by R. D. Brady
Helen focused on the tunnel where the man still burned, searching for any sense of more men. But she didn’t need any special abilities to know there were more men coming; an arrow sailed past her, cutting her cheek. With a grunt, she blasted the tunnel with wind. She heard a scream, and sprinted down the side tunnel toward it.
“Helen!” Barnabus yelled.
“Take care of the children until I get back!”
A man leapt at her with a kick, but Helen grabbed his leg, moved in a half circle, and slammed her elbow into the man’s knee. Keeping hold of his leg, she spun around and slammed her other elbow into his face. The man screamed. Helen swept the leg he balanced on, and he fell backward into the wall and slid down it, remaining still.
The burning man also now lay still, and two more men lay underneath rocks that must have been dislodged by her wind. But farther down the tunnel she could see someone alive and running. Helen sprinted after him.
She followed him around two turns, both of them narrow side tunnels. Then, to her surprise, she turned a corner to see him scrambling up the side of the tunnel and through a hole that let in daylight.
That’s how the minotaur escaped, Helen thought.
She reached up to climb after the man, but a soldier with a bow appeared above her. She leapt to the side just in time to avoid taking an arrow. Then, with a rumble, a large rock fell down onto the hole above, blocking out the daylight, and she could hear more rocks tumbling on top of it.
“No!” Helen yelled. She pushed against the rock, but it didn’t even budge.
She slumped down to the ground. Damn it. The minotaur’s escape route was now closed.
Helen looked around the empty tunnel, her anger at Minos growing. Apparently the king hadn’t even been willing to wait for the cave to end them. Coward.
Helen narrowed her eyes. I am going to destroy him.
Chapter 80
Helen retraced her steps to the cavern where they had rested. Barnabus and the children were gone, but the mama bear still lay in front of the rock ledge, the arrow in her side. Her cub was pawing at her, trying to get her to move.
Oh, little one, she does not have the strength.
The mama bear let out a huff when she saw Helen. Helen knelt down next to her. “Thank you, my friend,” she said. “For helping us. For protecting us. May the gods speed you on to your next journey, and may they give you peace.”
As the bear looked up at her, Helen saw the soul in her eyes. Her mother had told her about the souls of animals, and about how each animal was here for a purpose—just like humans.
Helen laid a hand on the bear’s paw. “It’s all right. Your job here is done. I will take care of your little one.”
The bear watched her for a moment longer. Then her eyes closed and her chest went still. The cub let out a cry, and Helen felt her pain and her loneliness.
For a while, Helen just sat quietly, letting the cub mourn her mother. Finally the cub curled up next to Helen, and Helen laid a hand on her head. I am sorry, young one. Your mother was very brave.
She heard shuffling from one of the side tunnels, and then Barnabus and the children appeared. A quick count told her they were all there. Barnabus let out a relieved sigh when he saw her. “I took the children to a more defensible location,” Barnabus said. “Are you all right? And please tell me you killed them all.”
“I’m all right,” Helen said. “And the men are no longer a threat. One escaped. Four did not.”
He nodded. “Not bad.”
“Are all the children well?”
“They’re scared, and a few fell, but they suffered only scratches.”
“Good.” Helen lowered her voice. “I found the minotaur’s escape route.”
Barnabus grinned. “That is excellent—”
“The men covered it with an avalanche of rocks.”
Barnabus’s face fell. “That is not so excellent.”
“No, it’s not. We’ll just have to return to the entrance.” She looked at the children. The rest had done them good; she hoped they could handle another long walk.
“But there is no way to open the door from the inside,” Barnabus said.
“Oh, there’s a way.”
After covering the mama bear with rocks, and coaxing the cub to leave her, they set off through the maze, back the way they had come. Helen was worried about getting lost, but the rocks they had used to mark their path did their job, and they avoided taking any wrong turns. It was still a long journey, and Helen’s muscles ached, but she was driven forward by her impatience to deal with Minos. She felt such anger toward the man. Here she was, trying to stop a war, and what was he doing? Playing games.
Finally, they came around the final bend. The door to the entrance was just up ahead, still bolted shut. “Stop here,” Helen said. “Keep the children back. I'll go open the door."
Barnabus looked down the path at the immense door. "Open it? How?"
She shook her head, realizing Barnabus didn’t know the extent of her abilities. She waved her ring finger. “With a little help from the gods. Keep everyone back.” She moved forward a few feet to another alcove so she could focus. She closed her eyes and brought forth a memory of what the door looked like from the outside. She couldn’t have taken this approach to open the minotaur’s escape route, because she couldn’t picture what the outside world looked like at that location. But the door—that she could picture.
In her mind, she made clouds roll across the sky. A wind shrieked. Helen took in a deep breath, and as she exhaled, she called on the power of the sky. Four blasts of lightning, one right after the next, shrieked through the sky and struck the door, blasting it to bits.
Helen waved her hand at the resulting dust. She let the clouds depart, and down the tunnel, sunlight shone through the opening.
Barnabus gaped at her. “You—how—”
She patted his arm. “Sometimes it’s best to not ask questions. Now, how about we get out of here?”
