Umberland

by Wendy Spinale

  “I think I found the entrance,” Maddox says, rubbing his dark scruff.

  Following his gaze, I discover a small door at the bottom of one of the four walls. Had it not been for the glittering gold doorknob with a bumblefly engraved into the metal, I would never have noticed it. I rush over and kneel, testing the handle. It doesn’t budge.

  “Well, it was a nice thought anyway. It doesn’t look like we’ll be getting out through there. Besides, it’s hardly big enough to crawl through,” Maddox says. He grips one of the metal plates and tries unsuccessfully to pull himself up. “There’s got to be another way.”

  He’s right. Even if I could open the door, the frame is no larger than a house cat. Trying the knob again, I discover a lock big enough for a small key. Recalling the brass key I found along the road on our journey to the Labyrinth, I reach inside my pocket and pull it out. Slipping the key into the keyhole, I turn, listening to tumblers give with a snick. As I twist the knob, the door swings open and the plates on the wall fold back on one another. The opening that was once no taller than my shin sudden grows larger with each shifting plate. I have a shrinking sensation, as if I’m getting smaller.

  Beyond the opening, a green field appears, seeming to go on for a kilometer or more. In the distance, past a massive chain-linked wall, the Labyrinth appears to continue. The moon and night sky are lost in the sudden brightness of the place.

  Maddox takes my elbow. “Stay close,” he says, his eyes darting as if looking for signs of trouble. His heightened awareness of our surroundings unsettles me.

  I follow him, stepping through the walls and onto the lush green grass. Six colored arches several meters high are scattered throughout the field.

  “What is this place?” I ask.

  “It is said the Bloodred Queen is fond of croquet,” he says.

  “I enjoy a good game of croquet, but I have never seen a course quite like this,” I say, hearing the quiver in my voice.

  “Trust me, knowing what I know of the Bloodred Queen, this is like no croquet game you’ve ever participated in,” he says.

  I think of picnics from when I was growing up where we’d play. I have a feeling this will be nothing like those whimsical, fun games. My stomach twists in nervous knots. So far the only thing I can count on in this bizarre Labyrinth is the unexpected. And although this field is quite lovely, instinct begs me not to trust my eyes. The plated wall behind us rebuilds itself, each metal slab locking into the next until the only way out is the small door, still left slightly ajar.

  “Looks like we definitely will not be going back that way,” Maddox says, glancing over his shoulder.

  We travel farther onto the field and find ourselves on a patch of grass painted white. Two metal disks with footprints on each sit side by side.

  “What do you suppose this is for?” I ask, almost wishing I hadn’t.

  “You don’t want to know. Let’s just get to the other side,” Maddox says, stepping around the disks. Star-shaped blades rocket from the ground, nearly skewering him. Startled, he leaps back as the blades create a jagged barricade before us.

  Maddox glances to the side, and I can see him trying to determine if there is another way around the barrier when a wall of fire blazes on either side of us, about a kilometer in both directions.

  Maddox turns to me, his gold eyes resigned. “Looks like this is our only way out. Do you have a preference?” he asks, pointing to the blue and black disks.

  With the toe of my boot, I touch the blue disk, half expecting it to explode. When nothing happens, I take my place within the circle, setting my feet on the footprints. Maddox shifts uncomfortably before stepping on the black circle. Metal clips snap from the disk and wrap around each of my ankles, binding me to the circle. Maddox grunts as his disk does the same.

  “Get your sword out, Duchess, you’re going to need it,” he says, pulling a twelve-cylinder pistol from a holster on his belt. While most of it appears to be made of a bronze-colored alloy, the grip is wrapped in an aged leather. A decorative scope made up of thick washers sits atop the barrel. The weapon, although crudely built, is quite magnificent.

  The top of the green walls opens, and balconies filled with weary and gaunt-looking spectators jut out. Insincere cheers ring from the stands above. I can’t be sure, but I assume these are the townsfolk who were caught in the Labyrinth as the exterior of the fortress grew overnight while they slept. They hardly look like people anymore but rather skeletons. How they have survived this long is a mystery.

