“Really,” Grimmel said sarcastically. “I had not noticed. What gave it away? Was it the green leaves or the fruit that is growing on its branches? Or the fact that it keeps damn well moving?”
“No, I mean it is alive alive.”
“As opposed to dead alive?” Sam whispered to Brin, who shrugged, trying to hide his grin.
“It spoke to me,” Oak said in a serious tone. That grabbed everyone’s attention. The ribbing stopped immediately.
“Are you sure?” Tor asked, realising how pointless the question was as soon as he said it. Oak was a tree sprite and would not make a mistake about this sort of thing. Oak humoured him anyway.
“Yes, I am sure.”
“What did it say?”
“It said it was lonely.”
Tor looked at him. “Lonely,” he said sceptically. “Do I need to point out that it is a tree?”
“All the more reason for it to be lonely then,” Ria informed him. “How often do you speak to trees?”
Tor conceded the point. “Alright, what does it want?”
“And can we eat the fruit?” Patrick interrupted. The tree replied by dropping one of the oval shaped pieces of fruit into his outstretched hand. He took a bite and exclaimed. “This is fantastic. You have got to try some.” The tree shook, dropping enough fruit for each of them, including the horses, to try one. It was sweet and juicy, satisfying both thirst and hunger. Oak humbly thanked the tree, then asked the group for suggestions on how to cure the tree’s loneliness. Patrick said they should leave Liselle behind as a companion for it, but instantly went quiet when Torrick’s sword swung through the air and came to a rest against his throat. Oak pointed out that a human companion would be no good as they would not be able to hear the tree speaking.
“And before anyone says anything,” Tor continued, looking at Patrick, “we will not leave Oak behind.”
When Ellen had finished eating, she held the stone from the centre of the fruit in her hand, throwing it up and catching it again while she thought. “If I plant this, will it grow?” she asked Oak, who, in turn, spoke to the tree. He nodded its confirmation and Ellen started digging in the dirt with her hands.
Patrick knelt down beside her. “Should I point out that it will take years before that will grow big enough to be called a tree and how do you know it will even be able to communicate with its mummy.”
Ellen gave him an exasperated look. “Have you forgotten I am a witch?” She began to sing an enchantment over the planted stone, starting soft and slow, increasing in both volume and tempo as a small green shoot began to appear. Oak handed her a water container, which she gratefully took without missing a beat, and poured a little over the rapidly growing tree. Silence surrounded her as everyone watched her work. Even Bellak was impressed. Torrick was standing closest and after a short while the little tree had grown tall enough to reach his waist. Ellen went quiet and poured the rest of the water over the roots. She stood up and swayed slightly. The spell had taken a lot out of her. Patrick caught her and eased her back to the ground. He placed a cup of water in her hands and she drank deeply.
“Well?” she asked Oak. He did not need to query what she was asking. He spoke quietly to the tree, which then shook all of its branches. Everyone covered their heads, but no fruit dropped down. The little tree shook in response and a huge grin spread across Oak’s face. “Mother is communicating with daughter,” he informed everyone.
“Stop grinning and ask if we are now permitted to continue on our journey,” Tor instructed. Oak complied and was happy to announce that the tree was forever in their debt for the service they had performed and, though sorry to see them go, the tree agreed to do nothing to stop them. Backpacks were shouldered and horses made ready. They quickly made their way past the tree, waving in farewell, before it had chance to change its mind.
“I do not believe that I just waved goodbye to a tree,” Seth muttered as he walked past. Dal and Ria grinned, but said nothing.
Oak was just saying his goodbyes to the tree when Cirren ran up. “Sorry,” he said. “One last thing. Please can you ask the tree if it would mind letting my brothers past if any ever make it this far?”
“Sure.”
“Four down, one to go,” Brin whispered in Sam’s ear, slipping his arm around her waist.
“And so far none of us are dead,” she added
Chapter 14
As the sun began to set, the maze once more provided a camping ground, a fresh supply of water and enough drupacea bushes, filled to overflowing with berries, to satisfy the group’s needs. A guard was posted, though nobody thought there was any real need. Everyone except Torrick and Liselle settled down on the ground for another night and tried to get some sleep, wishing they were able to light a fire. While the almost full moon provided plenty of light, there was something relaxing about a camp fire. The group would have stayed up late, happily swapping stories, ideas and opinions, instead of trying to get to sleep.
Sam woke early the next morning and stretched her stiff muscles. Sleeping on the ground was something she was not getting used to, no matter how many nights she had to do it. She had dreamed of a nice warm bed and was disappointed when she awoke to find herself on the ground once more.
Brin’s mood was no better than Sam’s when he stirred beside her. The smell of frying bacon that had been wafting under his nose disappeared the instant sleep was replaced by consciousness.
“Dried meat strips and hard stale bread for breakfast again?” he asked.
“You’d better ask Patrick,” Sam replied. “It’s his turn to cook.” Brin groaned, rolled over, pulled his cloak over his head and tried to go back to sleep, but was prevented from doing so by Sam digging her elbow into his ribs.
