*12:38*
~29~ Conservatory
The brothers stepped around the heap of human casserole and the emaciated horse corpse in the corridor, back to the foyer. They both looked at the grandfather clock.
"Bit over an hour left," said Sam softly. "Maybe."
"Can't make it any slower?"
"Tried. It's resisting."
Dean sighed through his nose. "If only we'd been able to contact Lilly and Garth sooner..."
Sam pulled out the walkie-talkie, left on the same station with which they'd spoken with the real world last time. But he only got static. "If we could just tell Garth it's some kind of demon holed out here."
Snorting, Dean said, "If, if, if. There are a lot of if's and it's not like they can do squat."
Sam nodded curtly, then led the way back to the third floor.
As it had the last few times they'd been there, it was normal looking, not the narrow-walled labyrinth with the useless rooms and mutilated monsters it appeared as during their first visit. But always in the back of his head, Sam kept in mind the strange door etched with Cherokee symbols, which they hadn't been able to open. They hadn't seen it since, and worried there was some vital clue they had missed.
"Sam. Sam."
He jolted. "What?"
"Which way?"
From the top of the stairs, the brothers looked left, then right. Sam jerked his thumb towards the east wing.
"Left."
Dean nodded and took the lead, raising the lantern.
They checked doors as they passed, setting their feet down as quietly as possible. The hall seemed to be longer than it was before, and more dismal, as though fifty years had passed since they last came this way.
"Stop breathing so loud," Dean hissed over his shoulder.
Sam blinked. "I thought that was you."
They stilled. There was definitely the sounds of another's breathing, hovering about them. Dean's hand tightened around the shotgun.
"Keep moving."
At Sam's order, Dean's feet obeyed, but his ears strained to keep track of the background breathing he swore was right behind him.
The next time Dean stopped, Sam scowled.
"What now?" He stepped out from behind him, clicking on his flashlight. The extended glow picked up nothing. Frowning, he looked at Dean, and was surprised to see his eyes were closed.
"Smell that?" Dean sniffed gently, as though not wanting to get used to the scent before he could identify it.
Frowning, Sam sniffed as well.
"It's...earthy."
Dean started forward, pausing near doors in the attempt to pin down the scent. He kept his eyes closed, trusting Sam to keep a lookout. When the smell was at its strongest, he opened his eyes. He was at a set of double doors, which he couldn't recall seeing before. One of them was cracked open.
"It's coming from there."
Before Sam could slip ahead, Dean opened the door further and stepped through. The smell was much stronger now. Damp earth and vegetation.
It was a short, wide corridor, and at the other end was a shapeless mass difficult to discern. Dean stepped closer, then recoiled, backing into his brother.
"What the hell is that?"
Heart jolting, Sam shone the flashlight at the dark mass. At first he thought it was a tangle of Creepers – what the brothers had dubbed the moving roots they had encountered in the cellar – but then he relaxed.
"They're just plants."
Indeed, it was a mess of vines and leaves and flowers that had somehow grown between the door and the frame, spilling into the corridor. They weren't moving and they didn't reek or seep rancid juices.
Crossing the short hall, Dean seized hold of the door knob, keeping an eye on the vines. He turned it and tugged. The door moved a couple inches before jamming.
"Dammit." He tried to hack the plants away by jerking the door against them as Sam took to them with his knife, and eventually they cleared enough away to squeeze into the room beyond.
It was a jungle. Longer than it was wide, the chamber was two stories tall, the ceiling and far wall constructed of panelled windows, the ever present fog swirling beyond. The glow was dimmed by the foliage creeping up the glass, seeking the sun that wasn't there. But the brothers' lights were enough to illuminate the hundreds of plants that filled the room.
There were numerous small trees, potted ferns and shrubs, and walls of vines. Flowers from all over the world each released a unique scent that mingled with damp soil. Every plant was in various states of decay, some looking to be fresh and alive while others had withered, brittle and yellow.
Adding to the jungle look were the posed skeletons of animals. Birds, deer, a couple wolves. Someone had a strange definition of conservation.
"This must be the room Tyson spoke of," said Sam, shining the light around. There seemed to be no danger, but there were a lot of shadows.
