by James Raney
“I’ll try.” Jim stepped to the very lip of the gaping hole in the cavern wall. Looking down at the palm of his hand, he saw the white-scar rose plainly visible, even in the dim torchlight. “I must face another storm,” he said to himself. “I would face ten thousand storms.”
Jim put his head down, held his torch forth, and stepped into the blackness beyond the serpent’s mouth.
FOURTEEN
he darkness coiled about Jim. His torch flame choked to a dim flicker, as though suffocated by the thick black. Worse still, when Jim shone the torch at his feet, he discovered the rocky ground fell away steeply on either side, leaving only a narrow path to follow.
Jim’s knees trembled and sweat slicked the palms of his hands. His toe caught a jagged rock at the path’s edge and clattered down the cliff into the darkness. When the stone finally reached the bottom, only a splash echoed from some underground lake or river below.
It took all of Jim’s will to move one foot forward and pull the second to join it. His legs were numb with fear. But, again and again, Jim repeated his deliberate steps until he was walking with some speed down the serpentine path of stone, deep into the heart of the cavern. Jim’s pace had quickened to nearly a jog when an unexpected splash sounded from the deep beneath the mountain.
Jim skidded to a halt. A gurgling came from below. Jim knew it then for certain – something had moved, something large in the waters.
Jim was not alone.
He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and tightened his grip on the torch. Drawing once more on all his courage, he took another step.
A voice spoke in the dark.
“Who treads into the cavern of depths? Who has wandered into the cave of questions? Who walks upon the path of riddles?”
Jim froze again. His heartbeat thundered in his ears above the crackling torch flames. The voice in the dark rolled deep and large, like a great horn, echoing off the far-away walls of the hollow mountain. A growling lingered at the edges of the questions the voice asked Jim – an inhuman sound, Jim thought. An animal sound.
“I’m…I’m Jim Morgan, sir,” Jim finally answered, not bothering to lie or even give a false name.
“Jim Morgan, will you stand still on the path forever?” the voice asked in reply. “If you have come here, to this place, then you have come for that which I protect. If you wish to possess the prize, then you must move forward, or our contest will stop before it begins. Go but a little further and I will ask you a riddle. Further still and I shall ask you another. Reach the end of the path, and I shall ask you but one more. There you must answer them all. Not one, or two, but all three riddles must be answered, and answered correctly.”
“If I answer them all – the three riddles,” Jim said, licking his lips and swallowing hard. “You’ll let me have the Hunters Shell?”
“Yes.”
“What if I get one wrong?” Jim asked. This time the voice answered with a laugh. The rumbling shook the chamber and rattled Jim to his bones. That laugh meant more than no. It meant something worse than no. Jim‘s torch trembled in his hand. Once the echoes of laughter finally faded away, the voice spoke again.
“So, Jim Morgan, will you step forward and face the challenge of the riddles? Or will you turn back?”
“I’m afraid, sir,” Jim said.
“Then turn back.”
“If I go back, the men waiting for me will see my friends to a bitter end. If morning comes before I get the shell, we will all turn to stone. If I hear your riddles and get them wrong, something worse than turning to stone will be my fate. Why does everything end so horribly on this wretched island?”
“On only this wretched island? Is it not so everywhere else, and for everyone else? I have seen no other shore but that of the Veiled Isle for some hundreds of years, Jim Morgan. But while I was still of the outside world, I knew that if one stands still his whole life, may he not as well turn to stone? If one runs back to the place from which he came, does he not surrender to whatever fate he fled at the first? If one steps forward, who knows what lies in store for him?”
Jim turned back toward the mouth of the cavern. It seemed miles and miles away in the dark, lit only by the Cromier’s torches. He then faced the impenetrable black before him once more.
“You know,” Jim said. “As a guardian of this place, shouldn’t you try a bit harder to scare people away instead of encouraging them forward?”
