Riddle in Stone (The Riddle in Stone Series - Book One) (37 page)

Why does she keep kissing him? What about me? Doesn’t she know what I’ve been through? I rescued her!

Norb’s voice resonated in the depths of his mind.
“Molly went on with her life, Ed. She sold a few of your books to poor ol’ Tom and toasted your health at every meal.”

She went on with her life . . .

Edmund realized that Molly was touching his forearm.

“Thank you! Thank you!” Tears were cascading down her cheeks. Her face was creased with more wrinkles than he had remembered, but her green eyes still shone with the same spirit she always had. “Thank you, Ed!” She kissed him on the forehead and hugged him tight.

Edmund couldn’t move.

She went on with her life.

“Don’t thank us yet,” Pond said. “We still have to get you out of here. Ed, now what? Ed!”

She and Norb?

Thorax snarled.

“Ed!” Pond shook him. “What now?”

Edmund blinked. “Q-q-quick,” he said, trying to pull himself out of the agonizing fog flooding his mind. “We have to . . . we have to find a way out.”

The Games are over. The entire tower is going to be filled with goblins. We can’t go the way we came.

“We . . . we have to find the Undead King’s private quarters. He probably has a secret escape route,” Edmund said, the strength returning to his wavering voice.

Molly’s face showed a hint of the terror that she experienced as a captive. “I, I know where they are.”

Leading them up an inner stairway, Molly brought them though the dining room in which Edmund had once eaten roasted chicken and potatoes, through the room where Kravel burnt out his eye, and down another hallway. She opened a door, revealing a bedroom fit for a king who had lived for many centuries. When she saw the grand canopied bed, Molly shrank back. Edmund stepped closer to comfort her, but Norb was quicker. She buried her head in the stable hand’s chest and bawled.

Edmund stood and stared at them.

She and Norb?

“Your wife,” Kravel had said. He thought she was my wife when actually—

“What now?” Pond asked. “Should we try to scale down from the windows? We could use the bed sheets—”

“No,” Edmund said staring at Molly. “No,” he repeated louder. “No, not the windows.”

He forced himself to begin searching the interior wall of the room, pushing on the mortared stone.

“What’re you looking for?” Norb asked, his left arm still wrapped around Molly, his right hand clutching his ax.

Stepping back, Edmund surveyed the wall. “In, in . . . in every, in every story I’ve ever read, places like these was always had a secret exit. It’s always in the King’s personal chambers.”

Sometimes it’s in an adjacent room, a parlor or study.

Dashing across the bedroom, Edmund threw open another door. He gave a muted gasp.

In front of him was a labyrinth of bookshelves reaching from the floor to the ceiling. They were brimming with books and scrolls and unbound manuscripts of all shapes and sizes, thousands upon thousands of them, perhaps fifty or sixty thousand in all. Edmund inhaled, the familiar scent of aged parchment and leather nearly overwhelming him.

The others ran up to him.

“Is it the way out?” Norb asked.

All of these ancient books! Who know what’s—

Come on. They’re just books! Find a way out!

“It has to be here,” Edmund said to himself. He pointed to the far wall. “Check behind those shelves. Look for anything that might be hiding a secret door. Look for scratches on the floor where a door might have opened or where the stones on the wall form straight lines. Spread out.”

They began searching the back wall, casting books from their shelves in great heaps and poking the masonry behind them.

The hair between Thorax’s shoulder blades rose. She bore her teeth as she emitted a guttural growl.

“Well, well,” a wispy voice said.

Edmund spun.

Kravel and Gurding were standing in the doorway to the library. Behind them were thirty other goblins, all armed with nets and swords.

“It seems we’ve been looking for Filth in all the wrong places, Mr. Gurding. Just like that Sir Henry fellow and the troll,” Kravel said.

“I never did like that tale,” Gurding replied, fingering the blade of his knife. “I felt sorry for the troll.”

“And look, Filth has brought a new friend, who just happens to be holding his beloved Molly!” Kravel tutted at Norb and then at Molly. “Hello again, Molly.” He winked suggestively. “Have you told Edmund your little secret? Do you think he’d still be here if he knew it?”

Norb pushed Molly behind him. Hefting his ax, he took a step toward Kravel. Kravel recoiled in mock dread.

Damn it! The Undead King is probably nearby as well.

If he comes, we’re done for. We can’t fight what we can’t see. We have to get out of here!

