Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods) (38 page)

Not daring to waste any more time, I circled around the perimeter of the gardens looking for what the professor told me was an entrance to the dungeons. Tucked neatly behind the colourful commotion was
a
n unimpressive gardener’s shack which smelled of mildew and sagged slightly under its own weight. Glancing to my right and left,
I quickly entered the small room and nearly fell down the flight of stairs that greeted me. I sent
a brief message with the fingalink informing the professor I had arrived safely and immediately stopped as the painful transformation back to my normal self took place.

              “Why do you bother talking to me at all?”
I asked Umber after reverting back to my normal form “You know everything I do including all of my memories. Doesn’t that make talking exceptionally boring?” Umber seemed to waver in slight indecision.

              “While it’s true I know of everything you’ve experienced, I do not know everything about your opinions and decision making. Mortals have such erratic and illogical thought processes it can often times be quite entertaining to see what sort of conclusions you draw from various observations.”

              “Yes, how silly of me
,” I responded sarcastically. “Clearly the fact that you have nothing to do but torment me in your bodiless form makes you so much superior to me.”

Umber nearly toppled over with laughter. “Well if you didn’t want the truth then you shouldn’t have asked the question!”

I brushed him off and diverted my attention to my descent.

“Mortals
,
” He
grumbled
with the most ear numbing growl he could m
anage
. He disappeared with a
puff
of white smoke into the shadows
and fortunately didn’t reform.

As I continued down the grainy stairs, I began to notice a sudden change in textures. The damp,
murky wooden walls
and stairways turned into sandstone, with enchanted torches lighting the way
.
After tha
t came
a darker rock, with
iron
bars supporting the walls and the roofs of the cavern
. Without any warning whatsoever, t
he stairways forked.
I halted
my advance
, started by this obvious knot in the
path. I carefully peered down each passageway and saw that
each
lead
into
foul, freezing darkness that
sapped the feeling from my fingertips.
I wanted to ask
Umber
what he thought, but the
idea
of bringing
him
back
just so
that
he could snarl and play games with my mind was not appetizing.

              “The map, of course!” I remembered, bringing a hand to my forehead. I removed the complicated illustration of the underground and squinted deeply at the wormlike passageways scribbled onto the sheet. Just as I was about to continue my advance, I stopped to consider what would happen if I were to get lost. “I need to know whether or not I’ve been here before,” I said to myself thoughtfully. “A trail marker perhaps.” I picked up a nearby rock and tried to scratch a mark into the cold stone floor. Much to my dismay, it barely left a dent. I tried harder this time, furiously scratching until I was out of breath and I had made a small insignificant graze in the floor.

              “You’re not going to be able to notice that.” Umber said dryly. “Why not just use the cherries as trail markers? They’re not at all tasty anyways.” I began to protest, but immediately shut my mouth. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, the cherries had far better visibility than the stairway scratches. “May as well put them to good use,” I mumbled to myself glumly. I reached into my satchel pocket and carefully removed a single cherry from the thirteen I had with me. Even in the torchlight, it still seemed to glow with a vivid essence unlike anything else in the hallways. I placed it gently on the step going towards the passage on the right and continued my descent.

I wandered down the lengthy staircase while my eyes followed on the map. For every turn I made, I placed another fruit to remind me where I had gone. Fortunately for me, the separations in the path were infrequent enough that I knew wouldn’t run out of berries any time soon. After the seventh turn I began to see a bright light at the end of the dwindling staircase. Curious but cautious, I slowed my advance.

Ten steps in and my fingers began to grow numb. Twenty more paces and I could feel my cheeks grow rozy in the cool air. A fantastic sixty four steps later and the condensation on the walls had frosted over almost completely. It was at seventy-two long footsteps that the descent suddenly stopped, and opened up into a large cave like space which was encrusted with pearly white icicles. I glanced up and gasped, for above me was an entire ceiling littered with hundreds of weapons. Cudgels, Maces, swords, shields, javelins, spears, arrows, and on and on the list went.

I advanced to examine this phenomenon with greater detail and felt my feet lift off the ground as if an invisible hand was pulling me up into the air. I shrieked and tried to thrash my way back to the ground however it was all in vain. Like a whip cracking down on me, the leather belt holding Fanger the Beast snapped in two, inflicting painful recoil on my back My sword flew up into the air, before colliding with the rest of the metal in a thundering roar. I fell to the ground and brought my hands up to my ears in an attempt to stop the barbaric noise.

I timidly brought my hands back to my side and stared in amazement at the spot where my sword now rested on the ceiling top. It must have been about a minute before I heard a quiet earthy chuckle from beside me. I whipped around in alarm, however there was nothing there but a iron wrought, skillfully smelted eagle’s head fastened onto the wall beside me.

