Gabriel Finley and the Raven’s Riddle Read online

  Somes wouldn’t tell him, would he? said Gabriel.

  I think he would, said Paladin.

  We’ve got to get through these shutters!

  And then? replied Paladin. There are valravens everywhere.

  Indeed, valravens stood sentry at every window.

  Too frustrated to keep still, Gabriel shifted his position, wedging his heels against the slats, trying to shatter them with a swift, well-placed kick, but they were solid as could be.

  “Tell me more, Somes,” continued Corax, his voice smooth and seductive.

  “Somes, please. Don’t,” begged Pamela.

  “I know how to do it,” said Somes. “I heard how from Gabriel’s father. But I’ll need the torc and staff to show you.”

  “Very good,” said Corax, and he raised one of his taloned hands in a signal. Immediately, two valravens fluttered toward him carrying the staff with the torc wrapped around it.

  “Oh, no …,” murmured Pamela.

  Corax turned the staff in his scaly talons, perplexed by the torc’s dull appearance. Then, with a cautious glance, he held it out to Somes.

  “Proceed.”

  As Somes’s fingers touched the staff, a delicious warmth trickled through them, then up his arm, all the way into his heart. It reminded him of swallowing a steamy barley soup on a bitterly cold day. Warmth, comfort, and sustenance. His aching limbs, his bruises and cuts—they all stopped hurting. He closed his eyes.

  “Somes?” said Corax. “I’m waiting.”

  Somes opened his eyes and stood up from the chair. “Okay,” he said. “Like I said, it requires a blood sacrifice from …”

  He raised the staff at the valravens guarding the windows.

  Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! In a blue flash, each bird exploded in a burst of tattered feathers.

  “Before you call yourself a hero, I should remind you that I have thousands more where those came from!” hissed Corax.

  Somes swung the staff toward Corax, his eyes bright with rebellion. “I wonder what this might do to the biggest valraven in the room!” he said. “What do you say we give it a try? You promise all these things, but none of it is real. I can see it in your face. You’re a liar. Nothing in you cares about anything but yourself! And you’re dumb. I can’t believe you just handed me the torc and the staff!”

  “You pathetic child,” growled Corax, and in a flash, he seized the free end of the staff with his talons.

  All the self-assurance Somes felt seemed to drain at Corax’s touch. The demon’s eyes were fixed on him, his yellow irises glowing brightly. “You’re the idiot,” he said. “You haven’t the intelligence to defy me. It’s just as well that I have you here; you and your friends will serve as a fine meal for many valravens to come!”

  As Corax scolded him, Somes wilted. He felt his fingers releasing the staff, even as he struggled to hold on to it.

  “Don’t give in to him, Somes!” Abby cried, grabbing the staff to help.

  At that very moment, there was a great crash at one of the shutters as Gabriel finally kicked his way in. He stumbled from the window into the chamber.

  The demon spread his wings and wrenched the staff away.

  “Stop!” Gabriel cried, and reached out.

  The staff left Corax’s talons with tremendous force and flew obediently into Gabriel’s hands. He trained the staff on Corax while he checked on his friends.

  “You guys okay? Abby? Pamela? Somes, you were brilliant!” said Gabriel. “You did exactly the right thing.”

  “Well, it’s my dear nephew again,” said Corax, rubbing his stunned claws. “Such perfect timing. You have no idea what a marvelous gift you hold in your hand. Allow me to—”

  “Oh, I know how marvelous it is,” Gabriel answered. “To thee I say, resist its lure, devised in evil plot. Around the staff this torc must stay, its wickedness forgot!”

  “Your father has probably told you all kinds of terrible things,” Corax said contemptuously. “I’m sure you haven’t dared even one little wish! I can show you its virtues.”

  “You don’t need to swallow poison to know it’s bad!” snapped Abby.

  Ignoring Abby’s remark, the demon whispered to Gabriel, “Let me show you how amazing—”

  Corax’s tone was so creepy and probing that Gabriel felt compelled to interrupt, just to stop him from talking. “I have a wish of my own to make,” Gabriel replied. “I wish that the citadel may never lock another prisoner within its walls!”

