The Maze

by Trudie Collins

  Patrick, for one, was surprised to see the skelk still with them when he awoke in the morning; he had expected him to sneak off during the night. He was even more surprised to see Samson curled up beside him, using his dark body as a pillow. Wolf and skelk looked very comfortable together and he did not want to wake them, so he departed from the camp, to take care of his morning business, as quietly as possible. Seth and Dal were already awake and he nodded to them as he passed. When he returned a few moments later, Sam and Brin were moving about, but everyone else was still fast asleep. The sun was yet to rise, so it was not yet time to rouse the others from their slumber.

  “I am surprised to see Samson so relaxed with our new companion,” Patrick commented quietly to Sam as he helped her lay a small fire, using sticks collected the evening before. Brin had volunteered to have coffee ready for everyone when they awoke and Sam was giving him a hand.

  “I asked him to,” she confided. “I was a little uneasy about sleeping near to someone when we cannot yet be certain if they are friend or foe, so Samson agreed to sleep close enough to be awoken if Yafen moved at all during the night.”

  “Good thinking. You have more intelligence than I give you credit for.”

  “Thank you,” Sam replied, unsure if she had just been paid a compliment or an insult.

  It did not take long for the smell of coffee to arouse the sleepers and, after a quick breakfast, they were on their way once more. Yafen took the lead, taking them away from the river. Tor started to protest, but the skelk assured him that he was taking them the quickest and easiest route and that they would return to the water once they had climbed a bit higher. True to his word, after cresting a small summit, Yafen changed direction and they were soon able to hear the babble of the fast flowing water once more.

  They made good progress and by mid afternoon Tor caught a glimpse of the ruins in the distance. Yafen soon dampened his eagerness, however, by informing him that, although it looked relatively close, they would not be able to reach the watch-tower before nightfall and would probably have to spend one more night out in the open.

  They continued travelling, Yafen at the front and Bellak dragging up the rear. The skelk suddenly stopped and leaned his head to one side.

  “What is it?” Tor asked him quietly.

  “Movement,” he replied. “Just around the bend.”

  “I cannot see anything.”

  “I can hear it,” Yafen assured him. “And smell it. Human. Definitely human.”

  “Wait here,” Tor instructed. “We will go ahead and see who is there.” He signalled to Patrick and Cirren and both men approached.

  “There is someone coming towards us, just around that overhang,” Tor informed them.

  “I hear nothing,” his brother contradicted him.

  “Yafen does, and that is good enough for me.” Without further discussion, the three men eased themselves around the rock and disappeared from sight, leaving the rest behind, waiting anxiously. Brin started to climb upwards, his bow over his shoulder. If there was going to be trouble, he would be of more use firing down on his enemies. Seth and Dal drew their swords and crept forwards, keeping close to the rock face, ready to attack anyone who came round the corner.

  As soon as Cirren, Tor and Patrick had negotiated themselves around the overhanging rock, a lone figure came into view. He was too far away to see clearly, and was looking up rather than in their direction, but was definitely heading towards them. As he drew closer, his features became clearer.

  The man was tall and well built, his body muscular without trace of fat. His long dark hair was pulled back from his face and tied at the back of his head. He appeared stern and unfriendly, until he realised who he was seeing and a smile broke across his face.

  “Vitkin,” Cirren shouted, recognising his brother. He ran forward and the two embraced. Tor held back, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

  “There was some trouble last time we ran into Vitkin,” Seth whispered to Sam, who was peering round the rock, frowning. “He is Tor’s older brother and we got into a fight with some of his men. We lost one of our team.”

  “I can understand why Tor is so tense then,” Sam whispered back.

  When Vitkin was able to extract himself from Cirren, he cautiously walked up to Tor. The two men stood facing each other for a moment before they both relaxed and embraced.

  “It is good to see you Tor,” Vitkin said emotionally.

  “You too,” Tor said. “Are you alone?” he asked, looking around.

  “Not quite. Lycane and Vicky are still with me, but the rest seem to have fallen by the wayside.”

  “Good,” Tor grunted. “Some of those thugs you hired were more trouble than they were worth.”

  Vitkin winced. “I know. I am deeply sorry for the trouble last time we met. I hope we can put it behind us.”

  “Some of us can,” Tor confirmed, glancing quickly in Bellak’s direction. “But it will not be so easy for others.”

  As he spoke, a man came into view and walked up to Vitkin.

  “Lycane,” Tor said to the approaching man, nodding his head slightly.

  “Prince Tor,” the man responded, displaying as little emotion as Tor had.

  “You already know most of my friends,” Tor continued, then introduced the newest members of the team, all of whom had moved around the rock that had been blocking them from sight.

  Sam regarded Lycane critically. For some unexplainable reason, he made her feel uneasy. He was not a tall man, but thickset and heavy. The hair on his head was short and neatly brushed back and his beard had been recently trimmed. She found herself thinking of a Rottweiler; maybe that explained her unease. He did not appear friendly and Sam did not put her hand forward for him to shake when Tor introduced her. She noticed that she was not the only one, though Bellak was the only person who was openly hostile towards him. Samson, too, was not happy in Lycane’s presence and snarled at him when he got too close. Lycane looked down at the wolf for a moment, then up at Bellak, a puzzled look on his face. He appeared about to speak but was interrupted by a woman’s voice, shouting at Vitkin.