“Perhaps I am simply bored,” the voice replied. “Or perhaps I am hungry,” it added. The voice laughed again. Hungry, Jim thought to himself, aghast. Now he knew what would happen if he guessed the riddles wrong. But in spite of even that horrible understanding, he had made his choice. He took another step along the rocky path.
“Excellent,” said the voice. “Then we shall have our contest after all! Are you ready, Jim Morgan?”
“As I’ll ever be, I suppose,” Jim said. He was more focused on putting one foot after the other and not falling off the path than anything else. Far below, the sound of water churning and frothing passed from Jim’s right to his left, crossing beneath him. Jim realized the path upon which he tread was some sort of bridge, spanning a great underground lake. He also knew, from the forceful clap of water, that whatever swam through the depths was massive and powerful.
“Then we shall begin!” The voice rumbled, sounding quite eager to get started. “I will present you with a riddle. You may answer that one by itself, or all three together. But in the end, questions and answers must equal three for the prize to be yours. This is the first of riddles three:”
The sun in day or the moon at night,
Not another of the same in sight,
That which is empty cannot be full,
Not by drink, nor by bread, not by gold, nor by jewels.
What am I?
Jim paused on the stone walkway for a long moment and turned the riddle’s words over in his mind. The sun and moon were both lights, and there was something empty that needed to be filled up with something other than gold or food and drink. Was there something that light filled? Jim gritted his teeth and shook his head. He had no time to waste standing and puzzling over only the first riddle. He would at least hear the next one first.
“I’ll just answer this one at the end,” Jim said. He stepped forward once more, repeating the words of the first riddle silently to himself, hoping against hope that the clues would grow no more difficult the further he went.
“So be it, young one. I prefer to play the game this way regardless. So many times travelers attempt the first riddle straight away, only to fail. Then the contest ends too quickly, does it not? It is so long between games I am afraid. It is pleasant to hear the voice of another in this dark cave, I will admit.”
“Then why stay?” Jim asked, curious in spite of his fear. “You could leave. I promise I wouldn’t tell a soul.”
“It is my duty,” said the voice. “Those things I protect are worth protecting. But you have courage and good humor, Jim Morgan. I do like that. Now, hear the second of riddles three:”
Two roses together in the morning light,
A field of red by the coming of night,
One tree up on a hilltop high,
Soon a forest over the countryside.
Who are we?
Jim loosed a frustrated sigh and suddenly wanted to pitch the torch and himself off the path into the darkness. The second riddle was no easier than the first. In fact, it seemed that much more difficult to Jim. How could two roses fill up a whole field in just a day? How could a single tree turn into an entire forest? Success in the Vault of Treasures seemed so long ago, and doubts whispered in Jim’s mind.
“I’ll just answer all three together at the end,” Jim said, trying to keep his voice from shaking like the trembling flame upon his torch. He swallowed hard. With great effort, he pushed the doubts aside and stepped forward again.
“All the same to me,” said the voice amid the gurgling and roiling of w
ater. “It is good to speak with one so young and strong. So many days and so many nights I have only the echoes of my own voice to keep me company. Those and the echoes of the past, of voices belonging to faces now all but forgotten.”
“I know what you mean about not having anyone, I think,” Jim said, trying to buy a bit more time to think about the riddles. “But it seems a shame to eat the only people you get a chance to talk to, wouldn’t you say? That’s what will happen if I answer wrong, right? You’ll eat me?”
“You are correct on both counts, young Jim Morgan,” replied the voice. “Answer wrong and you shall be devoured. And yes, that truly is a shame, for I can tell you have a good soul. But I am sworn to my duty – bound by honor and by powerful magic. Neither of those masters let me decide anything but the riddles by which I test those with the courage to attempt this path.”
“You made these riddles?” Jim asked.
“Yes, and this is the third of three:”
Strength when weary, courage when none,
A strong knot makes two ropes one.
Many streams together form a flood,
Brother by choice and not by blood.
Who am I?