  Gabriel felt scared the moment he finished speaking, for the necklace suddenly flashed brightly upon the staff. Then a distant rumble echoed from below. He and his friends peered through the window of the chamber and saw the citadel, way down in the abyss, glowing from thousands of tiny windows. The bridge was bare now. The prisoners had crossed.

  “They’re all free,” Pamela whispered to Abby.

  A loud thunderclap emanated from the bridge.

  “Oh, look!” cried Abby, pointing.

  A thin line widened in the very center of the bridge, becoming a large crack, and then a piece dropped into the abyss. More sections began falling, one after another, until the entire bridge had vanished. Now that the great citadel was untethered, it moved slightly, as a ship might drift gently from its moorings. A terrible sound, like rock splitting, echoed in the abyss. The enormous tower turned and tipped like a sleeping giant against the chasm wall. The noise was anything but gentle—a thunderous echo rang out as the tower began to crumble against itself, bricks and stones falling, walls collapsing, cracks widening to gaping holes; then the whole fortress sank down with slow, devastating grace.

  Corax’s eyes glittered bitterly at Gabriel. His talons gripped the windowsill. His dark satanic wings quivered with anger.

  As a cloud of rubble slowly rose from the abyss, the children saw a tiny bird approaching the chamber. It was quite small and caked in powder from the collapsed citadel. After circling the chamber twice, it settled on Corax’s shoulder.

  The bird shook itself vigorously, revealing a bright red breast. Its malicious black eyes danced at Gabriel, and then it began to chirp quickly into Corax’s ear.

  It’s that robin! Gabriel told Paladin.

  Paladin took off from Gabriel’s shoulder to chase the robin, but Corax closed his other hand protectively around the bird and held him closer to his ear. The robin chirped eagerly, and Corax listened, his angry features slowly calming.

  “Well done, my little friend,” he said. “You will be rewarded. I wonder what the taste of human flesh will do for a robin?”

  “Gabriel, make a wish, quick!” shouted Somes. “Do something to him!”

  Gabriel looked at Somes, the same thought on his mind. But what? What to wish? Try not to use wishes for yourself, his father had warned.

  He could send Corax to the bottom of the earth, but wondered if it was a selfish wish. Might it send him there, too? How do you make an unselfish wish against your enemy?

  “Quick, Gabriel!” cried Abby.

  The robin had finished its explanation. Corax released the bird, then seized Somes by one arm and drew his talon sharply across his face.

  “Aaagh!” Somes clutched his cheek as blood dribbled down his neck.

  “There’s your blood sacrifice!” shouted Corax. He turned to Gabriel. “And here’s your riddle!

  “What can you make but never give away, break but never repair?”

  Gabriel mouthed the riddle to himself. He might have solved it easily in the comfort of his living room, but at this terrifying moment, his mind went blank. He tried to look away from Corax because the demon’s eyes seemed to interfere with his concentration. He looked to Abby, but she seemed confused, too. She looked away from Corax and rubbed her spectacles, trying to concentrate.

  Now Corax tightened his grip on Somes, ripped the glasses from his face, and pressed two talons to the boy’s eyelids. Somes uttered a gasp as his spectacles fell to the floor.

  “Time’s up, Nephew. Answer now or your friend
here goes blind!”

  As the demon pressed his claws to Somes’s eyes, Gabriel shouted.

  “I—I—I give up! I don’t know!”

  Corax dropped Somes, who fell to his knees.

  “What’s the answer?” asked Gabriel.

  “A promise,” said Corax. “It can be made or broken, never given away, never repaired.” Gleefully, the demon held out one claw.

  The staff hesitated in Gabriel’s hand, as if reluctant to leave. Then, with a revolted shudder, it zoomed into the grasp of the demon.

  “Ha!” Corax shouted. “It’s mine! And everything I’ve planned these years shall come to pass. I’ll raise a new citadel, and the world above will answer to me alone!”

  This should have been a moment for despair. All seemed lost. Everything Gabriel had set out to do had failed. The demon had won. Yet Gabriel felt a surge of confidence. Had the staff delivered an extra helping of self-assurance before it left him?

