Lifestyles of Gods and Monsters

by Emily Roberson

  “Crawling?” I say.

  He pushes his hand toward the floor. “Lower. We’re going to have to basically slide along the floor to avoid getting hit. That way, when the arrows are sprung, they will fall on us but not stab us.”

  “Are you sure they won’t skewer us when they fall?”

  “No,” he says, “I’m not. Do you have a better idea?”

  I shake my head, looking down at the floor, where the concrete has been stained with the blood of previous competitors. “No, I don’t.”

  I clutch my ball of thread in my fist as Theseus drops to the floor. “Here we go,” he says.

  He begins slinking forward on his stomach, and I lie down on the cold concrete and do the same. As I inch forward, I realize that I can’t look to see where we are going or what Theseus is doing without putting my head in the path of one of the arrows aimed at calf height. My eye level is at the soles of his shoes as I creep forward, waiting for the arrows to begin falling on us.

  It doesn’t take long.

  I hear the clatter of arrows as Theseus goes ahead of me, but I don’t dare look up to see if he’s been hit. He doesn’t groan and his shoes keep moving, which seems like a good sign.

  Arrows launch from the wall, but each time they slam harmlessly into the opposite wall or the floor beside me. I dare a small peek up after an arrow falls, and I can see that Theseus is almost to the end.

  I breathe a sigh of relief.

  Then Theseus cries out in pain. I start to raise myself up to see what has happened to him, and he calls out, “Ariadne, don’t move.”

  Glancing at the wall ahead of me, I see an arrow, its point sharp and shining, right at the level the top of my head would have been if I had raised it an inch higher. I pull my head down, and the low arrow flies from its position as I pass. It clatters beside me.

  That is the last one, and when I pull myself to my feet, Theseus is leaning against the wall, holding his shoulder and breathing hard.

  “What happened?” I say.

  He pulls his hand away from his shoulder and it is covered with blood. “No big deal,” he says. “One of the taller ones grazed me.”

  I look at it. I have a lot of experience bandaging wounds from the years of taking care of Asterion, and I can tell it isn’t deep. “It will be okay,” I say.

  “I know,” he says, keeping the arrow in his hand.

  “I’m glad you paid attention to The Labyrinth Contest,” I say, thinking about what would have happened if I’d stumbled into that.

  He grabs my hand and we walk on, knowing that we’re lucky to be alive.

  As we go farther down, Asterion’s breathing gets louder, echoing through the maze.

  We turn again, and again, and then I can hear another sound, a whoomp, whoomp, whoomp sound, like a very slow-moving helicopter.

  “The Pendulum,” Theseus and I say together. Many of the obstacles change year after year, but the Pendulum has been here since the beginning.

  We round the next corner, and there it is. We’re close to the heart of the maze.

  When I come to comfort Asterion, the Pendulum is safely held back against the wall, a ten-foot-tall bronze decoration that I barely notice as I walk by.

  Now it swings back and forth across the path, its bronze sides honed razor sharp. It goes back and forth, back and forth, like a metronome. There is no strategy to the Pendulum. All you can do is outrun it.

  “You go first,” Theseus says to me.

  I roll my thread under it, so I will have it on the other side.

  Then I wait, bouncing on my toes, until the Pendulum has reached its highest right-hand position and I start running as it begins its descent toward the opposite wall. When I make it past, the wind of the Pendulum’s return blows my long hair forward. As fast as I am, I barely made it.

  Then I wait while Theseus gets ready for his turn. He’s bigger than I am, which gives him even less room to maneuver. He gives himself a running start, then slides under it, barely making it. I breathe again once he’s through.

  We turn and then turn again, getting closer and closer to Asterion’s room.

  The last camera is mounted on the ceiling, and beyond it, the light from Asterion’s room seeps out into the hallway. “We’re here,” I say.

  The sound of his breathing fills the space around us, but I still don’t know where he is.

  * * *

  I blink at the brightness in Asterion’s room after the darkness of the maze.

  No sign of Asterion.