Jim paused on the path and worked to unlock the last of the riddles like a door with Peter’s pins. Whatever creature swam down below, Jim thought, had created these riddles. Perhaps knowing that would help him find the answers. It seemed the creature had been here for a long, long time. Maybe that meant all the solutions were things very near to this place. The last riddle spoke of ropes and knots and streams and floods, so perhaps it referred to ships on the sea. But the more Jim thought the less confident he became.
“Maybe I’ll just walk a little and think these over,” Jim said. His mind was a whirlwind of guesses, questions, and doubts.
“I fear there is no room left for walking, or time for thinking, Jim Morgan,” said the voice. “Cast your torch down and look at your feet.” Jim paused his foot in mid-air and did as the voice commanded.
A startled cry escaped Jim’s lips and echoed through the cavern. Jim’s foot hung over nothing but black air. He now stood at the path’s end. A sheer drop into dark nothingness was all that lay before him. Jim nearly fell over backward as he stepped away from the edge. When he finally summoned up the courage to peer back over the ledge, all he could see was a faint speck - the far-off reflection of his torch in the waters below.
“You have come at last to end of the Path of Riddles, and the end of the contest,” said the voice. “Now is the time for answers. But before you speak, let us at least become better acquainted. Hold fast to what bravery you have left, Jim Morgan, for I am a fearsome sight to behold!”
A roar of ten ships cresting ten waves erupted from below Jim’s feet as the creature burst through the surface of the waters. Jim fell even further back from the path’s edge. He held his torch before him with two hands and fought hard to stifle the cries building up within in his chest. The waters parted and parted and parted, longer than Jim thought possible, until a dark shape rose above the pathway’s end. Jim’s heart froze in his chest as the great shadow took shape in the light of his torch.
The face of a giant sea serpent formed before him. It had a snout like a horse’s, but long as a schooner and resting upon a scaled body as wide around as an oak trunk. The monster glared down on Jim with glowing gold eyes, bigger than wagon wheels. A row of spines like fence posts ran from the crest of the great head down its long, snaking body. Though his legs trembled beneath him, Jim stood his ground as he had seen Dread Steele do in the face of the Kraken.
“You did not cry out, nor did you run!” the sea serpent said, this time so close and so loud that the words enveloped Jim and nearly deafened him. “You have courage! Men call me Percival – keeper of the Path of Riddles and last of the great water dragons of the deep - sole survivor of a once great race.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Jim managed through clenched teeth, for it was all he could think to say.
“And you are well met also, Jim Morgan,” said Percival, dipping his enormous head toward Jim in a bow. When the giant creature opened his mouth, fangs the length Jim’s arm glinted in the torchlight. The massive eyes burned as molten gold. “Are you prepared now to answer? I admire your courage and your manners, and I hope for true you will answer correctly. It shall give me no pleasure to devour you whole should your answer prove false. But do so I must.”
“Well…thanks, I suppose,” Jim said, wondering if any of that was really supposed to make him feel any better.
“Morgan, Jim Morgan,” said Percival suddenly, lowering his head to study Jim closer. “I knew your surname the moment I heard it, but now that you stand close, I see for certain what I only guessed to be true. The man who came before you lives in your face, and a hint of him also in your smell.” Percival leaned in and breathed deeply of Jim, ruffling Jim’s clothes and nearly extinguishing the torch in the process. “A hint anyway…for you do have the most fascinating smell, Jim Morgan.”
“What do you mean when you say I smell different?” Jim asked.
“I am here to ask riddles, young adventurer, not to answer them. Why do you not ask your father yourself? For he seemed to me a very clever man, as far as humans go, anyway. Surely you know it was he who left the Shell in my care. In truth, I am surprised he sent you and did not come himself. We had a long and thoughtful conversation when I saw him last. Such conversations are so rare for me.”
“You probably had a longer conversation with him than I ever did,” Jim said. “He’s not here because he’s dead. He was murdered.” Jim nearly choked on the words. Percival bowed his head even more and twisted it to one side, staring at Jim with one wide, yellow eye.
