Power of the Lost

by Cebelius

  Then he ran, more than half-hoping Theseus was already dead.

  No such luck.

  Theseus did have a gash across his face that split one of his nostrils and both his lips, but that only made his snarl macabre as he brought his sword up to meet Terry's stroke. He was beaten, bloodied, and it was obvious that one of his arms was broken, but none of that stopped him.

  Terry grimaced as his sword rang against his opponent's and bounced away. His strength had finally found its match.

  Theseus roared, blood and spittle flying from his ruined face as he slashed and thrust. Terry didn't try and engage him blow for blow but instead concentrated on circling, dodging, and doing his best to keep his sword free for an opportune thrust. He had no illusions about his skill with a blade.

  He had both hands and was completely hale, but that didn't last. Theseus' speed matched his. In fact, he might even have been a little faster. His sword was like a viper, striking and flickering through the air almost too quick to see, and Terry grew increasingly desperate as bloody cuts and gashes began to open across his arms and torso. The bracers he wore could block the sword, and they saved his life twice in the first minute, but Theseus was too good, and soon started to grin as he realized just how weak his opponent was.

  His lips flapped loosely around his exposed jaw and bloody spittle flew from him as he danced, but through all that Terry could tell the other man was smiling. He knew his victory was only a matter of time.

  Terry realized too late that he was being driven into a corner, and felt his back against the wall as Theseus lunged in, caught Terry's sword hand with the arm Terry had been sure was broken, and jammed his own blade into Terry's guts.

  He wanted to scream but couldn't, and Theseus' bloody grin widened along with his crazed eyes as he pressed, and the sword sank through both Terry's body, and the stone wall behind him.

  Glancing down, he noted the static that seemed to surround Theseus' blade. It was magic.

  Figures ... not that it would matter.

  Without Prada, he couldn't ignore the pain, and didn't try. It flooded through him and kept him focused. He was pinned, impaled, but not dead. And if he wasn't dead, he hadn't lost. The old hero in front of him, turned to evil by countless years trapped in a Labyrinth, grinned with wide-eyed savagery as he took what he presumed were Terry's last moments to gloat at his foe.

  Truth be told, were Terry fighting for any normal reason, he might not have done what he did next. It would probably never have even occurred to him to try. But his hatred for what this man had done was so overwhelming that he was willing to pay any price to get the job done. His adrenaline was surging, and with only a half-formed plan and a target his free hand shot out, pointer rigidly extended.

  Theseus screamed as his eyeball burst, and Terry hooked his finger into the ocular cavity of the other man and hauled him in by his skull.

  The shock of losing an eye caused Theseus to lose his grip, both on Terry's sword arm and his own blade. His legs folded, and he wound up sagging against Terry, who turned Theseus' head a bit, hauled it over the six inches or so of sword still jutting from his own guts, and with both hands on the back of Theseus' head he shoved down, hard.

  Unfortunately, Theseus' spine stayed intact, but that didn't keep him alive.

  Terry held him against his own blade as blood flooded down his front. He didn't dare let the man go. He had no idea what it would take to actually kill a template who had so many bonds, and had been around this long.

  So he just kept Theseus' head pinned down, his body hanging limp off the other side of the blade.

  Terry's head tipped back, resting against the stone of the wall. His own legs were shaking, and he had no way to get the sword out of his guts. When his legs gave out, he would probably cut himself in half on the magic sword pinning him to the wall.

  Fortunately for Terry, he still had friends.

  Prada screamed, "Halla! Go help him before he falls!"

  Halla was already dragging herself toward him, and he could see her wounds were grievous, possibly fatal. Yet she reached him, carefully grasped the end of Theseus' sword, and yanked it out of both the wall and him.

  The action had the happy side effect of ending the job Terry had begun, separating Theseus' spine, and then his head from his shoulders. It fell from Terry's nerveless fingers and bounced away across priceless carpets as the body sagged.

  Terry slumped to the ground, and smiled as he mumbled, "Thanks ... needed that."