  A platform resembling a lily pad rises from a murky pond in the center of the field. Standing on it is a rugged-looking boy dressed in black. A scar the shape of a heart is branded on the left side of his face. Black-threaded stitches give the old wound the appearance of having been sewn on. A glass-and-wire prison surrounds him, preventing him from escaping.

  “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” the boy shouts, his voice raspy. “Let’s hear a round of applause for our players.”

  The crowd claps halfheartedly.

  “Playing for Team A are two really stupid people, apparently with a death wish, who should never have entered the Labyrinth,” the boy grumbles.

  “He’s right, it was a really dumb idea to come here. I blame you,” Maddox says, fidgeting with his ankle cuffs.

  “Shut up, Maddox,” I growl.

  “Playing for Team B is—” He doesn’t have a chance to finish his sentence. In the distance, two large spheres, one copper and the other gold, appear out of nowhere. From this far, I can make out the distinct form of figures in each ball. They aggressively shout expletives, waving fists in the air. I get the feeling that if given the opportunity, they would try to tear me apart with their bare hands.

  The ground rumbles beneath my feet. I catch Maddox’s worried gaze as he holds his arms out, stabilizing himself. Suddenly, dozens of spikes rise from the circumference of the circle, spiraling out, and their tips meet just above our heads.

  “Hold on to your knickers, Your Grace. We’ll be going for a ride,” Maddox shouts. I look over and he’s reaching for the loops of leather hanging from the steel bars. His face goes slack, his knuckles paling as he grips the black loop with his free hand. The other clutches the pistol tightly. Pulse beating rapidly in my ears, I do the same. We are trapped within spherical cages and there is no way out.

  My stomach has still yet to settle from the terror of running from the blades. Somehow I know what’s about to happen will not compare. My eyes lock with Maddox’s, and I see apprehension in his. Suddenly, a circular section of the wall as tall as a human bursts forth, sending Maddox on a tailspin down the field toward the first archway. It quickly occurs to me that in this game of croquet I am not a player but the ball. If I thought I was sick to my stomach before, I’m going to be in much worse shape shortly.

  With a jolt, my sphere is struck, and I spin out of control. I brace myself within the cage, pressing my hands and feet as hard as I can onto the bars, afraid that even one slip will send me tumbling like a rag doll within the metal ball.

  Shutting my eyes tightly, I spin in a dizzying spell and am relieved when I feel my cage hit something metal. I open one eye and see the first enormous wicket pass by.

  The young announcer calls out the score, but all I can hear is my rapid breath. My cage is struck again, this time from below. The sphere sails in the air, and from behind me I feel the sudden burn of heat. I scream, shielding my face as I nearly hit the wall of fire. Before I am turned to cinder, another mallet-shaped pillar bursts from the ground, sending me spiraling onto the next wicket.

  Three spheres blur past me. Maddox retches inside his prison. The copper and gold spheres of the other players whirl, nearly clipping my cage. For the first time I get a good look at the figures within the opposing orbs.

  It’s two girls who must be sisters with their matching tawny skin and elegant cheekbones. Both are my age and wear dark suits with a single emblem just below their left shoulder: a broken and bloodied h
eart. As the girl in the copper cage spins toward me, she pulls out a sword and swipes at me through the bars. I duck as she chops off a single lock of my hair. I have no idea how she was able to maneuver the sword from her spinning cage into mine, but I’m certain I don’t want to be anywhere near her. I reach for my own sword, but it weighs heavy in my grip, sending my balance off. I’m not sure how I can fight and still manipulate this spherical cage.

  I parry right, dodge another blow of hers, and sweep up, nicking her arm along the way.

  As the girl swipes at me again, her sword hits the steel bars, sending sparks showering down on me. With her attention on skewering me, she doesn’t anticipate my attack as I jab at her with my sword, injuring her thigh as her cage rolls by me. She doesn’t flinch, but instead reaches down to touch the blood oozing from her wound. Her face flushes with rage.

