Megan’s stomach dropped. Claire must have figured it out at the same time, because her eyes were huge.
“Oh, no.”
“Rachel, Harriet!” they screamed together. “Come back!”
They received only their own voices in reply from the inky blackness.
“This is bad,” Megan said. It was the one story she did remember, in its entirety, from her Lit book. Because it was, by far, one of the most disgusting.
And if I had remembered it sooner, I would never have let Rachel and Harriet go in there! What have I done?
“Do you really think this is the Minotaur’s labyrinth?”
Claire bit her lower lip. “From what I remember of the story, I’d have to say yes. Those people we saw going in weren’t criminals, they’re the sacrifice from Athens required by King Minos of Crete.”
“We have to get in there.” Megan took Claire by the arm and dragged her toward the labyrinth. “None of them stand a chance. They’ll get lost, and then…”
“…the Minotaur will get them.” Claire pulled her arm from Megan’s grip. “But if we go in without a plan, we’ll get lost too. What good would that do?”
Of course, as usual, Claire was right. Megan’s shoulders slumped. She had to think things through, or else she would wind up needing to be saved too. And that was unacceptable.
What would Rachel do? The fact was, Megan wasn’t sure. If she was talking about Becky, who she had known since the second grade, she could have almost read her mind. She just didn’t know Rachel well enough.
She looked at the ball of silk still in her hand. The woman on the hill’s words about friendship came back to her. Why didn’t I think of this before? I’m such an idiot.
She held it up to show Claire. “This is what we need.”
Megan turned the ball over until she found the end of the string. “You take this.” She handed the ball to Claire. “And I’ll take the end.” Megan tied the string around her waist. “Stay here and unroll the ball as I go.”
Claire unraveled a length of string and let it fall to the ground in a pile. “Are you sure about this?”
Oh Jeeze, Megan thought. Not really.
“Absolutely.”
Megan stepped inside the labyrinth’s entrance. “As long as we don’t run out of string, I’ll be able to follow it right back out again, easy. Once I find Rachel and Harriet. And the next clue.”
Claire grabbed her and hugged her tight. “Just get all of you out of there in one piece.”
Megan gave her a strained smile that didn’t quite hide her fear. “I’ll be fine.” She said it as much for her own benefit as for Claire’s. “Just don’t let go.”
Megan took small steps into the cave, and was immediately swallowed in cool, clammy darkness. The air was stale and still; it smelled like the pair of dirty, sweaty socks that Megan had left in her locker the entire week of hockey camp last year. She tried to take a deep breath, but the stench forced her to take small, shallow sips of air.
She looked over her shoulder. Claire was still there, framed by a small square of light. Megan waved, but it must have been too dark for Claire to see her, because she didn’t wave back. Megan turned from the entrance, and a ghost square of light floated in front of her vision like a sunspot.
It slowly dissipated and left behind a veil of cold darkness that completely blinded her. She put her right hand out and ran it along the cave’s rough stone walls. Setting one foot out in front of her, she stepped forward. Small stones and rocks—she hoped they were rocks—crunched beneath her feet, but otherwise the floor was level and clear.
Slowly, steadily, Megan felt her way through the cave. She stopped when she came to a corner and used her hands and feet to get an idea of the layout. She checked to make sure the string was still around her waist. She pulled on it several times to be certain it hadn’t broken. The woman was right, silk thread was strong.
She heard voices, whispering, and turned her head first one way and then another to try and pinpoint where they came from. But the labyrinth’s echo made it impossible. Nor could she tell who the voices belonged to.
“Rachel? Harriet?” she called hopefully into the dark. Her voice reverberated until it faded away into the distance. No answer came, but the soft, constant sound of whispering continued. It was getting louder, coming closer.
“Is anyone there?” she said, not so loudly this time. Still no answer; and the sound grew louder still.
Megan held her breath, her chest tightened; she was rooted to the spot. The sound changed suddenly, from the whispering of voices to the sound of wings.
