Zoe's Puzzle Book

By Glen Quarry

Long ago, a sorcerer hid the crown treasure of his country when the King was killed, and he enchanted that chamber with safeguards to assure only a true heir could ever re-claim it. Fear of being hunted kept the King's heir in hiding, and the treasure remained untouched until seven enchanted talismans were found six hundred years later. These talismans include a miniature spinning wheel, a strange-looking clock, an animated ship in a bottle, a moving, miniature rocking horse, and a lighted globe.
Jean Trapper, being the student of ancient history that he was, became involved in the hunt, and along with a grandson named Rey, an orphan girl named Zoe, and a friend named Strawtop, he gained possession of the talismans and set off to follow where the trail would lead him. He knew there was a puzzle book that had not yet been found which would be essential to locate the treasure vault. This puzzle book holds the all-important key to the vault, and it requires a specific sequence of actions to be opened. It soon becomes evident it will not be opened easily.
It is up to Zoe to solve more than one puzzle that has eluded her friends. The mysteries and their solutions will satisfy the interest of the most problem-solving enthusiast.
The plot is a unique fusion of mystery, betrayal, and humor, and the satisfying conclusion of success and vindication for an unlikely group of heroes. The story moves quickly through a series of events that culminates with the final conflict. Readers will find it holds their interest through several bizarre plot twists, and elation can flip to anxious alarm with the turn of a page.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Glen Quarry
• Release date: Dec 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005505752

Glen Quarry

Glen is a fantasy writer from a tiny town in the midwest. An avid reader himself, he has a love for fantasy fiction, and it is in this genre that he's chosen to write. He works as a press operator in the printing industry.Glen's small hometown is set in some of the most fertile farm ground of the heartland, not unlike the hamlets and towns in the fairy-tale land he has brought to life.His hobbies include bicycling and wood working.

Book preview

1: Zoe

Zoe Hammond dropped behind a gorse bush and put a spyglass to her eye. On the hillside just ahead was a vineyard; its straight rows of mature grape vines now fragrant with blossoms. A dirt road led to a multiple-story, brown stucco building where two men were removing white bags from a horse drawn cart and exchanging them for cases of wine.

The vineyard belonged to Fowler and Son, an association of wine growers that had been favored by the Sandar government for decades. New acreage was often added to their property at the expense of their neighbors, and they enjoyed rare favors in marketing that could only come with the blessing of the Republic. There were even rumors circulating that they never paid taxes, and that really caused some grumbling.

Zoe had watched this activity before. She knew a transaction was going down, and she guessed it was a swap of premium wine for illicit drugs. The only way to be certain there was poppy powder in the bags would be to pinch one of them.

She had often wondered how the Sandar Republic could fund such a vast police force. The Greenies, as they were called because of their olive green uniforms, were well paid and well fed, and the bankroll needed to support them would have to be sizeable. A lucrative business in drugs would pay the bills handsomely.

As she watched the men put the white bags onto a wheelbarrow, Zoe considered how she’d become convinced the Republic was corrupt. The idea hadn’t come to her just yesterday. In fact, she had known something wasn’t right four years ago when she was thirteen, and she’d suffered from the effects of disreputable government officials for much longer than that.

Her early life had been one of sadness and hardship. She only vaguely remembered her parents before they had died, and she’d been placed into foster care when she was still very young. Her new guardians had been poor, and as the Republic didn’t reimburse foster parents for their expenses, she’d been passed from one home to another over a period of several years. At the age of thirteen, she had left her last caretakers to live on the streets.

Zoe was gregarious and made friends quickly; a quality which saved her from the dubious fate of being placed into a state-run orphanage. She learned quickly that some of her friends were peddling white bags of poppy powder for their way of life. The police never questioned these youthful dealers, even though it was universally known what they were selling. Zoe believed this was because the police and the officials in charge were actually involved in the racket.

In a stroke of good fortune, she had become acquainted with a man named Jean Trapper and his grandson, Rey. They were kind to her and soon became her very good friends. Trapper paid her a small allowance for reading ancient histories and writing down key passages for him, and with this revenue she was able to feed herself. Without his kindness, Zoe may have followed her acquaintances into the world of illicit drugs.

Zoe took another look through the spyglass. It appeared as though the transfer at the winery was done. A white-bearded man hopped into the horse cart and whipped his team up the lane. It was always the same guy. She didn’t care about what was now in the cart, but she was very interested in what the man had just delivered.

