by Anne B. Cole
“Which direction do I go?” Sam muttered when the catacombs reached a three-way fork. “Typhon is in the center.” He avoided the path to the far right and entered the first. Torches again lined the path, yet grew fewer in number the farther he ran. Spider webs hung in every corner with their creators spinning furiously along the walls and ceilings.
Sam slowed his pace to part thicker sections of webbing. Sticky silk, containing capsules of captured insects, stuck to his hands and fingers. Prickly legs skittered across his arms and up his legs. He stopped to slap and brush off hundreds of spiders. The longer he held still, the faster the arachnids marched along his skin.
“Ugh.” He raced through dense webbing and slammed into a hidden wooden door. He yanked on an iron handle. It clanked in protest.
“Welcome to my humble nest,” a muffled, feminine voice called from the other side. “Have you come to release me?”
Thousands of shiny, black spiders the size of silver dollars spilled from the barred window. Growing in numbers, they covered the ground, walls, and Sam’s legs.
Arachne?
Sam felt pointy legs prick into his skin.
“Lady Arachne, the door is locked and I have no key to release you. If you tell me how I can defeat a giant beast I’ll return and make every attempt to free you.” Sam jumped from foot to foot, shaking spiders off his bare skin.
“No key?” she shrieked. Slender, white, human fingers appeared between the bars along with huge, segmented, ebony spider legs. “Useless mortal.” The hands slumped in defeat, yet the legs twitched and tapped their pin-sharp ends against the door.
Music echoed in the corridor behind Sam.
“Manticore after you?”
Booming tones of Night on Bald Mountain answered Arachne’s question.
“Hurry, children. Feast on the mortal’s blood before the wicked beast arrives.”
Swarms of spiders shot sticky webbing around Sam. Unable to see through the cocoon of silk matted around his face, he blindly fled from Arachne’s cell door. Flailing his arms to keep them web-free, he tore through the twisting path. Not knowing what direction he ran, he took the trail in the opposite direction of the demonic music.
He outran most of the spiders. Some tumbled off, but others remained and dutifully spun additional silk around his head, neck, and shoulders.
They’re trying to block my senses and work their way down.
Sam sprinted with one hand trailing along the wall and the other holding the dagger in front of him.
“Argh,” he cried when he slipped in something gooey and fell face first in a large puddle. The dagger fell from his hand and clattered across a stone floor.
Digging his fingernails into the twisted webs around his head, he tore layers off his face. Wiping slime off with the back of his hand, he squinted to take in his surroundings and find the dagger.
“Where am I?” He jumped to his feet in what seemed to be a dimly lit room. He wiped his hands dry of the watery fluid and pulled off the remaining webbing. The dagger appeared in his left hand.
Not one spider crawled on him.
A low fierce growl rumbled and a large drop of something similar to what he had slipped in splatted on his head. Rubbing it off his forehead, he watched more ooze stream from a pitch black ceiling containing three sets of blazing eyes.
Drool.
Giant dog drool.
Chapter 46
A Gauntlet of Myth
Sam
A monstrous three-headed dog lunged against spiked restraining chains. Growls vibrated through Sam’s body and the stench of wet dog slammed his senses. Snapping jaws full of wicked sharp teeth plastered him with more drool. Fear glued his trembling feet to the ground.
“Damn, you stink.”
Sam didn’t know if he said the words out loud or not. The middle head cocked pointy ears and tilted his muzzle in the air while the other two barked incessantly. A link in the iron chains popped and allowed the monster several inches closer. He scrambled away from the beast and bumped his back against a wall. The outer heads continued struggling against their shackles and the center noggin lowered to Sam’s with menacing growls. With a single, low-pitched bark from the central leader, the other heads followed suit in creepy fashion.
“Easy boy. Good dogs,” Sam crooned, not wanting a repeat display of gnashing teeth and bone crushing jaws. He began to ease himself back the way he came when his left foot bumped into something hard. His fingers tentatively touched what he hoped was the wall of the tunnel.
