She looks down. That is the source. From where she is she cannot see the bottom of the Lightwell, but that is where it is coming from.
“Hey!”
Terror is added to the tremor. Together they generate a shock that grabs the little girl like a giant’s fist. It yanks her head back to look. Her fear is realised.
Two faces are turned to hers. Surprise and alarm has spread them wide like splayed hands. They are looking directly at her.
They see her.
“Hey!” Daedalus yells again.
In moments of terror and intensity, some people describe time as stalling, as if everything is slowed.
Leda does not experience this. For her, it is bedlam. So many things. They hit her and blend like the reverberation in her chest.
Discovery.
Fear.
The noise.
The shudder.
Those faces.
Visibility.
Compulsion – to run.
Compulsion – to look.
Must hide.
Must move.
Frozen.
All in a fraction of a second.
Movement. Daedalus breaks the deadlock. If he can move, so can she.
With a yelp she springs. Down. Years of ballet have honed her muscles to taut springs. They explode. And she is so light. Almost weightless.
Four steps at a time she leaps. Down. Away from Daedalus. Away from the Queen. Towards the grinding. Her feet barely touch the stone as she springs again, like an antelope from pursuit. But even in that moment the shudder surges through her.
At the landing she turns. Leaps again. Twice.
The next landing. She turns and leaps again.
Third landing and turn.
Freeze. Rooted. Her singular purpose hits a wall. More inputs confuse it.
She is on the landing above the final flight of steps to ground level. Ground level almost equates to escape. From there she wants to run through the antechamber and out into the courtyard. Dodge some guards. Through another door. A corridor or two and down more steps. Then to the urn and escape. But these steps are a trap. No way up.
Now there is no way down.
This flight leads to a hulking guard encased in Dendric armour. His shield is squared to defence. His spear is thrust towards her. He can clearly see her. He shouts at her to halt.
From above footsteps on the stair. Daedalus is coming.
Her body decides.
One leap down the steps towards the guard. A light footfall. A hand on the internal stone bannister. A vault over that hand. A fall.
Too far!
She knows how far the ground should be. But she falls through it.
Misjudgement leads to a jolting landing. Uneven. More steps! They were not here before. But dextrously she reacts and in a moment is steady again. A downward glance.
She is on a circular stairwell that descends into unknown darkness. Immediately to her left is a low stone wall, a central barrier that prevents a fall into the Lightwell which now plummets to who-knows what depths. She has no time to realise it now, but she is so fortunate that her desperate leap found the steps again. She could be plunging to her death right now; perhaps some other power has saved her.
But what is this, that was not here before?
The entrance to the Labyrinth! It must be. The key opened a hidden staircase. She has the secret!
But she does not want to go that way. Fear rushes up from it like the darkness that engulfs the light.
She explodes upward. The guard is too slow. He cannot match her agility. This is like slow motion. He is just reacting, turning to where he saw her leap. But she is already around him.
She darts behind. He has no hope. His field of vision is like a tunnel; she is well out of it. His armour is designed to build an impermeable armoured wall on a battlefield, not to twist and turn and chase little girls. Like a behemoth he starts to turn, not following her, but into the direction she has gone, hoping to catch her.
Daedalus is on the third landing, descending at pace. The guard is swinging around like a heavy gate. But Leda is clear. Behind him. Sure-footed. Through the antechamber and bursting out into the cool night air. It feels like freedom.
More guards, responding to the shouts – converging. But like their comrade, they are hopelessly slow. They cannot react to a fleet shadow.
Leda’s top sprinting pace is not as fast as theirs. But they are encumbered. It is like they are wearing steel bathtubs. At best they could trot. And she can reach her top speed in a fraction of a second. She can duck. She can change direction. She can twist and weave.
She is around one more. A few strides and a leap. On the edge of the fountain, she sprints along it like it is a tightrope. Another leap off the other side and immediately into a full sprint.
Several more strides and through the door into the dimly lit corridor. She turns and sprints down it. The alarm has not reached here. The commotion is all behind her. It will not catch her.
She turns and sprints again. The Grand Staircase is easy to traverse. Down. Faster even than on the Lightwell in the Throne Room. The lower level and through another chamber – through a door, into the Queen’s chamber. It is empty.
She skids to a halting turn and is already rushing to the large urn in the corner, hand outstretched. She grabs it…
“Leda?”
It was Dad. She took a moment to take it all in. They looked concerned. Dad, Ilia, Danae and Jorge were all gathered around her. Dad had his hand on her shoulder.
“Sweetie are you ok?” He shook her gently.
They could see the terror on her face and her chest was heaving like a spent athlete after a great race. She could hardly catch her breath. She looked from one to the other, still gasping. She was so tense. The relief was so sudden and so complete. She did not know if she was going to burst into laughter or into tears.
It was the former that won out. Amidst her heavy breathing she grinned.
“I found it!” she panted. “I found it. The Labyrinth! I know where it is!”
Chapter VI
Colliding Worlds
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.
