by George Hagen
“Tell me, dear stork,” Paladin began. “Have you ever heard of a Hall of Runes, or perhaps it’s a Lobby of Runes, or a Parlor of Runes?”
“Tsk, tsk. It’s not called any of that,” she replied. “Everybody knows it’s called the Chamber of Runes. Inside it, the runes lie within a circle of fire, and a riddle must be answered for each rune to release the body it contains.”
Paladin gave a dramatic sigh. “Well, obviously,” he said. “The real mystery is where the chamber is. Nobody knows that.”
“Wrong again,” she replied, with a smug glance.
“I’m never wrong,” said Paladin (hoping to be wrong).
The stork raised her beak with a supercilious air, and snapped at a floating dandelion seed. “Do you think I’m stupid? I don’t tell secrets. I’m not like one of those house sparrows who gossip about everything.”
With an awkward slump, the stork descended upon the chimney and tucked her beak into her breast to indicate that there was nothing more to be said.
Paladin gave the stork a humble bow. “Well, thanks anyway,” he remarked grimly, before taking off into the air.
Nice try, Paladin, said Gabriel as they gained altitude. This is hopeless.
No, not at all! replied Paladin. She led us to the sparrows. I should have thought of that myself.
They flew in the direction of Fifth Street. In a short time, they arrived a few houses from the Finley brownstone, where they could hear excited chirruping coming from a tree. Among the branches were hundreds of little stout birds with gray heads and dull brown feathers, eagerly sharing the gossip of the day.
“Greetings, sparrow!” said Paladin to the first house sparrow he saw as he landed on a branch.
“Greetings, raven,” answered the sparrow. “What goes?”
Paladin remembered some advice his mother had given him when he was a chick. It was best to offer gossip before asking for some. “Sparrows,” she had warned, “are easily offended, but if you’re generous with them, they will tell you anything.”
“I hear of a robin in these parts who wears a magic necklace,” said Paladin.
“Oh, I know that,” boasted the sparrow.
“Did you know that he created a blizzard of birdseed?”
“Old news, old news,” the sparrow declared, preening her chest.
“Did you hear that he created an earthworm the size of a subway car?”
This startled the sparrow. “Really?”
“And did you know that the spirit of Corax lives inside his necklace?”
“Ooh!” The little bird’s dark eyes widened at such a juicy bit of information. Before Paladin could say anything else, the sparrow had jumped to a higher branch. Moments later, the entire tree erupted in a frantic babble of gossip.
“Everybody’s talking about Corax, and all because of me!” she said as soon as she’d returned.
“Maybe now you could tell me something?” Paladin asked.
“What would you like to know?”
“There’s a place called the Chamber of Runes. I wonder where it is.”
Nodding vigorously, the sparrow hopped away to consult with her friends. When she returned, she looked about to burst with glee. “I know it!” she said. “It’s deep underground, on the outer fringe of Aviopolis to the east.”
“Does anyone know how to get there?”
“Oh no. There are lots of rumors, but it’s never been found.”
Suddenly, the entire population of sparrows converged around Paladin, offering their tidbits of information. “Its location has been lost for centuries.” “It’s a perilous path to get there.” “Not even a raven could find the Chamber of Runes.”
Offended, Paladin cast an annoyed glance at the flock. “Well, who does know, then?”
A silence fell upon the group.
“Nobody?”
The sparrows began to chatter among themselves and soon moved on to discussing the best-stocked bird feeders in the neighborhood, and the arrival of a dangerous Chartreux cat on Garfield Place.
With no more to be learned, Paladin flew to the stoop of the Finley house, where Gabriel jumped free of him.
Such irritating birds! remarked Paladin. “Not even a raven could find the Chamber of Runes.” Well, a sparrow couldn’t find its own shadow!
“Don’t feel bad,” said Gabriel as he beat his arms to get some feeling back in them. “I only wish I’d realized that Corax’s soul was in the torc and that he was commanding the robin.”
“I’ll bet his body is trapped in a rune, too,” added Paladin.