“Norb!” Edmund shouted.

Norb hesitated.

“And look,” Gurding said, “they have that mutt, the one from the tower.”

“Ah! Right you are, Mr. Gurding. It would seem you didn’t end its miserable existence as you indicated. I believe you lost our little bet after all.”

“Norb,” Edmund called out, “remember what I told you to do? Do it now. Pond . . . you too.”

Unslinging his backpack, Pond extracted an armload of brown flasks that he brought from Rood. Reluctantly, with Molly cowering behind him, Norb followed Pond’s example.

“Why, Mr. Gurding,” Kravel said in exaggerated delight, “it appears that they have some sort of plan.”

“It’ll be interesting to see what it is, Mr. Kravel, seeing that there is no way out of this room other than through us.”

More goblins charged into the bedroom beyond Kravel and Gurding. They watched intently as Pond and Norb began throwing the flasks against the floors. The flasks shattered, sending a thick black fluid oozing across the stone.

From his vest pocket, Edmund pulled out several sheets of vellum.

“Oh no.” Gurding groaned. “He’s written a speech.”

“Now, now, Mr. Gurding. At least he’ll have his thoughts organized. Perhaps he’ll start with a joke.”

They grinned expectantly at Edmund, their yellow fangs glinting in the torch light.

Edmund waved the pages over his head. “I know the answer to the riddle.”

“Do you, now?” the Undead King said.

The goblins behind Gurding and Kravel began stepping aside, forming a lane to the library door. Some of the goblin’s cloaks moved, as if caught in the wake of somebody moving briskly past. But nobody other than goblins could be seen.

Too late! He’s here!

Remain calm and stay alert. You have what he needs. He’ll do anything to learn the secret of Iliandor’s steel. As long as Pond and Norb don’t do anything stupid, we should be fine. Don’t panic.

“I knew you were the proper person for the task, Edmund,” the Undead King said from somewhere in the room. “By all means, enlighten the rest of us.”

Molly whimpered.

Pond and Norb swung their weapons in the air as if they might hit something their eyes couldn’t perceive.

“The salvation of humanity can be found in buildings of wise men,” Edmund recited, “doubly so in optimism of the learned, and in knowledge that is written on a daily basis. What’s found in b-b-buildings?”

Thorax sniffed in front of her. Snarling, she retreated a pace.

“Doors,” offered Gurding.

“Furniture,” suggested Kravel.

“Maybe—” Gurding began.

“Gentlemen,” the Undead King said, even closer than before, “please allow Edmund to continue. This is his moment. Continue, Master Scholar.”

“A ‘b’ is in buildings.”

“A bee?” Gurding repeated doubtfully. “Why would there be a bee in buildings of wise men? Wouldn’t they—”

“Mr. Gurding.” The Undead King’s voice grew irritated.

Gurding closed his mouth.

“Doubly so in ‘optimism,’” Edmund went on, glancing at the arc of black liquid on the floor in front of them. “And in ‘knowledge.’ B . . . o . . . o . . . k. Book. The answer is a book. Specifically . . . this book.” Edmund produced Iliandor’s diary from his pack and flung it to the floor at Kravel’s feet, its cover shredded. “In it, I found this.” He shook the sheets of vellum. “The formula for making Iliandor’s indestructible weapons and armor.” The silence felt electric.

“What a stupid riddle,” Gurding grumbled to Kravel.

“Very good, Master Edmund,” the Undead King’s voice said, as if it were finally able to breathe. He was close. Edmund could feel his presence like the tingling before lightning struck. “Very good, indeed. I knew that you were extraordinary.”

“Now let us go,” Edmund demanded.

There was a chuckle. Gurding and Kravel smiled, the same smile they wore right before they burnt out his eye.

Edmund grinned back. He held aloft one of the sheets of vellum.

“
Fyre av nå
!”

There was a pop, a spark, and then a tiny blue flame trickling up the edge of the page.

“He’s a Maûa!” Kravel said, his evil face showing fear for the first time.

Gurding stepped back a pace.

“Put out the fire, Edmund,” the Undead King said, his voice rising to a shout. “Put it out!”

Edmund pointed to his friends. “Let them go! I know there’s a s-s-s-secret door in here somewhere. Where is it?”

The flames crept higher, crackling as they consumed the edge of the vellum. Edmund rotated the page so that the flames consumed more of the document.