– W.B.Yeats, The Second Coming
It was a couple of minutes before she could catch her breath and speak normally. Then she relayed what had just happened. Having escaped, she was consumed by the exhilaration of improbable victory and incredibly relieved to be safe. It was the most extreme emotional swing she had ever experienced.
Dad had told her sisters to stop interrupting and to let Leda tell her story; so she did. She relayed it so well, in fact, that by the end they had very few questions. After the queries came the congratulations, which Leda enjoyed immensely, and she felt obliged to agree that she had done outstandingly well. Once the congratulations were over (both third-party and self), the focus shifted from Leda to the group. Danae was the first to state the obvious:
“How on earth are we to open the secret stairwell in the Throne Room with all these people around? That place is one of the most packed in the entire palace. It will never be empty long enough.”
They stood there in a communal silence for a few moments, before Ilia broke it.
“It is empty sometimes – but only after the palace has shut.”
“Huh? How does that help us?” Danae responded curtly.
“It’s obvious,” Ilia continued, “we have to hide until the palace is shut and everyone gone, then go to the Throne Room.”
“In the dark…” said Leda hesitantly, her doubt obvious to all.
In answer, Ilia just nodded. There were a couple of seconds of silence, during which they all contemplated her, then Dad interrupted it:
“Ilia’s right,” he agreed, “it’s the only way we can do this.”
“Really?” Surprisingly, Danae was a litt
le incredulous. Leda’s main concern, however, was having to wait at all.
“But that’s ages away, Dad!” she protested. “It’s still morning.” Having discovered the secret, she was more excited than anyone to get on with the adventure.
“I know sweetie but there is no avoiding it. There will be no chance of opening the stairwell with all these people around. But I don’t want to wait down here all day, or up there in the baking sun,” he nodded towards where the light was streaming down the Grand Staircase. “Why don’t we leave and come back later this afternoon. We can get some lunch and maybe go for a swim.” The girls did not know how to respond. They knew this made sense, but they did not want to wait. However, Dad was insistent and certainly the prospect of a beach and food was more appealing than waiting impatiently in the sweltering ruins. “And now that we know that we’ll definitely be entering the Labyrinth,” Dad added, “we might want to double check what we are taking with us. Have you any further suggestions?” Dad asked, turning to Jorge.
“About what to take?” he responded. Dad nodded. “Oh, well light is clearly vital, and matches and perhaps oiled cloth to make torches should the electric ones fail. Fire can be useful in many situations.” Jorge paused and looked thoughtful before continuing. “Retracing your way out is also essential, but you have that covered. And the other thing is not getting separated, so some strong cord to tie yourselves together. Food, water and the other things you mentioned you already have, but you might need enough for a couple of days, just in case. I know it is hot up here, but it could be cold in the Labyrinth, so you might need some warmer clothes.”
“Sounds like we are going to need rucksacks rather than daypacks!” said Dad.
“Yeah, and that won’t look suspicious,” agreed Danae.
“Well, we’ve got to hope it won’t take us too long,” decided Dad, “and if it is taking too long, we will have come out and then go back in again. We’ve no idea how big this thing is.” He turned to Jorge again. “Will you still be here when we get back this afternoon?”
“Wouldn’t miss it!” he responded, and his weathered face brightened: “the opening of the Labyrinth of Daedalus? After over three thousand years?”
Dad’s smile expressed his reassurance. It was strange how quickly they had come to trust this old man.
“Alright, well we will get going and come back around 3pm? Does that sound ok?”
“Of course, but no later. Last entrance is at four. I’ll wait for you at the gate.”
“Done,” said Dad, and he turned to his daughters. “Ok girlies, let’s go find a nice beach for lunch and a dip.”
That decided, they traipsed out of the Queen’s chamber, up the Grand Staircase and through the ruins, then said their temporary goodbyes to Jorge at the start of the Royal Road. He said he would try to pick up a tourist group while they were gone, just to pass the time. Within another ten minutes they were back in the car and heading for a nearby beach they had passed on the north coast, not far from Heraklion.
Lunch was a tense affair and, in truth, when it came to it they all found that none of them were hungry. The waiting was unbearable, but continually going on about how difficult it was only made it worse. They tried to avoid the obvious frustrations that they all shared and instead attempted to engage constructively about what lay ahead. But discussing that only heightened their excitement as well, which again escalated their frustration and anticipation. So, after completing a few discussion cycles that ended up at precisely the place they were trying to avoid, they agreed not to talk about it at all – at least not until later that afternoon.
It was a shame that they were too distracted to enjoy the lovely beach and the restaurant that overlooked it. It was a seafood restaurant and had attracted Dad’s attention, not because it had a magnificent position at the end of a long stretch of white sand, lapped by a turquoise sea, but because it had a large sign which read: Best Fish and Chips in Crete!
“That’s a bold claim,” Dad had declared with strained interest, “we had best check it out!” He had a weakness for exceptional fish and chips, a flaw that required regular starvation phases in order to compensate for the massive calorie intake involved. But Dad had declared only distractedly as he munched away, that it was some of the best Fish and Chips he had ever eaten. The girls had hardly commented.