  “You promised me I would never have to lay eyes on that man ever again,” she yelled, staring at Bellak, her eyes filled with contempt. She appeared to be a frail old lady, but the power in her voice suggested that looks can be deceiving.

  “Nice to see you too Vicky,” Bellak muttered sarcastically, though the tone of his voice was at odds with the pained look on his face.

  “How dare you speak to me,” she snarled at him. “You lost that right the night you got our son killed.”

  “Vicky,” Vitkin said sharply, trying to get her attention. “We have been through this before. Bellak is not responsible for Nosmas’s death.”

  “If it was not for him agreeing to join Tor on this stupid quest, my son would still be alive. Can you deny that?”

  “So why are you still on the quest then?” Bellak spat, in retaliation to the accusation.

  Vicky smiled, but it was not a friendly smile. “To make sure you do not win.”

  Vitkin stood in front of Vicky, blocking her view of her husband. “That is enough. I suggest you two stay away from each other until our groups go our separate ways.”

  “That may not be for a long time,” Tor said, sighing wearily. Between them, he and Cirren explained about the death of their brothers and how they had found out that the quest was responsible. When they finished speaking, Vitkin stared at them in disbelief.

  “Are you telling me that if I am the last one to arrive at the next check point that I will just drop down dead?”

  “No. You will kill yourself.”

  “That will never happen,” he stated defiantly. “Will it?” Nobody responded, assuming the question was rhetorical. “So what do we do?” he finally asked.

  “You work together,” Patrick informed him. “Though I know how hard that is going to be,” he added, smiling.

  They decided to rest for a while
and swap stories of their adventures to date. Tor was not the only one who was curious as to how Vitkin had managed to get ahead of them, as he was confident that they had been the first team into Tibia’s garden and the flower could not be found anywhere else, to the best of his knowledge. Vitkin, with the occasional comment from Lycane, told them everything that had happened since their last, unpleasant, meeting. Vicky remained silent, glaring in Bellak’s direction whenever she was not staring at the floor. After Vitkin had finished telling his tale about obtaining the last clue, he said he had headed directly for the mountain, picking his flower only a few hours previously.

  “What is wrong?” he asked, seeing the confused looks that were being levelled at him.

  “May I see the flower?” Ellen asked. Vitkin’s body language showed that he was unhappy with complying with the request, but eventually he placed his hand inside his tunic and withdrew a flower with blue petals and a red stem. However, it was not a lomas flower; it was too large and the petals were the wrong shade of blue.

  “You have the wrong flower,” she announced, making no attempt to take it from Vitkin. He frowned at her.

  “What makes you say that?” Vicky asked, turning her gaze towards Ellen, though not changing her expression. “It fits the rhyme perfectly. It is used to make both perfume and a potion can be made from it that will cure burning in the belly.”

  “But it does not grow ‘where no man dares to tread’.”

  “I would not say that,” Lycane interjected. “We passed through a number of villages around the base of this mountain and none of the villagers are prepared to enter this mountain anymore.”

  “But we are here,” she countered, smiling sweetly at him. He grunted in reply.

  “So what flower do you have then?” Vicky asked mockingly.

  “A lomas flower, as found only in Queen Tibia’s garden.”

  “Never heard of it,” Lycane grumbled, but Vicky was staring at Ellen with a curious expression on her face.

  “I think she is right,” the old woman eventually admitted. “We should burn her flower not ours.” There was no objection from Lycane or Vitkin, the latter quietly thanking Ellen for her assistance.

  “We should get moving,” Tor said. “I am not sure how much more daylight we will have and I want to get to a more hospitable part of the mountain before we make camp.”

  “Which way?” Vitkin asked. “We appear to have been heading in different directions.”

  “We have a guide who is taking us directly to the watch-tower.” Tor looked around, but there was no sign of the skelk. “Where is Yafen?”

  Upon hearing his name, Yafen emerged from behind a bush. Vitkin and Lycane reacted instinctively, drawing their swords the moment their eyes registered what they were looking at.

  “What is that thing?” Lycane yelled.

  Tor placed a placating hand on his brother’s arm as Seth and Dal moved to stand between the skelk and the armed men.

  “This is our guide,” Tor said, moving his free arm towards Yafen. “Yafen, this is my brother Vitkin and his associates, Lycane and Vicky. This,” he continued, ‘is Yafen, a skelk.”

  It took a long time to convince Vitkin and his party that skelks were not the vicious, evil, creatures that myth made them out to be and that he could be trusted to safely guide them to their destination. Eventually they agreed to follow him, but Sam noticed that Lycane’s hand was never far from his sword. She also noticed that, despite his obvious hatred of the man, Bellak was keeping close to him. She was intrigued, but not enough to question the wizard, who seemed unusually tense and was continually looking around him.

