Keeper of Myths

by Jasmine Richards

  “Easy peasy.” A jet of smoke left Sam’s hand, encircled the pearl that Amin held, and lifted it up to the ceiling.

  As it slotted in, Sam grinned. “So much easier than having butter fingers and dropping it, no?”

  Buzz did not respond. Sam was annoying, but more worrying was the fact that the plinth was still rising and the fire had not died away. Dread coiled though him as he looked down and realized they couldn’t even jump to the ground because the flames would get them. They were trapped. His gaze caught on something by his feet. Letters were appearing around the edge of the column they were on.

  “Why isn’t it working?” Mary asked, still looking at the ceiling.

  “I don’t know,” Buzz replied. “But I think these letters have something to do with it.” He pointed at them with the tip of his sneaker.

  “‘Denial Truth,’” Mary read. “It’s obviously some kind of riddle.” She straightened her glasses. “We solve it, and I bet it’ll stop the plinth and the fire as well.”

  “Exactly which truth should we deny, then?” Sam asked. “Right now the truth looks like we either get squashed or we get roasted.”

  “Truth.” Buzz blinked hard as he stared at the characters. “Oh, I see,” he said after a moment. “Funny. I didn’t see the words. They were just a jumble of letters to me. Like Liam’s anagram for practical joker.”

  Sam glared. “You’re just bringing that up to hurt my feelings.”

  “No, I’m not,” Buzz insisted. “I just thought—”

  “Don’t think,” Sam said. “It will be less painful for you.”

  “Quit it, okay!” Mary demanded. “Me and Buzz have solved a lot of riddles, and one thing I’ve learned is that things are never as they first appear. It’s all about how you look at them.”

  “She’s right,” Amin said. “Perhaps the answer isn’t Denial Truth. What if this is a clue telling us to deny the truth, even if the answer seems as plain as the noses on our faces?”

  Sam crossed his arms. “I don’t see why you’re all ganging up on me.”

  Amin rapped his tentacles on Sam’s head. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. It is not becoming of a god.”

  Buzz smiled despite himself. Sam didn’t look very happy with his telling off. Looking up again, he saw that the ceiling of the chamber was just a few meters away now. He dropped to his knees and quickly scanned the letters. “Let’s jumble them up then,” he said. “Deny the words in front of us and make new truths. New words.”

  Mary dropped to her knees as well. “So what else could this be an anagram for?”

  Buzz pointed to four letters. “Dial,” he said. “That’s one word straightaway.”

  Sam knelt down and traced some more letters with his fingers. “Turn,” he whispered. “You can spell turn and dial, and still have the letters HTE left over.”

  “Turn the dial,” Mary said. “That’s what the letters are telling us to do!”

  “Are you sure?” Amin’s wizened face was skeptical. “There’s no dial here.” He looked up at the ceiling, which was now a meter away. “And we’re out of time.” Buzz noticed that the old guy was ever so subtly unwrapping his tentacles from around Sam’s shoulders.

  “You’re wrong.” Buzz slapped his hand on the etching of the sundial in the center of the plinth. “There’s a dial right here.” He placed his fingers into the grooves of the sundial, and as his fingers touched the channels, he felt a pulse of power. Taking a firm grip of the carving, he exerted a bit of pressure, and the whole sundial began to rotate. As he turned the dial around three hundred and sixty degrees, the plinth began to rotate in the opposite direction, retracting into the ground.

  “It’s working,” Mary said. “We’re going back down!”

  As the plinth settled back into the ground, the flames died away, and the wall in front of them with the symbols began to roll back.

  Buzz, Mary, Sam, and Amin walked forward together. Directly ahead of them stood a statue of a bear. It was on its hind legs with its head thrown back, looking up at a ceiling that was also rolling back to reveal the stars and the moon.

  Buzz’s heart sank. They had solved two riddles and risked being squashed and burnt, just to find a statue of a bear under a night sky. Buzz walked over to the sculpture. It was enormous and very detailed. Buzz imagined he could almost see the wind from above blowing through the bear’s fur.

  “No sign of a cyphon in here,” Sam complained. His voice echoed around the chamber.

