Fabled (13 page)

Later, he placed an apple in front of me without saying a word, as if it were a white flag of surrender.

“If we’re going to Dresdem’s castle, we have to have a bloody marvelous plan,” he said while taking a bite out of his edible ruby.
 

“What are you thinking?” I asked, sitting up and eating my less than satisfying breakfast.

“Dresdem’s garden is heavily guarded. I’m sure you’ve assumed as much, and there’s no way we can get in there without him knowing. And he’s not going to allow you to just walk out with Madeline. He’s going to take you. That’s if you really are the antidote to the coma. Best case scenario, you wake her up, but he will never let you leave. You’ll be trapped. We need to understand the details of the spell to know exactly how it can be broken. Then we can figure out a plan from there.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“The Riddler.”

We packed up our things, doused our fire, and set out in a different direction from which we traveled the day before. I was exhausted from all the walking. I’d never been the active type. The extent of my extracurricular activities back home almost always involved a book and a chair, but I tried not to complain.

I wanted to know more about how the Riddler could help, but I knew I shouldn’t ask many questions of him since he hated going along with this. From what I understood though, the Riddler was a wizard of sorts who knows mostly everything there is to know about magic. He was like a Mezzanine shaman.
 

Within a few hours, we approached an old path that was covered in thistles dressed in violet. The pathway looked to have been untouched for months, maybe years. Chester led us into the thickening maze of undergrowth until the path opened slightly, and revealed a large home with wild ivy spreading across it that reminded me of the Georgia kudzu. The roof, moss-ridden, was barely visible. There was no sight of a door.

“You should let me do the talking,” Chester whispered to me.

“I always do,” I mumbled under my breath. I couldn’t help but think about the house Dashielle and I went to for the Halloween party. It gave me the same eerie feeling as this one. Chester strategically lifted a large grouping of ivy revealing an ancient-looking wooden door. The heavy-duty iron hinges and elaborately carved knob only added to the creep-factor.
 

Chester knocked three times.

We stood quietly for a moment and listened for signs of movement within the house.

“I don’t think anyone’s home,” I finally whispered.

“Shh.”

I turned to walk away from the door since no one was answering.
 

“No one is ever home in Mezzanine,” a man said with a sarcastic laugh, appearing in front of me. I took a backwards leap, stumbling over Chester who was now facing him too.

“We need your help,” Chester said.
 

“But of course,” the man said.

Chester took my hand, lovingly looked into my eyes, and followed as the man escorted us into the house. This was the first romantic motion he had made towards me since our spat, and I was thankful we had moved past it.

The man, I presumed to be the Riddler, was tall and scrawny. His elbows bulged out of his emaciated arms. His cheeks and eye sockets were sunken in, hugging his skull. The three-piece suit he wore was dirty and ripped in some places. His pants were cuffed at the bottom ironically showing pearly white socks tucked neatly inside black loafers. The once white shirt was stained with the occasional button missing revealing a rib here and there. His thin white hair stood wild upon his shiny, sun-spotted head, and his last remaining teeth were blackened at the root. His balding beard gave peeks to the wrinkled face beneath.

He led us through a bare, narrow foyer, lit only by one candle. We then trailed him, hand-in-hand, into a large room with several mismatched Victorian sofas. The peeling paisley wallpaper revealed thin slats of wood. There were a couple of oversized area rugs that defined two “conversation areas,” as I had heard it called on television. Books scattered the floor, dust lay like a blanket on everything in sight, and the only source of light was the two fireplaces, one on each end of the room.
 

“Please, sit,” Riddler said.

I followed Chester to a mossy green sofa. Chester’s hand gripped mine tighter, which only made me more nervous. I could feel his anxiety rushing through him and reaching to my now rapidly pumping heart.
 

“Tea?” he asked grinning ominously at us. Neither of us had time to answer before the walking stick figure had disappeared into an adjoining room.

We sat in complete silence. I wanted to ask Chester if we could just get out of there, but I kept thinking of Madeline lying motionless, imprisoned in her own body.
 

