Stephen Lawhead - The Realms Thereunder

Freya came to stand beside him. “It looks like a puzzle,” she said. “A clockwork puzzle-or a really big combination lock.”

Daniel tried moving some of the other wheels, but most of them were locked. The solution seemed to lay in finding some way to shift the metal tumblers from one wheel to the next in order to withdraw the large metal bolts that fixed the door into the frame.

Freya turned and addressed Nemain, who was still lying against the wall. “This door-how does it open?”

The Faerie smiled slyly back at her. “Why do you suppose I would know?”

“He must know,” Daniel said.

“Do it backwards,” Freya suggested. “Find out which gears are connected to the large bolts.”

They examined the bolts, but they were set far into the door underneath large panels and it was impossible to see where any of them started. They did find that under each one of them was a long rank of thin grooves that indicated a toothed gear might pull it back, and were further encouraged that they all looked well greased.

“If we can’t follow it from the end, how can we know where to start?” Freya asked.

“It probably doesn’t matter where it starts-like one of those sliding tile puzzles. We just have to make sure that everything’s in the right place at the end. Ecgbryt, come over here and help us move this one at the top.”

“Oh, for the wisdom of ?lfred,” the knight muttered, when they had been working the problem for well over an hour. They had just found that the wheels could be moved inwards and outwards to connect with different gear chains, which put a whole other dimension on the problem.

“It’s hopeless,” moaned Freya.

“It’s okay,” said Daniel, “we’re just learning the rules. Once we learn how everything works, then we’ll be able to do it. We just need to be patient.”

Freya looked over at Nemain, who was still being guarded by Swi?gar. Nemain gazed steadily at Daniel and Freya. When he saw Freya looking at him, he gave a casual smile. She turned back to the door.

“We’re missing something,” she said. “What about these little bolts, these tumblers? They fall from one wheel to the other, right?

What if we’re supposed to get them all to the bottom? They can’t fall upwards, can they?”

“Maybe. But look.” Daniel stuck his finger into one of the grooves and pushed upwards. “See, they have these little handles that let you move them back. If you turn them, it locks them into place just a little, then you can move the wheels back to how they were. If you do it right, you can move them between the wheels and probably right to the other side of the door.”

“Oh, great. Perfect. When did you find that out?”

“Just now.”

Freya sighed and sank into a crouch. “No,” she said quietly.

“Come on, I’ll bet we’re on the right track. Maybe we have to get all the bolts up to the top.”

“Or all the way to one side, or both sides, or all the edges, or only just the middle!” Freya snapped.

“We just have to keep trying. I refuse to let this puzzle beat me. We’ll get the solution, even if I have to guess a million times.”

“Yeah, okay. Whatever. I’m going to look around. Clear my head. Hunt for clues or something.” She left Daniel standing at the door and turned around, rubbing her eyes.

“What about you?” Freya turned suddenly to one of the silent, motionless women. “Do you know anything about that door?” The figure did not look at her but drew away slightly.

“No, I thought not.” Freya walked around the room, searching up and down for any markings or diagrams-anything that might give a hint on how to work the door, but she found nothing. This search took her near Nemain, who watched her so creepily she made a show of ignoring him.

Then she started to examine the stone dais that the Faerie had been sitting on when they first entered the room. She walked around the edges, then climbed up onto the dais itself. It was a plain, smooth surface with no designs or markings. She felt frustration rising in her chest again. She heard Daniel give instructions to Ecgbryt to turn certain wheels. She thought about the carvings that they had passed to get here. Perhaps one of those had some sort of directions or code for the door. Whoever designed a door lock so complex may well have wanted to keep the solution nearby. Or maybe the room itself was some sort of clue. She gazed around again, but she couldn’t see how that could be. She looked up at the rays of sunlight that were being bounced into the room from some distant hole at the surface. Perhaps the door was there only to distract them and they had to climb now. Did the light seem to be getting dimmer? Why wasn’t the air fresh?

What if it wasn’t a riddle at all?

Weary and frustrated, she rubbed her eyes again and turned around. Her eyes fell on the wooden rack that held the large book the Faerie had been reading. The cover was plain leather with brass corner strengtheners attached to it. She stepped closer and leaned over the book.

“If you’re going to touch that,” Nemain said, “please clean your greasy hands.”

Freya rubbed her fingers on the bottom of her skirt to remove the oil smudges from the door gears. Then she very carefully opened the enormous book to the first page. It was the size of a small poster and completely blank except for a short line of cramped writing in the centre. If it was English, she couldn’t make out the letters; it looked like a lot of loops and long lines.

Freya started leafing through some of the pages. The first thing she noticed were the colours-bright, lively colours that tore across the yellowing pages like thunderbolts. There was also a mass of detail on each page-details of made-up figures, people, buildings, and landscapes. Each page was filled with pictures and scenes, usually showing people in some action. Words were written in the margins and in the pictures as well. Many of the pages seemed to be telling a story. She paused at two pages that each had six bordered images on them depicting a green-robed figure sitting in a forest glen talking to different groups of people as they apparently passed by. There was a picture of a king and a queen, a group of old men in brown robes, a beggar, the king by himself, two young maids, the queen and another young man, and others, including a demon with sheep’s horns . . .

She turned more pages. One of them showed a stocky character in red wrestling with a man twice his size. One page had nine identical faces on it, all of them surrounded with the odd writing.

One page had no writing on it at all-only a picture of two people performing an intricate dance, and the steps they took made it seem as if they were dancing across the page.

She turned the page again and heard a small “wow” from behind her. Daniel was standing there, looking at the book from over her shoulder, his eyes fixed on the two pages she had opened that showed a large, emerald, scaled serpent. It was lying on the ground, resting, its tail curled around its clawed feet. Freya felt her gaze travel along that tail to where it joined the ridged back atop large haunches where enormous emerald scales shimmered with tiny detail. Her eye continued along the back, over the crease in the book, and down the long, tapered neck of the beast to its long, horse-like face and vicious mouth. The beast was examining something that turned out to be a small person holding a torch in one hand and a sword in the other.

The detail was astonishing; each scale was rendered in precise detail. The rocks that the creature gripped were starting to crumble in its mighty talons. The wings looked veiny and tough. The night sky was above and the shadows cast by the moon and torch described massively powerful muscles beneath the thick scales.