by George Hagen
“What is the first thing you’ll do, Eminence?” asked the robin.
I shall crush those who betrayed me, and take back my domain. My dear son, Cassius, must be wondering what has happened to me in the month gone by. When I find him, we shall begin our conquest of the sunlit world.
As soon as the afternoon bell rang, students began to stream out the doors of the Alfred Grimes Academy like minnows escaping a sturgeon—none of them as fast as Gabriel, Abby, and Somes. When the light turned green at the intersection, they darted across the street, past the deli, the sneaker shop, and the pet-grooming parlor, turned left on Fifth Street, and sprinted past brownstones and shady oaks toward the Finley house.
“What did Paladin say?” asked Abby, when Gabriel mentioned that the raven had alerted him telepathically.
“He said that my dad had left with Septimus for Aviopolis,” said Gabriel.
“What are we going to do?” Somes replied.
Gabriel stopped to catch his breath before answering. “Follow them, of course. My dad and Septimus are heading to Coney Island on the subway. Paladin is going to find out where they go once they get off the train.”
“Wait, Paladin is following them? But the train goes underground.”
“Yeah.” Gabriel began running again. “Haven’t you ever seen pigeons hop a ride on the train?”
“Well, sure,” admitted Somes. “But I thought they were lost.”
As they crossed Sixth Avenue and hurried up the last block, Somes thought of more questions, but he was too breathless to ask them. In front of Gabriel’s house, they found Pamela and Vyka waiting on the stoop. Gabriel quickly explained what he knew.
“So we’ll follow your dad, even though he said not to?” Pamela replied excitedly.
Gabriel paused to think. “That’s the weird thing. He didn’t tell me not to follow. He just told me to go to school.”
—
The friends passed several hours in the Finleys’ kitchen as shadows from the afternoon sun stretched across the floor. Every few minutes, someone asked Gabriel if he had heard from Paladin. “Telepathy doesn’t work like a phone,” he finally explained. “I never know if he hears my questions. We just have to wait.”
Eventually, Abby dashed over to her house and returned lugging a bulky backpack. She was about to explain what she had brought when Gabriel raised his hand. “Shush!” he cried. “Paladin’s talking to me.”
The train has stopped and Mr. Finley has stepped out with Septimus Geiger. We’re in a big building with open doorways. I hear seagulls. I smell the sea and hear waves crashing upon sand. In the distance, I see a big white frame of crisscrossed logs with a carriage that rides up steeply and drops down terrifyingly fast—it’s some sort of human torture device.
“That’s the old Cyclone roller coaster in Coney Island,” said Gabriel. We’re coming, Paladin, he replied.
Abby unfolded a subway map and traced a line toward the sea. “Stillwell Avenue station, the last stop,” she said.
Pamela stepped into the yard to talk to Vyka. Will you come with us on the train?
I’d rather fly, replied Vyka. I’ll meet Paladin at the end of the subway line.
The blue raven took off and vanished beyond the rooftops.
The foursome scrambled out of the house and headed in the direction of the subway station. They had only reached the corner when they recognized a figure coming toward them.
“That’s Mr. Coffin!” said Abby.
The math teacher was carrying a bouquet of fiery tulips. “Hello,” he said, nodding.
“Mr. Coffin,” said Gabriel, “this is my friend Pamela.”
“Pamela, yes, I’ve heard of you,” he said. “I was just on my way to your house.”
“You’ve heard of her? My house?” asked Gabriel.
Mr. Coffin held up the flowers. “Your aunt and I are having dinner tonight.”
“Oh,” said Gabriel. “OH!” It suddenly occurred to him that Mr. Coffin was the mysterious friend Aunt Jaz was meeting for her date.
Mr. Coffin noticed Abby’s full backpack. “Hello, Ms. Chastain. Are you going on a trip?”
“No, no,” said Abby, trying to sound casual. “Nowhere, really.”
Mr. Coffin regarded her with an amused stare. “Well, it’s none of my business,” he said, digging into his coat pocket. “But this might come in handy.” He held out a big round hook with a wooden handle. “Here, take it, Somes.”