  "Fuck ... oh fuck, Boss! He's dying! He's-!"

  "Shhh, it's okay," Terry said, reaching out with one hand to try and stop Halla's frantic screams. Blood was still pumping out from around his fingers, and he could feel it soaking his back and pants as it left him front and back. "Prada will save me ... as soon as she finishes the nymph. I'll live until then."

  She whipped her head back to look at the still struggling ball of amorphous goop that was now only about ten feet away and asked with tears in her eyes, "How?"

  He smiled wearily as he focused and spoke in English, "End my spell."

  His perception slowed, and hopefully, so would his blood loss. He had no idea if that would help, but it couldn't hurt. He said, "I have no idea, but she will. Shhh, it's okay, La. Theseus is gone. You're free."

  "Fuck free, I want you!" she cried, reaching out, but stopping just short of touching him. Tears were streaming down her face as she asked, "You're sure she can save you?"

  Darkness was creeping in at the edges of his vision, but he nodded firmly and did his best to keep up his faltering smile. His voice was weak, even to his own ears, but he forced the words out.

  "Yes. She'll win and ... then come save me."

  "How can you be sure!?" she asked, desperation plain in her voice.

  He couldn't see anything anymore, but managed to grin weakly as he murmured, "Because, La. Blood is thicker ... than water. It's okay ... shhh. The good guys, always ..."

  "Stay with me, Boss. Please! Stay awake! Sta-!"

  30

  Judge, Jury, Executioner

  Boss walked down the hall, following the yarn spooling through their fingers even though they no longer needed it. Halla had been living in the Labyrinth all her life, and they had her memories to draw upon. Nevertheless, they were careful to respool the yarn. It wouldn't do to have Ariadne thinking they hadn't needed it.

  Our job is only half done. Theseus was evil ... but so is the woman who put him here. She let this happen. She watched. She must pay. We will make her pay. There is no excuse for permitting what happened here. This is so much worse than slavery. We will end this travesty with her blood.

  True to his prediction, Prada had overwhelmed and disassembled the water nymph — tearing her apart on an almost molecular level. She had then consumed Theseus' blood, and conserved Terry's own. She had closed his wounds. It had not been healing in the sense that he was accustomed to. She had treated his body like a mechanic treated a car, fixing problems rather than healing them. Together, they would have to be practically annihilated to suffer true death.

  Halla followed them, but didn't speak. When Prada had re-integrated herself with Terry, the two had fused and opened their eyes, and with no further need to disguise themselves, they had risen fully clothed in the blood simulacrum of Albrecht Ross' armor, with Terry's face.

  Boss knew what needed to be done, and knew just as well that they needed to remain integrated until the task was complete. They couldn't afford to take risks. Not now. Not with the lives of everyone they loved hanging in the balance. What happened next would be just as, if not more, important than what had gone before. It was crucial to make the proper impression. Ariadne literally controlled the space they existed in. In order to do what he must, he had to get close. He had to put his hands on her ... and he had a plan for that.

  "You're sure you want me to ... go out there with you?" Halla finally asked when they reached the last door. "Theseus always forbade us to step outside. He said that if we d
id, Ariadne would snatch the life from us."

  "She won't," they replied confidently. "She has business with me, and she owes me. I want you with me, though ... it's possible you may not travel immediately to where I do. Be patient. I will get you out. I won't abandon you. You have my word."

  Halla proved much tougher than they might have guessed given how grievously wounded she had been when they'd last seen her. By the time they'd regained consciousness, many of her wounds had closed, and the rest had healed and vanished well before they'd spent the night in her personal dwelling. She had wanted sex, but they had refused.

  They were focused on one thing now, getting out. They waited while she slept, for they needed no sleep. Not as they were now. They had spent all that time planning what was to be done, what to say and how to say it. There was no conversation between them now, no need for it. They were effectively one, and shared knowledge as easily as either might have reminisced.

  By the time Halla had woken, they were ready.

