by WB McKay
A second passed and I didn't feel the burn of lava. I took a peek and found the snake's open mouth hovering in front of me; Epic's blade stuck between the snake's fangs like a gruesome shish kebab. Art stood behind it, grinning like a fool. The snake disappeared in a puff of ash.
"You got dust on my sword," I scolded.
"Better than blood," Art pointed out. "You're lucky the lava didn't seem to hurt it."
"Magic," I said needlessly. "Another few inches and you'd have skewered me right along with Hot Fangs. We need to get you some sword lessons."
"Why?" he asked. "That's what I have you for. And I got it done in the end. You have to admit, it did look really cool."
He handed Epic back to me and I sheathed both my swords. I chuckled. "Yeah, it looked awesome, and I didn't have my face melted off, so that's a plus."
"So, what's next?" asked Art, peering down the hall. "It looks like we're almost to the end."
"I'm going to go with projectiles. Can't have a good magical object hunt without some projectiles shooting at you."
We moved forward at a glacial pace, scanning for signs of traps. It was gradual enough to be barely noticeable, but the space was opening up. As we drew close to the end of the hall, it sharply widened into a great room where the next obstacle made itself known. Three large statues were set into the walls, each at least ten feet tall and pointing a crossbow at the area in front of us.
"Who always knows everything? Oh yeah, that would be me. Projectiles! You see that? Crossbows! Crossbows. These people can't help themselves."
"Yes, yes, I see," said Art. "Good job, Sophie. Any ideas on how we get around them?"
"Hmmm. I'm working on that. Probably won't do any good to try and take out the statues," I said, tossing a loose rock at one. It bounced off some sort of force field and skittered down the hall. "Great. It has to be a puzzle, or they would have shot us already."
"It might be easier if they just shot us," he said.
"I'm with you," I said. "Which is surprising, by the way. Where is that Art Optimism?"
He smiled. "I'm optimistic. I still believe we'll get it done in the end."
"Hopefully without becoming two of the world's most gruesome pincushions."
"Sophie Optimism is a unique brand, isn't it?"
"Indeed," I agreed. I tapped my fingers on my chin, waiting for the answers to come to me. There had to be a clue. There was always a clue.
"I'm terrible at puzzles," said Art.
"I take it on a puzzle by puzzle basis," I said, studying the floor and walls. The area was constructed of twelve inch square stone tiles that lined the floor, walls, and ceiling. They were all perfectly spaced, so they were no help.
I looked around the floor, hoping to find another loose stone I could toss. If I couldn't find a clue, maybe I could do some tests. Eventually, I found a rock identical to the one I'd thrown at the statue. "Huh." I scanned the floor where the previous rock had landed. "Do you see that other rock I threw?"
Art looked for a full minute. "No, it's gone," he said, his brow furrowed.
"I don't think it is," I said, hefting the stone in my hand. "I think this is the same rock. It was sitting right where I found the other rock, and it looks exactly the same."
Art quirked a brow. "It's a rock. They all look pretty much the same."
"Don't selkies get into brawls because they want the best rock to sun themselves on?"
"That's different," he said, a hint of a grin returning.
"Sure it is," I said, patting his arm. "Keep an eye on this rock." I tossed it into the middle of the floor in front of us.
As soon as it stopped, the third statue came to life and fired a crossbow bolt at it. It shattered into tiny fragments. The bolt disappeared. Its target destroyed, the statue resumed its position, staring toward us.
"Looks like those bolts pack quite a punch," said Art, his eyebrows climbing his forehead.
"Why did it shoot at the second one but not the first?"
Art groaned. "That sounds like a puzzle question."
"Look what appeared right in the same spot," I said, picking up yet another identical rock. "This is our way to figure out the puzzle."
"All right, well that sounds easy enough. Let's get to chucking rocks. We'll have the path figured out in no time."
I heaved a sigh. "It's never that easy." The room was empty of everything but the rock and the statues. I'd thought the statues were focused on us, but they weren't. They were focused on the rock. It was the clue. The question was "How do I move past this challenge?" so the rock was trying to tell me… "The path," I whispered. "The first rock hit the correct spot, so the bolts didn't fire. The second one hit a spot where we'll get shot if we step. The rocks aren't staying on the floor, so we'll have to memorize the pattern. Also, I doubt this rock will keep repopulating indefinitely. If we're lucky, we'll get a few more. If not, this could be the last one. The number three has a lot of significance in many cultures. It doesn't give much of a chance to establish a pattern though."
"Especially since we missed the position of the first rock," replied Art.
"Yeah," I said, a bit of a growl slipping out. "I appreciate the reminder."
"I think we should try the edges on our own," said Art, ignoring my growl. "That way we don't waste rocks."
"Are you volunteering to have your foot shot off?" I asked, giving Art what I hoped was a sly grin. I wasn't nearly as good with expressions as the men in my life.
"I really hope these things only shoot at the spot that gets touched, not the thing that touches it," said Art, sidling forward, one foot extended. "Here goes nothing." He dropped his foot on a tile and then pulled it back."
Nothing happened.
"Try another?" I said.