  Theseus looks around at the room, taking it in. I can see his horror. I am seeing the room through his eyes. It is a shock, the desperate misery of this room—the torn and stained upholstery, the dented metal cabinet where I keep his supplies. Asterion’s blue blanket.

  “What’s this?” Theseus asks, picking up something off the floor.

  I take it from him, cradling it in my hands. It’s half of Asterion’s book. He’s torn it in half. He’s destroyed it, like his other treasures. I lay it down and pick up his blue blanket.

  The floor under us vibrates with the rumbling of an earthquake, and a low growl fills the space around us.

  “Run, Ariadne,” Theseus says, keeping his voice calm. Theseus has turned away from me and is facing the door. He has dropped into a fighting stance.

  Asterion fills the doorway, his head down in the attack position, horns leveled at us. The rage and blind hatred in his eyes make me take a step backward.

  There is no sign of my brother. Like a raging bull, Asterion stomps his foot on the floor, and the walls tremble around us.

  He and Theseus size each other up.

  “Get out of here, Ariadne,” Theseus says. “I don’t want him to hurt you.”

  Would Asterion hurt me? I have had a glimpse of what the Athenians must feel like when they face the Minotaur, but this is even worse. I don’t know if I could stop him, even if I wanted to. I don’t think he remembers who I am.

  I would leave, but I can’t. Asterion is blocking the door.

  Asterion bellows a call of fury. Theseus is an intruder in his room.

  Asterion runs at Theseus.

  Right before Asterion’s horns hit, Theseus sidesteps out of the way, and I remember, Theseus fought the Cretan Bull—he’s planning to fight Asterion the way you would fight a bull.

  Asterion’s momentum carries him past Theseus and he slams into the wall, shaking the foundations. I hold Asterion’s blue blanket, feeling its softness between my fingers.

  Asterion pounds the floor with his foot and makes another pass at Theseus, and again, Theseus jumps out of the way. Asterion is faster this time, and Theseus’s sidestep is more of a leap than a graceful step.

  They aren’t fighting yet, they’re testing each other out, looking for weaknesses.

  Theseus holds his arms out. “Is that all you’ve got?”

  Asterion passes again, and this time, when Theseus sidesteps, he grabs one of Asterion’s horns and leaps onto his back.

  Asterion bellows and shakes Theseus like a dog with a rat. He carries Theseus through the door, out into the main hallways, where the cameras are watching.

  Theseus is holding on tightly, trying to choke Asterion. If Theseus had been fighting another man, this would have worked, but with Asterion’s bull’s head on his body, his neck and shoulders are too wide for Theseus to get his arms around.

  Then Asterion raises up to his full height and slams backward, crashing Theseus into the wall. Theseus loses his grip and slides down the wall.

  Asterion takes several steps forward, then turns to look at Theseus.

  Theseus returns to his fighting stance, but he is wobbly on his feet, his eyes bleary. I can already tell what is going to happen. When Asterion comes at him again, horns down, Theseus doesn’t make it out of the way in time. Asterion knocks him into the wall.

  The sound of Theseus hitting the wall is horrible, and he lays on the floor, stunned, for a moment before he tries to get to his feet. Before he ca
n, Asterion grabs him and throws him against the wall again.

  This time when he hits the floor, Theseus doesn’t try to stand. He can’t.

  I watch as Asterion stands to his full height and roars in triumph. His eyes are red with rage; he is snorting and growling, and snot drips from his nose. He is a monster. He is the Minotaur.

  I know with a sudden certainty—Asterion is going to kill him. Here in this hallway, on camera for the whole world, in front of me, Asterion is going to kill Theseus.

  He’s going to kill him and eat him, like he did Vortigern.

  It’s like when I was a little girl and he killed the cows. He tore them with his teeth and horns. He devoured them. And I watched.

  I came in here thinking that I would kill the Minotaur if Theseus did not, but I know for sure that I am not strong enough to defeat this monster. Not like this. Ten people couldn’t do it.

  I remember Asterion’s eyes after he scared me, how sad he was, how sorry. He doesn’t want this.

  All done, he said. All done.