He returned with three cups of tea on a tray. I hesitated to drink it. I had become skeptical since being poisoned by the twins. Chester took a gulp, and eventually so did I.
 

The Riddler attempted chitchat, but Chester burst out, “Listen, we need your help.” He went on to explain to the silent old man sipping his tea everything about Madeline, and how I am resolute on saving her. I tried to read his cloudy eyes to see if I could determine if he’d help us, but he lacked expression or emotion.
 

“I see. Well, you know my rules. You’ve played here before. If you answer my riddle, I will be more than happy to tell you about the spell that is holding your pretty little friend in a deadening trance.”

Chester looked at me.
 

“Of course,” I said without thinking.
 

“Goody! I haven’t had any visitors in quite a long time, and I am thrilled to have such willing participants.” He grinned.

“I’m not any good at riddles,” I admitted.

“Few are,” Riddler giggled.

“Maybe between the both of us we can figure it out,” Chester said.

“Oh, no no. That just won’t do. It’s her friend. She should be the one to answer.”
 

I looked at Chester, telling him with my eyes how this wasn’t such a good idea.

“Are you ready?”
 

I nodded in defeat. I had to at least try.

“It huffs and puffs and blows and beats. Its mouth foams, and its body grows. It consumes and destroys too. All before it gets to you.”

The Riddler’s wild eyes danced as he looked at my blank face. He laughed wickedly and slapped his knee as if this was a funny joke. I sent a longing glance towards Chester whose mind also seemed to be racing.
 

“Come on now. Let’s leave her to think.” He escorted Chester out of the room. “You have twenty four hours.” The door slammed shut. My mind replayed his words over and over again, trying to retain it perfectly. I scrambled around the room. I found a pen lying on top on the mantle, grabbed a book, and quickly jotted down the riddle from memory. I studied it. Reading it again and again until my mind could recite it blindly. I had no idea what it meant. I stared at the tufting on the couch and let my mind wander aimlessly through its files. I knew riddles were usually answered by something unusual.
 

I lay on the plush, dust-ridden sofa and gazed at the cracked plaster on the ceiling.
It huffs and puffs. Big bad wolf? No. Foaming mouth
—
rabid dog? No. I don’t think a rabid dog would blow and beat.
I went on like this for hours trying to figure out what it could be until my eyes couldn’t stay open any longer. I fell asleep still thinking about the riddle, so my dreams were filled with angry puppies turning into wolves that destroyed homes and peculiarly small children.
 

I awoke to a slight knock on the door.

“Anything yet?” his shrill voice asked with a laugh.

“No.”

“You have eight more hours.” The door closed.

I just wished Chester were here. The Riddler said that he had played his game before. He could probably be of great help. I’ve never answered a riddle before.
A tornado?
My mind interrupted.
No. It can’t be that because tornadoes do actually reach you. Hurricanes? Same thing. Wind? No.
I let out a scream in frustration.
I have to figure this out. Madeline’s life is at stake.
I lay there trying to master this epic conundrum.
 

Everything distracted me — the peeling wallpaper, the creeping ivy that was protruding its way through the cracked window’s glass panels, and the intricate detail of the herringboned pattern on the fireplace front. I traced every crevice of the room with my eyes hoping that the lack of pure, undivided attention would cause my mind to work its magic subconsciously.

Minutes faded into hours without the slightest helpful hint. I suddenly heard creaking of the antique wooden floors and the door opened to reveal Chester and the Riddler.
 

“Time’s up.” He grinned.

Chester looked worried, and my heart began to race. I had no idea how to solve the riddle. Even though I felt that it was imperative to save Madeline, I simply didn’t have an answer. I stood up from the couch in resolve.
 

“You have to tell us how to save her! She needs us, and I’m not going to let the likes of you keep me from helping my friend,” I stated, at first assuredly, but it was only a mere stutter by the end. I was exhausted and hungry.
We’ll have to find the details of the curse another way.