They were all around her, flapping and screeching. Megan put her hands over her head and curled up into a ball. The bats’ wings scratched her arms; their feet pulled at her hair. She could stand it no longer—she screamed. It sent the bats into a frenzy. Megan waved her arms and beat at the bats; she felt their soft fur against her palms.
She found her feet again. She stayed low and ran, not caring where she went as long as it was away from the writhing beasts. Bouncing off of walls and sliding around corners until she smashed, face first, into something hard.
Megan fell backward and landed flat on her back with a grunt. She lay there for several minutes, breathing heavily. Her eyes stared into nothing. It was quiet. They were gone.
She pushed herself to a sitting position and rubbed her throbbing nose. She felt her face to see if it was bleeding. It wasn’t, but it did feel about three sizes too big, like the time she had gotten hit in the face with a field hockey ball. It wasn’t broken, but it did hurt.
Oh. No. She had been so careful, trying to find her way through the labyrinth so that she would have at least a vague idea of how to get out again. Now she hadn’t a clue which way to go.
Great. Just great. How am I supposed to find Rachel and Harriet when I can’t even keep myself from getting lost?
She stood and pushed the negative thoughts out of her head. She had to keep her head. Maybe it would be better to go back to the entrance and start over again. It couldn’t waste more time than she was standing around here, freaking out. She touched the string. Still there, thank goodness. She spun around so that it stretched out in front of her, and grasped it, meaning to wind it up as she went. She had gone only a few feet when she heard a scuffling sound behind her. She turned her head in the direction of the sound, and was promptly knocked to the ground again.
“Who… Who’s there?” someone said to Megan’s left.
“Who is that?” Megan waved her hands around and searched for the person.
“My name is Diona.” Her voice was right in front of Megan. “Who are you?”
“Megan.” She found what felt like an arm. “Are you part of the sacrifice?”
“Yes.” Diona’s voice was hoarse. “I got separated from my companions, and have been wandering in this horrible place ever since.” Megan heard her sob. “It is useless, the Minotaur will find us all soon, and eat us.”
“Have you found anyone else since you got lost?” Megan said. “Anyone else that was not in your group?” She reached for a hope.
“No.” It was easy to hear the sadness and desperation in Diona’s voice. “I have found no one but you. We are doomed.”
Megan wasn’t giving up. “No we’re not. Give me your hand.” She fumbled around until she found Diona’s outstretched hand, and placed it on the silk thread. “This will lead you back to the entrance. Hold onto it tightly and follow it, don’t let go. My friend Claire is waiting at the other end.”
Diona gasped. “Could this be true? There is escape?”
“Yes, but you should go now. I don’t think it’s a good idea to stay in one place too long.”
Diona put her other arm around Megan’s neck and hugged her tightly. “Thank you. Why don’t you come with me?”
“I need to find my friends. But could you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“When you get out, please tell Claire I’m all right,
and tell her not to worry.” Megan tried to sound brave, but her voice wavered.
“I will do what you ask. May the gods watch over you and keep you safe.”
“Good luck to you, too.” Megan heard shuffling as Diona stood, felt the tension on the string as the girl gripped it for dear life. More shuffling as her new friend took a few tentative steps.
“Goodbye, my friend.” Diona’s voice was further away. Her footsteps grew faint until all was silent once again. Megan sat for a few minutes longer and gathered her thoughts. What she had said to Diona was true—she couldn’t turn back now. By the time she got to the entrance and started again, it would be too late—if it wasn’t already.
She couldn’t think about that; Harriet and Rachel had to be alive. They had to be. Megan got to her feet and found her bearings as best she could. With her right hand on the wall again, she continued her search of the never-ending passages, backtracking several times when she came to a dead end. She found nothing but dark, dismal, smelly tunnels.
How long have I been in here? I should have run into someone else by now, shouldn’t I?
