Their peaceful evening was spoilt by Sam’s sudden exclamation. “Shit,” she said loudly. “It’s just occurred to me that solving the puzzle to get through that stupid barrier is the only way to get out of here.” Colour drained from their faces as they realised she was right. Their mood soured as they turned their minds once again to the problem. Food did not appear to have increased their thinking capacity at all and panic began to set in. Sensing the tension that was beginning to spread, Samson placed his paw on Sam and whined. “Hush,” she said absentmindedly. “I’m trying to think.”
“Maybe he is trying to tell you the answer to the question,” Patrick jokingly suggested. His face fell when the wolf nodded his head.
“Alright then,” Sam said sighing. “Prove to me how much more intelligent animals are than humans.” Samson stood up and barked at her, then sat back down on his haunches and looked at her expectantly. She stared at him, unable to speak. “I think he has the answer,” she announced when she managed to find her voice. Samson’s expression became exceedingly smug.
“Well?” Brin asked her.
“Sorry,” she said, realising that she had not told them what Samson had said. “The parrot is deaf. He didn’t say anything because he didn’t hear anything.”
Oak groaned. “We were missing the obvious and had to have it pointed out to us by a dog.” Samson growled loudly, showing all of his teeth.
“He says he’s not a dog. Dogs are smelly, stupid, creatures that chase balls whereas wolves possess the intelligence to answer questions when humans fail.” Sam did her best not to laugh as she translated.
“Really,” Patrick said sarcastically. “I would like to see him make that barrier open without human help.”
Samson, taking this as a challenge, eased himself off the floor and slowly wandered over to where he had seen everyone else disappear. Mimicking the humans, he barked, asking permission to pass. When words appeared in front of him, he barked twice. The words faded and were replaced by others. Samson turned his head to look at Patrick, grinned and proceeded to walk forward.
“I do not believe it,” Patrick said bitterly. Ban and Oak, who were closest to Samson, looked at each other, both thinking the same thing. Like synchronised swimmers, they simultaneously dived after Samson before the barrier came down. Breath was knocked out of them as they landed hard on the ground. Oak opened his eyes and looked up.
“Nice of you to join us,” Tor said, peering down at him.
Once they had both Oak and Ban on their feet and had assessed that they were not injured, everyone bombarded them with questions. Ban was rather embarrassed as he admitted the reason for their sudden arrival.
“Who is a good doggie then,” Ria said to Samson while roughly rubbing behind his ears. He smiled contentedly.
“How come she gets to call him a dog but I do not?” Oak enquired, slightly hurt that Samson did not show Ria his teeth.
Tor placed an arm around his shoulders and spoke to him quietly. “If a pretty woman was giving you fuss and attention, I am sure even you would not mind if she called you doggie.” Oak was forced to agree.
On the other side of the barrier, Patrick was sulking. Ellen was not sure whether he was unhappy about Samson getting through without his help or if he was annoyed that Oak and Ban had acted quickly enough to go with the wolf while he was still stuck on the wrong side. Realising that she did not really care what the answer would be, she did not ask the question. Instead she went to the barrier to obtain the next question. Nobody was brave enough to point out to Patrick that Samson, as an animal, could simply have walked under the barrier if he had wished.
Do you want to take an intelligence test?
Where does milk come from?
How many arms does a monkey have?
What is ten more than twenty?
What is the opposite of hot?
What is a female chicken called?
How many legs does a snake have?
What question were you asked first?
Only the last question needs to be answered.
“At last,” Patrick sighed happily as Ellen approached. “An easy one. No hidden tricks there. The answer has to be ‘where does milk come from.’”
“I’m not so sure,” Sam disagreed. “It sounds too simple. All of them have had some sort of twist so far, why should this one be any different?” Brin and Ellen agreed. Something was not right with the question. They decided to pack the remaining gear on the last of the horses while they gave it some thought. Night was rapidly approaching and they were all anxious to rejoin their colleagues before it descended, but were not prepared to risk death if they were unsure they had the right answer. They got everything packed in a remarkably short time and then stood looking at each other. In the end they decided to read the question again. It was not until Brin read it for himself that he saw the answer and started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Sam asked, placing her arm around his waist.
“Get the question and read it for yourself,” he instructed. She willingly obeyed, but still did not see what he intended her to.
“I still say it’s ‘where does milk come from?’” she said after returning to his side. At his insistence, she asked permission to pass one more time and read the message for the second time. Before she turned away he asked her where the first question mark was. “After the first line,” she replied, then realised what she had just said. “Oh my god, you are right.”
Ellen and Patrick picked up on what they were talking about and, after a quick debate as to who should go through, Sam and Brin grabbed half of the remaining horses and walked up to the barrier.
“Good luck,” Sam called to Ellen and Patrick. “I hope to see you both soon.” The question appeared and she calmly answered, “Do you want to take an intelligence test,” and they both passed through unharmed.
Ellen watched them disappear and was about to retrieve the next, and final, question, when Patrick pulled her back. “Are you really so eager to join the others?” he asked.
