The Riddle and the Rune

by Grace Chetwin

Another minute and he’d not be able to move. Remembering his vision, how the rune had brought warmth and life back into him on the plain, Gom squeezed the stone tight.

  Mother! he called. Help me!

  A faint itch in his palm, gentle as the tickle from a hen’s feather, grew into a warm tingling, which spread up his arm and outward. Healing, liberating warmth flowed through him, until at last he could move. His shoulder began to hurt, and some of the old bruises, too, from his fall down the Bluff.

  The rune was alive again, had answered his need. He let it go and rubbed his aching body.

  Then straightening up as much as he could, he pressed both hands against the monster’s tail tip, and with great effort heaved it aside. He leaned against the cold dark coils for a minute until his strength came back, then he climbed up and out of his refuge.

  The cavern was also cold—but not quite dark. From above the grotto arch came a dull red light quite unlike the warm glow of the monster’s scales. Wonder what that is, Gom thought, not fancying the looks of it. He’d maybe investigate—after he’d seen to the monster.

  “Hello,” he called softly.

  There was no reply.

  He put his hand to a coil and patted it.

  The monster still didn’t respond.

  In his spite, had Katak killed the creature? Gom slapped the monster’s tail harder. It not only felt cold, but different. Like—he could scarce bear to think of it. The night Stig died, Gom had woken up to find him still sitting in his chair by the hearth. At first he’d thought

  his father to be sleeping merely, but when he'd touched his father’s body, this was how it had felt. Cold. Dead. With nothing inside.

  Gom pulled his thoughts back to the present. If the monster were not actually dead, it was as good as, and totally under Katak’s power. It might have saved itself by giving Gom away, but instead it had gone down protecting him. Even so, Gom had fallen under Katak’s spell and would be still were it not for the rune.

  The rune!

  It had brought Gom back to life. Could it help the monster, too?

  He took off the stone and pressed it to the lifeless tail.

  After a minute, Gom thought he felt a faint trembling against his hand, then nothing. The pile of coils was still dark and cold.

  Mother, hear me! This poor unfortunate beast tried to save me from Katak. Please, please help me to save it in return! Gom cried silently, and willed with all his might for the rune to respond.

  Suddenly, the monster’s tail tip flickered with a faint, uncertain light.

  Encouraged, Gom intensified his efforts. “There,” he murmured, stroking the rune against the rough scales. The light increased steadily, up and around the coils. “Feel the good warmth chasing out the cold. In a minute, you’ll be moving that tail of yours—see? Didn’t I say so? he cried, as all at once, the blunt tip began to wave to and fro.

  Gom sighed with satisfaction. “Take good breaths,” he said. “One, two, three, that’s right. Now. How do you feel?”

  The monster shuddered, then heaved a deep sigh.

  “Is I from deathsleep loosed?” It sounded puzzled.

  Deathsleep? Gom slipped the rune back around his neck.

  “Say what be is,” came the muffled demand. “Say what stronger than Katak be is.”

  Gom shifted uncomfortably. The monster clearly thought that he’d brought it back to life. Perhaps simple honesty was the best policy.

  “I’m human,” he said. “A human traveler.”

  “Human? Human, you say?” The monster’s voice came with great force, its tones rich and sonorous as ever. But, to Gom’s astonishment, the clumsy hybrid language was gone, replaced by Gom’s own tongue.

  Gom stood astonished. All those languages he’d had to learn of other creatures. For the first time, one addressed him in his own.

  “How do you know the human tongue?” Why didn’t the monster turn around? Gom wondered. Was it simply stuck?

  “I was taught it long ago by one of your kind.” The monster sighed into the grotto’s back wall. “I promised not to tell the name, but I’ll go so far as to say it was someone great and powerful, like you who overcame Katak’s deathspell.”

  “Who is this Katak?”

  The very mention of the name seemed to turn the monster once more into stone. When answer came at last, it was so low that Gom could scarce hear it.

  “Katak in my tongue means evil one. He has come like a blight upon this world, and if unchecked, he’ll work its destruction. He wants power, I’ve heard him talk. Power over those who rule the people, to bend them to his will. That I know. But to what purpose, I don’t know. Nor what he is, nor where he comes from, either. All I’ve seen of him is that skull: he’s not human, certainly.”