After eating they spent an hour or so on the beach during which the girls did not leave the water. But when Dad finally called out to them that they had best get going, they were out in moments. After fleeting outdoor showers they were soon dressed and heading back to the car and, now that the taboo was over, there was a constant babble about what might be coming and what they would need.
They had agreed that there was little in the way of supplies they required over and above what was already in Dad’s large and their smaller daypacks. They did stop at a corner store and pick up a little more food, as well as a couple of rolls of strong fishing line that they could use as additional cords should they need it. Both the elder girls had regular daypacks in which was some food, spare string, light sweaters, torches and spare batteries. Leda had her small, pink daypack also, as much to feel involved as for utility, full of the useful things she had described earlier, such as playing cards, some sweets and, for some unknown reason, she had also packed her drumming pad and drumsticks. She was a dedicated little drummer and drummed in the school pipe Band and liked to show off her skills at any opportunity. Just who she thought might make an appreciative audience in the Labyrinth she could not say, but Dad did agree that there was nothing like being prepared.
It was nearly 3pm when they arrived back at the ruins of Knossos and it was so hot that Leda declared she might die. The advantage of the intense heat was that there was no one stupid enough to be entering the ruins in these conditions, so they did not have to wait in a queue. Their tickets from the morning were still valid and the lady in the booth made a casual remark about them being so keen as to return on the same day. To this Dad responded that it was more to do with trying to avoid the heat than eagerness – it was not a great explanation. She raised her eyebrows in a quizzical manner and glanced pointedly about at the surroundings, which were shimmering; it was like the outpouring wave when an oven door is opened. Dad pointedly followed her glance, then admitted that although that had been the plan, it did not seem very sensible right at this moment.
“Oh well,” she said, “get into the lower levels of the palace as it is a lot cooler there.”
“That’s exactly what we intend to do!” he responded, “as deep as we can.” She could not have imagined quite how true this was, but simply nodded with disinterest and let them through.
The Royal Road was almost empty, with only a few people visible along its length, all of whom were heading in the direction of the exit. The apparitions were there also but, like the tourists, they were proportionally fewer. Danae made a comment about ghosts not liking the heat either. At first they did not notice Jorge, but with so few people around it was not long before Leda spotted him, sitting deep in the shade of a tree and fanning himself with his hat. He saw them also and stood to his feet. Dad turned to his daughters:
“Well girls, this is it! Are you ready?” They nodded excitedly and herded him towards the old man.
Jorge was very pleased to see them and seemed to have found the wait as unbearable as they had – worse in some ways, as he had not spent it at a beach. But, he reminded them, the wait was not yet over.
“We will have to head over to the back of the ruins, down the steep slope of the hill and wait out among the trees. I know a small dell that we can rest in. We should wait until at least 6pm before returning to the ruins, and even then we should try to keep out of sight. The staff should be gone by then, but we cannot be certain.”
They followed Jorge. The ruins were relatively quiet with respect to both the living and the dead and the small party passed through them quickly. They lingered on the southern edge near the treeline for a while,
until they were sure no one else was visible. The girls had to rely on Dad to tell them this, as their vision was never clear of people and, from a distance, it was harder for them to distinguish the living from the phantoms. While they loitered, Dad scratched around on the stony ground playing amateur archaeologist, picking up pieces of pottery and other stones and asking Jorge what he thought they might be. But the entire time he kept a keen eye on their surroundings, scanning the vicinity for moving shapes. Finally, when no one was in sight, Dad gave the word and they made their move. They wandered in among the trees as casually as they could manage so that, even should someone notice them, it would not look suspicious.
Once among the shrubbery they scurried down a slope between the tree trunks, until they came to the hollow Jorge had been talking about. Here the hill fell steeply, creating a wall about twice the height of Dad, and beyond it was a flat area scattered with large rocks and surrounded by scrubby bushes and overhanging branches that provided some shade and privacy – at least that is what Dad and Jorge saw. To the girls, although they could still make out the real world if they tried hard, the phantom overlay was now so tangible that distinguishing the two was very difficult. They saw orderly gardens terraced down the slope below them and a scattering of red-roofed buildings in the valley.
Dad explored the dell a little:
“Good call!” he said, nodding to Jorge with approval. “This is very secluded. If we just sit here in the shade and keep quiet, we shouldn’t be disturbed.”
They all meandered around and, one by one, identified a relatively comfortable spot where they might spend the next three hours. At first Danae and Ilia sat quietly together, talking softly, then they tried to sleep. Ilia, however, was convinced that the spot she had chosen must be the most uncomfortable in all of Crete and, much to Danae’s exasperation, made sure everyone was aware of her suffering. Leda wanted to play cards, of course; Five Crowns. Dad agreed to join her and Jorge agreed to learn, so together they sat around a large flat rock and succumbed to Leda’s uncanny luck as she beat them repeatedly. The only consolation was that, because they had to keep quiet, Leda could not crow too loudly; however, with her expressions alone, she managed to convey more than enough of her sense of triumph.
The Progeny of Daedalus Page 13