Fur.
A vile stench of decaying animal slapped Sam’s face. He dropped to his knees and retched. Sharp claws dug into the ground on either side of him.
Sam wiped his mouth and gazed overhead.
Manticore filled the tunnel entrance with his huge frame. He squatted with throaty growls, training golden eyes on the heads of the dog monster. Caught in between the two beasts glaring at one another, Sam pushed to his feet in a crouched position. He kept his movements smooth and slow.
Manticore is part cat. Its natural enemy is a dog. Cerebus is the three-headed dog guarding the gates to the Underworld.
As if Cerebus heard Sam’s thoughts, the center head snapped a warning snarl and caused Manticore’s scorpion tail to curl in an arc. The stinger tip twitched and aimed at the dogs.
Sam swung the dagger over his head. The barbed end of the stinger tail thudded to his feet, spewing green venom from both the thorn and the severed end.
The wounded Manticore convulsed in fury and pain. Sam slipped by the behemoth and sprinted into the twisting catacombs. Violent roars mixed with ferocious howls echoed through the tunnels behind him. Weaving through the maze of passageways, he lost track of direction and bravely pressed forward. The twisted path emptied into a small room with two different routes to choose. The tunnel to the left pulsed with warm air and a hypnotic wave of euphoria surrounded him.
Typhon is in the center. Avoid him at all costs.
His daughter’s warning broke into his mind and snapped him out of the strange trance. He blinked twice and forced his feet to enter the passage on the right. A cold draft ran shivers through him. He grabbed a torch off the wall to light his way.
No more than fifty feet into the rocky tunnel, a sickening smell of blood brought his free hand to his nose. He pinched it shut and took a breath through his mouth. The putrid stench coated the inside of his throat and tongue.
“Wait, I don’t need to breathe,” Sam chided himself and wiped his tongue repeatedly with the back of his arm.
A snort followed by heavy footfalls froze Sam in his tracks. The passageway had widened with a stone ceiling reaching heights over twenty feet. Scraping sounds combined with low grunts edged closer. Gripping the torch, he moved forward.
Dried bones, including a human skull, scattered the dusty ground. With the dagger in one hand and the torch in the other, he raised the flame to illuminate his surroundings. The weak flicker revealed a cell door flanked by two stone statues.
Grunts deepened to a throaty grumble. Two glowing red eyes flickered from an alcove adjacent to the cell. A huge, bull headed monster sporting two massive horns and a ringed snout stepped into the light. Its human body walked upright and held a wooden club in one hand. He clutched the corpse of a hairy giant, twice the size of Sam, in the other. With a deafening roar, the monster ripped off the giant’s right arm and tossed the bloody appendage.
Sam ducked as it flew overhead and cracked against the stone wall. When it hit the ground, lifeless fingers splayed across his sandals. He kicked the bloody hand away and kept his torch positioned between him and the fierce half man, half bull abomination he recognized as the Minotaur. Sam grabbed the cell door’s rusty handle and lifted the latch.
He shoved the door open with his shoulder. The b
ull man sprang after him. Tossing the torch to the cell floor, Sam slammed the door shut and leaned his back against solid wood. The Minotaur crashed into the door. Hinges bent, but the wood remained intact.
The beast responded with angry bellows and a flurry of head and body slams against the door. Sam’s entire body jolted with each blow and he wondered how much longer the door would last.
Soft hisses from the far corner of the cell grabbed his attention.
“Releasssse me and I will protect you from thissss and all of the monssssterssss of the catacombssss.”
“Medusa?”
“Yessss?”
Sam spotted several statues in the room. All held expressions of terror, immortalized in stone.
Shit. Don’t look at her.
“It, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Minotaur rammed the door rhythmically.
Sam gripped the doorknob and timed his next move. “But, I can’t stay.” He stepped to the side and threw the door open. The Minotaur tumbled into the cell and slammed against the back wall. The beast shook off his fall and rose on human feet.