  “What’s he doing down here? And you, too, for that matter?”

  “I might ask you that, young human. What is this stone that he accused me of taking, me who can’t stir from this grotto and he knows it?”

  “The stone belongs to—me. He stole it—or rather had it stolen. I came to get it back. I’m so sorry,” he added, “that you got the blame. If there’s anything I can do—”

  “There certainly is,” the monster cried. “You must release me from this place. Quick, for I need water urgently.”

  “Release you?” If the monster was wedged in that place, Gom was surely not strong enough to pull him free. “Can’t you wriggle your way out?”

  “I wish it were that simple,” the monster replied sadly. “Katak has shut me in here with a sealstone. But your magic could undo its power.”

  “Magic? I have no magic,” Gom said. “I’m just a boy.” “No magic? And you roused me from Katak’s deathsleep? Come!”

  Gom thought fast. The monster clearly had expectations of him now. He patted the great tail absently, withdrew his hand smartly, rubbing his fingertips. The monster’s scales had certainly grown very warm. And brighter than when Gom had first come into the cavern.

  “I tell you, I have no magic,” he insisted.

  The monster cried out in anguish. “Then why did you wake me? You must put me to sleep again at once!”

  “Put you to sleep again?” There’s gratitude for you! Gom thought. “Whatever for?”

  “Can’t you see? At any moment, this place will fill with fire!”

  Gom looked around. The walls ran wet, and the center of the cavern floor was dotted with puddles from the stream’s upheavals.

  “I am Ganash of the kundalara,” the monster said.

  “Kunda-what?”

  “Serpents of the sea. If I don't reach water very soon, kundalara becomes mangatla-aczai: fire-breather, treasure-hoarder, man-slayer—dragon! Unlock the seal-spell! Hurry!” The monster’s voice rose.

  “Seal-spell?”

  “By its magic none can pass in nor out of this place! See: my tail was outside when Katak set the seal-spell and there it stays while the rest of me—oh!” The monster broke off in terror. “The heat flowers within me! Go!”

  Gom could see nothing but the monster’s own bulk jamming him in. He reached out to feel the magic barrier but had to draw back from the heat. Ganash’s scales, fairly blazing now, gave off a stench of rotten eggs that caught at Gom’s throat and stung his eyes.

  “Ganash,” he called urgently. “Where is this seal-stone?”

  Silence, then Ganash’s voice came as from far away. “Red be is, and upsssssss...” The voice trailed off.

  Red? Gom suddenly remembered the faint red light he’d seen above Ganash in the dark after Katak’s visit. That must be it!

  Gom sprang for the wall and climbed. There, at the top of the arch, tight as a spider in its crack, was lodged what looked like a sliver of red glass, its shine dulled by the brilliance of Ganash’s glow. Now what? It seemed a simple matter to reach in and dislodge it. He stuck in a fingernail.

  There was a bright flash, and Gom cried out, almost falling at the burst of pain in his hand.

  Ganash moaned, a mixture of
agony and grief, and a thin wisp of yellow smoke trailed up from the grotto.

  Gom eyed the sealstone anxiously. What could he do to break its spell?

  Why, nothing—but the rune might!

  He took it off and slid it into the crack. “Break the sealstone’s spell,” he muttered urgently. “Break the seal-spell and release Ganash!”

  Concentrating all his energy upon the rune, he touched stone to stone.

  A second flash, more brilliant this time. Gom squeezed his eyes shut against the flare, expecting more pain, but none came.

  He opened his eyes.

  The sealstone lay dark in its niche, its light extinguished. The grotto was open. Now Ganash could squeeze his way out!

  “Ganash! Quick! Get out of there!” he called, but the kundalara appeared not to hear him.

  Gom scrambled down the wall. Oh, the pity of it! The way was clear at last, but too late to save Ganash. Gom reached out to nudge the beast, and pulled back sharply. The scales were now too hot to touch.

  “Ganash!”

  The beast didn’t move.

  Gom leaned his forehead against the cavern wall. Ganash would never get away from Katak’s evil spells now. Wouldn’t even want to change back, once he’d ignited, Gom thought grimly. The gentle kundalara would be gone forever. In deep despair, Gom swung the rune, hitting Ganash. A shudder went through the giant back. Then another, and another.