“And your mother?” Percival asked. To Jim, for half a moment, the water dragon seemed suddenly less dangerous, but far older and more sorrowful and wise, like a kind old man trapped in a monster’s body.
“I never knew her.”
“I see,” said Percival, scrutinizing Jim with his one eye for a long moment. “There are questions I would ask you, Jim Morgan,” the serpent finally said. But then he turned his head back and rose up over Jim, towering in the dark, yellow eyes flashing. “But I am bound by magic and honor. Three riddles you have been given and three answers you must return. Wrong or right, I must fulfill my duty.” Percival finished his speech with a growl that reminded Jim this was no kindly man, but a magical beast of the deep with teeth long and sharp enough to gnash him to dust. Fear jumbled the riddles’ words in Jim’s mind. Panic all but drowned out any hopeful answers.
“Could you not at least give me a hint?” Jim pleaded. But the beast would not be swayed.
“I have already given you hints, Jim Morgan, if you were wise enough to hear them. From what you have told me, I thought you had no need of them, for the answers are as close to your heart as they are to mine. Now, give answer or face your fate!”
“That which is empty can never be full,” Jim said to himself. “It could be something deep and dark,” he ventured, trying to guess without answering. “Like a hole or a cave?” He tried to measure Percival’s face, but the water dragon’s eyes gave nothing away.
“Do not attempt to fool me with tricks or ply me with pleading eyes! I am an ancient guardian and have told my riddles for far too long to great kings and warriors and desperate thieves to be shamed in such a way. Stand tall like a man. Stand upright like your father and answer!”
Jim wracked his brain, but no matter how he tried, the answers would not come.
“Silence is an answer of its own kind, Jim Morgan!” Roared Percival. It was so loud that the stone bridge beneath Jim’s feet shook and swayed. Dust and rocks fell from the cavern ceiling above. “And silence is as wrong an answer as any. I am sorry, son of Lindsay Morgan – but you have failed the test.” The water dragon reared back, mouth opened wide, glistening teeth bared and ready to strike.
FIFTEEN
im watched the sea monster prepare to s
wallow him whole - but it hardly mattered to him any more. His thoughts dwelt on his friends – the Cromiers’ sharp blades at their necks in the painted cave. His friends would look for him to come to their rescue from the tunnel. Knowing them, the Ratts, Lacey, and Cornelius, they would hold out hope to the very end, only to see it fail. The thought of Lacey’s tears and George’s failing smile tore a deep hole in Jim’s chest.
It struck Jim then, from nowhere, a spark at the back of his mind. The hole in his chest – in his heart. Jim thought of the emptiness he felt ever since the death of his father and the loss of his home. It was an emptiness that only went away when he was with his friends. An emptiness that could never be full.
It was the answer to the first riddle.
“Alone!” Jim shouted at the last possible moment. “You’re alone!”
Percival’s open mouth was already careening toward Jim, tongue lashing and teeth like swords, ready to tear Jim to pieces. Jim threw his arms over his head as though that would make a difference. But the bite never came. When Jim peeked through a small gap between his arms, he found the water dragon’s terrible maw shut, not inches from his trembling body. Percival turned his head to once more look upon Jim with one giant eye.
“What did you say?” the monster asked.
“You’re alone,” Jim repeated, trying to talk over the sound of his own heartbeat, which thundered like a drum in his ears. “The sun in the day, or the moon at night…all alone in sky. You are the last of your people. I no longer have my mother and my father. We’re the same, really. We’re both alone.”
Silence hung in the air between the dragon and the boy for what seemed like a very long time to Jim. Finally, Percival spoke in a voice more quiet than Jim imagined a great beast would possess.
“You have answered the first riddle correctly.”
Jim’s heart leapt, but his mind had already raced to the second riddle. The moment he had answered the first, he realized all three were bound by a common thread.