“All right! All right! Put it out and they shall go free.”

Edmund smothered the flames.

Like a puddle of rain being stepped in, ripples appeared in the black fluid on the floor. Thorax snapped and growled, her three functioning legs planted wide.

There he is.

“Any closer, Kar-Nazar, and I’ll b-b-burn, burn it all.” Edmund crumpled the partly burnt sheet into a ball and held it aloft. “You need every page for it to help you.”

“So you know who I am? That’s unfortunate. I wonder . . . was it was my brother who told you? And were you the one who killed him?”

Vorn was his brother?

Don’t listen to him. Don’t get distracted!

There was a delighted sigh. “Very well, Master Edmund,” the Undead King went on. “I was right about you. There is a great deal that we have in common. I could be a very good mentor for you, if you wish to enhance your abilities.”

“The exit!” Edmund said, shaking the vellum again. “Where’s the exit?”

A goblin with a crossbow appeared in the doorway behind Gurding. Edmund dove behind a bookshelf.

“
Fyre
—”

“No!” The Undead King said. “Take the bow away. All of you . . . go! Go I say!” The guards slowly withdrew to the King’s bedroom. Kravel and Gurding stayed, standing by the library door, watching Edmund.

“All right, Edmund,” the Undead King said. “You win. Behind your lovely Molly, behind the second bookcase to her left, is a door. Beyond it is a staircase. It descends to a passage that leads southwestward out of the mountains.”

“Pond—” Edmund said.

“I’m on it,” Pond replied, tugging at the bookcase.

“He’s a liar!” Molly screamed from behind Norb. “He wouldn’t let us go. He’d never just let us go!”

“Molly,” Edmund said. “I have what he wants. He doesn’t care about you or anything else.”

Unable to speak, Molly clung to Norb’s arm, sobbing.

The bookshelf swung outward.

“There’s nothing behind it,” Pond called to Edmund.

“There is a small square stone in the wall, about waist high for you,” the Undead King said. “Push it.”

Pond looked at Edmund, uncertain what to do.

“Go ahead, Pond. He knows what’ll happen to his precious formula if he tries to trick us.”

Pond paused and then pushed the stone.

A metallic click rang out as a portion of the wall gave way, revealing a narrow stairwell going down into utter darkness. Stale air enveloped them.

“Your friends may leave,” the Undead King said. “You have my word that they won’t be harmed.”

Your word doesn’t mean a damn thing to me. But at least they’ll have a chance to get away.

Pond, Norb, and Molly stared at the stairs and then at Edmund.

“Ed . . . ?” Pond faltered.

“Pond, go! Take Norb and Molly and go!”

“Ed,” Molly said, as if she had far more to say.

Watching Molly cowering behind Norb, Edmund’s fingers tightened around the crumpled page of vellum.

She should be hiding behind me.

She moved on.

Moved on . . .

“Ed,” she repeated, tenderly.

“Molly, we don’t have time. You kn-kn-know, you know how I feel.” He forced a smile. “You and Norb go back to Rood . . . and have a good life.”

Norb and Molly . . .

“Ed . . . ” She took a half step toward him and then stopped. She looked at the stairs.

“Norb,” Edmund yelled, “get her out of here. Go on! Go! All of you. He wants me. Go, damn you!”

“Thanks, Ed,” Norb said. “And I’m sorry about what I said before behind the Rogue and all. I take it all back.”

“Go!”

Molly beheld Edmund one last time, her eyes moist. And then, with Norb leading the way, she disappeared into the blackness beyond the secret door, sounds of running echoing back into the library.

Pond appeared torn.

Swearing, Edmund pointed to the stairs. “Damn it, Pond . . . go!”

“I’ll see you at the bottom,” Pond said.

“No! Don’t wait. Just go. Run! Run to Rood. Run anywhere. Just . . . get the hell out of here.”

Pond nodded. “Okay. But just remember, everything always works out in the end!”

Not all stories end happily . . .

“Go!”

Pond disappeared into the darkness.

“You too, Thorax,” Edmund said, pointing to the secret door. “Go! Go with Pond. Okay, girl? He’ll take care of you. Go!”

Thorax sat.

I could always count on you.

“Very touching,” the Undead King said. “My people had an expression: ‘You can always tell who your friends are, for they are the ones standing with you when the fields need to be plowed.’”

“Oh, shut up! I’m tired of hearing what you have to say.”