  My brother is not here, in this monster. This cannot be the way I get him back.

  I stand in the doorway, clutching his blanket. He may have forgotten who he is, but I haven’t.

  “Asterion!” I scream. “Asterion, stop!”

  Asterion reaches to pick Theseus up again, but I run at the two of them, grabbing Asterion’s arms. The last time I tried to stop him, I was too weak to do anything. But I’m not a little girl anymore.

  He shoves me backward and I fall to the floor, but I get up again.

  I grip his arm. “Asterion,” I scream into his ear. “Asterion!”

  I’m pulling at his hands, trying to get him to step back from Theseus.

  I’m crying and screaming and holding on for dear life. I’m praying out loud to the gods. “Please let him hear me.” I’m calling his name. “Asterion, please, please remember me. Asterion, I love you. Please remember who you are. You’re my brother. You’re my brother.”

  I feel the change in his breathing, the moment of stillness. His head is still down, he is still full of anger, but he backs away from Theseus.

  Theseus is collapsed against the wall, battered and bloody. He watches us with eyes that are already swelling.

  “This is my friend,” I say to Asterion.

  The redness fades from Asterion’s eyes, but he doesn’t leave his fighting stance.

  “Asterion,” I say, “this is my friend…”

  He unclenches his fists and makes the sign. Friend?

  “Yes, he’s my friend.”

  He looks at me, seriously. Ariadne love friend?

  Do I? Do I love Theseus? I look at him, pulling himself to his feet, watching us carefully. He can’t understand what we are saying, since Asterion is signing, but his bruised face has a mix of curiosity and concern, and I can feel him asking me what is happening, what is about to happen, and I see that flash of connection between us. The way he gets me.

  “Yes,” I tell Asterion. “Yes, I do.”

  Asterion looks at me carefully, turning his big head slightly. Ariadne love me?

  I take his hand in mine. “Yes. I love you. Always.”

  What Ariadne want?

  I stand there looking at him, holding his hand. I look down at his blue blanket, clutched in my other hand. “I want you to be happy, Asterion. I want you to be free.”

  He is standing in front of me, at his full height, looking down at me. He puts his hand to my cheek. I love you.

  Tears are running down my cheeks. For the first time in our lives, he is the one who is comforting me.

  Goodbye, he signs. Goodbye.

  Gently, he nudges me on the shoulder, pushing me away. His breathing is settled. His eyes are their own sweet brown.

  Ariadne go.

  He pushes me a little harder this time, and I stumble backward. He turns toward Theseus, lowering his head, getting ready to charge.

  Theseus is back on his feet. He is ready.

  Theseus uses the wall as a springboard to throw himself at my brother, grabbing him by the horns.

  In slow motion, Theseus uses the force of their combined momentum to twist Asterion’s head. The sickening crack is louder than a gunshot as Theseus breaks my brother’s neck. Together they fall to the floor.

  Theseus is the only one to stand. His face exultant. He has won.

  Asterion lays on the floor, his body twisted, neck broken. His sweet brown eyes open and staring.

  I cry out and run forward, toward Asterion. As I do, something strange happens. When I touch the brown hair of his bull’s head, the air around us starts to shimmer, and my brother’s body starts to change, like a reverse time-lapse video of a flower’s growth. Slowly, his body transforms, the monstrous shape of the Minotaur shrinking and changing into a brown-haired thirteen-year-old boy.

  My Asterion. His hands are no longer torn and battered by the walls of his prison. His skin is no longer burned and scarred.

  His eyes are the same as they have always been.

  “Ariadne,” he says, his voice a whisper, and he smiles up at me. My whole life, I have never heard his voice.

  Tears stream down my cheeks as I touch his face. I was right. This worked. I have him with me. I can take him out of the maze.

  “Let’s get you out of here,” I say, looking around me for something to carry him out on. “We can make a stretcher. We can…”

  I look up at Theseus, desperately. “Theseus, help me get him up. Help me carry him.”

  Theseus is battered and bloodstained. He has bruises on his face and his arms are crisscrossed with gouges. He looks exhausted. He shakes his head. “We shouldn’t move him.”