“But he hasn’t found it yet, so we must be ahead of him,” Gabriel reminded the raven. “At least we know where the bodies of the disappeared go; and what this place is called; and sort of where the place is. We’re so close to finding my mom.”
I suppose that is pretty good work for one day, Paladin replied.
—
This last conversation had carried further than Gabriel realized.
The holly bush in the front yard of the next house stirred slightly after the boy and his raven had gone, and two black eyes peered through the leaves. They belonged to a paunchy robin with a necklace tightly wound around his neck.
“He knows.”
Yes, replied the voice in his head. The Finley boy seems to know a great deal about where my body lies.
“Eminence?” The robin peered at the soft glow emanating from the windowsill. “I could crush this house into matchsticks, and drive him out right now. Just say the word.”
Fool, I warned you once, and I’ll say it again. There are some in here who must never be harmed. We shall capture the boy in due time.
Gabriel, Pamela, and Somes went to Abby’s birthday party that Monday evening. Abby greeted them at the door, breathless from having raced down from upstairs. She had a glittery silver boa wrapped around her neck and blinking lights on her pigtails.
“I hope you like Mexican food,” she panted. “My mom made my favorite foods tonight: burritos and guacamole. Viv made a carrot cake with strawberry frosting and coconut shavings!”
Viv was Abby’s next-oldest sister. Etta, the oldest, was away for a high school trip. Abby’s mother came out of the kitchen to greet everybody. Dr. Chastain had a small, friendly, inquisitive face.
“How are things looking these days, Somes?” she inquired. She had prescribed eyeglasses for him a few months earlier.
“Oh, everything looks pretty good, Dr. Chastain.” Somes grinned.
Ms. Nash, Abby’s other mother, arrived after them. She was a tall woman with a warm gaze and an elegant gray French braid. She carried a briefcase in one hand, and in the other an enormous brown box, which she lowered carefully to the floor.
“Happy birthday, my sweet,” she said. “Have a look at your present.”
Abby kissed her, then kneeled down and opened the box. “Oh, Mama,” she said. “How did you know?”
“Probably from the stickers you posted on every door of the house for the last month,” Ms. Nash replied fondly.
“What’d you get?” asked Pamela.
Abby delicately lifted a glass aquarium out of the box. A small spotted lizard peered from within. “It’s an adorable leopard gecko!” she gushed.
—
After dinner, Abby blew out the candles on her cake, served portions to her friends, and opened her presents. Gabriel gave her a bar of nougat, her favorite candy; Pamela gave her a kazoo; and Somes gave her the most unusual gift of all—a small sculpture of a bird made out of two rusty forks and a spoon twisted together.
“Thanks, guys, I love them,” said Abby.
Afterward, the foursome sat in a tight cluster in Abby’s living room. Gabriel explained all the things he’d learned about Corax and his mom and the Chamber of Runes.
After they had absorbed the news, Somes spoke up. “Wait, I don’t get it,” he said. “Are you able to understand sparrow talk?”
“No,” said Gabriel. “But when I merge with Paladin, I seem to und
erstand what other birds say.”
Abby uttered a deep sigh.
“What’s wrong?” asked Pamela.
“Well, now I’m twelve!” she replied. “And I still haven’t seen a raven. I just don’t think it’s going to happen.”
Gabriel explained that he hadn’t met Paladin until weeks after his birthday. “There’s plenty of time,” he said.
Abby’s shoulders slumped. “I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but I think Somes was right. My chances would be much better if I was a Finley.”
—
The next day, Abby was in a better mood. On the way to school, she told Gabriel and Somes that she had decided to name her gecko Gideon.
“Bad name,” said Somes. “My dad’s name is Gideon. If he’s anything like my dad, he’ll get annoyed for no reason and snap at you.”
Abby felt a pang of sympathy for Somes. “No,” she replied as they walked up the steps of Alfred Grimes Academy. “My Gideon has big, friendly eyes and he’s very quiet.”
“Totally the wrong name,” murmured Somes as they merged with the thick crowd of students who filed through the doors.