She made a snap decision. She would go into that house, steal a bag of the contraband, and see if she could figure out what it was--she knew the taste of poppy powder from her time on the streets. She arose and slapped the dust off her overalls. She was dressed as a train engineer, and the large cap completely covered her long hair. The disguise was good as long as she wasn’t seen by someone too close.

Her spying was dangerous; and she knew it, but that didn’t stop her. Trapper would not be happy if he knew what she was doing this evening. She took risks because of her hatred of the Republic, and especially the man in charge of it. Wag Wilson was the chief of police and a sadistic killer who ruled the Republic through fear and intimidation. She would love to find information that could be used against him.

The dust from the passing cart had settled and the vineyard owner had disappeared into the stucco house. She placed the spyglass into her handbag. It was evening, and the light was fading. If she waited another half hour, it should be safe to make a run for the house. She would grab a bag of the stuff and get out. Burglary wasn’t her thing, but there was no other way to find out what was in the bags.

After it was sufficiently dark, she sprinted through the vineyard to the rear of the building. The window was agape, and she was able to open it far enough to poke her head in. She found herself looking into a storage room filled with cloth-covered objects. There were no bags in sight.

She crawled through the window and peeked beneath one of the sheets. She saw a walnut table but no white bags. These people must be rich to moth-ball such a fine-looking table, she thought.

Muffled voices were coming from somewhere in the house. She left the store-room for a hallway where two more rooms were visible. The doors were closed to each room.

After listening at the nearest door, she opened it a crack and looked in. It was a messy bedroom with an unmade bed and several items of clothing strewn on the floor. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of old sweat and closed the door softly.

The next room was also a bedroom, but this one was much tidier. There were no white bags here, either. She would have to move deeper into the house.

At the end of the hallway was a living room with a sofa and several upholstered chairs. An opened bottle of wine stood on a small table in a corner and an open newspaper was on the sofa. Two exits from the room led to other parts of the house, one toward the front and the other to a stairway. The voices seemed to be coming from the upper level.

Zoe tiptoed through the living room toward the front, where she could see two more rooms. Through the farthest room she could see the front door that led outside.

She peeked around the corner into the first room and her heart leaped. She was in luck. There were two stacks of the white cloth bags, with each being at least three feet high and containing hundreds of bags. If this was illicit drugs, there would be a lot of value here. She grabbed a bag and stuffed it into her purse.

Zoe had begun to retrace her steps when she heard someone coming down the stairs to the living room. She froze in her tracks. She would have to leave the front way.

But that wouldn’t be easy. A peek around the corner showed her two men were in the front room drinking wine; a teenager and an older fellow. The pungent smell of wine lingered in the air as if some had been spilled recently.

Zoe’s mind raced. She had two choices; she could either make a run for the front door or go back and face an unknown number of folks coming down the steps. In her mind, the choice was easy. She should be able to run through the front door before the old man and teen could rise from the table. Hopefully they would be drunk and slow to react.

She placed her purse strap on her shoulder and made a run for the door. She didn’t see the puddle of spilled wine until she stepped in it, and her feet splayed out from under her. She went flying into the wall, legs in the air and bottom first.

The men at the table weren’t slowed with drink at all. They grabbed Zoe as soon as she could get back on her feet. The older man wrapped an arm around her middle and clamped a hand over her mouth. She stomped hard on his foot, and he let go with a yell and danced away. Meanwhile, the youth grabbed her shirt, and ripped it trying to hold her back. She was almost to the door and would have made it outside if the older man hadn’t knocked her down. He was heavy, and when he landed on her, he drove the air from her lungs. Gasping, she tried to push free, but the youth grabbed a foot and twisted it hard. Desperately she kicked out with the other foot and clawed at everything within her reach.

By this time, two men from the stairs rushed in to help. Get some twine from the cellar, Clyde, barked one of them. The youth hastened away to do his bidding. The other two knelt heavily on her and held her arms and legs with strong hands.

Get off me, Zoe gasped, trying to push the older man off. You’re suffocating me. She strained to roll free and her hat came off, letting her hair fall loose.

This is no man, yelled the old guy in surprise. She’s a girl! He grinned as he pushed his ugly face against hers.

Get off her, George, said one of those holding her legs. He was dressed in the olive green uniform of the Republic police force.

George reluctantly climbed off her but kept his hand on her throat. She deserves a slap, he said hotly. She stomped on my foot.

"Who are you, girl?" asked the Greenie.