She cursed out loud when her foot connected with something hard, sending a wave of pain up her leg. She sat on the ground to rub her toe, which throbbed in concert with her nose. It was a minute before she realized that she could see her foot.
She looked around her. Things weren’t clear—only an outline in shades of gray—but visible.
Megan rubbed her eyes, thinking her mind was playing tricks on her. The grayness remained. She held her hand up in front of her face and wiggled her fingers. Five fingers waved back.
She stood and looked behind her. The gray faded into complete darkness. In front of her it grew brighter. On the floor in front of her was a large chunk of rock. That’s what she had kicked. She walked around it and toward the light.
The walls came into focus and she was surprised—the labyrinth was not part of the cave, but built from rectangular stone, like the one she had kicked. It was man-made. The mortar between the stones crumbled away in places, and there were dark gaps where stones between the tunnels had fallen away. More of them lay in the passage ahead of her. Megan skirted around them easily now that she could see them.
Ahead was a short set of rough steps that led down to an open doorway. Beyond was a low, narrow corridor. The light came from bracketed torches on the walls.
Megan shivered. Now that she could see, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to. Bones of small animals littered the floor, and the labyrinth’s distinctive odor was much stronger.
The hall opened into a square room. Water ran down the slimy walls in rivulets and made puddles of mud on the floor. The torches sputtered and hissed when the water splashed them, and the flickering firelight cast long, wavering shadows, like dancing demons.
In one corner was a pile of straw. It was mashed down in the center, as if something heavy sat there recently. The straw stunk of must, mildew, and something else—animal. Beside the straw was a pile of strange-looking white sticks and rocks. Megan leaned down, picked up one of the sticks, and bit back a scream. It wasn’t a stick—it was a bone.
A human bone.
Chapter Ten: Beating the Maze
Oh. My. God.
Megan felt the blood drain from her face. She dropped the bone and clutched her stomach. Her gorge rose in her throat. She was in the Minotaur’s lair. She turned from the pile and bent over. More remains were scattered around the cave, some with bits of rotten flesh still clinging to them.
Megan’s body heaved, and everything the woman on the hill fed her came up in a rush. When it finally stopped, she wiped her mouth on her chiton and stood upright.
At least the Minotaur isn’t at home, or my bones would already be in the pile.
She took a few deep breaths, ignored the stench, and pulled herself together. Keeping her gaze well above the floor, she took another look around the chamber.
Three doors led from the room, including the one she had used to enter. Another was directly across, and the third beside the Minotaur’s bed. The fourth wall had a series of twelve small niches, three rows of four each. Their edges were smooth, each the concave recess like its brothers. The outer edge of each was decorated like the labyrinth’s entrance, with ivy vines carved of the stone.
Their purposeful placement looked incongruous in the slimy, smelly cave filled with the remains of the Minotaur’s meals. Half the niches were empty. The rest contained small items. A rag doll was tucked into one, and a gold bracelet in another.
Where did they come from? Megan remembered the bones on the floor, and the blood drained from her face. On second thought, I don’t want to know.
The last cubbyhole contained a brown wooden box. Megan reached up and lifted it from its place. It was the size of a small jewelry box, and made of dark, highly polished wood. It was beautifully carved all around. The top was decorated with a head, carved in relief. In the dim light she couldn’t tell if the head was supposed to be a man, woman or something else. For a second it looked like whatever it was had horns—then the light shifted and they were gone.
She pulled on the lid. It didn’t open. Megan looked at the front of the box; the latch was rusted shut. She held it up to her ear and shook it. It didn’t sound like there was anything inside. She heard the sound of whispers again and cringed. Please, not more bats. But nothing happened. With a shrug, she reached up to put the box back on the shelf and stopped. Something was written on the bottom.
Megan squinted to read the inscription, but it was too dark. She moved nearer to one of the torches for better light.