He stepped on the tile to the left of the first. He barely pulled his foot back in time to miss the bolt that fired from the first statue's crossbow. "I guess I just got lucky on the first one," said Art, his voice a little shaky.
"Yeah, I definitely don't want to try that method all the way across the floor." I narrowed my gaze, willing the right path to appear for me. "There are too many possible paths to figure it out with only a few rocks. There has to be a trick to it."
Art didn't seem to hear me. He was stroking his beard, lost in thought. "Why are there three statues?" he asked.
"Like I said, three is a lucky number." I shrugged.
"The middle statue hasn't moved," he said. "Short of your lucky number theory, there isn't a reason to have three. The pirates said there needed to be two of us. No reason for one of us to get shot twice."
"You think it's another clue," I said, studying the middle statue. It was a fair distance away, and the room wasn't exactly bright. "Is there something weird about its eyes?" I thought about shifting, but somehow I doubted the statues would take kindly to me trying to bypass the trap by flying. I might survive a bolt in my human form, but one of those as a crow and I was done for.
Art squinted. "Hilarious," he said, a grin splitting his face. "It's wearing a blindfold."
I followed the direction its crossbow pointed. "I have an idea." I tossed the stone at the tile near the center of the trapped area. It landed two spots away from my intended target. The far statue blew it to smithereens. "Damn it. I missed."
"Well, you were right," said Art, waving a hand at the empty floor. "A new stone hasn't popped up. Looks like three was all we got."
"I know the trick to this." I shrugged off my jacket and let it fall to the ground. "The middle statue is pointing to the tile that is the key to the whole puzzle. I'm going to fly over there in my crow form."
I was tugging off my boots when he grabbed my wrist to stop me. "Sophie, you're letting your impatience get the best of you. We have two pair of shoes we can toss out there first."
I sucked in a breath and glared at his hand on my wrist. I puffed up, ready to yell at him for slowing me down and wasting my time, but he was right. I deflated. I thought I'd been doing so good at
slowing myself down, and yet there I was. How was I supposed to be patient and cautious with the clock ticking? "We're in a competition, for fae's sake!"
"I know." Art chuckled. "And you're competitive."
"And impatient under the best circumstances," I added.
"Hey, I didn't say it." He handed me my shoe. "Care to give it a throw?"
We spent the next couple minutes watching our shoes get skewered and then disappear. I wanted to grumble about how it was a waste of time, but it wasn't. If we'd have been better shots, it would have been a much safer option.
"Well, I'm all out of things to throw," I said, pulling off my shirt and dropping my shorts. "And before you mention the swords and their sheaths, it's not going to happen. The arrows might not break them, but our shoes disappeared. Who knows where that stuff goes. I'm not about to lose them."
Art dutifully turned his back while I shifted. "I never would have suggested it. I know they were left with you at Wailing Lakes as a baby."
I wasn't sure how he knew that. Maybe I'd told him during some moment of vulnerability. We'd been working together for seven years. I couldn't be a hardass the whole time. I let the shift pull through me and sounded off with a caw so Art knew he could look again.
"Be careful, Sophie."
"Caw."
"Yeah, I know you're always careful. Just be extra careful for me this time."
I blinked at him a couple of times, wondering if he somehow understood my bird noises, or if he just knew me that well. Either way, I wanted him to be sure to understand me this time, so I bobbed my head, feeling like a chicken pecking at grain.
"Get it, girl."
I checked my wings, hopped over to the left wall so that I could fly facing the statues, and took to the air. Like I thought, the two statues opened fire. I tucked my wings in and dropped like a stone. The bolts passed so close I could feel the air ruffle my feathers.
I wasn't as lucky on the next set. They came much faster than a normal crossbow could have been reloaded. Yay for magic. I beat my wings for all they were worth, but one of the bolts grazed my belly. Pain seared through my flesh like a trail of fire, but I managed to glide the last few feet and drop onto the stone tile the middle statue pointed at.
When no bolts were let loose, Art let out a whoop of triumph. "You did it!"
Yellow light flooded the room from no source I could locate. It shined on a path that started on the first tile Art had stepped on and wound across the space, leading to an open door on the opposite end of the room.
I shifted back to my human form, careful not to leave the confines of the single tile. Art had already started along the path, carrying my clothes. We made quick work of the winding maze. My chest and leg burned, but the shift had at least partially healed my wounds.
Art tossed me my clothes and we rushed into the large cavern we hoped would house the Golden Fleece. No such luck. "What the hell?" I asked. "Spiders, snakes, fire, and projectiles weren't enough?"
The minotaur that barreled toward us made no attempt to respond, unless you counted a snort and an unearthly bellow as a response. As far as I knew, minotaurs were entirely fictional, but then again, the Golden Fleece was supposed to be as well. Fictional or not, at least eight hundred pounds of man-bull charged at us, its gigantic hooves clomping out a thunderous rhythm on the cave floor. In addition to lowering its head and leveling the horns at us, it also raised a sword that was larger than anyone should be allowed to carry.