  Now the giant woman walked along behind them, meek despite the fact that — even though they were now seven feet tall — she still dwarfed them. They felt like a child standing next to her, but it was an illusion. Tough as she was, they could destroy her, and both they and Halla knew it.

  When this is over and we separate, Terry will have to comfort her. She fears us, and he won't want that. Perhaps we will have Prada explain us. It will be something we will ponder later.

  They went through the door, plucking the end of the yarn from the relief carving on the outside, and Halla followed them through. A bare instant later, the door slammed shut with a boom and it — along with the massive wall that demarcated the Labyrinth — vanished, leaving them standing on a stone platform in empty space.

  "Congratulations, Terry Mack. You have succeeded beyond my wildest expectations."

  Ariadne's voice came from everywhere and nowhere, and Halla crouched as though for balance on what was for her a relatively small space, glancing all around at the emptiness. Her glowing golden eyes were wide with terror, but that wasn't something Boss could concern themselves with at just that moment. They had one last performance.

  "Can you bring us, along with all the rest of my company, to a safe space so that we can talk?" Boss asked. "I've done as you asked, now there are a few loose ends to tie up. I have something else to offer you. Something I am sure will be of interest."

  "What might that be?"

  "It's a surprise. I promise you'll enjoy it."

  "Oh? Very well. I do owe you, after all, and if you genuinely manage to surprise me that will be a reward all its own."

  The space they appeared in was a vast white hall, lacking in any kind of real decoration. It looked almost like some Hollywood impression of Heaven. Part of Boss expected to see Morgan Freeman walk out from behind one of the marble columns in a white suit.

  Instead, the rather unappealing face and figure of Ariadne resolved from the hazy distance, sashaying toward him wearing a slight smile.

  Boss could sense their companions behind them, but did not turn to face them. This was not the time, and perhaps they sensed it as well, for no one spoke as Ariadne approached.

  She stopped a few feet away and tipped her head up as she said, "You're looking a bit taller, and much more impressive than you did when I sent you in, Terry Mack."

  "Prada and I have enhanced our bond," they said, pretending for the moment that they were still two distinct beings. They held up a claw that looked to any outside observer as though it were a crimson gauntlet — something they could take off rather than the piece of them that it was. "I have mastered elements of flesh crafting as a consequence. I also bonded Halla, and she will accompany us when we leave."

  Lowering the hand, they looked down at Ariadne and forced a smile as they asked, "You said you would place all that you have at my disposal. What does that entail?"

  Ariadne's expression twitched, but she lifted her chin and said, "Just what I said. I can use the Labyrinth's power to craft a legendary item for one of your party. I can take you anywhere in the world that you might want to go, and I can offer you the bond of one of the Powers ... myself."

  They smiled. It was as they had expected. Now for the offer.

  "You are indeed generous, Ariadne. I would however, like to offer you something that will be a gift to both of us, in a way. If I am to bond with you, I would like you to be at your best. As I said, I have enhanced my bond with Prada. As a consequence, I have mastered flesh craft ... if it pleases you, I can make you beautiful."

  He hesitated just enough for emphasis before adding, "Permanently so."

  Ariadne blinked, then bit her lip as she looked at him with liquid eyes.

  "Even the gods would not do this for me," she breathed. "Would you truly do as I wish?"

  "I give you my word I will make you look exactly as you desire," Boss said gravely. They knelt before her and lifted a gauntleted hand as they asked, "Do you need a mirror? Can you summon one?"

  They suspected she could, seeing as how she controlled the entirety of this dimension they were in. A moment later she justified that suspicion as she summoned a half-hexagon of ten foot tall mirrors, with her in the center.

  "Strip," they said, standing and stepping behind Ariadne. "You will want to be able to see your whole body. I will help you become the woman you always wanted to be."

  Trembling, Ariadne hesitated, then did as she was bade. She seemed too excited for words, seemed to have forgotten even that anyone else was watching.

