by Joshua Roots
Chapter 9
Prey
“Appalled by the murder of Athenian youths, Theseus volunteered to travel to Knossos in order to slay the mighty creature. He set sail for Crete, knowing that the Labyrinth and its monstrous inhabitant were waiting for him.”
—The Legend of Ariadne
“Fellow clansmen,” Europa bellowed. “Today is a day of great honor, for one of our own has been chosen to run the Labyrinth.”
I winced as the crowd cheered. Somehow Europa had gathered the entire clan on short notice for the event. Considering the turnout, this was the Super Bowl for Minotaurs. And man, they were excited.
My skull didn’t share their enthusiasm.
We were all standing on the edge of the village, looking down into a massive field of square-cut pathways of the Labyrinth. Unlike the maze gardens I’d heard about in England, this gargantuan puzzle was actually carved into the bedrock. The walls were all rough stone that extended twenty feet down to a smooth floor while the countless twists and bends seemed to stretch farther than the eye could see.
Okay, maybe it was a good thing I wasn’t allowed to run it.
Despite the blinding sun directly overhead, it was so cold that the additional layer of long underwear wasn’t working. Shivering, I stamped my feet as my body heat was sucked out of my boots by the frozen ground. My mood followed and I grumbled, wanting this stupid event to be over so I could go back to the warmth of my hut.
It didn’t help that my hangover made the sword on my back and Glock strapped to my side feel extra heavy. I was surprised I’d been allowed to carry them, but apparently it was tradition to pack heat for a Labyrinth run. The crowd was all decked in their finest battle-rattle, sporting thick plates of armor and hideous instruments of death. It was comforting to have my old friends with me once again.
Still, what I wanted more than anything was another ibuprofen and a few more hours of sleep.
Mercifully, Europa silenced the crowd. “Today we welcome Enneticia, daughter of Deodelus, who will attempt to conquer our greatest challenge.” She stepped aside. “Come forward, young one, and receive your Alpha’s blessing.”
A female Minotaur the size of a small tank, and wrapped in a thousand pounds of armor, appeared from the small hut by Europa. She was curvaceous with breasts the size of beach balls. Her fur shone like gold, while what little skin that was exposed was a glistening bronze. In one hand she carried a long spear wrapped in leather. In the other, a shield as large as the front door of my town house. Apparently she was quite the looker because a number of the males around me, and some of the females, elbowed one another, grunting with approval.
The girl stomped over to Europa, then dropped to a knee.
“Do you feel yourself worthy to run the Labyrinth, Enneticia?”
“I do, my Alpha.”
“Will you honor your family this day?”
“Yes, my Alpha.”
“And will you honor our clan?”
“To death, my Alpha.”
Europa held her hand over the warrior’s head. “Then rise, Enneticia. Go and meet your fate with the blessing of a thousand generations of warriors at your side.”
The girl stood, offered the three-finger salute to Europa, then trotted toward the ramp carved into the ground. The crowd followed her, the sound of their cheers growing louder with each step down the ramp. It culminated in a deafening roar when she reached the bottom.
“The gods guide you,” Europa called. Enneticia slammed her spear against her shield, then crouched. The Alpha held up a hand, paused, then dropped it. The second her arm came down, the runner took off like a metal streak.
A heartbeat later, she vaulted over a row of blades that sprang from both sides of the wall. She landed on the other side, rolled and popped up with her shield in front of her. A flight of arrows filled the corridor, but none penetrated her defenses. The moment they died off, she hurled herself forward.
“Holy crap,” I said, watching her deflect a dozen spiked balls that fell on her from above.
Steve chuckled. “Yeah, she’s good. Come on,” he added, pulling me toward the edge of the Labyrinth, “we need to move if we’re going to keep up.”
I followed, pausing when he jumped onto the top of one of the walls. It was wide enough to hold two rows of Minotaurs without fear of them pitching in. But it was still a long way down.
“Get the lead out, slowpoke,” Steve called to me as more Minotaurs piled onto the walls. They cheered as Enneticia apparently cleared another obstacle. Sucking up my courage, I pushed between the stank man-beasts until I finally caught up to my friend many walls into the maze.
Enneticia was nothing short of sex on wheels. Despite being bogged down with enough armor to stop a Howitzer, she moved with the speed and grace of an Olympic hurdler. She also navigated with stunning effectiveness, utilizing whatever maze-based GPS that seemed hard-coded into the Minotaur DNA. Occasionally she’d hit a dead end, doubling back as needed, but she never seemed to get sucked by the countless confusing or lethal pathways.
I’d seen Steve use the ability a few times over the past year. He was adamant that it had nothing to do with magic and more to do with thousands of years training in mazes like this one. Maybe he was right, but watching the young warrior juke down correct passageway after correct passageway without a second of hesitation made me wonder if there wasn’t something else driving the Minotaur’s amazing abilities.
It was gorgeous to watch, but apparently also a hell of a lot of fun to bet on, too. The majority of adults traded coins every time she cleared an obstacle, most cheering, some frowning. From the looks of it, almost everyone assumed the runner would survive, but there were plenty of spectators willing to risk a few coins against a particularly nasty trap. And while the parents gambled, the kids ran willy-nilly between them, chasing each other and screaming with joy. Like kids do.