With his hand on the latch and his eyes fixed on the Minotaur, Sam boldly squared his shoulders.
“Minotaur, may I introduce you to the lovely lady of this cell.” He waved a hand in Medusa’s direction and watched the bull man’s red eyes dart her way. “Medusa, Minotaur. Minotaur, Medusa.” Sam shuddered when the cell filled with serpent hisses. He watched Minotaur’s face glaze over and his body stilled.
Sam wrenched the door open, just wide enough to squeeze through. Once on the other side, he locked the bolt in place. Relief coursed through him and he collapsed to his knees.
“Grrrrrrrr.”
Sam’s head snapped around.
Not more than two feet away crouched a werewolf, chewing on the hairy pinky finger of the giant arm.
Chapter 47
Escape
Sam
Yellow eyes glared and fanged teeth tore hairy flesh away from bone. Silver hair spiked on the werewolf’s back and its pointed ears pinned flat, ready to protect his meal.
Sam gripped the dagger. With Medusa’s cell door at his back, he’d need to defeat the canine creature to escape. Unsure of his next move, he stood motionless in hopes the monster would continue his finger food instead of attacking him.
A second dog monster.
The werewolf continued crunching on the finger which he had chewed to the knuckle.
I wonder what giant pinky finger tastes like?
“Chicken. Tastes like chicken.”
Sam’s mouth gaped at the voice sounding inside his head.
The werewolf nibbled on the tip of the ring finger. It spat a grimy fingernail and licked drops of blood before tearing into juicy flesh.
“I am Lycaon. When I tricked an ignorant cyclops into unlocking my cell, I escaped.” The beast never stopped eating. Somehow, he communicated telepathically to Sam.
“Where is the cyclops now?” Sam grabbed a lit torch off the wall.
“Probably running to Zeus to tattle. It won’t be long before the mighty bolt god sends a bounty hunter to capture me. Until then, I get to enjoy this little appetizer before I feast on you.” Lycaon’s pink tongue swiped the hairy knuckle.
Sam focused his thoughts. “Zeus sent Manticore into the catacombs. He’s wounded. Lost his stinger when he met Cerebus.”
Lycaon’s jaws sank into the base of the next finger and he snapped it off with a fierce twist of his neck. He gnawed slowly in contemplation.
“Manticore can’t sting?” He bared his teeth. “When did this happen?”
“Minutes ago.” Sam now owned Lycaon’s undivided attention. “I’ll show you where he is. If we hurry, we can trap him within the tunnels.”
“Leave this snack and a delectable mortal dinner? Manticore won’t grow another stinger for at least a week. I have plenty of time to plan my attack.” Lycaon continued chewing.
Knowing the werewolf could mind read, Sam forced his thoughts blank and acted on impulse. He stabbed the dagger into the giant hand at the base of the remaining finger and shoved the torch into Lycaon’s face.
The werewolf yipped at the fire and dropped his meal.
Sam placed the torch on the ground to ward off his foe. With a flick of the dagger, he cut off the finger and kicked it aside. He dragged what remained of the bloody arm to Medusa’s cell door and lifted the latch. With a grunt, he heaved the fingerless arm inside.
“Dinner tonight is complements of Lycaon. Enjoy.” He slammed and locked the door.
“How dare you,” Lycaon roared.
Sam hoisted the remaining index finger and ran through the tunnels. “You want this tasty treat? Come and get it,” he yelled over his shoulder.
Lycaon’s frustrated howl echoed through the tunnel. Sam sped through the catacombs, evading appendages reaching through barred doors.
“Brilliant idea,” he scolded himself. “Hauling a twenty pound, bloody finger attracts the attention of every nasty creature in here.”
The howling ended, replaced by fierce growls.
“The torch must have gone out. Where to now?” Sam headed right at a fork and clutched the finger to his chest.
