” cried Gabriel.
A fourth stone appeared in the ring of fire. Horrified, Gabriel kneeled down and peered at a faint silhouette of a bearded man within the translucent stone.
“Dad! Can you hear me?” said Gabriel. “Please, Dad?”
The figure seemed oblivious to Gabriel’s voice.
“Oh, my God,” said Pamela.
“So much for promises,” said Septimus bitterly.
“And…such an easy question,” murmured Abby with disbelief.
It was then, however, that Gabriel realized what his father had done: he had fulfilled his promise. By deliberately giving a wrong answer, he had ensured that Corax wouldn’t be freed. And now Gabriel seized his opportunity.
He reached past the ring of blue flame and gripped his father’s rune. It was cold, colder than ice. He lost all feeling as his fingers closed tightly around it.
“Wait, what are you doing?” asked Septimus.
“He told me to do the right thing,” replied Gabriel. “So I’m doing it!”
“But that’s not Corax’s rune,” protested Septimus.
“You want to free Corax? Do it yourself,” Gabriel answered. “I’m rescuing my dad.”
“You’ll end up in another one,” Septimus warned. “Just like them. How would it be, the three of you lined up like knickknacks on a mantelpiece until kingdom come? Oh, there must be a better way!”
As Septimus complained, Pamela leaned down and peered at Corax’s stone. In the very center, the dark figure with enormous wings turned, as if aware of some sound, far away.
She peered closer. The figure moved slightly. Could he see her? Did he know she was his daughter? According to Aunt Jaz, he had no clue. Yet here, now, she felt his presence and it was growing upon her, like a creeping chill, advancing toward her heart.
Pamela shivered. Inches away, Gabriel was trying to rescue his father while she was staring at her father, with no desire to free him. Is there something wrong with me, she wondered, that I don’t feel what Gabriel feels?
Pamela felt herself slowly pulled forward. It was gentle at first, but it became stronger, a power moving her toward the silhouette, drawing her fingers into the flames, toward the stone—it was so strong she almost couldn’t resist. If her fingers were to touch the rune, she would be bound to answer a riddle. She would have to risk her freedom for the Lord of Air and Darkness.
Suddenly, however, strong hands gripped her and pulled her backward. “Careful!” Somes whispered.
Pamela sank to the ground, utterly drained. She saw Gabriel waiting for the words to form on the ceiling, his hands still tight around the rune.
“Hey, if I don’t get it right?” said Gabriel. “You guys should all just go home.”
He met their eyes, one by one.
When he looked back at the ceiling, the riddle was forming into familiar words.
What must be answered, but never asks a question?
Gabriel exhaled and repeated the riddle to himself. “Never asks a question…”
Behind him, Abby repeated the riddle to herself several times.
“A fire alarm!” shouted Gabriel.
“Wait, that doesn’t sound right,” gasped Abby. “Gabriel, oh, why didn’t you wait for me? You don’t exactly ‘answer’ a fire alarm. The right word is…a doorbell. A doorbell must be answered! They don’t ask questions.”
She was too late. There was another earsplitting roar and Gabriel disappeared.
The blue flames flickered and flared around the pedestal. Another rune appeared beside Adam’s.
Abby, Somes, and Pamela stared with horror at the silhouette inside it, for they recognized their friend, turning to survey his new prison.
“Oh, Gabriel!” Pamela cried, a tear rolling down her cheek.
“It’s a lesson for all of us to mind our own business,” said Septimus. He clapped his hands soberly. “Terrible indeed. I don’t think anyone should dare tamper with these. It’s madness.” He attempted a cheery smile. “If we hurry now, we’ll get back in time for dinner.”
“Are you nuts?” snapped Abby. “We can’t leave Gabriel’s whole family here.”
“Are you proposing that we all get snared in this monstrous nightmare?” replied Septimus. “Because I’m not—”
“There’s another problem,” interrupted Somes. He touched his ear, drawing their attention to a sound. It was distant but distinct: the cry of birds, echoing somewhere beyond the chamber, in the massive underground cavern.
“Oh, terrific.” Septimus gave a sarcastic laugh. “Valravens. They’re coming because you little monsters scared away the subterranean rock boa. We’ll never get out of here alive.”
Mopping his forehead with a handkerchief, he let out a whimper. “Do you see how foolish it was to scare away the serpent? We’re potted, planted, and pickled. They’ll snack on us as if we were bacon-wrapped figs at a smorgasbord.”
Abby glared at Septimus. “I’m not leaving without Gabriel.”
“Very well,” said Septimus. “I’m off. I’ll tell your parents that you died bravely.” He walked toward the doors, then turned his head to deliver one last remark. “It would take a century-old genius with a library of encyclopedias to answer these riddles, not some pigtailed brat.”