“Hello?” I asked once I realized I realized I was not in immediate danger.
The statue
beside me
twitched and I nearly jumped up the entire flight of stairs in fr
igh
t.

The statue
burst into lou
d honest laughter, similar to how a prankster might react to an excellent joke. The sculpture of the hawk’s head moved with such fluidity that for a moment I forgot that it was made entirely out of metal.

              “
I haven’t had that much fun in a long while,
”
i
t croaked
while
looking
over me with bemusement
. “
Just as I was about to think I wouldn’t have any more fun stuck down here, you come along and very nearly empty yourself at the sight of me
.”

              “You're a statue
,
” I said stupidly.

              “And you’re a Grimlar of sorts.” The statue responded before sharpening his gaze. “But you most certainly don’t act or look like the other Grimlars I’ve seen. You’re not supposed to be here aren’t you?” he asked breezily.

              “Well, as a matter of fact I actually am supposed to be here,” I lied, boldly straightening myself up.

              “Fine, say what you want. I’ve lost all reason to care anyways.” The twisted beak of the hawk turned upward into a sly smile. “The fact that you’re here is not my problem, although I do find you interesting and entertaining. For that I will keep you here undetected.” I nodded, absolutely unsure what to make of the odd lifeform talking with me. I gestured up to the ceiling and clasped my hands behind my back, now at a complete loss for words.

“I imagine you’d like to know why your weapon is no longer with you,” the eagle asked jovially.

I nodded with polite uncertainty.

“Well, I happen to be but one out of many other bird statues that guard the various doors down here. We’re a family of sorts, and each of us have talents that are designed to restrict passage or generally act as an inconvenience to people who are not supposed to be here.”

              “I am supposed to be here,” I protested weakly. The statue I was talking with made a noise that suggested a lack of concern before continuing.

              “Either friend or foe, I can certainly see I’ve done my job well. If I have not introduced myself already, already allow me to do so. I am Minget the Magnetic, guardian of possessions and taker of protections.” I looked for a third time up at the large cluster of weapons stuck to the ceiling.

              “What do I have to do to get my sword back?”

Minget chuckled to himself, as if finding the idea incredibly amusing.

              “You seem to think that there is a straightforward alternative. Like there is a certain rite of passage you need to go through in order to reclaim your sword.”

“Is there?” I asked skeptically.

Minget wormed his beak around indecisively.

“You’re much more entertaining than the Grimlars indeed,” he mused to himself softly. “In this case yes, I believe there’s a favour you can do for me.”

“Anything,” I said calmly.

Minget arched a feathery eyebrow. “You may yet regret saying something like that. While the enthusiasm is appreciated, I recommend from now on you always keep some shred of free will.”

I nodded, feeling ridiculous that an iron statue was giving me lessons on self-security.

“What do I have to do to get my sword back?” I repeated for
the
second time

              “Bring me my bird-feed
,
”
Minget said, yawning a little.
I rubbed my ears and came closer
.

              “Sorry?”

              “You heard me. I want my bird-feed.
The Grimlars keep
it in
the nearby cellar
.”

              “But..
.
But...” I
said before pointing uncertainty at the creature. “You’re a statue.”

“Contrary to popular belief
, talking statues
do actually need to eat.” Minget said
condescendingly.

I sighed and pressed my eyebrows together, carefully formulating a response.

              “Yes well umm... Keep in mind,” I began while pacing around the room. “That I may not need my sword. You however need your food to stay alive and healthy.” I pointed upward in objection. “Surely you would agree that I deserve more in return by performing this feat.”

Minget sighed a little.
“Look, you seem like a nice enough mortal, but
honestly I’m not one for greed
.
You can only have your sword, so long as you feed me.” I shook my head vigorously.

“The only thing that I want along with my sword is knowledge.” I held up the map of the underground for him to see. “I need to find out how to get here.” I said circling the room the professor had marked. The eyes of the eagle widened suddenly. H
e tried his best to shake his head no, but it looked difficult
considering his neck was
fastened
to the wall.
His metal beak fell open
and I saw a flash of an expression I didn't recognize. It seemed to be a combination of mourning, anger and regret
a
ll at once.

“I don’t feel comfortable with you going there,” he said after a lengthy amount of time.

“I thought you said you weren’t concerned with what I did?” I asked innocently.

The statue licked his beak with a barbed metal tongue, looking suddenly uncertain.

“Ah, thats a shame,” I said after a few withheld minutes of conversation. “Perhaps I’ll just find another way. After all, I don’t actually
need
my sword. Moving very slowly, I began to leisurely stroll out of the room and up the staircase. Just as my other foot left the ground for the staircase,