The Riddle (Keepers of the Key Book 1)

by L. M. Abbott

  “You’ve got to get away from here,” Cailean said, her eyes shifting around the field. The trees were like giants, bowing and waving to each other, the grass long thin ropes rippling in the breeze. Calm down, she thought. This isn’t the time for your imagination to take control. Moonlight came and went as clouds drifted over it. Nothing unusual in sight, she hurried to the ponies. “Let’s go.” She returned the bolt cutters to the nap sack. Only then did she notice Josh’s name on the strap.

  She went to the gate, and finding it nailed shut, led the ponies to the part of the fence where the pickets were the least high. Each pony sailed over, hind legs inches away from the sharp tips.

  “How did you manage to do that so easily? Cailean said. “I forgot. You’ve done this plenty of times before.” The ponies remained by the fence while she climbed over with the same careful precaution as before. An owl hooted in the distance. The sound was pleasant, distracting, then it was quiet. Cailean stood between the two ponies and smoothed down the mane of each one. “I hope to see you again,” she said and adjusted the nap sack to a more comfortable position on her back. “Good luck.”

  They snorted, a strong rumbling noise. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were angry with me.” She tried to lead the Grey towards the forest, without success. “What’s wrong with you two? I can’t stay here all night.” Cailean took sugar cubes from her pocket. The treat extended to the ponies, she backed towards the forest. “Come snack on the tastiest sugar in Loon Cove.”

  The Brown bobbed its head up and down, advancing towards her at a slow trot. “That a boy.” To her surprise, he trotted past her. The other one stood still watching her, ears twitching.

  “Can’t you see I’m trying to help.” Cailean held the sugar cubes against the pony’s nostrils. “Doesn’t it smell scrumptious?” The Grey made a sound like trying to blow through closed lips. Cailean felt a nudge in the small of her spine. Her heart drummed. Had she been found out? A gust of wind swept through the trees. A dog yelped... or was it a starved coyote prowling, biding its time before the attack. What if there were more than one? Even a Newfoundland Pony wasn’t safe. Stop overreacting, her brain ordered. Something wet and hot nibbled at her ear. From the corner of her eye she saw the assailant. “What do you want from me?” The Brown gave her another gentle prod to the right. The Grey headed in the same direction.

  “You want me to follow you?” Cailean said. “Oh well. That’s no more far fetched than anything else that’s happened the last few days.” A crow cawed in the distance. Another squawk, shriller, closer. Although she didn’t understand how she knew, Cailean was sure the second cry was from a raven.

  The three figures moved across the field. Cailean’s mouth was dry from the cold air, the weight of the sack hurting her shoulders. The soft gurgle of water told her they had came to a shallow stream. The Brown splashed across, the Grey galloped off into the forest. Cailean skipped over the four large stones sticking out of the water. The Brown trotted to the left with Cailean close by wondering if she was in bed dreaming all this. The Brown went behind a clump of silver birch trees. Cailean knew what was on the other side, had been there before. The smell of freshly turned earth assaulted her senses. The clip, clip of hooves vibrated into the night as the Brown returned. He nabbed the sleeve of Cailean’s jacket with its teeth.

  She tried to pull free, but the teeth held. “I don’t want to go in there.” Another tug on her jacket. “I’m coming, but this better be important.” Her nails bit into the palms of her hands as she slowly walked around the silver birch trees.

  Five rows of white headstones, all different sizes and shapes rose up like hovering ghosts. The wrought iron gate enclosing the cemetery reminded her of swords. Loon Cove Cemetery was the last place on earth she wanted to be. The pony went through the archway with the numbers 1800 interwoven into the black iron. The year the cemetery came into existence.

  Lightening flashed in the distance, thunder pounded along the hills. Her eardrums pulsated with the deafening booms as she moved among the graves, some garnished with fresh flowers, others sporting wilting or dead ones. The aroma of newly cut grass helped to dull the throb of the unknown wrenching at her insides. They approached a recently dug grave, barely six months old. Her mother’s final resting place. A small part of Cailean wanted to run but her feet wouldn’t obey. “Why did you bring me here?” she yapped at the pony. It looked at her, the eyes watery, as if apologizing for causing her sadness before going to the very last grave in the fifth row.

