Keys to the Demon Prison (Page 91)

The meandering ravine grew shallower and steeper as he proceeded. Back where the others waited, Seth thought he could have scaled the walls. Now an attempt to climb would be impossible.

Up ahead, a totem pole came into view, brightly painted, as if created recently, standing straight and tall in the middle of the ravine. The stacked images included a squat, chubby warrior on the bottom, three fierce faces above him, and a winged eagle at the top. The grotesque caricatures leered at him, wooden teeth bared, and on some instinctive level, Seth realized the elaborate pole was a warning.

Passing the pole, Seth grew more anxious. The ravine seemed unnaturally silent. He heard no buzzing of insects, no birdcalls, no rustling leaves. The air felt still and heavy. He sensed eyes spying, but could detect nothing to confirm the suspicion. He kept one hand on the hilt of his sword.

Around the next curve, the ravine abruptly ended, and Seth beheld the Totem Wall. Six times his height, built into the rear wall, the Totem Wall spanned the entire ravine like a dam. Hundreds of faces made up the seamless wooden monument, weatherworn, timeworn, but well crafted, each face still very recognizable. A wide variety of animals were represented–bears, wolves, deer, moose, elk, lynxes, beavers, otters, seals, walruses, eagles, owls, and many others. People were depicted in even greater diversity–male and female, old and young, fat and thin, fair and hideous. Some looked friendly, others furious, others wise, others ridiculous, others crafty, others ill, others smug, others frightened, others serene.

Seth had never seen anything like it. He could imagine the Totem Wall as the featured exhibit in the world’s finest museum. It was that impressive, that detailed, that unique.

A low stump dominated the ravine in front of the Totem Wall. Seth approached it curiously. No higher than his chest, the stump was at least eight paces across. Seth tried to imagine how tall the tree might have been before it was cut. Judging from the countless visible rings, it must have been thousands of years old.

His intuition told Seth that he should address the wall from atop the stump, using it like a stage or platform. As he climbed up, he noticed that some of the exposed rings were spaced wider than others. He walked to the center, standing on the cluster of concentric circles that formed the innermost rings.

With a cacophony of muttering, grunting, barking, growling, shrieking, and coughing, the Totem Wall came to life. The wooden faces blinked and sniffed and yawned. Tongues wagged. Expressions shifted. The jumbled words spoken by the human faces came out in a language that Seth didn’t comprehend.

"I’m Seth Sorenson," Seth said. "I’ve come to speak with the Totem Wall."

The heads fell silent. A broad male head, old and proud, near the bottom center of the wall, spoke in a profound, resonant voice. "We are many. Choose four to treat with."

"Do all of you speak English?" Seth asked.

"You will hear your language," the head replied. "Choose." He sounded somewhat impatient.

"Very well," Seth said, trying to keep his manner official. "I will speak with Anyu the Hunter, Tootega the Crone, Yuralria the Dancer, and Chu the Beaver."

A surprised murmur rippled across the wall, ending as quickly as it began.

"I hear you," said a rough-hewn male face halfway up the left side of the wall. A knot in the wood disfigured one cheek like a scar.

"I hear you," said a shrewd, hooded face near the bottom right. Intricately carved, she had the most wrinkles of any totem.

"I hear you," said a young, beautiful face with high cheekbones near the top of the wall. The polished smoothness of her features betrayed little evidence of damage from the elements.

"I hear you," said the furry, bucktoothed face of a beaver just below the young woman. His voice sounded adolescent.

After this acknowledgment, the Totem Wall waited, all eyes on Seth. Shifting his weight from side to side, he clasped his hands behind his back. "I seek Vasilis, the Sword of Light and Darkness. I know you guard it. I want to enter and retrieve it."

Another outburst of muttered exclamations fluttered across the wall.

"Silence," demanded the Crone. "How do you know the location of Vasilis?"

"I paid a price," Seth said.

The Hunter spoke in a gruff tone. "Then you should understand that we grant favors only upon receiving an acceptable sacrifice."

"I understand," Seth said respectfully.

"Yet you have little of value," said the Beaver, "save perhaps the sword and the shield. They are unworthy shadows of the treasure we guard."

"Do not press him so hard," the Dancer fussed. "He is young." Her voice softened. "What have you to offer?"

"Along with the sword, you house great evil," Seth said. "Permit me to retrieve the sword, and I will purge the evil inside of you before I exit."

"Others have come to us in search of Vasilis," the Crone mused. "Rarely have they already suspected the location. We have admitted some. None have returned."

"The youth speaks with confidence," the Hunter approved.

"Any simpleton can speak with confidence," the Dancer said. "Sometimes the greatest fools have the most bravado. The boy is young and naive. He will come to harm, and he will not deliver on his promise."

"The wise do nothing," the Beaver complained. "The wise sit and advise. Their understanding prevents action. Do not underestimate the young."

"What deeds have you accomplished?" the Hunter asked.

Seth hadn’t planned on turning in a resume. He tried to recall his highlights from the past couple of years. "I pulled a dark talisman from the neck of a revenant. I caught a leprechaun. I awoke Olloch the Glutton and put him back to sleep. I found the Chronometer, one of the keys to Zzyzx. I stole the horn of a unicorn from the centaurs at Grunhold. I have bargained with the giant Thronis and left him satisfied. I killed the dragon Siletta in order to retrieve an item from the dragons of Wyrmroost. I survived the Dreamstone at Obsidian Waste and helped retrieve the Translocator, another key to Zzyzx. And I’ve bargained with the Singing Sisters."

"He speaks true," the Crone said.

"And I’m telling you the truth now," Seth said. "I don’t feel fear. I can get this sword and rid you of the evil hiding near it. And then I’ll use the sword to save the world."

"He means what he says," the Crone said.

"Tootega knows truth," the Dancer admitted.

"He has accomplished much," the Hunter granted.