“So how does she win?” I asked as Enneticia caught three arrows from a wall with her shield. She rolled, leaped, and cleared the danger zone before the next volley could find her. More cheers erupted while coins switched owners.
“There’s no winning, only survival,” Steve said. “To do that, she has to reach the middle of the Labyrinth. Assuming she does make it that far, she then has to defeat the final challenge.”
“Like a pit of fire or something?”
“Or something.”
I looked back at Enneticia, who was making short work of a wooden wall filled with spikes. “I’m curious, how does this maze stack up against the one of legend?”
Steve kept his eyes on the action below. “Honestly, it’s not even worth comparing the two. Our Labyrinth is complex but mostly ceremonial. The great inventor Daedalus designed the original version for King Minos on Crete as a way to imprison my ancestor. He did such a masterful job creating it that he himself could barely find the way out once he completed it.”
“Theseus was able to escape. After he killed the Minotaur, of course.”
“That’s the rumor.”
“You’re saying it’s false?”
His nostrils flared. “I’m saying that it’s a boring old legend and you should shut up so we can enjoy watching this sexy lady beat the crap out of this Labyrinth.”
I closed my mouth. Apparently I’d hit a nerve, so I let the matter drop.
We moved farther into the structure and yet Enneticia showed no signs of slowing. Even when a pack of...let’s call them wolves...appeared out of nowhere, she kept her cool, hacking two of them to pieces before the remaining three realized they were outmatched and fled. Another path, another trap, all handled with ease as she neared the enormous center and whatever was waiting for her there.
But as mesmerizing as Enneticia’s performance was, my real interest lay buried in the crowd somewhere. I hadn’t seen Makha b
efore the run began, but Steve swore he would be there. As the two of us vaulted from wall to wall, I kept scanning our fellow spectators, hoping the euphor was among them.
I finally spotted the regal-looking creature in fine brown leathers several walls away. He was surrounded by a clump of his compatriots, entertaining them as they watched the event below. At some point he must have made a joke because several of the smaller Minotaurs laughed. The sound was loud and forced.
“Apparently kiss-asses exist in every culture,” I muttered.
Steve chuckled. “Yeah, some of my clansmen like to suckle at the teat of power if they think it’ll benefit them in any way. Seems Makha has some pretty big teats.”
Indeed he did. In addition to the brown-snouters, there were a number of servants handing out food and drink. Surrounding the large party was a group of guards decked in armor and sporting brown accents similar to Makha’s. They ignored the maze run, their attention instead on the crowd. They carried a combination of swords and spears, both of which were pale comparisons to the deadly gaze they gave any Minotaur who moved too close.
“How the hell am I going to get past his groupies?” I asked.
Steve grinned. “Same way you do everything else in life: you fake it. Now go charm his pants off.”
With that rousing pep talk in hand, I moved carefully along the top of the wall, around the junction of another one, and down the long stone top. I was nearing the jump-off point to his wall when a shout of alarm rose from behind. I spun, worried that one of Makha’s guards had somehow moved to intercept me.
Instead of an armed Minotaur ready to lop my head off, I zeroed in on a male one wall away from Steve who was pointing down into the Labyrinth and shouting in their bizarre language. All I heard was gibberish meshed with guttural sounds and odd vowels. Yet there was no mistaking the tone of sheer panic. He seemed to plead with several Minotaurs around him, but aside from looks of pained sympathy, they offered him no assistance. He returned his attention into the maze and wailed.
The sound cut into my heart, beckoning to my soul. Shifters were guardians of the weak, protectors of the innocent. We put ourselves in harm’s way so others needn’t. And sometimes we made tough decisions.
Ones that led us away from our intended goal.
I retraced my steps quickly.
“What happened?” I asked when I reached Steve, eyeing the Minotaur who continued to shout into the Labyrinth.
He grimaced. “Dunno, but it doesn’t sound good.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious. How about we go see what’s up?”
Steve followed as I maneuvered toward the distraught Minotaur. The crowd around him started trading coins like crazy, apparently deciding that whatever was happening was as much a gambling opportunity as the epic run of the warrior woman.
It took some pushing, but we finally reached the guy. I followed his gaze to the ground below. Two kidlets were huddled against the wall, sobbing. One was kneeling while the other sat awkwardly, its leg at an odd angle. There was no way either would be able to scale the wall, nor were they in any condition to try and follow in Enneticia’s wake.
“Well, that sucks,” Steve said, gazing down dispassionately.
Fury poured into my veins. Partially because of the sight of the terrified mini-Minotaurs and partially because of how casual Steve sounded.
“This more than sucks,” I replied, my voice tight. “They’re hurt and scared.”
“It happens.”
“How can you be so calm about this?” I snapped. “They’re kids.”
Steve held up his hands defensively. “Hey, I lost four clansmen to this thing the year before I started my training. One was a close friend. It was awful and I mourned her death, but it sure as hell motivated me to learn how to survive the Labyrinth.”
I inhaled, struggling to control the storm of emotion building in my chest. “We have to do something.”