Somes turned the odd device in his hand.
“Have a good trip,” murmured Mr. Coffin as he continued on his way.
“Weird,” said Somes, examining the hook. “He always seems to know more than he says.”
—
It was six miles from the Finley house to Coney Island as the crow flies, and a prevailing wind rushed Vyka across Brooklyn in less than ten minutes. When she glanced back the way she had come, the sky was darkening, as if a storm—or something infinitely worse—was approaching. For a brief moment, she glimpsed a flock of black birds, but they disappeared in the dense clouds. Pamela had warned Vyka to look out for valravens, so she was startled when a black bird swooped alongside her.
“Greetings, Vyka!” Paladin cried.
Vyka answered with her silvery laugh, recognizing him. “Greetings, Paladin! Have you found Mr. Finley?”
The two ravens flew down and perched together on a streetlamp.
“Over there,” said Paladin, tipping his head toward the corner of Mermaid Avenue. Two men were having a conversation. The first was bearded and wore a corduroy jacket. The other was tall and gangly, with snow-white hair and a silk scarf.
The birds flew down and cautiously circled the men, eager to hear their conversation.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand, Septimus,” said Adam Finley. “How did you find this way into Aviopolis? It’s miles from the old one.”
“Oysters,” replied Septimus with a cunning smile. “Burbage and I came for some fried oysters one day when I noticed the road being repaired. There was a great dark hole, and suddenly a flock of shabby valravens flew down from the sky and into it.”
“What induced you to go exploring underground?” said Adam. “I thought you hated the dark.”
“I certainly do,” said Septimus. “But Burbage reminded me that if we found a way back into Aviopolis, we might find jewels. You see, if carpenters scatter sawdust where they work, and bakers leave flour, it stands to reason that the crafty fellows who built Aviopolis out of jade, quartz, gold, and rubies would leave jewels on the floor.”
“And did you find any?”
“No, but we found the Chamber of Runes.” Septimus stopped, and nodded to the left. “Quick, turn down this street.”
Paladin and Vyka were following the men from a distance, eager to report back to Gabriel. But a jeering voice broke their concentration. “Here’s a riddle for you! What begins with ‘r’ and ends with ‘n,’ is black as night, and can’t fly?”
“A dead raven!” answered another voice.
A grim cackle followed this unpleasant answer. Paladin looked behind him and saw two valravens.
“Greetings, friend of Finley!” cried one, extending his talons.
Paladin changed direction, performing a backward loop that completely confused the two valravens, who collided in a cascade of feathers.
“Vyka, watch out!” cried Paladin.
Above him, he saw two other valravens grab the blue raven by her wings. Paladin soared toward them and struck the first bird with the point of his beak. The stunned phantom uttered a gasp and rolled through the air in an awkward tumble.
Vyka fought her way free of the other bird’s grip. “Thank you,” she said.
“Listen!” Paladin cried. “There are more!”
The coarse jeers of other valravens filled the air.
“Traitors!”
“Enemies!”
“Betrayers!”
“Renegades!”
The shrill voice of a robin broke t
hrough the taunts. “Capture them or kill them! I don’t care which!”
Paladin recognized the rim of silver around the robin’s neck. “Beware of him, Vyka. He’s the one who—”
“Paladin, look out!” interrupted Vyka.
Struck from behind, Paladin felt a searing pain as sharp talons grabbed him by his metacarpal bones.
In a flash, Vyka pierced the attacker with her beak, but another valraven swooped down with claws extended. Vyka twisted to elude it and tumbled out of sight.
Paladin fell free and flapped his wings to gain speed.
“Vyka! Vyka!” he cried, looking around. “Where are you?”
And then something else occurred to him: he had lost Adam Finley and the entrance to Aviopolis.
When the foursome stepped out of Stillwell Avenue station, they were confused.
“I thought you said Paladin and Vyka would show us the way,” said Somes.