  They had not been walking long when Yafen called a halt. They had reached what appeared to be a dead end. The path they had been following suddenly stopped, completely blocked by an unclimbable wall of rock. There appeared to be no option other than to go back the way they had come. For a moment, the general consensus was that the skelk had either accidentally taken a wrong path, or that he had deliberately led them to this place for some, as yet to be ascertained, reason.

  Their fears, however, proved to be unfounded. “This next part is very difficult,” Yafen said, ignoring the suspicious looks that were being thrown in his direction. “If you carefully look below you, you will see a narrow ledge. This leads all the way around the rock face in front of us. Once clear, it is a relatively simple climb back up onto the path.”

  Each of them, overcome by curiosity, looked over the ledge. A feeling of nausea swept over Sam as she glanced down and saw the drop before her. It would be instant death for anyone who lost their footing.

  “Can you all make it?’ Yafen asked, his voice full of genuine concern. “If you have any doubts, speak now and I will find a longer, but safer route.”

  “How much longer?” Vicky asked, a little shaken by the sight before her.

  “Three days,” Yafen answered.

  “We cannot afford that kind of delay,” Cirren said, glancing at his brothers, who both nodded their agreement. “I suggest that those who cannot make it head back to the village and await our return there.”

  Nobody made to leave. They were all optimistic that they would be able to traverse along the ledge without too many problems. Only Bellak and Vicky looked uncertain.

  “Bellak?” Tor inquired, noticing the look of unease on the old man’s face. Bellak moved his gaze away from the cliff edge and looked towards Tor. He glanced quickly at Lycane, unnoticed by all except Tor, before his eyes settled on the Prince again.

  “I will accompany you,” he stated.

  “Vicky?” Vitkin asked. “How about you? If you feel unable to continue this journey with us, speak now and one of us will escort you back to civilisation.”

  The elderly woman sneered as she replied. “If that old man can make it, so can I.” Her voice held a conviction her expression did not confirm. She did not want to attempt this endeavour, but would not let herself be beaten by the husband she now despised.

  “Very well,” Vitkin replied. “Let us get started.”

  Yafen lowered himself over the edge until he was dangling by the tips of his fingers, then he let go. His feet landed squarely on the ledge below. Once he had moved along slightly, he called for the others to copy his manoeuvre, one at a time.

  Their only worry was Samson. Patrick, Tor and Bellak were debating how to get the wolf down onto the ledge when he took matters into his own hands. Before they could stop him he leaned over the edge and jumped. Somehow he managed to keep himself close enough to the rock face that his front paws landed on the ledge. He twisted his body round as he descended, enabling his back paws to also find firm ground. He howled smugly up to the three men who were anxiously watching from above and only went quiet when he no longer had to drown out the language being yelled down at him. Once they had finished expressing their anger towards the wolf’s foolishness, Tor and Patrick joined the others on the ledge, closely followed by Bellak, with Lycane bringing up the rear.

  Once they were actually on the ledge, everyone found that it was wider than they had first thought, enabling them to slowly walk along it instead of edging along sideways while clinging desperately to the rock face in front of them.

  They had not been walking for long when Yafen called back over his shoulder. “It gets wider just around this corner. We can rest there for a short while.”

  Murmurs of approval at the suggestion reached the skelk’s ears. The slow walk was taking its toll on already tired leg muscles. Patrick rounded the corner to find all of his companions sitting down and taking well earned sips of water from their containers. He turned his head back to speak to Bellak, but he was not there.

  “Bellak, what is taking you so long?” he called, but there was no reply.

  Bellak had slowly been decreasing the speed of his walk, allowing the gap between himself and Patrick to increase. When he saw him round the corner and disappear from sight, he stopped moving altogether.

  “Get a move on,” Lycane s
aid gruffly.

  Bellak turned and looked at him. “No,” he said calmly. “This is where it ends.” Without another word, he grabbed hold of the large man, knocking them both sideways. The ledge was too narrow to prevent them falling over the edge. Lycane’s scream rang out, accompanied by Bellak’s insane laughter.

  Upon hearing the scream, everyone carefully moved towards the edge and looked down, but were unable to see anything. As the scream, then the laughter, were abruptly cut off, Vicky screamed out, “NO”.

  Samson put his head in the air, extending his neck as much as he could, and let out a mournful howl. Sam turned towards him, to offer him sympathy as there was no doubt that both Bellak and Lycane were dead; nobody could have survived that fall. As soon as her eyes focused on the wolf, she screamed. He was lying on the ground, convulsing. All of his muscles were spasmming and his skin was rippling as though there was something alive under it, trying to get out. All eyes turned towards the stricken animal.

  “Somebody help him,” Sam cried in desperation. Before anyone could get close to him, he began to go through metamorphosis. They watched in horror as Samson’s body slowly transformed before their eyes. Fur disappeared, legs elongated and his muzzle shortened. By the time the body had stopped twitching and went still, no trace of the wolf was left. Before them lay the naked body of a fully grown human male.

  Tor’s Quest continues in book 3: The Bard.

  From Trudie:

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