“Why? What are you suggesting?”
He placed his arms around her and pulled her close to him. “This may be the last time we are alone together for a while. Why not make the most of it?” he said seductively and began to gently nibble her ear. She felt his desire sweep over her as heat travelled down her spine to settle in her stomach. Breathing became difficult and it took all of her self control to remove his arms from around her and step away.
“Not going to happen.”
Patrick smiled ruefully and shrugged. “It was worth a try. Go and get the last question so we can get out of here then.” He gathered the remaining horses and prepared to lead them through as Ellen read out the question.
What three days of the week start with the letter T?
Patrick stopped in his tracks. “But there is only one,” he exclaimed, “Thirdday. This question makes no sense.” Ellen looked at him in exasperation. After the previous seven questions, did he really think the last one would be straight forward? She sat down to ponder the problem and Patrick positioned himself next to her. They each racked their brains for a while, but came up blank. They discussed whether the question was looking for an answer in another language. Though Patrick was fluent in a number of different languages, some long dead, he could not think of anything that would fit the problem. They talked about nicknames for days, but nothing seemed to fit the bill. Ellen even asked Patrick if the names of the days of the week had changed at all over the many hundreds of years he had been alive, but he disappointed her by saying that only the pronunciation and spelling had altered.
Seeing that she was beginning to get frustrated, he placed his arm around her. “Stop worrying,” he said gently. “We should get some sleep. If we cannot think of the answer today, I am sure we will come up with it tomorrow.”
Ellen stared at him for such a long time he began to feel uncomfortable. “You are wonderful,” she suddenly announced and kissed him on the lips. It was not t
he sort of kiss he was wanting from her, more like one between siblings, but he did not complain. She stood up and walked forwards, instructing the horses to follow her. “Are you coming?” she asked.
“But you have not told me the answer yet,” he complained.
“Trust me.”
Together they stood with their arms intertwined as the question was once again revealed. “Thirdday, today and tomorrow,” Ellen said happily, without a trace of doubt in her voice.
“I do not believe it,” Patrick muttered under his breath as they were allowed to pass through.
Chapter 9
Everyone woke late the next morning as they had stayed up talking till deep into the night. Their supplies would last them throughout that day and probably the next, but they would have to find a water source the day after that or their horses would begin dying. Seth had joked that if that happened they at least would have a fresh supply of meat, but nobody found his comment funny, especially when Ellen pointed out that they had no way of cooking it and she, for one, would not eat it raw.
The mental strain and the nervous waiting for their friends to answer the questions necessary for them to be able to pass through the barrier had taken its toll and they were not refreshed when they awoke. A cold breakfast did not help. Nobody was in the mood for conversation as they travelled and the occasional words that were spoken were said in quiet subdued voices. They had been walking for the entire morning, resting for five minutes roughly every hour, when Ban turned a corner and stopped dead.
In front of him was a large clearing, decked out with table and chairs like a large dining room. The food covering the table looked fresh and smelled wonderful. Bottles of wine were interspersed between laden platters and large serving bowls, as well as jugs of ale. At the far end of the clearing was a fountain of fresh water.
A number of the seats were occupied, some with bodies that were slumped forwards across the table as though the people had eaten and drunk too much, others with rotting corpses.
“Oh no,” Brin gasped as he recognised some of the bodies.
“Cirren,” Tor cried, rushing over to one of the inert figures and pulling his brother backwards into his seat. He felt his neck for a pulse and breathed a sigh of relief when he could faintly feel one. “He is alive,” he called out.
Ellen ran over and used her magic to probe him, while the rest checked to see if any of the other bodies showed any signs of life. “He is unconscious and his breathing is very shallow, but I have no idea what is wrong with him,” Ellen announced when she had finished her examination. He was the only one still alive.
Tears were flowing down Brin’s cheeks as he looked up from the body he was examining. It was a large creature with green slimy skin. “Kriven,” he said in response to Sam’s silent question. “The last time I saw her was when she left me at Yallend. She was so healthy and full of life then. Now she is dead.”
“No.” The scream was so loud and sudden, everyone jumped. Turning towards the source, Sam saw Seth running towards the fountain, where Dal stood stooped over, his hands full of water. “It might be poisoned you little idiot,” Seth yelled. Dal paled visibly and opened his hands, letting the water drop onto the ground. “Do you not listen to a word your cousin says to you,” Seth continued, grabbing the younger man by the front of his shirt. “He warned you to touch and do nothing while in here.”
“Sorry,” Dal stammered. “I guess I forgot.” Seth released his grip, muttering to himself about the impetuousness of youth and the stupidity of children. Dal opened his mouth to complain that Seth was only a few years older than him so had no right to call him a child but, realising he may have just saved his life, closed it again.
“Let a horse have a drink,” Ria suggested. Nobody objected so Sam selected one at random and told it to get a drink. Tentatively, the animal placed its head in the fountain and lapped up a little water. It was cool and refreshing and soon the horse was drinking its fill. Everyone watched with bated breath. When it had quenched its thirst, it retreated from the fountain, making room for the other horses who had wandered over.