Abby threw her hands into the blue flames and grasped Gabriel’s stone.
“Abby!” cried Somes. “I don’t want to lose you!”
A crushed smile appeared on Abby’s face. “Oh, Somes, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said.”
She gazed back at him with sweet affection, but suddenly her bod
y went rigid. Her eyes settled on the letters appearing on the ceiling.
When does a stopped clock tell the correct time?
Think, Abby, think, she said to herself. Even a stopped clock is correct once every twelve hours. So the answer is…“Twice a day!”
The newest rock tottered on the pedestal, then went poof!, collapsing into dust. Gabriel appeared on the floor before them, looking quite stunned. “Did I get my answer right?” he asked.
“Nope,” said Somes. Then he grinned and helped Gabriel to his feet. “Luckily, Abby got you back.”
“Abby…,” said Gabriel.
But Abby reached for Adam Finley’s stone and raised her eyes to the ceiling.
The riddle was not so simple this time. As she read it, her lips moved, forming each word slowly.
What has rivers but no water,
Mountains but no rocks,
Valleys but no grass,
Islands but no sand, and
Countries, though not a soul in them.
“Rivers but no water, mountains but no rocks…” The fact that the riddle made no obvious sense seemed to please her. Her eyes widened slightly. “Interesting,” she murmured. “Sounds like a thing that represents all these places. A sketch? A photograph? No, wait, I’ve got it, the answer is a map!”
Poof! The rock collapsed. Adam Finley materialized on the floor and slowly stood up.
“Whoa!” said Somes. “Way to go, Abby!”
The triumph of answering two correct riddles had made Abby bolder, and she immediately threw her fingers around the next rune.
In what country do tall bears sleep?
“Oh, I know this one!” said a voice behind them.
Somes turned around and saw Septimus. He had been so astonished by Abby’s success that he had crept back from the doorway and was now quivering with excitement. “Really,” he insisted. “I believe I actually know this answer.”
“Quiet!” Adam snapped.
Abby bit her lip. “Well, it sounds like a pun. Probably a silly one. What’s another word for a country?” She paused, then nodded. “Of course. Bears sleep in hibernation.” Then she laughed. “Oh, it’s a really stupid pun! A country where tall bears sleep is a high bear nation!”
The sound of the next rock shattering was like a crack of thunder. It echoed through the chamber, repeating over and over, for half a minute. Like an ancient jail door releasing its longest-held prisoner, the rune made a noise like grinding iron as it dissolved into rusty powder.
A woman appeared before them, cross-legged and serene. Her short blond hair was wrapped tidily in a faded bandanna, and she was dressed in worn denim overalls and a peasant shirt. She surveyed her surroundings with gentle curiosity, and eventually settled on the faces of the children.
“Tabitha?” said Adam, kneeling beside her.
His voice made her smile, but she was puzzled. “Where am I?”
“You’re safe,” said Adam. “We’ve got you back, my love.”
“Adam?” She peered at him. “What’s happened to you?”
Adam laughed. “Oh! I’m older, that’s all. It’s been twelve years. Twelve long years.”
He beckoned to Gabriel and placed a hand upon his shoulder. “This is Gabriel, your son.”
Tabitha stared at Gabriel for a long, confused moment. The boy looked familiar because he resembled his father, but it was something else that convinced her of who he was. The earnest anticipation in his face was unmistakable—the look of a child waiting for his mother, waiting for a very long time.
“Hi,” he said.
“Gabriel,” she whispered.
As they embraced, everybody else gathered around—except Septimus, who interrupted the warm reunion by clapping his hands like a bell captain. “Ladies and gentlemen! Please? If I could have your attention, could you move aside, as I need a word with this young lady?” He stepped toward Abby. “My dear, such an impressive performance! I really am in awe of your intellect.”
“Not bad for a pigtailed brat, huh?” said Abby.
“A rash remark,” admitted Septimus. “Forgive me. Now, may I ask a small favor?”
“No, I will not bring back Corax.”
Septimus nodded respectfully. “Understood, my dear. But I miss my feathered friend here.” He gestured toward the stone containing Crawfin. “Perhaps you could bring my good raven back?”
“Well, I suppose so,” said Abby. She was feeling pretty confident now, and without thinking about the risk, she plunged her hands into the flames.
“Abby, no!” cried Somes.
“It’ll just be a sec—” she said as her body went rigid.
This time, however, the words overhead formed the hardest puzzle she had ever seen. Gabriel came forward to read it:
“My home and I are bound as one.
Never do we part.
My home it roars and crashes, but
I’m quiet (for my part).
“Some say I am the faster one
(My home moves all the same).