“We were supposed to meet right here,” said Gabriel, looking around. “Maybe they’re still following my dad.”
“I hope nothing’s wrong,” said Pamela.
In the distance, they heard the croaky calls of ravens. Sooty clouds filled the sky, and the air felt prickly and charged. They started walking toward the sound of the birds.
The streets of Coney Island were empty, yet there were hints of the summer season to come. The brightly painted gondola rides and spinning platforms in Luna Park stood stark and still against the sky. An empty wooden promenade extended over a level beach, while seagulls coasted playfully on waves as they crashed to shore.
A faded mural of a fun-house face was painted on a building near the boardwalk—his broad, insane grin gawked at the children as if to say “I know why you’re here!”
“What a horrible face,” said Pamela, shuddering.
“It’s called Tillie,” said Gabriel. “There are tons of versions of him, but this mural is the biggest one I’ve ever seen. It must be pretty old; the paint is peeling.”
“What a joker,” said Somes. “He’s laughing at us for coming all the way out here without a clue.”
Abby polished her lenses and walked up to examine the mural. “Hey, look at his teeth.” Her voice rose with excitement. Tillie’s smile had a row of teeth as big as tombstones. “There are words painted on them. They’re very light, but…Can you guys see?”
They all gathered around and began reading the words, one by one.
“Welcome…,” read Somes.
“Stranger,” continued Abby.
“Welcome…,” said Pamela.
Gabriel shook his head impatiently. “This is taking too long. Everybody, just call out your words quickly, and we’ll figure it out together.”
Trying again, they barked out words one after another so that it sounded like this:
Welcome, stranger; welcome, friend.
You have reached your journey’s end.
From this spot your purpose lies
Way beneath these sunny skies.
Banished far from light and air
Lies a demon in despair,
Ringed by flames of azure fire,
Punished by his own desire.
If you dare proceed from here,
Gird your courage; veil your fear,
Overlook the sand and mortar,
Seek an entrance beneath water.
Gabriel swallowed nervously. “ ‘A demon in despair.’ That sounds like Corax.”
“ ‘Far from light and air’—that sounds a lot like Aviopolis,” added Pamela.
Somes, however, was staring at the gray waves breaking on the shore. “ ‘An entrance beneath water.’ How are we supposed to find it without drowning?”
“ ‘From this spot your purpose lies,’ ” read Abby. “Look, I don’t think we need to move from ‘this spot.’ ”
“But there’s no water right here, Abby,” said Gabriel.
Abby pointed down. “Don’t you see it?”
Beneath her sneakers was a manhole cover with the word WATER on it.
“Oh, water. I get it.” Somes grinned.
He kneeled down and tried to lift the iron cover. “No handles,” he grunted.
Gabriel noticed several finger-sized holes. “If only we had something to poke into this…”
“A hook!” Somes held up the device that Mr. Coffin had given him. “How did he know?”
They didn’t waste time discussing it. Somes wriggled the hook into a hole and, with a deep grunt, slid the manhole cover aside.
A set of rungs went down the wall of the manhole. The children climbed in and followed the rungs down, down, down underground.
There was almost no light.
Abby reached into her backpack and produced four sets of little flashlights set on headbands. “I had these from summer camp,” she explained. “My uncle gave me the set so my tentmates and I could get to the outdoor toilets without stepping on a porcupine in the middle of the night.”
“I hate outdoor critters,” said Somes, strapping on his headlamp.
They walked single file along a brick-walled tunnel, feet sloshing through a thin layer of fetid water as their lights scanned the wet and slimy walls. After several minutes, they arrived at a rough-hewn opening in the brick. Cool air blew from the dark hole and a new smell filled their nostrils—not of brackish water or rot, but something much worse. It was the odor they remembered from their last visit to Aviopolis. The odor of ghastly things that never saw the sun—silent, hungry, suffocating things.
Abby hesitated. “Keep going?”
“I think so,” said Gabriel.
“Yeah,” said Somes.
“Yep,” added Pamela.