Steve frowned. “There’s nothing to do, bud. Our laws stipulate that anyone who goes into the Labyrinth, no matter what, must survive it. If a couple kids were stupid or careless, they’d better hope they’re lucky because no one is coming to their aid.”
“Not good enough.” Then to the wailing Minotaur, “How can we help?”
Tears of fatherly horror filled his eyes. He blinked at me but said nothing.
“You have got to be kidding me.” I turned to Steve. “I thought the whole reason we were doing this crappy sporting event was to allow direct contact between me and your folks. So what the hell?”
“He is lesser-born. He only speaks the tongue of our ancestors.”
Oh, perfect.
“But you speak his language.”
“Of course.”
“Good, translate.”
“Marcus,” Steve warned.
“Translate.”
My buddy rolled his eyes, then uttered something in garbled Minotaurian. The father responded, gave me and Steve the three-finger salute, then went back to yelling down to the kids.
“He thanks you, but says his offspring are in the hands of the gods now.” Steve watched as the Minotaur held his palm to his children. “Now he’s offering them the blessings of our ancestors, wishing them to die with honor.”
“This is ridiculous,” I snarled. “We can help them. All we have to do is get a handful of Minotaurs down there, boost them up, then pull everyone to safety.”
Steve put a hand on my shoulder. “Dude, no one will help. My people are bound by this tradition. It’s stupid, but that’s how we roll.”
Howls echoed off the stonework.
I brushed his hand off of me. “Well, that’s not how I roll.”
Then I jumped.
The crowd fell silent the second I went over the edge, which made the feeling of free fall more horrific. Without the ability to sense the environment around me, I was forced to rely on my own internal bucket of Skill. Reaching deep into my reserves, I tapped as much power as I could get my hands on, then directed the force downward in a single blast. The Air Spell rushed toward the ground with gale-force winds, billowing back up a second later. My body slammed into the bubble of air, which cushioned my fall. It wasn’t much, but enough that when I crashed to the hard stone ground, I was able to tuck and roll rather than splatter all over the place.
Popping upright, I walked over to the kids with the friendliest smile I could muster. “Hi. I’m Marcus and I’m going to get you the hell out of here.”
Both kids stared at me, either in horror or in fascination. The jury seemed out on which one.
Holy crap, they were tiny. Micro versions of Steve, but without the massive horns and brawny muscles. Both boys, they held on to one another, crying as they stared at me.
“Gimme something smart to say,” I shouted up to Steve. He replied with a phrase that sounded like a bird fart.
“What does that mean?”
“That you are a dumb human who smells of pig urine.”
Jerk.
I knelt and tried my best to repeat the phrase to the younglings. They sniffed but smiled, if slightly.
At least the cheap shot at myself elicited a response.
I held out my hand, turning it over so my palm faced the sky. The uninjured Minotaur looked at it, then reached out hesitantly. Our fingers made contact and he allowed me to pull him to me. I checked him over, but as best I could tell, he was fine. When I released him, he threw himself to me, sobbing into my chest.
The second boy was in rough shape. His left leg was a mess of broken bone below the knee. I needed to set the break if I wanted to move him.
“I’ll be back in a second,” I said, easing the first kid off of me. I motioned for him to hold on to his buddy, then pantomimed that I was going to go away and come back. Apparently my fingers did the right kind of walki
ng because he nodded.
I rubbed the kid’s head. “Smart.” Then I sprinted in the direction of Enneticia’s last trap. Thankfully, it was literally just around the corner.
“Holy hell,” I muttered, staring at the carnage of destruction around me. She’d not just disabled the trap, she’d pulverized it. Splintered arrow shafts and broken polearms littered the passageway. I grabbed several ruined weapons, raced back to the kids, and snapped the shafts until they were close to the right size. Then I placed one on either side of the busted leg.
Slipping my sword off my back, I removed the blade and pressed the scabbard against the wooden shaft on the outside of the kid’s leg.
My heart ached as I looked at the scared little guy. “I’m sorry, but this is going to hurt a lot.”
The boy watched, tears streaming into his fur. Then he screamed at a frequency that rattled my brain when I straightened the bone. Doing my best to tune out the blood-chilling sound, I wrapped the straps of the scabbard around the leg and shafts, tightening them on the thigh and down by the ankle. It was a crude, ugly splint, but was the best I could come up with on such short notice.
But what I lacked in nursing, I more than made up for with Warlock training.
Placing my hands on either side of the break, I spoke the words of my go-to Healing Spell. My hands warmed quickly, becoming scalding hot as my Skill drained into the boy’s leg. Slowly his cries changed to whimpers as the bone and muscle knitted back together. After a minute or so, I removed my hands, gasping at the sudden depletion of Skill.
“Okay,” I huffed as gray danced around the edges of my vision. “That was the easy part. Now to get you two out of here.”
The two boys stared from me, to the broken leg, and back, eyes wide.
“Just don’t get hurt again, okay? Not sure I have enough juice in me to fix another one.”
Still more stares.
I put a finger against my chest. “Marcus.”
“Marcwa,” both boys said tentatively. Then they made a string of hurking noises, shoving their thumbs against their own chests.