Waves of pulsating heat stopped him dead in his tracks. Instead of burning, the heat released his tension and relaxed every muscle in his body. Wanting nothing more than to slide to the ground and fall asleep, he closed his eyes and envisioned his daughter.
“Snap out of it, Father. Typhon likes his food well done.” Her sweet but sassy voice sent an arrow through his heart.
Sam opened his eyes to a heavy metal door. A snarling devil head, with rows of vicious needle teeth, slithered through iron bars. It hissed before tearing a chunk off the end of the finger.
The demon groaned, spat out the flesh, and breathed fire on the appendage. The giant finger sizzled in Sam’s hands. Four snakeheads slithered through the bars and began fighting each other over the cooked meat.
Sweat poured off Sam’s face and he took a cautious step. Typhon’s focus narrowed on the squabbling serpents, enabling Sam to retreat. He tore down the next branch of the maze and followed it to a cool, circular room with many exits. Feeling safe enough to slow and establish some type of bearing, he scanned his surroundings.
One tunnel seeped foamy water. The next passageway smelled of sulfur. Sam bent to a third, too small to squeeze through. He peered into the hole and saw a brilliant light. Happiness filled him.
“I want to go there.” Without a doubt, the mouse-sized entrance would become his reward if he conquered Manticore. “Off to find the beast,” he muttered and lugged the charred finger to the next exit.
A low snarl emitted from the fourth tunnel and Sam quickly stepped into the fifth and final passageway. Nothing growled at him, crawled over him, or scorched him with fire. He pressed forward on dry ground in apprehension and stopped when the trail split in three directions. To the left, a faint tinkling of a morbid melody hit his ears.
Manticore.
To the right, he heard piercing howls bounce off the stone walls.
Lycaon.
Sam entered the middle tunnel. No more than fifty feet inside, Cerberus’ three heads snored peacefully on their massive paws. Tiptoeing, he retraced his steps to the main trail and raced down the path to Manticore.
With every step, the music grew in intensity. Sam forced himself to continue in the beast’s direction. Summoning every bit of courage, he stopped and waited for the cat monster.
“Hey, big guy. I’m back.”
Manticore roared his hate-filled annoyance. The stub of his tail curled over his head, unable to fling sharp spines or shoot deadly venom.
“Catch me, and you can eat roasted finger.” Sam waved it
above his head. He fled down the trail to the split while Manticore crashed through the tunnel in pursuit.
Sam stopped in front of the tunnel filled with Lycaon’s howls. He poked the cooked finger in the passage and hoped its scent would entice the werewolf.
Manticore slid through the tunnel, crashing into the back wall.
Sam spun on his heels and waved at the ferocious beast. “Here I am. Come get me.” He raced down the path to Cerebus. Skidding to a halt, mere inches from the snoring dogs, he scooped a handful of sand off the ground and plastered his back against the wall. Within a second, Manticore’s mangy fur brushed his shoulder.
Sam pitched the sand into its eyes and slipped past the infuriated creature who began beating his wings against the sides of the tunnel. Blood curling screeches filled the air followed by sinister growls and snaps from a disturbed Cerberus. Sam fled in the opposite direction and ran smack into Lycaon, who towered on human feet. One fur-covered human hand lifted him by the neck.
Sam positioned the finger in front of him as a pathetic offering. “I had it cooked for you. Well done.” He sniffed and took a bite before shoving it into Lycaon’s face. “Mmm. Crispy. Like bacon. Much better than chicken.”
Lycaon’s brows furrowed and he dropped Sam to the ground. “Stupid mortal. Give me that.”
Before the werewolf had a chance to snitch the bait, Sam flung it into the trail leading to Cerberus and Manticore.
Lycaon raced after the finger. Howls combined with cat screams echoed at Sam’s back while he sprinted through the tunnel.
“Caught between two dog monsters, Manticore will have his hands full.” Completely out of breath, Sam remembered his daughter’s advice. Draw Manticore between two of his natural enemies.
