Chatterbox:

Labyrinth Tunnels End?

If you're new here, start at the first labyrinth post. All the labyrinth posts live on the Power of Claw page.

Four of us stand at the four corners of the chamber. We count down, 1, 2, 3, and click our combination locks into place at the same time: 

C-R-Y.

L-I-N-E.

J-U-P-I-T-E-R.

Z-E-N-I-T-H. 

The door rumbles and then shifts a little bit inward, giving way. We've solved the last riddles! We've finally earned whatever is behind this heavy wooden door. I'm standing right in front of it, and I push, putting the whole weight of my body into it—and the door gives way...

...to an empty room with no exit? Everyone stands in the doorway, looking blankly around at the room. Have we just traveled three weeks, solving puzzle after puzzle, for this? I mean, it's a beautiful chamber, with a little bit of sunlight trickling down. It could use a little less drill noise—the drills just won't let up. But otherwise, I could imagine camping here quite happily, I guess?

The old badger seems to be the only one excited about this development. He trots past me, dumping the rest of his green stones into his mouth and swallowing. "THE FINAL ROOM! THE BARK! THE LETTERS ON THE BARK!"

He snatches it away from me, crosses off four more letters, and hands it back. 

I look down at it. Seventeen letters are crossed off. Eleven letters remain. Uhh...

"Don't you see?" the old badger says, pointing at the bark.  

"No," I say, "and while we're talking about confusing things, how come you can suddenly talk?"

"Those Vailiria stones, the little green ones, they're the only things that restore my power of speech. Each stone only gives me one minute of speech. I've been saving them for this last chamber, so I couldn't be much help to you earlier. I just swallowed the last of them, so we should be able to talk for another...fifteen minutes at best."

"How did you lose your power of speech?" Silverpaw chimes in. 

"It was taken from me by a...powerful...creature long ago, when I was the Guardian of the Power of Claw."

We look around at each other. Of course! We had wondered about this, but it didn't seem possible for a retired Guardian to outlive his successor. But I suppose the most recent Guardian died so young, and this badger was very, very old...

"So...is this where the Power of Claw was originally kept?" 

"Of course. This was the Claw Outpost, built around the same time as all the other outposts. Except I was much more ambitious than your average guardian. I wasn't satisfied with building a crummy little shack on top of a mountain or something. I wanted a truly secure Outpost."

"You built this?" I asked.

"Well, I had help. This was back when humans and animals had treaties and alliances. You might've read about those times in your Sprocketville textbooks, unless B.I.G. has started censoring them. It actually brought a tear to my dry old badger eye when I saw you with Little Crow for the first time—it's not often that you see animals and humans working together anymore." He sighs. 

I'm touched but unsure how to respond. Like an idiot, I bite my lip. 

"Anyway, I got human engineers, beavers, moles, and all sorts of diggers and builders to help me build these tunnels and their gates and doors and locks. The animals didn't need much convincing. The humans did. I told them we'd use the area as a bunker in case of war or natural disaster. No matter what treaties we had signed, a human couldn't know about the Powers. But of course that's gone out the proverbial window now."

"I can't believe you built all this..."

"Believe it! Well, I didn't engineer those locks, and I didn't carve those riddles. That's why I couldn't help you with them. They were done by a human—a prodigy named Martin Sheepshank. He was only twelve at the time, and he was already light years ahead of the other humans. He could actually speak to the animals, you know, long before anyone else could."

"Martin Sheepshank? Do you mean Dr. Sheepshank?"

"Ha! I'd be shocked if he hadn't earned a PhD by now."

"I studied under him at a place called Cypher Labs! And if you're saying he could talk to animals all those years ago, he must've invented the Cyph..."

"You're distracting yourself from the point, Charlene! You're distracting EVERYONE!"

"It's Charlie."

"I'm sorry, my throat is getting a bit *cough* rusty. Now look at the letters that remain—the nine letters that remain."

"No, silly, there are eleven letters left," Little Crow says, fluttering onto my shoulder.

"Little Crow?! You're back! Where did you..."

"NO TIME FOR THE BIRD!" the old badger interrupted. "The BARK. The nine letters—nine unique letters, two repeated. Seventeen have left. Nine remain. *cough* *cough* The LETTERS!" 

I don't really appreciate this badger's tone, but I was taught to respect my elders, so I just nod and look back at the bark. Everyone else crowds around, puzzling. Little Crow feels heavier on my shoulder. He must be eating well. He also smells a little funny, and not like a damp cave...

"Can you give us a hint, old badger?" Silverpaw ventures.

"I don't have much spee let," the old badger says, looking frustrated. "Peech lef. *cough* Speek laft." 

"I hear what you're saying, badger. Don't worry. We've figured out all the puzzles to this point...we can figure out whatever this means..."

I didn't put an overwhelming amount of confidence behind those words. But since I got everyone into this mess, well, since Little Crow and I got everyone into this mess, I figure it's our responsibility to get everyone out.

Now, what could these eleven, er, nine letters mean?