I stood at the foot of the sculpture, tracing the graceful symbols with my index finger. They must mean something, but what?

They reminded me of the Norse stones in Newfoundland, and the others found all over the United States proving more exploration than anyone ever gave Leif Erikson and his band of Vikings credit for.

So, definitely runic in flavor, but here in the middle of the jungles of deepest Africa---mind you, who says it was only the Atlantic the Vikings crossed.

Flipping the memory cards on hieroglyphics in Egypt, and more for the Mayan and Incan cultures, I still couldn't put together an intelligible meaning to the wave like dots and curves. Written in three lines on the tablet the statue carried along with a quill and inkwell, they indicated he was a scribe.

Now it was up to me to put together enough clues from the archeological pile of artifacts we uncovered before we found him. Patterns and languages were my strength, but this one wasn't like anything I'd seen before. We needed the magic object with its name printed on it.

And as I stroked the pattern one more time, the jungle wavered, and my eyes closed.

"Dorothy, what the hell?" Was the last thing I heard.