  With a rumbling that shook the cavern floor, Ganash burst backward from the little grotto. Gom had a quick glimpse of big body, long neck and small head, then the kundalara turned about and lumbered forward to the stream.

  Blue sparks spat and heat like lightning shimmered over the shining scales as, with a roar, Ganash reached the water’s edge. With a loud hissing and clouds of steam, Ganash toppled in. The glare faded from the bright body, wavered, and went out, leaving the cavern in total darkness.

  The hissing flared, then died.

  A few moments later, Ganash’s shape pulsed with faint, uncertain light. Not the hot coppery glow of before, but a green-blue luminescence, as of a glow-worm’s tail.

  The light grew brighter, steadier, filling the cavern with cool radiance.

  Gom stirred. "Ganash?”

  The kundalara didn’t move.

  Gom crept over to see.

  The monster’s eyes were closed.

  Ganash was even more huge than Gom had thought. Almost as big as Stig’s hut. His serpentine neck, thick at the shoulders, tapered to a small horselike head, flanked by pointed ears, crowned with a pair of horns that ended in small round knobs.

  The belly was large, and round, and covered in smaller, paler scales than the rest of him. The forearms were short and shaped almost like a human’s. The hindquarters were immense and looked very, very strong.

  Gom sneezed, and wiped his eyes. The smoke and the reeking stench were clearing, carried off by gentle drafts blowing through the cavern.

  “Ganash?”

  Ganash opened one large green eye and looked up.

  With a sudden swoosh of water that knocked Gom off his feet, the kundalara surged from the stream to tower over him, scales glistening, all hint of fire gone.

  As Gom lay there on his back, water running from him, the huge beast leaned down his long neck and peered closely into Gom’s face.

  “Harga?” he said.

  Chapter Eleven

  HARGA? Gom scrambled to his feet. Ganash knew Harga? And thought himself to be looking at her! Why, thought Gom, I must really be like her, just as Stig had always said.

  “Harga!” Ganash cried—this time in a voice none too friendly. His great tail rose from the cavern floor, lashing slowly from side to side.

  Gom drew back. “I’m not Harga,” he said. “I’m her son.”

  Ganash’s nostrils flared, his green eyes blazed. “None of your old tricks!” he roared angrily. “Oh, how could you be so cruel, pretending that you couldn’t help me, and I in terror for my life? I declare, your humor has grown too strong, even for me!”

  “Won’t you listen?” Gom cried. “Ganash: I—am— Harga’s—son!”

  “Son?” Ganash leaned closer until Gom could smell the sweet watery smell of his breath, could see the wet spiky lashes rimming the luminous green eyes. “Son, you say?” For a moment, he looked uncertain. Then the anger was back. “No! No mere boy could do what you did today, not even Harga’s son.”

  “Quite right,” Gom agreed, his eyes on the sharp claws starting from Ganash’s outspread hands. “I didn’t break the deathsleep, or the sealstone’s spell. This did.” He held up the rune by its thong.

  "Ah!” Ganash exclaimed, but he made no effort to touch it. Instead, he put his face close to it, waving his head to and fro on the end of his snakelike neck. Then, to Gom’s astonishment, he laughed. “I do believe,” he cried, “it’s the very stone I gave Harga from my treasury, as a parting gift for teaching me to speak the human tongue. For her wizard’s stone, she said, she being new to the calling. It was so many years ago, and she a tiny young thing, just like you now. Amphory, they call it. She chose it above my finest diamonds and emeralds and rubies.” Ganash turned and waved a hand back to the shining stones piled outside the cave mouth.

  Gom stared in surprise. Those stones belonged to Ganash?

  “Amphory is so rare that few ordinary folk have even heard of it. Nor would they want it if they had, it being so plain, so Harga said. And yet there are those, she told me, who’d kill for it. ‘The quintessential wizard’s stone, ’ she called it. I certainly never thought to see it again. Yet here it is—” He broke off in alarm. “Harga’s not come to grief?”