“Get up. Others are waking.” Brin did as instructed while Sam went to the packs that contained their food supplies, searching for something to eat that had some taste to it. Ellen approached while she was still searching.
Sam looked up when she heard footsteps behind her. She held up a hand, holding out a small package she had been unwrapping. “This is the last of the cheese. It is well past its sell-by date. It has gone so hard it will probably break teeth. Can I give it to the horses?”
Ellen looked surprised. “Surely horses do not like cheese.”
Sam shrugged. “Thresnine does. I am not sure about the others.” She returned to her rummaging. “Looks like berries for breakfast. We have a little of the meat and bread left, but it is probably best to save that for when we have no alternative.”
Ellen agreed and the two of them set about picking as many as they thought they would need. Brin asked if he should pick some for their mounts, but Sam said they could help themselves from the bushes. By the time the bowls had been crammed full with enough berries for each member of the party to eat their fill, everyone was awake and ready to eat. Jugs were filled from the fountain and they all ate an adequate, if not satisfying, breakfast, but it did nothing to quash their hunger pangs. They talked while they ate, questioning Torrick on why he decided to give Liselle a second chance.
He explained that, as he had no memory of the real Liselle, the woman sitting beside him was the woman he loved. Everything, well nearly everything, he knew about her past was true and everything they had experienced and felt since meeting up had been real. He genuinely loved her and would be a fool to throw it all away.
“So what is her real name?” Patrick asked Cirren when Liselle refused to supply it. Cirren, in a surprising show of loyalty, stood by her decision to not reveal her old name.
“Both she and Torrick are happy to continue calling her Liselle, so that is what I will do.” Cirren then smiled warily. “Besides, Torrick’s sword is bigger than yours so I would rather upset you than him.” Seeing the logic in this, Patrick did not push Cirren further, but was obviously not happy with the young Prince.
In an attempt to distract attention away from Liselle, Sam braved speaking to Bellak. “The one story I have never heard
is how Samson joined the quest. Was he hand reared from a pup? Is that why he is friendly?”
The wolf whined at her, telling her that he was more than happy to tell his story. She told him that, while she would love to hear it from him, there were others with them and both Brin and Cirren would probably like to hear it as well, so it would be better if one of the humans spoke. She did not repeat Samson’s reply.
“When I find out who taught you that sort of language, he and I are going to have a little chat.” She turned her attention away from Samson and looked at Bellak expectantly.
“Alright,” he said, sighing dramatically. “You have already heard about how I lost my son when we came across a group of thugs who were working for another of Tor’s brothers. I would rather not go into details. There was a fight, I lost my son and my wife, blaming me, went off with the other team.” Deep bitterness crept into his voice. “How she could blame me and then go off with the very people who actually killed him I will never know. He was a grown man. It was his decision to come with me, not mine.”
Ellen placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Maybe we should talk about something else.”
“No,” he said, shaking her off. “I am alright. It is Samson Sam asked about, not my son or wife. I just thought I should start at the beginning.”
He drank from his cup of water before continuing. Those who had been present at the time all knew the contents of his tale, but still listened intently. After losing both members of his family, Bellak had gone off alone for a while and they were interested in hearing where he went.
“I took my son’s body to a healer I knew. She had been known to bring people back from the brink of death, but she was unable to help me, so I buried him in her garden and planted a rose bush over him. She promised to tend to the grave for me and I vowed to myself that I would take my wife there one day, if I ever got to see her again.”
Sam was not the only one wiping a tear from her eye as Bellak continued. “I wandered alone for a while. I lost track of the days so I cannot tell you how long I was gone for. Maybe Tor can work it out, if it really matters. I eventually found myself in the middle of a large forest, completely lost. I had not the foresight to take any food or water with me and I was suffering from both hunger and dehydration when I saw a wolf watching me. At first I thought I was hallucinating, but when he knew he had my attention, he turned and started to walk away. He had only gone a few paces when he stopped and looked at me. He did not move again until I got up to follow him. He led me to water, probably saving my life. While I drank, he went hunting and dropped a freshly killed rabbit at my feet when he returned. I built a fire and roasted it. I do not think I have ever tasted anything so delicious in my life. Then again, I was so hungry I think anything would have tasted good. I fell asleep and the next morning the wolf was still with me. He led me out of the forest and helped me track down Tor and his team. He has been with us ever since.”
Sam was watching Samson as Bellak spoke, noting the wolf’s expression, which looked almost sad. ‘He’s lying,’ she thought. ‘I have no idea why, but the tale the old wizard is telling is definitely not the truth’. She decided to ask Samson about it later; now was not the time. “So who called him Samson?”
“Bellak was calling him that by the time he caught up with us,” Ria said. “When he was not just calling him Wolf, that is. I thought Samson suited him and he did not seem to object, so the name stuck.”
“This reminiscing is all very pleasant, but it is time we were getting on.” Knowing that Tor was right, everyone quickly repacked their things, reloaded the horses and shouldered their own backpacks. It was going to be another long and tiring day.