  Asterion’s body is twisted and broken on the floor, and I realize that Theseus is right. We can’t move him without risking injuring him more.

  “We’ll get help,” I say.

  “Ariadne,” Asterion says, and his voice freezes me. It’s softer than it was, barely audible. “Don’t leave me.”

  “No, no,” I say, crouching next to him. “I won’t leave you.”

  “Ariadne, I…,” he starts, but then he seems to be looking at something far away. I’m losing him.

  “No, no, no,” I say. “Stay with me, Asterion. I’m right here.”

  With great effort, he draws his attention back to me. He lifts his hand to my cheek.

  “I love you,” he breathes out. “Thank you.”

  With that last word, his eyes lose focus on me, and his body stills, the life in him slipping away.

  He is gone.

  He is dead.

  The gods betrayed me. They betrayed us both.

  I feel the warmth leave Asterion’s body, and I look at his eyes, unchanged, shining out of a boy’s face.

  Tears rise in me like an electrical storm, and I can’t stop them. I hold Asterion in my arms, and I can’t let go.

  I’m crying and crying, and I don’t know that I will ever stop.

  EIGHTEEN

  “Ariadne. Ariadne.”

  Someone is calling my name, but it’s like I’m down a hole, deep in the ground. Nothing can reach me. Out there, aboveground, it sounds like someone is howling. Screaming. Like a wounded animal.

  I am lost.

  “Ariadne,” the voice says again, but I won’t let it distract me.

  I clutch Asterion to me.

  Even while I hold his lanky boy’s body to me, my fingers in his curly hair, I miss the shape of Asterion as I’ve known him for so long. I miss the softness of his fur. I miss the bulk of him. This is what I always dreamed of, having him back as the boy he would have been, but the boy I loved was the Minotaur, too.

  I close my eyes tightly, breathing in the smell of him. That has not changed.

  I pray and pray and pray. This is wrong. Bring him back. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

  “Ariadne, please.” A hand rests on my shoulder. “Ariadne, please. I need you.”

  I finally open my eyes. I realize that the keening howl is co
ming from me.

  Theseus kneels beside me. “Ariadne, we have to get out of here,” he says.

  “I can’t leave him like this,” I say, looking down at the broken body of my brother.

  Theseus nods. “We’ll take him with us.”

  When I wrap his blue blanket around Asterion’s naked form and gently close his eyes, a sparkling light surrounds us. Asterion begins to change, his body fading, becoming instead many points of light, like tiny blinking stars. The stars swirl around us, and the corridor sings with a sound like ringing bells. A joyful sound, of freedom.

  Then he is gone. His body dissolved into the air, and the blue blanket flutters to the ground.

  The glowing light fades, and the maze comes back to its grim darkness.

  I pick up the blanket—all that is left of my brother, but that isn’t true. Those ringing bells tell me that he is somewhere else. His voice, thanking me, tells me that, too. This isn’t the ending that I wanted. But Asterion is free.

  I tear off a small piece of the blue blanket and put it into my pocket.

  Then I reach a hand out to Theseus. “Let’s go.”

  Beyond us, the Pendulum swings back and forth, my ball of thread resting on the floor in front of it. As we walk toward the obstacle, I gather the energy to run past it. Asterion would never want me to stay in the maze.

  “Ariadne. Ariadne.” I hear Icarus’s voice in my earpiece. “Thank the gods. I’ve finally got you back online. What happened in there? We got the video of Theseus killing the Minotaur, but after that, my cameras blew out. What’s going on? Did Asterion…”

  He leaves his question unfinished, waiting for me to answer.

  “He’s gone,” I say, hoping that it is enough.

  The Pendulum slows, then stops. With the Minotaur defeated, The Labyrinth Contest has a winner. There is no longer any reason for the obstacles.

  “Let’s get you out here, then,” Icarus says. “There are eighty thousand people waiting.”

  * * *

  Theseus and I trudge back out of the maze in silence, both lost in our thoughts. I’m in a daze. I can’t even believe that the world is still the same.