Zoe didn’t answer so he gave her leg a twist. It was the same leg that had been twisted before and it really hurt. She kicked his hand loose and slapped off the hand around her throat. She fought like a wildcat, slapping and kicking whatever was close, but she couldn’t get off the floor. There were too many men.

Clyde returned with the twine, and in a moment her ankles and wrists were bound. The men backed off, panting hard. There were four of them, and she’d given them all they could handle.

She’s a real fighter! said the youth admiringly.

She eyed her assailants. The teen-ager had a wicked-looking red scratch going down the side of his face, while the older fellow had removed his boot and was rubbing his foot. They were all winded.

What’ll we do with her, Fowler? asked the other latecomer.

I’ll be delivering wine in an hour or so, said the Greenie breathlessly. I’ll take her along and hand her over to the police. Put her in the basement until I’m ready to go. Oh, and take that handbag away from her. She could have some identification we can use.

Zoe was carried down the steps and deposited awkwardly on the concrete floor. Her mouth had been bound with a kerchief but her eyes were unobstructed. The dim light from the window revealed an ancient wine press and a few barrels on a rack by the wall. This could be the premium wine that was being traded.

She struggled with her bindings and found they were very tight. Fowler was taking her to the police, he’d said. When she’d heard that, her heart had nearly stopped. Being turned over to the police chief or his deputy was a dim proposition. Both had notorious reputations.

She knew she was on her own here. Neither Rey nor Trapper even knew where she was.

Zoe calmed herself and concentrated on finding a way to get free. She rolled onto her stomach and began to work her hands back and forth inside the twine. It dug into her skin, but she gritted her teeth and pulled hard. She had small hands. Perhaps she could pull one of them through the binding. But neither would go. The binding was too tight, and it hurt.

She knew freeing her hands was her only option. The legs of her overalls came down over her boots, and the twine went around both. It would be impossible to kick off her boots and pull a bare foot through the bindings. She would have to endure the pain and pull her hand as hard as she could, and she must do it quickly. If it took her too long, her hands would swell, and pulling them free after that would be impossible. She heaved with all her strength, and this time her hand came nearly through. She took a few deep breaths and then made one more enormous effort. Her hand slipped free of the twine.

She pulled the loose twine off her other hand and reached into her pocket. There was a jackknife in it which her captors had missed. They’d had their hands all over her, but the knife was small and somehow they’d missed it.

Zoe cut the bonds on her ankles and returned the knife to her pocket. Her hands ached, and she chafed them as she crept up the stairway. Her knee was hurting too, and she put most of her weight on her good leg. Halfway up, she paused a moment to listen. All was quiet.

Zoe decided to forget about her purse and head for the back window. There was no identification in it anyway, and the bag of poppy powder seemed unimportant right now. All she wanted was to get out of this house and safely across the road. She was relieved to see the living room was empty, so she slipped off her boots and tiptoed through to it to the hallway. She could hardly believe she was getting out without alerting someone. She popped through the rear window, dropped to the ground, replaced her boots and limped off through the rows of vines. It was quite dark by now, and she wouldn’t be seen if she could make it across the road.

There was a wooded area just beyond the gorse bush, and she hobbled for it as fast as she could go. She had been lucky. The darkness of the night had been her saving grace. She headed through the woods in the general direction of the city. It seemed like only a minute before she heard a clamor coming from the direction of the winery building and the determined drumbeats of horse hooves on the road. Her absence had been discovered; probably when her captors had gone to collect her. She kept moving through the trees until she had to stop to rest her knee. She couldn’t wait long. She wasn’t safe here.

Zoe paused only a few minutes and listened for signs of pursuit. Her knee was hurting, but she’d have to keep moving. The hideaway she’d been staying in was near downtown, and it wouldn’t be safe to go there now. The search for her would be intense since the vineyard owners knew she’d found the bags, but they were safe from her spying for now. She wouldn’t be back to bother them for a long time. And she wouldn’t be breathing a word of what had just happened to Trapper or Rey.

Zoe limped to Lily Morgan’s home, which took her the better part of an hour. She had met Lily in elementary school and they’d become fast friends. She needed a friend right now; one that she could confide in and one that wouldn’t yell at her for taking chances.

2: The Mill

By the time Rey and Trapper reached the Blackwater River, the sun was well past its zenith. They’d been traveling off road, shadowing a government agent named Snead. Trapper suspected that Snead had collected some magical items that could locate the Crown Treasure of the old kings. Rey was a bit skeptical of the part about the treasure, but his grandfather seemed certain it was true.

