Midway through the afternoon they came across another clearing. “I guess we stop early today,” Liselle said. The previous evening they had found a clearing, large enough to easily accommodate them all, just when they were getting ready to stop for the night. A note had been left, informing them that the others had also rested in the same spot and they were all well. The positioning of the resting places they had found seemed worryingly convenient, but they had discussed the matter at length and came to the conclusion that either they were travelling at the pace the maze designer had intended, or the magic of the maze was creating resting places when they were needed. Either way, they had come to no harm during the nights so were happy to stop when and where the maze dictated.
“Hopefully this signifies that we will reach the next barrier early tomorrow,” Torrick said, verbalising what they were all praying for. Nobody felt enthusiastic about facing another challenge, especially one that could kill them, but it was getting to the stage where anything that would stretch their minds would be welcome.
Once the horses had been released from their burdens, the rest of the afternoon was spent listening to Cirren and Brin reminiscing about their travels together.
“So how did you two meet?” Sam asked, excited to hear some stories about the elf.
“Two days after leaving home, I was staying at an inn for the night and Cirren waltzed in with his entourage while I was eating a meal,” Brin told her.
“I like the way you worded that,” Tor said. “Knowing my baby brother, he did just that. I bet he walked straight up to the innkeeper and demanded service, even if the man was busy with another customer.”
Brin smiled while Cirren spluttered. “Actually you are wrong,” he informed him, causing Cirren to look smugly at Tor. The smile dropped from his face, however, when Brin added, “The innkeeper was in the kitchen at the time so he interrupted the innkeeper’s wife as she was speaking to me.”
“Some friend you are,” Cirren muttered under his breath as Tor burst out laughing.
“Nice to see you have not changed little Ren,” Patrick said as he sat down beside him.
“Do not call me that,” Cirren retaliated. “I am only ten years younger than Tor.” He pouted the way a spoilt child would when not given the toy he wants.
“I know,” Patrick said, trying to keep the laughter from his voice. “But to me you will always be the rebellious teenager I knew when I last stayed at your father’s palace.”
“Anyway,” Brin continued, trying to steer the conversation away from teasing Cirren. “He sat himself down at my table and we got talking.”
Cirren stopped sulking and took up the story. “I figured his skills might be of use to me so I persuaded him to join us.” He looked at Brin and noticed he was holding Sam’s hand. “And the ladies who were travelling with me were very grateful that I did,” he added, winking at Sam.
“I can understand that,” she said, blushing.
“I never thought I would see you again,” Cirren continued in a serious voice, his eyes once more on Brin. “How did you get out of the desert?”
Between them, Brin and Sam explained all that had happened at Yallend and how they had travelled through the desert on a dragon’s back. Cirren felt immense pleasure upon hearing that Hurst had regained his sight. He had come to look upon the old man as a surrogate grandfather when he had been staying on the family estate and was pleased to hear that life was treating him well. He was amazed to hear about Sam befriending Salabine, and also a little jealous. “I would love to ride a dragon,” he sighed.
Cirren spoke about his adventures from the very first time he was told about the quest, to his meeting with Brin. He told tales of going from location to location, solving clues and picking up companions along the way. When he reached the time when Brin joined his team, Brin took over for a while, giving Cirren a much needed rest. Some of the situations they had found themselves in were very amusing and Sam found herself wondering whether the stories were being exaggerated in the telling, or if they were total fabrications. So far, Brin had been completely honest with everyone, as far as she knew, so she gave him the benefit of the doubt.
Laughter surrounded them, temporarily hiding the anxiety they all felt. While Cirren’s tales were entertaining, they would almost inevitably lead to the question that nobody wanted Cirren to ask.
“Why did Cirren get to stay in inns while we have to sleep rough?” Liselle asked when Brin had just finished a story about one of their compatriots getting a little too friendly with an innkeeper’s wife, causing them to all flee the village in the middle of the night.
Tor shrugged. “A number of reasons,” he responded. “Firstly, his party was smaller so local villagers did not feel like they were being invaded. Secondly, I prefer not to spend all of my money on accommodation when it is not needed.”
“And thirdly you are much happier sleeping out in the fresh air than you are inside a building where you cannot see the stars,” Ellen interrupted.
“There is that,” Tor agreed, a little abashed.
“And we all go where you go,” Liselle pointed out. “I think we need to have a democratic discussion when we get out of this maze,” she informed Tor, then turned her attention to Brin. “My apologies for interrupting you. Please continue.”
Brin took the listeners on a journey through time until he reached the part where he and Cirren parted company. At this point Cirren took over again, speaking of his travels after leaving Brin behind in the desert.
“Which brings us up to our expedition into the maze,” he said, a while later. “It took three days and the death of one of my friends for all of us to answer the questions to get us through the first roadblock. Did you get the same ones we did?”
Everyone was more than happy to explain each of the questions they got and how they were solved while Cirren listened intently. He was beginning to tire and listening took less energy than talking so he was grateful of a good reason to remain quiet. It turned out that not only did Cirren’s team get exactly the same questions, but also in the same order.