  Most of the other head stones were rounded at the top, this one was squared. Cracks ran from top to bottom and side to side in a circular fashion like a spider’s web. The inscription had dulled to grey, the original bold black print visible in the occasional letter. Cailean knelt to get a better look. “Convel Lyall,” she read. “1900-1945. That was my great-grandfather.” She glared at the pony. “What am I supposed to do now?” She sank back on her heels. “What do you want from me?”

  The pony pawed at the back of the headstone. Despite feeling rather idiotic about obeying the whims of the pony she took a look. A verse was etched into the centre of the stone in bright greenish-yellow letters untouched by time or weather. “Why’s it so special?”

  The pony nudged her head closer to the tomb.

  “Okay. Okay. I’ll read the stupid thing.”

  “The horn has grown

  The Blue then Yellow

  Will put Pen to Tesello

  Wipe away Tears of the Weeping Widows

  Follow the Secret It Hides

  Cailean read a second and third time. “It doesn’t make any sense to me. Pen? The blue then yellow will put Pen to Tesello. How am I supposed to know what that means and who are the weeping widows?” She turned to the pony and found herself alone. “Where are you?” She scanned the graveyard, the green haze honing in on black flies alighting the tops of several headstones. Only her foot prints showed in the dry clay. Cailean groped in the nap sack for a pencil and paper. Both items protruded from a side pocket. “I can always depend on you, Josh.”

  She scribbled down the verse in haste and headed home. Hunger pangs drove her to the kitchen for left over hamburger meat. Barlo raised his head from under the table. She stroked his fur. “It’s only me, Fella.” He licked her hand and went back to sleep. The bolt cutters returned to the workshop, she climbed up the stairs. Just past her father’s room, the floor squeaked.

  “Cailean, what are you doing up so late?”

  She crept to the side of his room so he couldn’t see she wasn’t in her pyjamas and poked her head in the doorway. “I was hungry.”

  “I’ll fix you a sandwich.”

  “I already ate, Dad.”

  Safely in her room, Cailean conversed with the Scottish doll. “Fergus, Number ten on my list of strange occurrences happened tonight.” The doll updated, she undressed and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

  The next morning after breakfast, she sat at her desk going over the verse trying to decipher the riddle.

  “A turnip for your thoughts,” Gramps said.

  Cailean smiled. She loved the way her grandfather put a spin on familiar expressions to make them his own. “I visited the cemetery yesterday. How did my great-grandfather Lyall die?”

  “He’d come down with pneumonia after falling through the ice on Loon Pond. There weren’t all kinds of antibiotics like there are today.”

  Cailean showed him the verse. “That’s written on his headstone. Do you know what it means?”

  “Convel was on his death bed when he called for my father, who was his best friend by the way, and made him promise to have those words engraved on his headstone.” Gramps gave the paper back to Cailean. “It’s from a children’s tale his mother made up as a bed time story.”

  The front door closed with a bang. Gramps whistled softly. “I’d say Seamus has arrived.”

  “Anybody home?” Seamus’s voice rocked the house.

  “Stop shouting,” Josh hi
ssed. “Mr. Wadly and Cailean aren’t deaf.”

  “Those lads,” Gramps said with a shake of the head, “never quit quibbling, I’ll send them up.”

  Josh came into the room first, wheezing and hunkered down into the wicker chair. “Someone broke into the pen during the night and freed the ponies.”

  Seamus shot hoops at the net tacked to the wall. “Wish I’d thought of it.”

  Josh let out his breath in exasperation. “Then you’d be in all kinds of trouble.”

  “Only if they found out I did it.”

  Josh regarded Cailean intently. “Hold on. Why aren’t you surprised?” She pretended to look innocent. Josh’s mouth opened wide enough to see his tonsils. “It was you!”

  “Super,” Seamus whooped. The basketball plunged through the net and struck the floor with a hollow bonk. The framed drawing of the Railway Rocks shifted a notch.

  “But you’re afraid of the dark.” Josh said. “Especially outside all alone at night.”