  “No, but there is a statue of the Great Bear.” Amin’s voice was filled with wonder. “One of the first gods. One of the greatest.”

  “Humph. If he’s so great, why have I never heard of him?” Sam asked with a sniff.

  “He was a god to the first people,” Amin said. “The god of the Neanderthals.”

  “They didn’t make it, though, did they?” Sam pointed out. “So not such a great god. Not as great as me.” He kicked at the base of the statue just as moonlight poured into the chamber.

  And then came the roar.

  The bear statue was no longer still. It dropped onto its front legs and prowled forward.

  With a yelp, Sam sent a jet of fire from his fingertips, but it just bounced off the bear’s stone pelt.

  Amin cradled his head in his tentacles. “What have you done?” he wailed. “What have you done?”

  The bear was pushing Sam into a corner. Saliva dripped from its stone teeth as it stretched its mouth wide.

  “Stop!” Buzz cried. “Stop, please.” Search for the bear. The old woman’s voice came back to him. Say the prayer. Buzz flung himself in front of Sam and held up a hand.

  “Great Bear, I seek your teachings, your wisdom, and your solace. Guide me in the right direction, show me the strength I have inside and the kindness I can lend to others. Give me sight so I can see the truth and the words so I can speak it.”

  The bear blinked, the wildness in its eyes replaced by a softness that was almost dreamlike. Buzz felt some of his breath return to him. “He didn’t mean to cause you offense.” Buzz looked over at Sam. “Okay, he did. But he’s sorry. Aren’t you, Sam?”

  Sam nodded, clearly not able to get any words out.

  Mary crept forward. “We didn’t mean to disturb you, Great Bear. We were looking for the cyphon.” She tried to smile, but it was a bit wobbly. “It’s obviously not here, so we’ll get out of your . . . um . . . fur.” She looked over her shoulder, and Buzz saw that there was still no door. “If you can just show us the way out.”

  The bear closed its gaping jaws and sank back on its haunches. It looked tired. “You are wrong. You have found the cyphon. It is right in front of you.”

  “You’re the cyphon?” Amin’s eyes were wide. “Why did the books not say?”

  “Because this knowledge belongs to a time before books,” the bear explained. “Before gods.” Its eyes became dreamlike once more as it remembered. “The gods came from me, and I can draw them to me again, for I am one of the nine. I am the sixth.”

  “That’s why those numbered symbols were on the wall!” Mary exclaimed.

  The bear nodded. “We ended the darkness. We cleared the skies and allowed the moon and the sun to shine their rays on the world. We even gave man the power of flame.”

  That explains the pearl and the sundial, Buzz thought. And the fire.

  A tear ran down the bear’s marble cheek. “I am the sixth,” it repeated. “I am the only one left from the nine.”

  “The world you helped make is in danger,” Mary said. “Those gods you made want to take control of humanity. But their time has passed.”

  The bear shook its mighty head. “Everyone’s time passes. Even my time has passed. I cannot help you.”

  “You must,” Buzz said. “You started all this. The world is still your responsibility.”

  The bear looked down at one of its giant paws for a moment and then brought it to its mouth. It began to pull at one of its claws with its teeth.

  “Ow!�
�� Buzz could hardly watch. “Stop! Why are you hurting yourself like this?”

  The bear laughed, even as it finally managed to rip the claw from his paw. “I am far beyond pain at my age. But thank you for the concern.” It held out the claw. “I cannot leave this place. But I give you this. It’s part of me. So it is a cyphon.”

  Buzz took the claw. It was surprisingly heavy, and warm as well.

  “This claw will draw the gods into it, but it will not destroy them, and it will not hold them forever.” The bear looked at them with pleading eyes. “The gods are my children as well. Once they have been caught in the cyphon, they must be taken far from your world and resettled. Far, far away, or they will find a way back.”

  Buzz looked over at Sam and Amin. He held out the claw to them. “Coming here was your idea. You should look after this.”

  Sam reached out for the claw, but Amin snatched it out of Buzz’s palm instead. He hugged it and dipped his head. “Thank you, Great Bear.”