The Riddler laughed that same villainous laugh I’d heard in kid’s movies. Chester stood silent and unsure. I began to back away towards the fire’s mantle, creating more distance from the cold man. I looked towards the dancing fire, and noticed something I hadn’t before. It was a small ornament that was oddly familiar to me. Somewhere in my childhood I’d seen one of these. The clear block held blue liquid and a tiny boat. I remembered holding one of these in a bookstore while I waited on my parents in the checkout line. I remembered rocking the block back and forth and watching the boat ride the waves. I picked up the trinket and mimicked my childhood memory. For a moment, I became lost in that memory I had long since forgotten. I looked as the red boat fought the violent waves that my hands were creating. That’s when it hit me.

“A wave! An ocean’s wave!” I turned back and faced the now stone serious man. Chester’s eyes looked stunned as he mentally connected the riddle’s words with my answer.

“She’s right,” Chester whispered in amazement.

“How can that be?” the Riddler asked.

We all stood there in silence for several minutes.
 

The Riddler walked towards me until he intrusively invaded my personal bubble, allowing me to smell his mothball aroma. “How do you know about waves?” he asked. His eyes were a wild glaze.
This is not good.
I glanced at Chester who had obviously just had an epiphany.
 

“We need to get out of here,” he said in a low, steady voice.

“She’s from up there! How did she get here?” the Riddler’s voice faded as he violently gripped my arm. I tried to snatch it, but his piercing nails sunk into the tender flesh of my bicep.

“Let her go! I told her about them. She’s never actually seen waves. It’s not what you think,” Chester rambled.

“Liar! She’s a northern dweller. From Terra. There is no way I’m allowing her to leave. She needs to be investigated and most importantly, protected.”

“Protected from whom? The public or from the royals — your family? Who are you kidding you bloody bastard? I know exactly what you would do with her. All of Mezz’s portals will open, and its dwellers free before I’d ever leave her in your hands.” Chester leaped across the room and onto the old man’s back. The impact caused his grip on me to loosen until I could pry his hands off my arm. Chester and the man wrestled on the carpet while I searched the room for an escape. The door that I knew led to the foyer was locked. He hadn’t unlocked it since we’d come in. The only door open was the one they had come from, but I had no way of knowing what was on the other side and if there was an exit. I watched as they swung and gripped one another. Chester secured the mounted position and rained his fists into the feeble man until he fell limp. He snatched his keys and lurched towards the direction of the locked door. He fumbled with them until one finally fit into the lock. We heard the Riddler start to move, but we didn’t look back to see if he got up. We ran down the foyer and out the vine-ridden entrance.
 

“You’ll never get her out of there!” the Riddler yelled from the house. “You’re going to lose the only key to Terra we may ever have again — to them!” I could hear the fury and frustration in his voice. My heart skipped at every syllable.
 

After we ran until our legs could no longer take it, we slumped over. We each propped ourselves up on a tree. I gasped, trying to fill my lungs with air they refused to keep.

“What are we going to do?” I finally asked.

“I don’t know. While you were in the room, he rambled something about a friendly kiss being what unlocks the curse, but he was worse than when I’d last seen him. Seclusion deals terribly with the mind, and there’s little chance anything he told me is helpful.”

I fell to the cool ground in utter fatigue. The lack of sleep and food coupled with the mental fatigue of the night had caught up to me. Chester sat next to me and soon put his arm around my waist. When my mind began to clear, I began to wonder.

“If I wasn’t supposed to know about waves, no one in Mezzanine must know about waves. There are no oceans? Then how do you know about them?” I asked him curiously.

He hesitated. “I’m not from here, I guess you’d say.”

“You’re from there too, aren’t you?”
 

“I once was a Terra dweller too. It’s been ages ago, so long that it’s hard for me to remember it sometimes.”

“How is that possible? Why didn’t you tell me before? What happened?”

“When I was a young and living in your world, I got very sick while away at school. I went home on holiday, and my parents sent for a doctor. He informed them it was highly probable I would not overcome the sickness that had invaded my body and asked them to start preparing for the event of my death. My parents couldn’t stand the idea of their son leaving them, so they did something drastic. My father knew about this world. He and his brother had been studying and writing about it for years. My dad had even visited. He decided that it would be best if I were to come here and live.”