A deep-throated grunting sounded nearby; followed by a heavy shuffling. Megan, box in hand, froze and listened. Whatever it was, it was closing in quickly.
She ran to each door and listened briefly. The sound came from the passage across from where she entered. With her heart in her throat, she ran back the way she had come. The silken thread trailed behind her. She pulled it into the corridor and pressed her back against the wall, making herself as flat as she could and willing herself invisible.
Something came into the room. Megan’s hands shook, her breaths were ragged. Her heart thundered in her ears, so loud that she was sure it could be heard in every tunnel of the labyrinth. She had to see what it was; she peeked into the room.
The Minotaur. It had the body of a man—long, well-muscled legs, bare chest and arms, a dirty loin cloth wrapped around its waist. The head was that of a bull; long face and snout covered with chocolate-brown fur. A gold ring hung from its nose and two sharp, stained horns sat on top of its head. The beast dragged something behind it. He turned to the straw bed, and Megan got a clear view of what it was.
Harriet. The Minotaur held her by the wrists and pulled her unconscious body along the earthen floor. Megan couldn’t tell if poor Harriet was alive or… She shuddered. The bull-man let go of Harriet’s arms, and her body fell limply to the ground. She let out a small groan, and Megan sighed with relief. Harriet was alive, but for how long? She had to get Harriet away from the beast, and fast. And what had happened to Rachel? Megan’s insides danced with worry. Focus. Harriet was here, now. She had to help her first.
The Minotaur sniffed Harriet; for a moment Megan was sure she would have to make her presence known. She had no idea what she would do, but she wouldn’t just stand here and let the monster kill Harriet.
Instead he stood and shuffled out the door beside his bed. Megan bolted from her hiding place and to Harriet’s side. She knelt and brushed her friend’s hair away from her face. “Harriet. It’s Megan. Can you hear me?” Please, please, please be all right.
Harriet’s eyes fluttered, but did not open. “Come on, Harriet, wake up. We have to get out of here before that thing comes back.” She tugged on Harriet’s arms, wanting to slide her across the floor to safety, but she was too heavy. There was nothing in here that Megan could use to lift or move Harriet. She was running out of time.
Grunting, shuffling came from t
he passage. The Minotaur was coming back. Megan quickly threw some of the straw on top of Harriet.
Maybe that will confuse him for a while, as long as Harriet stays still. It was a desperate measure; Megan didn’t think it would work, but she didn’t have any other ideas. She ran to her hiding place just as the Minotaur came through the door.
Megan watched him. His limbs jerked when he moved; his head swayed from side to side in a constant rhythm. He gave the straw a quick sniff, then turned away from it and stumbled around the room. He snorted, and his huge nostrils flared as he swung his head around. He lifted his head and sniffed the air, cocked an ear and listened. After a few moments, he stood in the center of the lair, threw his head back and let out an angry yell. He charged around the room, arms flailing, that horrific sound coming from him again and again.
Megan put her hands over her ears. Why didn’t he go back to Harriet? Couldn’t he see her, beneath the straw? She hadn’t counted on the Minotaur being so stupid.
She watched the bull continue its rampage. He bounced his head off of the walls. When he came close to Megan’s hiding place, she saw his face. Milky white eyes looked right at her. She was sure she was caught.
The beast continued on. He ran right by her and stuck a horn into one of the niches. It pierced the rag doll. The doll stuck; it flopped and spun around on the tip of the horn as the bull turned and ran to the other end of the room.
Why didn’t he see me? It was dark here in the passage, but not that dark, and she wasn’t well hidden. Her mouth dropped open. Eyes that were milky white, the head shaking, the jerky movements. The Minotaur was blind!
No wonder the labyrinth is so dark. It gives the Minotaur an advantage. The poor souls being sacrificed stumble around in the dark, as blind as the beast that hunted them. Unlike the people, the Minotaur knew every twist and turn in the maze.
LA01. The Crown of Zeus Page 13