  The bear looked at him with an unreadable expression. “Make the right choices, half god.” It lumbered back into the middle of the room. “Good luck to you all in what is to come.”

  The bear rose to its full height, and then it turned to stone once more.

  “Wow,” Mary breathed. She stepped forward and looked up at the bear. “That was pretty surreal. Do you think it can still see us and hear us?”

  “What does that matter?” Sam was looking at the cyphon that Amin still held close. “I can’t believe we’ve actually got it.” He swallowed hard. “Thank you, Buzz,” he said. “I would have been a bear’s brunch if you hadn’t said that prayer.”

  “You’re welcome.” Buzz glanced at his friend. “I know you don’t believe it, Sam. But you mean a lot to me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth about what happened to me. I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t enough. Right now, all I want is to put things back to how they were before.”

  Sam’s throat began to work even harder. “But everything is so different now. I don’t know if things can ever go back to how they were before.”

  “But we can be friends again, right?” Buzz said.

  Sam opened his mouth but closed it again. “I . . . I . . . don’t know,” he finally managed to say.

  Amin shifted his weight on Sam’s shoulder. “Perhaps he’ll be able to answer that question once we have gotten back to your realm and dealt with Berchta and the Pantheon. That needs to be our focus.”

  “Of course,” Buzz said. “I know that, but—”

  “Let’s go find an ash tree,” Mary said. “We’ve been away for too long. It’s time to go home.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Trapped

  The same moon that had awoken the Great Bear lit their way as Buzz, Mary, Sam, and Amin fought a path through the forest. The ground beneath their feet was uneven, thick with roots and bracken that were eager to trip them up. There only seemed to be one moon in this realm, but it was full and close and so bright Mary did not need to use the flashlight on her watch.

  “How far now?” Mary asked. She swore as she tripped over another root.

  “There is a copse of ash trees just a few meters from here,” Amin said. “Once we’re there, you can unlock a new portal.”

  “Ratatosk’s twigs better work,” Mary said, “or we’re stuck here.”

  “Of course they’ll work,” Buzz said. “He’s never let us down before.”

  “True.” Mary looked worried. “I hope he’s all right,” she said. “And Theo.”

  “Guys like Theo are always all right.” Sam’s voice was as bitter as chicory.

  “Theo’s not a bad person,” Buzz said. “He really isn’t. You should give him a second chance.”

  “No second chances,” Sam muttered under his breath. “Not anymore.”

  “Look, over by that hollow oak,” Amin cried. “There are some ash trees.”

  “At last.” Mary raced over to them but stopped as a loud flapping sound filled the air. “What’s that?” she asked.

  “Just a bit of wildlife,” Amin reassured her. “Come, let’s open that portal.”

  “Amin,” Sam said. “I don’t think I can do—”

  “You don’t need to do anything,” Amin snapped.

  Buzz noticed that Amin’s tentacles were writhing even more than usual, curling and uncurling on Sam’s shoulder. One tentacle even seemed to be in Sam’s ear, just the very tip.

  “He’s right, Sam.” Mary planted her twig next to the ash tree. “This is our job. We’ll get the portal open.”

  Buzz couldn’t pull his gaze from Sam. His friend looked ill. Scared.

  He noticed something dark splattered on the front of his friend’s white robes. It was blood, and it was coming from Amin. It trickled from a wound in the old man’s tentacle and was now falling to the ground.

  “Amin, you’re hurt,” Buzz said.

  Amin shook his head. “It’s nothing.” The flapping sound was louder. It was closer. “Really, it’s nothing.” Amin was looking all about him. “Please, let’s just get this portal open.”

  Something’s not right, Buzz thought. It was written all over Sam’s face and Amin’s as well. Are they nervous? Buzz knew he was. How exactly were they going to get the cyphon to work? How were they going to trap all the gods?

  Buzz strode over to the silver trees. He wasn’t going to let the fear of the unknown stop him. This is my story, he reminded himself. We’ll find the answer. He placed his hand on the smooth bark and then plunged his twig into the earth. Immediately the air thrummed with energy and a portal ripped itself open in the air. The gash was filled with nothing. It was an absence. It was the way home.