Tor looked on apprehensively. “Let the animals drink, but we do not touch that water until we know what has my brother at death’s door and made the rest of his team carrion.”
“Whatever you say,” Patrick responded insolently, taking an apple from the table. He didn’t realise what he was doing until he bit into it. By then it was too late. “Shit,” he said quietly before collapsing onto the ground.
Patrick opened his eyes and stared around him in astonishment. His first thought was that he had somehow gone backwards in time, but was that really possible? He was still in the clearing in the maze, seated at the table, but surrounding him were Cirren and his team, all happily eating, laughing and joking with each other.
“Patrick,” Cirren exclaimed in surprise, brushing his long blonde hair away from his eyes with his hand. “When did you get here?”
“I am not sure,” he replied cautiously. “What is going on?”
“The funniest thing happened. We were just discussing our dwindling supplies when we rounded a corner and found this magnificent feast spread out before us. Our wonderful host was more than happy for us to eat our fill and she even promised to package up what was left over so we could take it with us. She is simply marvellous.”
“How long ago did you get here?” he asked, doing his best to keep his worry out of his voice. Something was definitely wrong here, but he couldn’t put his finger on what.
“Not long ago. As soon as the last of us made it through that strange barrier, we headed straight off. We could not have been walking for more than half a day before we found this place.”
A cold shiver ran down Patrick’s spine. If he had gone back in time, which was the only logical explanation, he would have to ascertain how far back he had gone and warn Cirren about what he had seen. There was a chance he could save everyone’s lives if he could figure out what was going to kill them, but how could he tell this group of people that he had seen them all, except for Cirren, dead? More worryingly, now that he had joined them, was he destined to meet the same fate? He didn’t care about dying which was, after all, only a temporary condition for him, but he did care about the method. The corpses he had seen had not appeared to have suffered a painful death, but looks could be deceiving and he did not relish rolling around in agony while his life slipped away. He dragged his mind back to the present, or was it the past, and realised that Cirren was still talking to him. He was busy recounting the tale of his adventures so far on the quest.
Cirren stopped talking as Kriven strolled up. Although he had heard a lot about Cirren’s strange friend, Patrick had never actually met her. Cirren had often spoken of her while Patrick had been visiting his father’s palace, but the young Prince had never brought her to his home, unsure of how welcome she would be. He had no concerns about most of his family, but some of his brothers were hostile towards other races and he did not want to subject Kriven to any kind of verbal abuse.
Cirren performed the introductions and Patrick happily conversed with them for a while, telling them all about the Brin and Sam saga. They had grown fond of the elf while he had been with them and they were pleased to hear he was so happy. The muscles in Patrick’s shoulders began to loosen as he talked, the tension slowly draining out of him. He still had the uneasy feeling that something was not right, but it had lessened enough for him to put it out of his mind. Taking a bottle of wine from the table, he poured the remaining contents into a glass and placed the empty bottle back.
“So where is this wonderful host?” he asked when the conversation turned once more to the magnificent feast they were eating.
“I am not sure,” Cirren replied, looking around him in surprise. “She was here a few moments ago.” He frowned slightly, then his face broke into a beaming smile as he continued. “You should see her,” he said enthusiastically. “She is intoxicating. Skin as white as snow, hair of the purest black
, eyes the deepest shade of blue I have ever seen. And the softness of her voice is enough to make the strongest man’s legs quiver.” He sighed contentedly.
“Then I hope she returns soon,” Patrick replied, smiling slyly.
“I think I know what killed them,” Ellen announced as she straightened up from where she was bent over one of the bodies. She gestured towards the table. “They all ate the food, collapsed the same as Patrick did and never regained consciousness. With nobody here to take care of them, they simply died of dehydration.”
“But Kriven does not need water,” Brin disagreed.
Ellen shrugged. “There must be something she needed in order to survive. Whatever it was, she was not able to get it while unconscious.”
Sam shivered. “What a horrible way to die.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I am fairly certain that none of them knew they were dying. They would not have suffered at all.”
“So can we save Cirren and Patrick?” Tor asked.
“If we can get some food and water into them, then they should make a full recovery, but I have no idea how we can do that while they are in a comatose state.”
“Wake them up the same way you did me,” Sam suggested.
Ellen shook her head. “There are outside influences keeping them asleep,” she said. “It is too risky to try to waken them until we have found what is doing this to them and eliminated it.”
“Ellen,” Liselle suddenly called out. “Please come and take a look at this.” She was examining one of the bodies closely and pointed to the neck when Ellen appeared, looking over her shoulder. “What do you make of that?” Two tiny red marks could be seen about a finger length apart.
“They look like puncture wounds,” Ellen said in surprise. She quickly examined all of the other bodies and discovered the same wounds on all of the dead. Only Patrick and Cirren did not have them.
The Maze Page 10