  “Not any more.” Cailean related the graveyard incident. “Yes, it is weird,” she ended before either boy could say it.

  “You can say that again,” Seamus said.

  Cailean reached for the scrap of paper on the desk. “This verse must be important.” The basketball hitting the floor in rapid succession pounded in her ears. “Seamus, you’re going to break my mother’s map.” He held the ball in the crook of his arm and dangled his feet over the side of the bed.

  Josh crinkled his nose. “What could the verse have to do with anything?”

  Cailean grabbed his sketch book and opened it to the picture of the creature she dreamed about. “How were you able to draw this? Don’t say it was a simple coincidence.” She hopped her chair closer to him. “Read the verse.” She threw the paper in his lap. “Don’t you think it’s odd that it talks about a pen when deeds are signed with a pen?”

  “Just a minute,” Josh said. “You think this will lead you to the deed because it mentions a pen? Mr. Lyall died more than seventy years ago.”

  “Are you going to help or not?”

  “Okay,” Josh said. “We’ll go through the verse line by line.”

  Seamus gave him the thumbs up. “You’ll figure it out.”

  “‘The horn has grown.’ Caribou, moose and deer are the only animals around here who have horns.”

  “Wait a second,” Cailean said. “I saw something a little......well, unexpected outside my window. The brown pony transformed into a unicorn with wings.”

  “You crack me up,” Seamus said and roared so hard he dropped the basketball.

  Josh’s gaze lingered on Cailean.

  “The words aren’t written on my face.”

  Josh’s gaze flew back to the paper. “‘The blue then yellow will put pen to tesella.’ I can’t think of anything that’s blue first then yellow.”

  Seamus’s eyes glowed brighter than a bon fire. “Steve’s face when it’s all nice and bruised.”

  Josh gave Seamus a look of disapproval. “And I have no idea what a Tesella is.” He read on. “‘Wipe away tears of the weeping widows. Follow the secret it hides’”

  Seamus spun the basketball on his finger. “This is a waste of time. Those are a babble of dumb words that don’t make any sense.”

  “Always the pessimist,” Josh said.

  Seamus readied the ball to throw at him. “Are you making fun of me?”

  “No. A pessimist is someone who always thinks the worst.”

  Cailean’s father appeared with a tray topped with three mugs of hot chocolate and a plate loaded down with homemade raisin cookies. “Gramps told me you were here and I thought a snack would help your little grey cells. Enjoy.”

  “Grey cells,” Josh said when they were alone. “Cailean, it’s not hard to figure out your father is a fan of Hercule Poirot.”

  Seamus strutted around the room like a penguin. “You mean the silly little Belgian detective with the weird mustache who walks funny you’re always reading?”

  Josh crammed a full cookie into his mouth. A raisin spilled onto his chin. “Pay no heed to him, Cailean. Now please explain how you propose we go about solving the riddle.”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” Her father’s voice was sharp, curt.

  The children stared at him. They’d never seen him angry.

  chapter 7

  Cailean’s head hung over the mug of hot chocolate she clasped in both hands. “Sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to make you angry.” Seamus and Josh stared at their feet.

  “I’m not angry with you. It’s just that a graveyard’s not a proper place to play in. Your mother took a picture of that verse the day before the accident. Now you’re interested in it.” Her father came further into the room. “School starts in a few days. You should all concentrate on that.”

  “I can’t wait, Mr. Wadly,” Josh said. “New assignments, projects and homework make the year so challenging.”

  Seamus snatched a cookie from the tray and bit off a chunk. Several crumbs sprayed down the front of his t-shirt. “School is stupid.”

  Cailean chanced a glance at her father. “I thought maybe the inscription might hold a clue to finding my deed.”

  “Enough nonsense about a nonexistent deed,” he yelled.

  Josh jumped. Hot chocolate spilled onto his jeans.

  “There isn’t a deed, Cailean, for the simple reason the land doesn’t belong to your mother. She wouldn’t want you getting upset over this.”

  Seamus raised only his eyes to Cailean’s father. “Mr. Wadly, my parents aren’t happy about Mr. Murphy’s plans either.”