  He turned to Abby, Pamela, and Somes. There was an intense look of admiration and loyalty on their faces. He couldn’t have made it this far without their help. And now, well, he felt stronger, just looking at them. They all knew that this demon had to be stopped. In that moment, he realized what he had to do.

  For Gabriel, it felt like the task he had been practicing for his whole life.

  “I challenge you to a duel!” he cried.

  The Duel

  Corax’s mouth opened in disbelief. His cold round eyes darted about the room for the robin, who had disappeared suddenly.

  “A duel? There’s no such thing!”

  “Oh, yes,” Gabriel replied, “I can demand a duel.”

  Corax looked at the other children. They stared back defiantly; even Somes, dabbing his shirtsleeve to the wound on his cheek, picked up his glasses and gave a thumbs-up to Gabriel.

  The demon sneered. “Another of your childish pranks, I suppose?”

  Ignoring Gabriel, he walked over to the window, shook the staff, and issued his first wish.

  “I want my citadel back the way it was!”

  Nothing happened.

  There was no glow from the torc. No thunder. Not a sound.

  Confused, Corax repeated his wish, but the torc didn’t even flicker.

  “It won’t serve you,” Gabriel explained. “If I challenge you to a duel, you must accept. When one of us fails to guess the other’s riddle, the winner takes the torc and the loser …” Gabriel’s lips trembled as he tried to finish his sentence. “The loser dies.”

  Something fluttered frantically to one of the windows. The robin was desperately throwing itself at the shutters, trying to escape.

  “You!” Corax pointed a finger at the tattletale robin. “Is this true?”

  The robin trembled. Its beady little black eyes darted from Corax to Gabriel and back to Corax. Then it uttered an indignant chirp.

  “Useless bird!” murmured Corax, throwing the staff to the ground. “Very well, Nephew, you’ll have your duel!”

  Somes attempted to pick up the staff, but Corax placed his foot upon it.

  There was not a sound in the room as Gabriel prepared his first riddle. Corax waited, flexing his enormous wings impatiently.

  “Every day they say I break,

  Yet never am I whole.

  Every day I rise again,

  Never do I fall.”

  Corax narrowed his eyes. He turned to the children, as if expecting that the answer would appear on one of their faces. Somes quickly looked down, Pamela stared at her shoes, and Abby removed her glasses.

  “Something that breaks, something that rises, but never falls.” A sneer formed on his mouth. “Quite simple. That would be the dawn!”

  The children looked disappointed. Abby replaced her glasses and gave Gabriel a determined smile that said Don’t give up!

  Gabriel took a deep breath.

  The demon paced for a moment; then, peering out the window, he spoke:

  “A baby hasn’t much of me.

  Old men consult me endlessly.

  Without me, time’s a mystery.

  What am I?”

  Being careful not to look at Corax, Gabriel repeated the lines in his head. Without me, time’s a mystery. So it had to do with time. A baby hasn’t much of me. Could it be a lifetime? But a baby has a lifetime ahead, while an old man has very little that remains. It must be something to do with age. Old men consult me endlessly. Well, it couldn’t be memory, because anybody can be forgetful. On the other hand, time would be a mystery without the past, present, and future. And babies have almost no past because they’ve just been born!

  “Got it!” said Gabriel. “It’s the past!”

  The demon arched his wings, then lowered them in obvious disgust.

  “Proceed,” he said.

  The sneer on Corax’s lips promised that Gabriel’s next question would be infinitely harder. Gabriel looked at Abby. She nodded at him as if to say that this one had to be his best.

  Gabriel suddenly remembered something Abby had said before. Valravens can’t laugh.

  It should be something funny.

  Of course, he thought. It must be something very funny. Something ridiculous!

  “Are you ready?” asked the demon impatiently.

  “Okay, I’m ready,” said Gabriel. “What do you call a country where everybody drives a pink automobile?”

  The demon frowned and began pacing about the chamber.

  “Everybody drives a pink automobile? It doesn’t make sense? Why would they …”

  Minutes ticked by as the demon kept flexing his wings with frustration. Again, he peered at the faces of the children, trying to find the answer. Finally, he scoffed at Gabriel.