“If we had known that,” Sam commented, “we could have written the questions and answers on some paper and left them for the rest of your brothers.”
“So where is the rest of your team?” Cirren asked his brother.
“We sent them on ahead in search of the next barrier and its associated puzzles.” Tor tensed slightly as he responded, certain that Cirren was about to ask about his own team, but he didn’t.
While everyone else had been talking, he had been given a little food and water so was happy to continue his own tale. “By this time, we were running short of supplies. We could not get our horses through that weird liquid door at the entrance to the maze so we had to release them and carry through what we could. Araneae was a sight for sore eyes and the feast she allowed us to share probably saved our lives.” He paused and turned his eyes towards Patrick. “That is the last I remember. What exactly did you rescue me from?”
Patrick glanced towards Tor, who nodded. “Araneae was a dreamweaver,” he said, seeing no point in avoiding the direct approach. Cirren’s face was blank. He obviously had never heard of such a creature. Patrick continued. “The food was poisoned. It put you into a deep sleep where you dreamed you were enjoying the feast. Everything you ate or drank in your dream added more poison into your system, keeping you asleep.”
Cirren stared at him in amazement. “It was all a dream? But for what reason? Why did Araneae want us asleep?”
Tor took over. “Araneae was not the beautiful woman you saw. She was a spider who feeds off people’s life force. A dreamweaver is able to keep any creature asleep while their body slowly dies from lack of nutrients. Just as death is about to claim its victim, the dreamweaver has easy access to their life force.”
Cirren shivered. “How close was I?” he asked, unsure whether he wanted to know the answer or not.
“Close,” Tor said soberly. “Very close.”
“Then I owe you my life,” Cirren said quietly, looking towards Patrick as he spoke. A silence filled the clearing that nobody seemed willing to break until Torrick took the plunge. “Did you know we were thrown in jail for two weeks by King Fidel?” he said to Cirren, attempting to turn everyone’s thoughts away from death.
“Why?” he responded. He was not really interested in hearing tales about his brother’s adventures any more, but he understood what Torrick was trying to do and appreciated his effort. Everyone joined in the retelling of the tale, except Sam and Brin, who had not been present. It was the first time they had heard the story so they too listened intently.
“So it was all Bellak’s fault?” Sam said, an evil grin on her face. It was a statement rather than a question, so nobody replied. “I think I may need to bring that up in conversation next time he gives me a hard time.”
Cirren had already told of his adventures, so it was his turn to be filled in on everything Tor had been doing. He had heard snippets, but not the full story. Tor and his companions, as it turned out, had also had their fair share of difficult situations they had to get out of before Sam had joined them, making her wonder how many of Brin’s stories had been told completely truthfully. She was deeply saddened when they got to the part where Bellak lost his son and his wife went off with one of Cirren and Tor’s other brothers. It was the first time she had heard the full details and warmed slightly towards the old wizard. Though she could never sympathise with him, she was beginning to understand why he had acted the way he had towards her.
“You really let a vampire travel with you,” Cirren remarked incredulously when they got to the part where Hawk joined the team.
“Initially I had the same reservations you do,” Tor said. “I think we all did, but we were given no choice. I made a bargain with Mama Rose and no sane man ever backs out of a deal struck with that lady.” Grunts of agreement came from all directions. “But he turned out to not only be very useful, he also became a good friend.”
“He is greatly missed by the whole team,” Brin said, looking at Sam with a cheeky smile on his face. “Though by some more than others.” He winked at her and Cirren raised a questioning eyebrow.
“We are just friends,” she explained, digging her elbow into Brin’s ribs. “In order to help me and Brin get together, he made out we were more than that. He thought getting Brin jealous would make him act.”
“It seems to have worked.”
“But not the way he hoped,” Brin said, grinning like a schoolboy. “I overheard the whole plan and played him at his own game. I even threatened to kill him at one point.” His face went sombre and he looked at Sam. “That really was not a good idea was it? Remind me never to do anything that stupid again.”
“You are male,” Liselle pointed out. “Stupid is in your blood.”
The story telling continued as they ate. Cirren was intrigued when they got to the part where they were sent to kidnap Prince Tallon and drag him before King Allias for the rape and torture of his daughter. “I am shocked big brother. I never thought you would stoop so low as to be involved in a kidnapping. You could have started a war.”
“We almost did, but I was not given a lot of choice,” Tor said, trying to defend himself. “Allias was holding access to his library for ransom and Patrick and Modo agreed before I even had chance to realise that Allias’s demand was genuine.”
“So what happened next? Did you manage to get Tallon to Allias? Was he executed?”
The entire story was narrated, as were tales of their subsequent travels, until late into the evening.
“You shot her,” Cirren said in disbelief when he heard about how Brin had made Sam scream in agony in order to obtain the next clue. “Only you could shoot an arrow into a woman and still get to sleep with her afterwards.”
“I almost killed her,” Brin replied in a quiet voice. “If I had known the consequences, I would never have done it.”
“Everything turned out okay,” Sam told him. “Stop fretting about it.”