  "Oh, no,” Gom said. "At least I hope not. I haven’t met her yet, you see. She left me and my father the day I was born—and this rune on top of my blanket. For me to mind for her, as Father used to say. Now he’s dead, and here I am, taking it to her.” Gom eyed the stone. “All the years I’ve worn this, I’ve seen scarcely any magic, until this day.”

  How strange and wonderful, thought Gom. This gift to Harga from Ganash, returning to save its giver.

  “Mmmm.” Ganash bent closer, his nose practically on the tiny thing. “It’s much changed. She has shaped the stone into her own sign, and wrought many wondrous spells within it.” He held a hand out.

  After a second’s hesitation, Gom let the rune settle onto the radiant palm, while still keeping hold of the thong.

  Ganash studied it intently, then looked up again.

  “So, Gom—Gobblechuck, is it? You’re Harga’s son. Why would she leave this treasure with you, an untried boy?”

  Untried boy, indeed! “One who,” Gom retorted, “nevertheless pulled you from the deathsleep and the grotto.”

  “Quite so,” Ganash murmured, “but as you yourself have admitted, only with this.”

  With a swiftness that belied his clumsy bulk, the kundalara swept the thong from Gom’s grasp and dangled the rune out of his reach.

  Gom’s mouth fell open, but Ganash, laughing, only slipped the little stone back around Gom’s neck. “Fear not, young one. Harga’s son won’t come to grief by my hand. I’m doubly glad that I harbored you today. And I admit: your wit is worthy of your dam. You’re looking for Harga, you say? You’ll not find her here.”

  Gom told Ganash how Zamul had stolen the rune for Katak. How Gom had followed the man down into that cavern. “And here I came thinking to find conjuror and skull. I never expected to find the likes of you. You say Katak has imprisoned you here. Why?”

  The monster glanced back to the pile of gemstones lying beside the little cave mouth.

  “He is stealing my—modest—treasure trove, and would have me guard it for him. That is why he was forcing me to ignite.”

  "Forcing you to ignite?” Gom frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Once I became mangatla-aczai again, I would be a perfect watch worm—dragon, you know? Once rumor of me got around, not a body in the whole world would come near looking for the treasure.”


  “But if he wanted you to ignite, why freeze you with the deathsleep?”

  “I don’t know,” Ganash said. “I only know he was more angry than I’ve ever seen him. Maybe he thinks I did manage to take the stone somehow.”

  Gom paused to consider. If, as Ganash said, Katak sought to gain power over those who ruled Ulm, Gom could well understand the efforts to possess Harga’s rune. But not the need for Ganash’s hoard.

  “If Katak is after magic, why does he want your treasure?”

  “Because—” Ganash hesitated. “From precious gold and silver and priceless gemstones is much magic made,” he said at last, his voice low.

  Gom nodded. So that was it. “Where is Katak now? And Zamul?”

  “Katak has gone back to my home farther down the sound, to haul out more of my treasure. And the lackey brings it here, armful by armful on a raft that they keep on the island’s far shore. I wondered where that one had gone these past weeks, and now I know that he’d gone to steal the rune from you. I heard him return earlier, though I couldn’t see him. And I heard him place something on the treasure pile—the rune, of course—then go to find Katak. A mistake, I think, for which he’ll dearly pay.” Ganash smiled maliciously.

  Gom nodded, recalling his thought that Zamul might get more than he bargained for.

  The monster was no longer smiling. “Katak will be back soon with his slave to look for the rune. What are we going to do?”

  What indeed? Gom considered. There was no point in running.

  “We’re going put a stop to Katak once and for all,” he declared.

  Ganash’s head came up. “Oh? How?”

  “That’s the catch,” Gom replied. “But I do have the germ of an idea. Tell me: when Katak and Zamul come back, they’ll be expecting to find you still in your deathsleep, won’t they?”

  “That’s right,” Ganash said.

  “Which means no smell, no smoke, and no light.”

  “Ye-es.”

  “What if Katak were to find the cavern full of smoke?” Ganash considered. “He might think I’d somehow warmed up through his deathsleep. He’d certainly be confused.”

  “Enough to go into the cave to investigate?” “Perhaps. But the sealstone’s spell is broken, too. That would surely seem very strange and suspicious to him. Why?”