While the morning bell echoed throughout the building, a line of dark, hooded birds assembled upon the roof. Their thin black feathers were no defense against the wintry breeze. With jaundiced eyes and surly stares, they shivered as they watched the students.
—
Once they’d taken their seats in math class, Gabriel, Abby, and Somes saw that Mr. Coffin had projected a puzzle on the whiteboard before them:
Below it was written a title: The Riddle of the Maze.
“I like this guy,” said Abby.
“You would,” groaned Somes.
Mr. Coffin, his beard tied with three purple ribbons that gave him the distinct appearance of a pirate, paced in front of the room until all the seats were filled, then closed the door.
“As part of our class,” he began, “we are going to talk about puzzles. It is my duty to encourage you to stretch your minds. So, who’s good at riddles?”
Abby and Gabriel exchanged excited glances, then raised their hands.
“Ah, birds of a feather, eh?” said Mr. Coffin, peering at them. “Anybody else?”
Abby shot a glance at Somes, who rolled his eyes and raised his hand.
“You too, Mr. Grindle?”
“No, I was going to say that it doesn’t seem like a riddle to me,” said Somes.
“A riddle is a question requiring ingenuity and a sense of fun,” replied Mr. Coffin. “This is a riddle for the eyes. The question is: How do you get from the start to the finish without getting lost?”
“Don’t go in,” replied Somes, smiling.
“Very good. But if you have no choice but to go in, there’s one trick that will lead anyone, even a blind person, to the exit.”
Gabriel studied the picture, then looked over at Abby, who shrugged. Finally, he thought about what a blind person would do, and the answer came to him.
“Yes, Mr. Finley?”
“A blind person would follow the wall on the left or the right to get out,” said Gabriel.
“Show us,” said Mr. Coffin.
Gabriel went up to the board and traced his way along the left wall with a marker. Eventually, he reached the exit.
“Very good, Mr. Finley,” said Mr. Coffin. “You’ve lived up to your famous reputation.”
At this, Abby, Somes, and Gabriel shared a baffled glance.
—
By the end of school, the entire roof of the Alfred Grimes Academy was lined with black birds—watchful and silent, tattered and unpleasant, beaks open in sinister anticipation.
When the last bell rang, students began to pour out of the main doors.
The birds stirred.
Abby, Somes, and Gabriel dodged clusters of kids and made their way uphill on the tree-lined pavement without noticing the ghouls above them.
“So, what did he mean by your famous reputation?” said Abby, who had been puzzling over Mr. Coffin’s remark all day.
“Beats me,” said Gabriel. “I didn’t think he knew anything about me. And what was he saying about birds of a feather?”
“That just means we stick together,” said Somes. “I don’t trust that dude. And what about when he said we were connected by magic?”
“Well, we are, in a way,” said Abby. “But how does he know?”
By this time, Gabriel had noticed that the sky had grown dark. It reminded him of when the birdseed blizzard arrived, except there was no magic in the air—just a prickly feeling of some awful threat.
Just then something flew over Gabriel’s head, leaving a trail of black feathers like an ugly stain against the sky.
“Duck, Gabriel!” shouted Somes.
Gabriel crouched. A black bird with yellow eyes careered toward him, followed by a dozen others. “Yikes!” he cried.
Talons grabbed his coat collar, more clutched at his hair, and beaks seized his cuffs and backpack straps. A furious tugging commenced as the valravens attempted to pull him into the air.
Desperately, Gabriel swung his arms, windmill-style, to free himself. “Get off me, you freaks!” he screamed.
Somes batted a valraven with his homework binder, sending pages flying in all directions. The fearsome bird circled him, its jagged beak wide in a mocking smile, then it darted at his ear, drawing blood.
Somes clamped his hand to his ear. “Ouch!” he said, but his voice was lost amid the merciless shrieks of the birds.
Abby swung her backpack at a valraven, but another swooped and dug its talons into her scalp.
“Get off!” she hollered.