  I’m eternally grateful for the dueling lessons my father gave me. The memory of him brings an ache to my chest, but there’s no time to mourn. He’d tell me to be light on my feet, but inside this orb, I can hardly discern up from down.

  “Lucky move, girl,” she says, scowling. “But it’s been a long time since we’ve lost a match.”

  “She isn’t lying either,” the other girl cackles, dropping into a crouch and gripping the bars by her feet. Tucked in tightly like that, her sphere spins faster and straight toward Maddox. She holds a pistol tightly in her hand as she aims for him.

  “You’ll pay for that, girl,” the first girl says. She swings her sword, and it catches on my cloak, ripping a hole in the fabric. Thankfully, the blade misses me.

  Our cages continue to roll, bouncing off each other as we take turns trying to incapacitate the other through the grid work of steel. I swing and hit her left calf. She screams and reaches for her leg, sending her cage spiraling in a different direction.

  Glancing over at my other opponent, I see blood spilling from a bullet wound to her shoulder. She balls her body up and sends her sphere in a controlled spin, aiming for Maddox. I mimic the girl’s moves, thrusting my weight toward the ground. My cage rolls in a wild rotation. I grind my teeth, trying to keep from vomiting. Another mallet-shaped pillar explodes from the ground, sending me through several wickets. I catch a glimpse of Maddox, dodging bullets from his opponent. He fires two quick rounds and spins away. Too busy attempting to save my own life, I’ve failed to count the number of bullets he’s fired. Anxiety builds within me as I wonder if he’s used his twelve rounds already.

  I tuck and roll as the metal bars are struck from all sides, losing myself in a blur of colorful hoops, spheres, and green grass. My arms and legs are pulled in so close that the nerves in my fingers and toes tingle with energy, my hands gripping tightly to my sword.

  Not soon enough, I find myself back at the starting point. Next to me, Maddox vomits violently in his own cage again. As my blue steel cage finds its way to the metal circle, I release my grip on the bars, exhausted. In the distance, I see the gold and copper balls find their place on the other side.

  The cage snaps open, and I collapse on the ground, unable to hold myself upright any longer. The bars coil down, returning to the disk from where they came. Weak, dizzy, and filled with remorse, I roll over onto the grass as far as I can manage, away from the disk. Becoming the playing piece in a game for a second round is the last thing I want to happen. Bile burns the back of my throat. Maddox groans nearby, but I no longer have the energy to sit up, much less check on his well-being. The grass feels cool against my face as I fight away the overwhelming sensation of nausea. Just a few minutes. If I can only rest for a few minutes, maybe I’ll wake up to find this was all just a nightmare. A bad dream and this place will never have existed but in the darkest corners of my mind.

  “And the winners are … Team A, Blue and Black!” the young knave announces as his voice echoes through the playing field. The crowd roars with as much energy as they can muster, seeming pleased by our victory, but equally defeated.

  I know I should be pleased, especially to have survived, but after nearly having lost my lunch and my life, I find nothing the least bit amusing. As I close my eyes, I am shaking. I roll over and Maddox is hovering above me.

  “We have to go,” Maddox says, worry evident in his tone. His eyes dart toward something in the distance. A door has opened on the other side of the playing field. “I highly doubt it’ll stay open much longer. Time to move, now!”

  Maddox yanks me to my feet and we are running, still flanked by walls of fire on either side of the croquet course. As I run passed the red-stained grass where blood was shed, every cell within me wants to turn back, to return to Northumberland and find another way to help my people. Instead I keep running, hardly feeling the ground beneath me. The doorway feels impossibly far away, and the more I run, the farther it seems. When we finally reach the other side, I am so eager to leave this dangerous game. While few things frighten me, this deadly round of living croquet is hardly a game I ever want to play again.

  “Well done, Alyssa,” Maddox says, the color returning to his face. “You make a fine croquet partner. However, let’s hope this is our last game.”

  “Agreed, Maddox,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

  Watching him reload his pistol fills me with dread. How much worse can things get? Maddox gestures toward the open corridor. Beyond the doorway lies a thick grove of trees. “Shall we?”