  “There’s no name for such a place!”

  “Of course there is,” Gabriel replied. “It’s a pun.”

  “A pun …” Corax shook his head. “There is no answer!”

  “Yes,” replied Gabriel. “A pink carnation!”

  “Pink carnation?” repeated the demon.

  “A pink car nation,” said Gabriel.

  Zing! The staff flew to his fingers.

  Without wasting any time, Gabriel made his wish. It was a simple and sublime wish, a wish that didn’t require him to separate his friends from a storm of valravens, and most of all, a wish that served others rather than himself. This was why he knew it would work.

  In that instant, a comforting amber glow surrounded Abby, Pamela, and Somes.

  “What’s happening, Gabriel?” Abby cried. “What did you wish?”

  “I’m sending you all back safely!” he cried.

  “But what about you? How are you going to get home?”

  “Best not to use a wish on myself,” he said. “I’ll paravolate back with Paladin!”

  “Gabriel, I’m sure it’s okay if you—” cried Pamela, but she didn’t finish her sentence because all three of them vanished in a sudden flash.

  The demon stared blankly at the boy and his raven, for although he had lost the torc, he was still standing, intact.

  I thought the loser was supposed to die! said Paladin.

  That’s what my father said, Gabriel replied. Unless … if one is a valraven, doomed to live forever, there’s really no such thing as dying.

  It was a good guess. Corax seemed utterly unaffected by his defeat. His wings beat the air with malicious intensity as he advanced on the boy.

  “Congratulations on your victory.”

  Gabriel raised the staff—he remembered its power against valravens.

  “You wouldn’t do such a thing to your … uncle, would you?”

  It should have been easy for Gabriel to point the staff and watch him go pop! like every other valraven, but he couldn’t. How could he kill his own uncle?

  Corax gloated over the boy’s hesitation. “What a pathetic hero you’ve turned out to be.”

  Boldly, Corax reached forward, tearing the silver necklace from its place on the staff. Then he put the torc on his neck, just a
s Septimus had, and he made a wish.

  “May the torc be my body! May its magic be my magic! May its power be my power!”

  Nothing happened for a moment. Then Gabriel noticed something odd about the two ravens’ heads at the ends of the necklace. Their eyes began to glow red. And as those little red eyes glowed, Corax began to tremble, then scream. He reached up to the necklace, clawing at it—but to no avail, for the torc remained, fused to his skin. Corax began weeping. Piteous, agonized tears rolled down his cheeks, as if his body was going through some horrible invisible transformation.

  Then, quite suddenly, the cries stopped. Corax had vanished. The torc clattered to the floor.

  “What happened?” asked Paladin, looking around. “Where is he?”

  Gabriel looked at the necklace. The eyes of the raven heads had dimmed again, but he felt leery about picking it up. The dwarfs were right. It was more of a curse than a blessing.

  “Wow,” said Gabriel. “I think Corax expected the magic to enter him, but instead, he entered the torc. Do you think that’s possible?”

  Paladin shook his neck feathers. “All I know is, good riddance!”

  At that moment something flew over from its hiding place at the shutters. It was Snitcher the robin. Seeing that the boy hadn’t picked up the torc, the robin approached it, examining it carefully from every angle. His black eyes darted at Gabriel, then Paladin; then, without waiting another second, he bowed to the necklace, which flopped conveniently onto his neck and shrank to exactly the right size.

  “Wait!” Gabriel shouted to the bird.

  Ignoring his warning with a triumphant chirp, the robin flew off through the open window with his prize.

  “What a stupid bird,” said Paladin. “Even a half-wit would think twice after seeing what just happened!”

  “The dwarfs were right. Nobody can resist a wish,” said Gabriel. “We’d better go after him. The torc belongs back on the staff.”

  The collapse of the tower had propelled dust in every direction. Thick columns of debris filled the staircase. Uttering a chirp to light its way, the robin weaved through the murky shaft like a spark going up a chimney.

  Coughing and gasping as one, Gabriel and Paladin flew blindly after Snitcher. It was a perilous chase in the dark, but the little bird shot ahead with reckless determination.