Clothes weren't for me, apparently. I tossed them aside and pulled out Epic. He was a toothpick compared to the sword the minotaur swung at my head, but size wasn't all that mattered. I ducked the beast's swing and opened a long cut along its bovine leg. He didn't seem to notice, but I noticed something all right. He was as naked as I was. The head and legs were bull, but the rest was all human. I'd thought about this a lot over the years. Nudity freaked my opponents out. It got in their heads. That kind of mind game offered an upper hand in battle where you needed to be in the moment without hesitating to react. Propriety teaches you to look away from unclothed parts. It was a good thing I'd never been any good at propriety, or I'd have missed the next moment, when one of those hooves bucked into the air and almost connected with my skull.
Simply paying attention wasn't going to be enough to finish this fight.
Art, for his part, dodged the minotaur and distracted it with the occasional blast of water to the face. It allowed me to gain a few minor slices on the beast's side and back. I got the feeling he thought of me more like an annoying gnat than a fearsome opponent.
I continued to circle the giant while parrying blow after blow from the massive sword, and all the while, my strength was flagging. We needed to do something different. We needed to make an opportunity, and fast.
I sidestepped a kick from the minotaur and nearly fell on my ass when I slipped in the puddle Art had created on the cave floor. "Art!" I pointed to the space behind the minotaur, where the rock was smooth as a marble floor.
Having a plan gave me new focus. I advanced on the minotaur, focused on taking up space, but that tactic didn't work on such a large foe. Eyes wide open so I wouldn't miss anything, I moved as rapidly as I could, hoping to intimidate him into backing up that way. I lunged for one side, then the other. I feigned one move, then the other. Spinning around, I went for his leg and then his opposite arm. He backed up a full two inches, if I was being optimistic.
The minotaur wasn't going to be forced backward. I would have realized that if I'd thought about it. He hadn't been willing to give up any ground the whole fight. That was okay. New plan. Gradually, a half step at a time, I shuffled to the side. He turned with me, not seeming to notice as we turned full circle until the two of us had switched places.
I threw my aching arms out to my sides, leaving myself wide open. "Come at me, beefcake!"
And he did. Fierce and muscled and mythical he may be, but paranoid he was not. His first hoof came down on the wet rock without trouble, worrying me, but as he picked up speed they slipped out from under him and he went down hard. He looked shocked, and maybe I was a little, too. I paused for a second too long, and the beast was already struggling to right itself. I lunged forward, panicked that I'd miss my chance, and before I'd even thought to put up a proper defense, pain lanced across my hip. The bastard had so much range with that giant freaking sword that it managed to cut me. The minotaur made a strange series of grunts and snorts that I soon recognized as laughter. It was slowing his efforts to get back on his hooves.
"Oh hell no!" I shouted, and dodged the next swing of the sword. I lashed out with Epic; the blade traveled in one steady motion and passed through the beast's neck. Its head dropped to the ice with a sickening plop. "Laugh at that, asshole," I spat.
Art broke into laughter, choked it off when I glared at him, and then started laughing again. "Remind me never to truly piss you off."
I dissolved into my own round of laughter. "A minotaur. Really?" That was enough to remind me that we were in a competition. I got my laughter under control while I gathered my clothes. "We have to keep moving."
There was a small opening on the far side of the cavern that led into yet another cave, this one the largest so far. There were no traps that I could see. No monsters to fight. "Not another puzzle," I said with a groan. I buttoned up my shorts. The rocky floor was sharper again and hurt my bare feet.
"Come on, we had the big boss battle. This should be the end." Art almost kicked a rock, but then thought better of it after our last obstacle. "Where's the Fleece?"
"The opening we came in through is gone," I said, frustration giving way to panic. "We're trapped in here."
"Well, this is anticlimactic," said Art. "We just die of starvation if we can't find a way out?"
"Argh!" A voice echoed through the cave, followed by the slap of boots on stone.
The pirates came running directly out of the cave wall. Well, limping is more like it. The selkie had a big burn on her leg, and Tattered
Vest was helping her along, despite a crossbow bolt through the shoulder. A part of me was glad they'd taken more damage than we had.
Tattered Vest immediately drew her sword. "Looks like now we fight each other."
"You look happy about that," I observed.
"Better than lava snakes and minotaurs," she countered.
"For me it will be," I agreed.
A ghostly voice echoed through the cave. "Both sets of competitors have completed the first trial." In the center of the cave, the wispy ghost was back. Swords were lowered. The cave flooded with light.
"What the what?" I asked, all the emotion of the fights and traps distilling into a finely honed rage. "First trial? This is bullshit!"
The ghost continued as if I hadn't said anything. It stepped aside and raised a hand to indicate two scrolls standing on a pedestal. With the added light I could see we were in the same cave we'd jumped down into in the very beginning. We'd done all of that work to complete one big circle. "Each team may complete the remaining trials with up to five members. The leader of the team that best completes the trials shall be found worthy of the Golden Fleece. You will find your next instructions and the rules of the competition written on these scrolls."
I lunged forward and grabbed one of the scrolls, keeping a wary eye on Tattered Vest who did the same. Who the hell was I going to wrangle into this mess? Who would want to help me?