“I do not mean to be rude, little brother,” Tor said jovially, trying to lighten the mood. He had wanted to ask his brother a question all evening and decided the time was right to pose it. “But how did you keep getting ahead of us? I know most of the people you had with you and I cannot believe that your team is significantly smarter than mine.” He looked at Brin. “Can you cast any light on this?”
“Not me,” he said. “All credit goes to Cirren. He would go off by himself to think about the clues in peace and often came back with the answer.”
“I know for a fact that we arrived at Kaylin’s altar before you. Helen would have said something if she had already seen you. So please, tell me how you got here before we did.”
“Ah,” Cirren said, in an embarrassed tone. “I kind of cheated.”
Brin’s ears twitched. “How?”
“I have not actually been solving any of the clues.”
Brin stared at Cirren, who tried to smile at Tor, but it failed to reach his face. “I think you had better explain,” Tor said, tensing slightly.
Cirren’s eyes dropped guiltily to the ground. “Someone in your camp has been keeping me informed whenever you solved a clue so I could immediately head off in the right direction. I managed to obtain a pair of those magic boxes that allow people to keep in contact over long distances.” He looked up, meeting Tor’s stone hard stare. “I have been doing some of the work myself,” he said defensively. “All I really used you for was to obtain the location of the next clue.”
“Who?” Tor demanded.
“Does that really matter?” Cirren asked, reluctant to give away his source of information.
“I class every single person in my team as a friend,” Tor snapped. “If I am being betrayed then I have the right to know by whom.”
“Surely calling it a betrayal is a little harsh.” Tor walked up to his brother and, grabbing a handful of his clothes, hauled him to his feet. Ellen started to protest, but Tor ignored her.
Bending over so that their faces were almost level, Tor stared at him as he continued to speak. “Tell. Me. Who. It. Is.” All emotion had gone out of his voice, causing a shiver to run down Cirren’s back. He would have been happier if Tor had shouted at him.
He nervously cast his eyes towards Torrick and gave his answer.
“Liselle.”
Chapter 11
“What!” Torrick roared, jumping to his feet. “How dare you accuse my wife of doing anything that despicable.”
Tor released his grip of Cirren’s clothing and he collapsed onto the ground, his legs unable to support his body. “She is not your wife,” he said dejectedly as Tor tackled Torrick to the ground, preventing him from attacking Cirren. Tor was still trying to get Torrick under control when they were distracted by a friendly voice.
“Did I come at a bad time?” Ban asked, looking down at the struggling men.
“Actually,” Tor managed to say, though the effort of holding Torrick in place made speaking difficult, “your timing is perfect. Help me restrain Torrick while my brother explains why he has just accused his wife of treason.”
“Treason,” Cirren said in a panic. “Who said anything about treason?”
As Tor released his grip, Ban helped Torrick to his feet then held him in a bear hug. “Relax,” he whispered to the struggling man. “Let Cirren speak and if we do not like what he says, I will help you defend Liselle’s honour.” Torrick stopped trying to free himself, but Ban did not loosen his grip.
Tor looked towards Liselle, who had gone pale. “Is there something you wish to tell us before I extract the truth from my brother?” he asked her, trying to keep the anger he felt out of his voice. He did not succeed. She shook her head nervously so he turned his attention back to Cirren. “Well?”
“Please do not do this,” Liselle said in a strained voice as Cirren opened his mouth to speak.
“Sorry,” Cirren replied insincerely. “You have had your uses, but
I have a feeling that if I do not tell the complete truth my safety will be in jeopardy. Besides, your cover is already blown so I might as well tell them everything. It is not as if you had any long term plans with these people.”
“Actually I did.” She spoke so quietly only those closest to her heard. Cirren continued as if she had remained silent. He faced Torrick, flinching when the larger man met his gaze. Without looking away, he told Torrick his story in full detail, as though they were the only two people present.
Other than her name and the location of events, Liselle’s story was mostly true. She had, indeed, been a pleasure slave, much abused by her various owners. Cirren had met her when doing a business deal with the latest Lord to class her as his property and had purchased her. He offered her her freedom in exchange for being his spy for a while. She agreed and they were still discussing how she could infiltrate Tor’s team, whom Cirren thought the most likely to solve the clues quickly, when they happened upon Torrick. He had just rescued his own pleasure slave, who was pregnant with his child, and they were close to the border when her owner’s guards caught up with them. Torrick slaughtered them all, but not before his lady and their unborn child were murdered. He was too overcome with grief to be suspicious of Cirren and Liselle and did not protest when they took him to a local witch who Cirren had had dealings with in the past. For a large amount of gold, she agreed to cast a spell over Torrick, altering his memory so he believed Liselle was his beloved and that they had escaped to his mother’s farm, where they lived happily together and had a few children. Liselle somehow persuaded him to hunt out Tor and volunteer his services. Cirren gave her one of a pair of magic boxes so they could keep in contact and she kept him informed of all developments in Tor’s team. Whenever Tor, or a member of his party, discovered the location of the next clue, Liselle passed on the information to Cirren at the first opportunity. Cirren then pretended to have solved the clue himself and headed off to the next destination.
The Maze Page 12