“Help! They’re trying to—” yelled Gabriel, whose feet had left the ground. He fought to get free. “Help!” he shouted again.
Somes grabbed on to Gabriel with both arms, using his weight as ballast to hold him down, but more valravens arrived and began pulling.
Abby finally wrenched off the bird gripping her hair and knocked it away. “Somes, we’ve got to hit them back!” she cried.
“Hit them? How? I can’t reach and I’m the tallest!”
“Wait!” said Abby. With deep, panicked breaths, she pulled something from her backpack—a pair of purple tights.
“Are you going to make the birds wear tights?” Somes shouted.
“Yeah, right,” Abby snapped, taking two large baking potatoes from the bag. “These were for an art project at school, but…”
She dropped one potato into each leg of the tights and began to swing them in circles until they made a furious humming sound. Then, when the tights were a spinning blur, she hurled them upward.
Poof! Smack! Poof!
Pieces of a valraven shot in all directions—feathers, bones, beak, and gristle whizzed through the air. This had an immediate effect on the other birds, who scattered in terror.
“What was that?” gasped Somes.
“A boleadora—cowboys use them in Argentina to catch steers,” said Abby.
“Do you have another pair of tights?” asked Somes.
Abby threw her boleadora to Somes and dug into her bag again. “Where are the green ones—oh, here!”
She dropped two more potatoes into each leg and swung the tights overhead.
Meanwhile, Somes struck a bird, causing a stunning explosion. A valraven head skimmed across the street like a stone across water.
Abby fired off the next shot and struck a tatty old valraven that burst apart like a rotten pumpkin, gray flesh splattering upon a No Parking sign while bones clattered to the ground.
The explosions of these phantoms seemed to unnerve the other birds. They dropped Gabriel and fled with frantic cries.
Exhausted, the three kids watched the ghouls retreat over the trees and rooftops, leaving behind a trail of feathers. Gabriel trembled, then sank to his knees.
Somes handed the purple tights back to Abby. “Potatoes and tights,” he muttered. “Who’d have thought?”
Abby was busy
worrying about Gabriel. She kneeled down beside him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Gabriel looked at her. “But you’re bleeding.” He dug into his jacket, drew out a pack of tissues, and dabbed the bloody scratch on her forehead.
At that moment, they both became aware of Somes’s lingering gaze.
“I’m bleeding, too, y’know,” he said.
“Sorry, Somes,” Abby said softly. “Come here, let me see.”
Somes showed her his ear. Abby blotted it with a handful of tissues.
“Do you think a valraven’s scratch is as bad as a bite from Corax?” Somes asked.
“I doubt it. Why?” asked Abby.
“Well, I keep thinking about the snow globe that showed my dad being attacked by Corax. He never really healed from that bite.”
“We’ve been scratched by valravens before, in Aviopolis, remember?” Abby stuffed the tights in her backpack and stood. “Let’s get cleaned up.”
—
“What did I miss this time?”
Pamela arrived home from school that afternoon to find Gabriel, Abby, and Somes in the kitchen, clean and bandaged—but still shaken.
After they explained about the attack, Pamela kneeled before the stove and whispered a request for hot chocolate. The mojo-mechanism whipped up mugs for everyone in a matter of seconds, and the hot, delicious mixture helped them forget their wounds.
“You know, it’s really amazing how you can get that stove and the desk to do whatever you want,” Somes said to Pamela. “Who knows what the writing desk might have told you if it hadn’t run away.”
Pamela shrugged. “Maybe I’m a Finley.”
“Well, that could only be if you were related on your dad’s—” Gabriel began. “Hey, maybe you are related on your dad’s side!”
“No way,” said Somes.
“Why not?” wondered Abby.
Suddenly, there was a tapping at the window. Paladin was on the sill and hopping excitedly from claw to claw.
Gabriel raised the sash and the raven hopped onto his shoulder. I just met a nightingale who was at the cemetery late last night. She told me that Snitcher ordered an army of valravens to capture you.
“They almost did,” said Gabriel. “We fought them off on our way home. But what do they want?”