"Said he and his friends were trying to get something locked in here," Dean added. He, too, chased what darkness he could away, watching his every step. He glared at a skeleton of an owl trapped in mid-flight.
"A book of some kind." Sam moved towards the wall on the left, which was lined with bookshelves stretching higher than he could reach. He stumbled over broken floor tiles, and when he regained his balance, the beam of his flashlight landed on a face. He recoiled.
"Hey, Dean?"
As his brother hastened over, Sam stepped closer to a man who had been cocooned in ivy, held upright against the wall. His first impulse was to check for life, but in this place, it seemed ridiculous.
"I'll bet this is Dave. George's second friend."
What clothing poked through the tangle of vines looked modern, and he had a skull-shaped earring. Dean leaned in closer.
"Why isn't he moving?" he said.
Sam shrugged, then tapped the man on the cheek. No response.
"Let's cut him down."
"Um...maybe we shouldn't do too much damage to the plants. Just in case."
"...Good call."
Starting at his feet, they untangled and pulled the vines away until they could tug him free, lying him on the floor. There were still no signs of life.
"Well we can't take him with us like this," said Dean. "Let's keep looking."
It wasn't long before they each came across a clue, nearly at the same time.
"I got something," said Dean, gazing down. Flush with the floor was a circular window over a shallow pit. There was a book with a cover of animal pelt lying at the bottom, and scattered around it were a few loose papers. It was too dark to read them.
"Me too," said Sam, trying not to sound excited. Pinned to the wall over a fireplace was a parchment with some kind of poem. He plucked it off before heading towards his brother.
"Figure this was what George and his friends were trying to get?" Dean knelt, touching an indentation near one side of the floor window. It was circular, about two inches wide, with an etching of two triangles touching at one corner, similar to the symbol of eternity.
"Yeah," said Sam.
Dean paused, then pulled out the little charm Death's horse had so thoughtfully coughed up for them. It was a half circle inscribed with a triangle. On the flat edge was a slot.
"We need to find the second half," said Dean. He slumped. The tiny thing could be anywhere.
"Maybe this will help." Sam knelt beside him, using the combined light to read the parchment's scribbles. "Check this out."
Dark have been the days, when kings sat upon thrones of hate.
They stood upon the mighty fir and reached into air.
The stars they stole, now suffer the taste of stone.
Alas, the poor give alms and the haves not but fear
The word, rise and fall as the sword doth shine.
Still rose a mast in the fetid wastes of the east
And the nest of crows calls to the west.
Save those who have not sorrow,
A fiend, whose heart loathes the friend
Of the wise, and heeds the wills of the wisp.
From womb to tomb, larks carry the tune
'Neath thunder head and o'er herd of harts,
While devils dine and toss the dice of fortune.
But from dead trees hang the veil of maiden's forgotten hand,
In lands of milk and honey and daggers honed.
And were the days not long gone where a knight rode
Tall, and wrote a tale both bold and brave
In the sand, where 'tis said
The lord of the maze rests his mace of bone.
The brothers stared at the riddle, then at each other.
"You understand all that?"
Sam shook his head. "I...I don't..." He looked at the parchment again. Beneath the riddle were a few unfinished sentences, with dashes indicating the letters of the missing words. Four boxes, one atop the other, revealed a relationship between the missing words. A few of the lines had letters already in place.
"I am something, the shepherd of the something, the something in this something," said Sam. "Okay. So we need to fill in the blanks."
Dean turned the paper over. "There aren't any letters to fill the blanks with. They must be in the riddle."
"Alright." Sam stood and wandered over to the fireplace, where he grabbed a piece of charcoal before returning to his brother, kneeling on the floor. "The answer's here. We can do this."
So, smart bored people. I have made an image of the parchment Sam found with the riddle and cipher and put it on DeviantArt just because it was easier and less clumsy than trying to explain in full what it looked like. Check it out if you wish. It gives you a chance to try and figure it out on your own. Can you do it before they do (that is, before you read the next chapter)?
I can't post a link but my DeviantArt username is MerlynPyndragon and the title is Cipher of Corvus Manor. It'll be in the "Scraps," in the Gallery tab. Or it might be under my profile. Good luck.