It was the middle of the afternoon when Oak and Modo, who had taken the lead, called out. “Hey, come and look at this.”
They had reached what appeared to be the centre of the maze. It was a large open space with a fountain in the middle, surrounded by stone benches. The entrance through which they all traipsed appeared to be the only opening in the hedgerow.
“This could be a bit of a problem,” Seth announced, looking around him. “Anyone see an exit?”
Tor took charge. “Unburden the horses then everyone look for a plaque. The next puzzle must be here somewhere.” By now, everyone, including Cirren, was used to obeying his instructions, so they commenced their tasks without argument. Modo found the plaque almost directly opposite the entrance and he read it out loud.
Behind one of five doors freedom doth lie
Choose the wrong one and you will die
Five hints I give to aid your quest
With the help of these you will pass the test
As soon as he finished speaking, five wooden doors materialised in the hedge to the left of the plaque, each with writing on it.
Dal read the first one. “The blue door is two away from the door to freedom.”
Ban, who was positioned nearest to the second door, bent down and read its instructions out loud. “The red door is at the far right and is two away from the blue door.”
Ria took door number three. “The purple door is not next to the door to freedom.”
Patrick was closest to the fourth door. “The green door is left of the blue door.”
The last door was left to Tor to read out. “The orange door is not next to the red or blue doors.”
There was silence for a while as everyone contemplated the latest puzzle. The quietness was broken by Seth, who had been studying one of the doors closely. “Am I the only person who finds it weird seeing wooden doors in the middle of a hedge?” he asked. “There seems to be nothing holding them in position; no hinges, no framework. Can we just try pushing them over?”
“Not advisable my friend,” Torrick said in a serious tone. “Even if you could manage it, do you really want to risk death if you knock over the wrong one?”
“What he says makes sense,” Tor agreed. “This is a simple logic problem. Between us we should be able to work out which colour door leads to freedom.”
It was Dal who pointed out the obvious. “But none of the doors are coloured.”
“Then we also have to work out which door is which colour.” Dal groaned. He hated this sort of problem, especially when his life depended on solving it correctly.
“Cheer up,” his older cousin said. “We have done well so far. Why should this one be any different?” Dal did not smile.
“Time for role playing again,” Ellen said cheerfully. “Everyone search your baggage. We will need things blue, orange, purple, red and green.” Clothes and towels were being pulled from backpacks when she called out, “And black and white.”
“What do we need black and white for?” Sam asked.
“Black is for those doors we know definitely lead to death and white is for possible freedom.”
Soon a pile of coloured clothing had been placed at Ellen’s feet. Patrick was only able to provide black and white, mostly silk, and made her promise to take care of his clothing. River provided many items in various shades of blue, and Brin and Oak could provide green. The other three colours came mainly from the women, though Cirren did have a yellow shirt and Ban a red one. Orange proved to be the biggest problem, with no articles of clothing and only one blanket could be found in that colour, until Grimmel suggested ripping it into strips.
Ellen volunteered five of the party to represent the various coloured doors, then the women had great fun dressing them in all five of the colours mentioned in the clues, especially as most of the clothes were skirts or dresses.
“Why exactly are we dressed like this?” Tor asked.
“I will explain as we go along,” Ellen informed him as she walked to the far side of the enclosure. “The blue door is two away from the door to freedom,” she read from the first door. “Unfortunately,” she continued, “we have no idea where the blue door is from this clue so it does not help us yet.”
There were murmurs of agreement as she made her way to the next door. “The red
door is at the far right and is two away from the blue door.” She nodded at Sam, who walked up to the multicoloured volunteers, who were all standing in a straight line. Brin was furthest to the right, so she removed all of his coloured clothing, except for the red.
“I bet they both enjoyed that,” Patrick whispered to Seth.
“All I can say is that he is a lucky bastard,” Seth replied. Patrick gave him a questioning look.
“Something you care to share with me?” he asked teasingly.
“No,” Seth replied, realising what Patrick was hinting at. He gestured towards his clothing. “I mean he is lucky to get out of all of this silly clothing. I feel, and look, like an idiot.” Patrick did not disagree.
Ellen was about to read out the third clue when Liselle called out. “Wait one moment. If the blue door is two away from freedom and the red door is two away from the blue, does that not mean that red could be the door to freedom?”
“Well done my dear,” Torrick said, taking Liselle’s hand and kissing it. Sam picked up a white silk shirt, making Patrick wince as she threw it to Brin.
“Tor must be dressed in blue,” Cirren suddenly said. “He is representing the door two to the left of Brin. If Brin is red, Tor must be blue, according to the second clue.”
“See,” Tor said as he removed everything red, orange, green or yellow from his person. “I told you we could figure it out if we worked together.”
“We are not there yet,” Seth countered, then an idea struck him. “If we know Tor is blue and Brin is Red, the other three can remove those colours.” He quickly removed the two colours, along with Patrick and Modo. He felt a little less silly, but hoped the next clue would enable him to get down to just one colour.
The Maze Page 16