To their left was the covered bridge that Snead and the Greenies had just crossed. Trapper and Rey would have to ford the river and stay off the road.

They urged their horses into the belly deep water and climbed the far bank to enter a copse of trees. A narrow, wooded strip filled with vines and deadfall separated them from a sunlit clearing, and they rode through it with difficulty. They stopped just short of the clearing to take in the scene in front of them.

There was an old millhouse sitting beside the waterway that powered it. It was a quaint, hexagonal building with blue shutters and a red-painted door. Its roof was newly shingled and its windows looked new. It was obviously well maintained by its owners. The water wheel was turning lazily beneath a heavy burden of water, able at any time to power the machinery inside the building.

Rey had been on the road out of town before, but he had never seen this mill. What street is this, he asked.

This is Picabordo Road, replied Trapper. I’ve been here before. It’s pretty, isn’t it?

It is surely that, said Rey. What do they use the mill for?

The Amberlost forest is just a few miles east and they bring the logs here to saw them into boards. There’s a shed over yonder where they sticker the cut lumber for drying.

I see it, said Rey. It’s strange I didn’t know about this place. I’ve lived here all my life.

You’re only eighteen years old, boy. I’ll forgive you your ignorance. Trapper stepped out from behind the trees to see the place better. It looks like the workers have gone home for the day. The millhouse should be vacant.

Do you think Snead is coming here? asked Rey.

That’d be a good guess. We will wait and watch for a bit.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before six riders came down the lane and tied their horses at the hitching rail in front of the building. They were clad in Sandar olive green. All but one entered the millhouse, and he stayed on the front porch to stand guard.

Shucks, I wish that guy had gone in with the rest! said Trapper in annoyance. Now we’ll have to find a window in the back to see what’s going on.

They tied their horses within the screen of the trees and waited another minute before running to the nearest woodshed. From there, they were safe to go the rest of the way to the millhouse. The top of the waterwheel was just to their left, and the back yard where they stood was twelve feet higher than the spillway and the front door.

The back windows were too high to reach, so Rey retrieved a board from the shed and placed it against the wall. He climbed his improvised ladder until he reached one of the windows. It was completely dark inside when he peered in. He rubbed his sleeve on the glass and looked again. He still couldn’t see anything, so he slid the sash open.

This is an attic, said Rey. We’re going to have to crawl in and put our ears to the floor.

Be quiet about it, murmured Trapper. You’re so cow-poked big that your shoulders probably won’t even go through.

I guess I’ll find out. Rey had to squirm to get through but he made it with very little sound. Trapper climbed the board and followed suit. They waited a moment for their eyes to adjust. There were stacks of newly assembled chairs around the perimeter and a platform structure in the center that could be raised and lowered by ropes. The platform appeared to be used as a man-powered elevator. It covered an open hole in the floor, and there seemed to be no other access to the lower level.

Rey lay face down on the platform to peer through an open knothole. There was enough light coming through the front windows below that he could see all five men in the room. Four had found chairs to sit on, but Snead remained standing near the door.

Snead’s down there, Rey whispered.

Is he holding something? asked Trapper.

Rey squinted hard. No. I don’t think he has what you thought he did.

Could be someone is bringing it here, Trapper mused. I wish they’d hurry. I feel unsafe up here.

He was about to say something further when the front door squeaked. Two more men entered the mill room. The first one carried a package that appeared to be wrapped in spotted sealskin, while the other was a heavy set fellow with a full, white beard. They each had daggers at their side and looked very nervous. The man with the package uneasily glanced at all the Greenies around him, while the heavy man was anxiously wiping his fat neck with a red kerchief."

You’re just in time, said Snead, casually lighting a cigarette. I see you have the package for me, Boris.

Yes, I have it.

Open it, said Snead.

Sure. Boris set the package on the floor and carefully opened it. Several objects came to view as he arranged them on the floor. It was a fascinating array of artifacts.

He’s opened the sealskin, Trapper, whispered Rey. You’re going to want to see this.

Rey found a wide crack between floor-boards of the platform so Trapper could look through the knothole. There were seven articles in the package, five of which had a strange blue glow about them. Three of the glowing items were in bottles and two weren’t. The last two items were missing the blue luminosity, but one resembled a lighthouse and had a piercing light. The other was a sword with a jeweled hilt and scabbard. They were all impossible to see in detail from the attic.

The sixth man that had remained outside as a guard now sauntered through the door. The two late-comers instinctively backed against each other. Boris faced Snead and the late-entering guard