  "The crown gave me everything," she murmured bashfully as she slid a hand across her chest while the other crept between her legs. "But it couldn't do anything for me."

  "I understand," they said, taking a knee behind her. Ariadne was a sad sight indeed. It was obvious that she took no care for her appearance, even beyond what couldn't be helped. But that was all right. That suited Boss just fine. They would fix it all, just as they promised.

  "This will feel strange, but you have to bear with it, all right?" they asked, speaking with the sort of gentle care one reserves for a wounded animal, or a small, frightened child.

  Despite this, Ariadne nodded, wide-eyed. It was clear that while she had wanted to be rid of Theseus on some intellectual level, she had long since resigned herself to his presence. THIS though ... this was her true wish. It was the deepest desire of her heart. It was the one thing her crown — even with its ability to create any reality she pleased — couldn't do for her.

  They set a claw on her neck, and sent tendrils into her, snaking through her body, connecting to her nerves, examining every part of her. They knew her as only a doppelgänger could, and once they were ready, they whispered in her ear, "Now, look yourself in the eye, and imagine the woman you want to be. How does she look? What is her figure like? Her eye color? The lines of her face? Change one thing at a time so that I can keep up."

  At first, the changes were small. Ariadne's eyebrow separated, thinned out, then arched into delicate lines. Her face slimmed and her nose shrank. Boss smiled encouragingly as her lips filled out and she smiled and glanced back at him with all the joy of a little girl getting the best Christmas present ever.

  "That's it. Keep going. Make yourself the woman you always wanted to be."

  Fifteen minutes passed, then thirty, then an hour. Ariadne endlessly changed who she was, refined her body, her face, everything. Boss treated her gently, never lost patience with her, talked her through it.

  Finally, Ariadne stood before the mirror as a perfected image of herself. She had a taut belly, flaring hips, jutting, full breasts, and a surpassingly lovely face with bright green eyes. She was also crying, and whispered, "I have never been so happy ... not in all my life. Thank you, Terrence Mack. I can never repay you for what you've done for me today."

  "How do you think your life would have been different if you had been born this way?" Boss asked, meeting her gaze in the mirror, keeping their gentle smile. "Surely all the other girls at the
palace would have adored you. Theseus would have died in the original Labyrinth as he should have, lacking your help, and you would have married a handsome man, had many children, and lived to a ripe old age in contentment. Imagine all that, stolen away by circumstance and an unlovely appearance. None of that was your fault. There was nothing you could have done."

  Ariadne's happy expression cracked, and she nodded, tears welling up. "It would have been so much better," she agreed tearfully. "It wasn't my fault!"

  "Of course not. I can't give you that time back, but from now on, you have the body you always wanted. That is my gift to you. Did you enjoy watching my fight with Theseus and his women?" they asked.

  "It was thrilling," she admitted, glancing back at them. "I never would have believed that you, even impaled, would go so far. The raw brutality of it was stunning, but you survived, and he, older, wiser perhaps, and far more powerful, did not. You were cunning, and used everything to your advantage. Like a true hero of old."

  "I appreciate your compliments. How often did you watch Theseus through the years? Surely you noticed when he began to take his own daughters to bed?"

  For the first time, Boss heard a stirring behind them, and recognized the gasp as Laina's, but they did not look back. Everything in them was focused on Ariadne, whose now perfect brow furrowed as she made an expression of distaste.

  "Yes, I noticed. Disgusting man."

  "They grew up hard, didn't they. Born into a world they didn't understand, thrust into a situation they couldn't control, forced to bend to the will of a man who had turned utterly to evil."

  Ariadne frowned and nodded. "It was truly vile. He was supposed to be so great, but in the end he was nothing but an animal, an evil beast. I couldn't stomach the things he did."

  "Have a look in the mirror, Ariadne. Are you not beautiful?"

  She smiled at herself, eyes dreamy as she said, "Yes. At last, yes."

  "Are you not powerful?"

  "Mmmm, yes, and all that power is yours. I will do anything you want, everything you want. I am yours."