  Buzz felt someone barge past him, smacking into his shoulder. As he turned he saw Sam and Amin shove past Mary as well, so that they were directly in front of the portal.

  “No need to push,” Mary grumbled. “We’re all getting home.”

  Sam turned to face them. There were tears in his eyes. “No, no, we’re not.” A jet of fire burst from Sam’s fingertips and surrounded him, Amin, and the portal in a sphere of flame. Buzz felt his eyelashes singe, and he and Mary took a step back from the fierce heat.

  “What are you doing?” Buzz yelled over the roar of the fire.

  Sam was already halfway into the rip in the sky. He looked miserable and triumphant all at the same time. “You’re not part of the plan, Buzz. You never were.” His eyes were wild, and Amin’s tentacles seemed to be all over him.

  “Plan?” Mary repeated.

  “We’re going to capture Berchta and the Pantheon. We’ll destroy them all,” Sam said. “And then it will just be me and Amin.”

  “Worshiped by all.” The old man cackled with glee.

  Over the roar of the flames, Buzz could hear that flapping sound again. It was very close this time.

  Amin looked up and began to laugh even more wildly.

  “The strix have smelled my trail of blood,” he called, looking up at the sky. “They’re coming for you, and are far worse than those blood-sucking creatures you’ve heard about in stories.” He stared at Buzz and Mary and his lip curled. “Thanks for all the help getting the cyphon. We couldn’t have done it without you.” He tugged Sam farther into the portal, his tentacles almost strangling him.

  Sam’s eyes bulged. “Get out of here, Buzz, before the strix come.” And then he and Amin were gone.

  The portal closed up behind them with a pffffff sound. The flames surrounding it disappeared as well.

  “Those little toads,” Mary snarled. “They tricked us. They both tricked us, and now the portal’s gone.”

  “We can’t worry about that now.” Buzz looked up at the sky. “Those strix things are coming for us.” He bent down and picked up a flat, heavy stone.

  Mary raised her watch. The flashlight shone bright.

  Ten pairs of wide, yellow eyes with no pupils stared back at them from up in the trees. Giant birds that looked like owls, but with red feather
s, black legs, and golden beaks, were watching them hungrily.

  “The strix,” Buzz whispered.

  “We need to go,” Mary cried. But it was too late. A tide of red surged over them.

  Buzz could feel pinpricks of pain all over his body as sharp talons tore at his clothes. Heavy wings beat at his face, and he staggered backward, catching glimpses of beaks that looked as sharp as blades.

  “Get off me,” he cried as the birds continued to swirl all around him. He swung out with the flat stone, but the creatures were far too quick.

  “There’s too many of them!” Mary’s face was scratched and bloodied. “We’re gonna be ripped to shreds.”

  Buzz swung out with his stone again, but it was hopeless. They were surrounded by the creatures. He staggered backward as two strix drove him away from Mary. They’re trying to separate us, he realized.

  “Mary?” He yelled her name at the top of his voice. “Mary, where are you?” The strix nearest to him gave a screech of pain and veered away to the left. Buzz called her name again as loud as he could, and the other strix began to shudder and gave a screech of pain.

  “I’m here, Buzz.” Mary’s voice sounded ragged, but it was nearby.

  “They don’t like loud noises,” Buzz shouted. “Play some music on your watch. As loud as you can.”

  The bass line for the song “Wiggle” suddenly began to pound.

  Buzz would have chosen something a bit more serious, but it would do. There was a cacophony of noise as the strix all began screeching and backing away from them.

  “It’s working,” Mary shouted over the music as she staggered to his side.

  “I know,” Buzz said. “Keep playing the music . . .” He trailed off as one of the strix began rubbing its head in the dirt of the forest floor. The movement threw up a cloud of moss and dead leaves that clung to the strix’s head and its pointed ears.

  The other strix began to caw in delight and followed suit.

  Mary’s mouth hung open. “They’re actually making ear plugs out of dirt. That’s super clever.” She deactivated her music. “I mean, whoever said that birds have small brains hasn’t met this bunch.”