Two things kept their feet moving forward. First, they were together. Second, Gabriel’s father was somewhere ahead.
Before them lay a narrower passageway that dipped down at a steep angle. The tunnel proceeded for about one hundred feet, then veered sharply left and plunged downward again. Their footsteps became louder and clumsier as the path before them grew steeper.
“Please, guys,” said Pamela. “Not so fast!”
“I can’t help it,” said Somes. “I feel like I’m being pulled forward.”
As Gabriel gripped the damp rock walls to slow himself down, small things slithered through his fingers. He hastily pulled his hands away.
“It’s like one of those paths inside the pyramids,” whispered Abby.
“You’ve been in a pyramid?” said Somes skeptically.
“I read that the tomb is always at the bottom of a steep passageway.”
“You’re freaking me out,” said Somes. “I hate pyramids, tombs, and mummification. The ancient Egyptians scooped out peoples’ brains and put them in jars.”
“Only if you were a pharaoh,” Abby said.
Gabriel came to a sudden halt; the others bumped into each other and uttered urgent hushes.
The sudden quiet was terrifying. It felt like a thing trying to creep into their ears, blocking all normal sounds. If you’ve ever hidden in a coat closet, you might know this sound—just your heart pounding, squishing blood through arteries and veins. A silence with nothing to corrupt it but the noisy mechanical racket of your own body.
Somes couldn’t bear it; he struck his foot hard against the ground, just so he could hear something. There was an echo, and when he raised his hand, he felt a cold breeze above his head. He looked up and saw a cavern extending above him for hundreds of feet.
When the four friends started walking again, they realized they were in a sunken channel with steep, rocky sides. Occasionally, they peered through a crack in the surface and saw an immense shadowy landscape beyond.
“Somes, stop that!” said Abby.
“What?” replied Somes. “What am I doing?”
“You’re making a sound with your feet.”
“Am not.”
The slithering sound grew louder and, quite suddenly, the breeze above them ceased.
Somes reached up and felt a
smooth ceiling instead of open air. “Weird,” he said, for he could still see the cavern beyond the ceiling, although it was blurry.
The ceiling moved, scattering pebbles upon everybody’s shoulders. This was followed by another slithering sound, then silence.
Gabriel felt an impulse to play dead. He couldn’t explain it; he just knew that to lie still was the wisest thing. “Lights out. Everyone down,” he murmured. “On the ground, quick as you can. Don’t make any noise.”
Paladin finally spotted a blue streak dodging several valravens. Vyka weaved skillfully between trees, then dipped under the roof of an outdoor elevated subway station. The ravens chased her, careering into people on the platform. One raven burst right through a man’s open newspaper.
Vyka flew toward a gray substation surrounded by barbed wire and shiny cone-shaped objects. She perched on an electrical wire next to a sign reading DANGER HIGH VOLTAGE. A deep, ominous hum hinted that millions of volts of electricity were traveling through the wires leading into and out of this dull gray building.
Hookeye circled the substation while Snitcher fluttered impatiently behind him. “What are you scared of? Go get her!”
“Shush! This power is almost as strong as the torc,” said Hookeye. “Hear that hum? Its flash will cook us to a crisp.”
“But His Eminence commands you to get her,” said Snitcher.
“Silence, little one,” snapped the one-eyed valraven.
Paladin circled the substation, spooked by the dreadful hum. He hovered near the blue raven. “Vyka, you were very brave, but shouldn’t we get out of here?” he cried.
“As long as we don’t touch the ground, the wires are safe,” Vyka assured him.
Paladin alighted beside her on the wire and felt relieved when nothing happened.
“See?” she said. “You just have to know where—”
She was interrupted by another voice.
“Not just where, but when and how many watts!”
“Many who trespass on owl territory make a shocking mistake and get a revolting charge!”
“What kind of charge? Assault and battery?” quipped a third, coughing hysterically.
“Oh boy,” murmured Paladin. “I’ve never heard so many stupid puns in my life. We must be among owls.”