  Josh spoke to the floor. “My dad thinks it’s dreadful the Railways Rocks will be blasted away.”

  “Enjoy the few days left of your summer vacation.” Cailean’s father snatched the paper from Josh, scrunched it into a miniature ball and threw it in the waste basket. “I’m doing this for your own good.”

  “Whoa,” Josh said to the sound of retreating footsteps. “We’d better forget about the riddle or else.”

  Cailean shut her bedroom door and fished the verse out of the basket. “Not on your life. This might be the only way to find my deed.”

  Josh pulled a tissue out of his pocket and dabbed at the chocolate stain on his jeans. “Your father’s really angry. We can’t disobey him.”

  “Mom wouldn’t want me to give up.” Cailean smoothed out the wrinkled paper and read each sentence out loud, taking time after each one in an effort to make sense of the words.

  Josh kept glancing at the door. “Your father won’t be happy.”

  Seamus dribbled the basketball. The rapid bonk, bonk boomed louder and louder inside Cailean’s head. The walls seemed to shake with every smack against the floor. “Did you fill that ball with water?” she asked. “It’s making a lot more noise than usual.”

  “Why would anyone do a dumb thing like that?”

  “‘The horn has grown.’” Cailean repeated the line as her eyes wandered to the window.

  Josh followed her gaze. “Let’s think about this logically,” he said. “In the dark you could confuse a moose for a Newfoundland pony.”

  “I’m positive I saw...” Forget it, an inner voice said. You don’t really believe in a flying pony yourself. “There must be widows in Loon Cove,” Cailean said instead.

  “Mellie’s one,” Josh said. “And my grandmother Kenny. They’re not weeping like in the riddle though.”

  Seamus threw the basketball to a corner. “All this thinking is making my head hurt. Why not go see what’s happening in Murphy’s Field.”

  Cailean took the book about Newfoundland Ponies from the night table and plunked down on the bed. “You two go. I’m gonna read for awhile.” She thought she saw a glimmer of concern in Josh’s eyes. It was gone before she could be sure. She waited until her friends were away from the house and hurried downstairs making for the back door. As she approached the workroom she noticed her father searching the shelves.

  “Cailean, have y
ou seem my flashlight?”

  She’d forgotten she’d left it in Murphy’s Field. “No, Dad.” The lie stuck in her throat. The truth would stick even more. “Maybe Gramps has it.” She shot out the backdoor with Barlo in tow.

  The clearing outside the cave loomed through the trees. Cailean’s heart thumped. An howl hooted, a crow cawed, insects buzzed, each sound amplified, heightening her senses. Child and dog covered the short distance to the clearing, Barlo’s long white fur rippling like tall grass with each stride. Without hesitation, Cailean stepped inside leaving him guarding the entrance.

  The green mist appeared, illuminating a clear passageway to the pool. The skin on the back of her neck tingled in anticipation. This time she was ready for whatever awaited her. The blue light washed over her like a cold draft. Water ran down the wall into the pool, barely disturbing the smooth surface. Cailean listened for the voice.

  She studied the ceiling and walls for any sort of mechanism which could account for the light and saw a large flat stone by the waterfall. Why hadn’t she noticed it before? The top was riddled with scratches and grooves like someone had chipped away at it. In the centre, four small irregular indentations formed a diamond pattern with a thin groove linking each one. Cailean lightly brushed the rock and the bracelet glided along it, producing a melody similar to silver chimes.

  Something about the pattern looked familiar, and then she saw it. The holes were shaped like the stones on her bracelet! She pulled it off and placed the first stone in a hole. A perfect match. She couldn’t believe it and fitted in the second stone. Another perfect match. Her breath quickened. She dropped in the third. Her heart raced. “Now for the last stone.” It fitted in as snug as the others. The bracelet lay encased in the stone as neatly and smoothly as a thousand-year old fossil.

  The pool bubbled and steam rolled towards Cailean, surrounding her. A wave of dizziness overcame her, the walls blurred into each other. “Barlo, help!” The words sounded after her mouth closed, like a time delayed reaction. Her feet lifted off the ground, her arms too heavy to move. Below her, the water swirled downward like a tornado.