  I step into the dark pathway with hesitance, knowing that until we make it to the Labyrinth’s center, it will only become more challenging.

  “Stay close, Duchess,” Maddox says, a hint of wariness in his gruff voice.

  When I glance over my shoulder and peer back at the life-size croquet course, I dread what comes next.

  I storm through the makeshift village outside the castle walls. It’s late, past midnight, and most of the residents have either returned to their shelters or joined the party at the Poison Garden. A few stumble throughout the shanty village, nearly tripping over one another, reeking with the scent of booze and cigarette smoke. Bottles and trash litter the grounds outside the castle. I hold my breath, blocking out the smell of sewage and filthy bodies.

  By the time I reach the castle entrance, a few stragglers are being encouraged to move along by Pickpocket, Cogs, and Scout. The refugees grumble but eventually return to their grubby tents.

  “You all right, boss?” Pickpocket asks.

  Ignoring him, I burst through the castle doors and storm up the stairs. I’m furious and I need to vent. There is only one person who can make me feel any better right now. On my way to my room I take a detour and burst into Gwen’s chambers. Startled, she stares at me. I must be a sight—standing there bare-chested with bleeding gashes left behind by Katt’s fingernails. If I look half as feral as I feel, it must be terrifying. Before I can say anything—explode about my rage with Katt or ask for an explanation about what happened between us earlier—she talks first.

  “Where have you been?” she demands. “I was worried about you! Doc says you went to the Poison Garden. Do you know what could’ve happened to you there? No one comes back from there, Pete. No one! If you think I’m going to just chase you to all corners of the world to protect you from yourself, well … I can’t.”

  Annoyance prickles up my spine. “Chase me? You sent me away earlier. One minute you want me and the next minute you don’t. Do you know how confusing this is?”

  “My mother just died,” she says, her voice catching. “Sorry for needing a moment to myself. You have no idea how hard it is to have to be strong for Joanna and Mikey.”

  “What? Are you kidding me? Of all people, I’m the one who understands the most. How quickly you’ve forgotten that I’ve lost my parents and my sister,” I say a little too loudly.

  “That’s not what I mean. I just …” She hesitates. “What if they die? What if I die? Who’s going to take care of them, Pete?”

  Her words cut me. I can’t believe her. “Me!” I shout. “Of course I’d take care of the
m. What kind of person do you think I am, Gwen? I wouldn’t just abandon them or leave them to die alone. I’d take as good care of them as I would any Lost Kid.”

  The look she gives me is like a stab. Like she’s thinking of all the others I let down. Like I’d do the same to her siblings.

  “Gwen,” I say, my voice cracking.

  “Don’t, Pete,” she says, holding a hand up and turning her gaze away. “The reality is that we’re all sick. We’re all going to die. I can’t be worrying about you, especially when you so recklessly risk your life with no regard for those who care about you, for those who depend on you. I can’t watch the people I love die. As it is, I’m terrified of losing Joanna and Mikey. My heart doesn’t have room to lose one more person. And neither does yours.”

  My anger deflates as quickly as it exploded. I reach for her. “It wouldn’t …”

  She shakes her head at me and steps away. “Pete, no,” she says softly. “Please leave.”

  Panic claws at my throat as I realize she’s trying to end things between us. And she thinks she’s doing it for my own good, too. Like it’d be better for me to lose her now instead of later on. But she’ll have to say the words. She’ll have to look me in the eye and tell me it’s over. Not that I’ll give her the chance if I can help it. I will fight for her heart no matter what it costs me.

  “I went looking for Duchess Alyssa,” I say, stepping around what she hasn’t said. I can’t accept it. Won’t accept it. “She’s been gone too long. Someone needed to check in on her.”

  “Did you find her?” Gwen asks, her blue eyes hopeful. “Doc and Lily are concerned. They say she’s been gone awhile.”

  I realize too late that it didn’t help things to bring up Alyssa. It will just leave her feeling more hopeless. “Maddox has taken her somewhere, but Katt wouldn’t tell me where,” I admit. “But maybe he took her to the apple?”