And when I die you can be sure
My home will still remain.
“I live my life within this home
Its qualities I cherish,
If I left it for a day,
You can be sure I’d perish.”
Abby stared at the puzzle for a long time without saying a word.
“Could it be a snail shell?” asked Somes.
“Well,” said Abby, “a snail’s shell is strong and lasts longer than the snail does. But it doesn’t roar and crash—though an empty shell can sound like the sea. And the line about being the faster one confuses me, too. The only answer I can imagine is a hermit crab’s shell, because a hermit crab can leave it, but not for very long….So that’s my answer. A hermit crab and its shell.”
“Wait!” cried Gabriel.
An earsplitting roar shook the room.
Gabriel put a hand to his head. He realized the answer too late. “It’s a fish, and its home is the sea, which roars and crashes.”
“Abby!” cried Somes.
A new stone appeared behind the blue flames. Gabriel and Somes peered at the silhouette of a girl with pigtails (and a bare patch where one was missing).
“Abby?” Gabriel whispered, but she showed no sign of hearing him.
Pamela turned fiercely to Septimus. “You and your selfishness! You should have been the one to guess that riddle. You’d better get her back!”
“I’m—I’m hopeless at riddles,” whimpered Septimus. “I can’t tell a grackle’s egg from a waffle tick.”
“Well, we have to do it,” said Gabriel. “I’m not leaving her here.”
He was about to put his hand on the stone when Somes seized him roughly and shoved him backward. “Don’t, Gabriel,” he said. “It should be me.”
“Wait,” argued Gabriel. “I’ve got the best chance of guessing the riddle.”
“But we’re all in this together, right?” said Somes. “And you’ve already been inside one of those things.” His glasses were fogging up, so he tore them from his face and rubbed them fiercely. “It’s got to be me.”
“You guys,” urged Pamela, “Septimus should be the one to put his hand on the stone.”
“P-p-put my hand on the stone?” Septimus backed away. “Oh, I couldn’t. I daren’t. What if I get stuck in a stone? I get hives in cramped places.”
“Hives? That’s what you’re worried about?” said Somes. Exasperated, he lunged forward and threw his hands into the flames. As his body stiffened, he clenched his jaw.
Gabriel spoke to him with soothing assurance. “Chill, Somes, okay? Keep a clear head.”
Pamela put a hand on Somes’s shoulder. “Noble Somes,” she added affectionately.
Somes grimly raised his eyes to the ceiling as letters formed.
My name means “friend,”
I’ll come when you call.
Take a letter from me,
And one becomes all.
A word that means friend
, thought Gabriel. Pal? Buddy? Amigo? Amicus?
“Comrade? Classmate?” said Pamela, trying to be helpful. “More than a friend, someone in hard times who will come when you call.”
“Take a letter away, and one becomes all,” murmured Somes. “Could the word have all in it? What word means ‘friend,’ and contains the word all?”
“Ball!” shouted Septimus. “Squall! Gallstone?”
“Oh, Septimus, you’re no help,” said Pamela.
“Times of trouble,” whispered Somes. “Well, in a war, you have an ally. That’s a friend. Oh! Wait a minute. If you take the ‘y’ from ally, you get all.”
Gabriel grinned. “Excellent, Somes!”
Somes took a deep breath. He swallowed and looked at his friend’s silhouette. Abby, he thought, I’m sorry for every dumb thing I ever said to you. And I hope this works. Then he peered up at the words on the ceiling and said, “The answer is ally!”
There was a poof and the stone collapsed in a pile of dust.
Abby appeared in front of the pedestal. She looked up anxiously. “Has it been a hundred years?”
“More like a hundred seconds!” Somes said, laughing, as he helped her up.
“Welcome back, my dear,” said Septimus. “That was an unexpected mishap, eh? I’m sure you’d like to give it another try? Hmm? One last little riddle?”
Adam Finley blocked the pedestal.
“That’s enough, Septimus,” he said.
The faint shriek of valravens echoed from the chamber doorway and stirred everybody to get going.
Septimus kneeled hastily by the rune containing his raven, Crawfin. The old man’s face became full of regret.
“I miss you, old friend,” he whispered, his lips trembling. “But I’m a milksop, a feeble, custardy coward.” Then he turned to the stone containing Corax’s shifting silhouette, and his expression hardened into disgust. “Another time, Your Eminence.”
When they were out of earshot of Septimus, Gabriel whispered to Mr. Finley, “Dad? Did you really mean to get that riddle wrong?”
“I certainly did,” said Mr. Finley. “I wouldn’t bring Corax back for anything.”
“But that means you knew I would—”
“I knew you would do the right thing,” said Mr. Finley. “And do it better than I could.”