Barnabus nodded. “I am in complete agreement.”
They led the children toward the opening. All of them blinked in the sudden brightness. “I’ll go first,” Helen said, wanting to make sure it was safe.
Barnabus shook his head. “You are lucky I am a confident male.”
Helen snorted. “I have never known one more confident,” she teased—then she thought of Achilles and Menelaus. Well, perhaps two.
She reached out with her senses but could not feel anyone or thing outside—at least, no one with abilities. Stepping cautiously through the door, blinking against the bright light, she looked down the path and at the trees. She saw no threats.
But she did see two women. They were huddled together just down the path, staring in awe at the shattered door. Their eyes were red, as if they had been crying. Helen recognized one of them as the one who had been attacked without mercy when she’d tried to run to her children.
Helen smiled. “It’s all right.”
The women scrambled to their feet, still clutching one another.
“Helen?” Barnabus called.
“Come on out. We’re good.”
Barnabus sent the children out ahead of him, protecting the rear. Kyrael and Samuel appeared at the entrance first, and one of the women let out a cry of joy. The young boy and his sister ran for their mother, tears streaming down their faces. The rest of the children followed, and three of them ran for the other woman, who fell to her knees to embrace them.
Barnabus kept the rest of the children with him. After a time, one of the women broke away from her children, ran to Barnabus, and hugged him tight, thanking him over and over again.
Helen rescued Barnabus from the woman and pulled him aside. “We need to keep the children hidden until Minos is taken care of.”
“All right, I’ll have the women watch over—”
“No. You need to stay with them. Keep them hidden.”
Barnabus narrowed his eyes. “You’re going to face Minos alone?”
Chapter 81
Helen wanted to get to Minos’s castle as quickly as possible—and that meant taking to the air. But not wanting to frighten the children, she jogged down the path until she was out of view before summoning a wind to lift her skyward.
Dark, gray clouds rolled behind her as she swooped down toward Minos’s castle. She landed in a storm of dust on the path in the outer courtyard. Four guards at the door saw her land, but they were apparently too stunned to react—they just looked at her with wide eyes.
Helen directed a wind toward two of them. It blew them off their feet. The other two guards finally shook off their shock and braced their spears. But when a second gust of wind tore open the door behind them, they looked at each other, dropped their spears, and took off at a run.
Helen stormed through the doors. Servants scurried out of the way, and no more guards appeared. She strode forward, knowing she needed to get control of her anger—but she was so truly sick of all these stupid games. People were losing their lives.
The animals went silent as Helen stepped into the inner courtyard; the sight of them only pushed her temper hotter. A long table had been set up in the center of the space, and thirty people dined—with Minos at the head. Helen stormed toward the table. “Where is it?” she demanded.
Minos looked up in surprise. Then he sat back, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and held up a hand, waving off his guards. “So you live. Tell me, did you listen to the children scream as they died? Did you let them die so you could survive?”
A strong gust of wind pushed over the pitchers on the table. “Where is it, Minos?” Helen demanded. “I am done with your games.”
Minos smiled as archers appeared on the balconies rimming the courtyard. “But I’m not done yet.”
Helen smiled back. Clouds rolled overhead and thunder crashed. “You really don’t understand who I am, do you?”
“I really don’t care.” Minos raised his hand to signal his men to fire.
Anger the likes of which Helen had never felt boiled through her. She was trying to save the world, and this petty little tyrant was trying to gain power. She brought down lightning on the archers. Some were struck dead on the spot, while other stumbled back in horror. She summoned a gust of wind and used it to lift the long table and fling it against a wall. She rained down hail the size of fists.
Minos’s guests scattered, screaming. Minos himself fell backward, his chair tipping over.
But the wind never touched Helen, and the hail created a clear path that led her straight to Minos. When he scrambled to his feet and ran for the door, a bolt a lightning crashed down in front of him. He fell back, screaming.
Helen lifted him by his tunic and slammed him into the wall. “Where are the contents of the box?”
“I—I—”
Helen slammed him into the wall again. It cracked, and pieces of plaster fell around him. “My patience is at an end,” she growled.
“It’s—it’s—it’s in my bedroom.”
She shoved him toward the doorway. “Show me.”
Chapter 82
Minos stumbled in front of Helen, his whole body shaking with fear. Wind slammed doors shut as they passed, destroying priceless works of art. Each time they passed an open window, thunder boomed and lightning struck.
By the time they reached Mino’s bedchamber, he was a shell of a man. He fumbled with the door handle but Helen simply blew the door off its hinges, sending it flying across the room. A servant who had been making the bed let out a shriek and backed against the wall, her eyes wide. Minos let out a screech himself.
Helen grabbed him by the back of his tunic and pushed him inside. “The contents.”
Minos fell to his knees and crawled to the opposite wall. He pushed past books and other treasures on his shelves before pulling out a box. It was an exact replica of the one from the cave, except this one was made of ivory. With trembling hands, he offered it to Helen.
“On the table,” she ordered. He obediently set the box on the marble table to his right. “You bastard.”
He scrambled back against the wall, and she saw that his tunic was now soaked in his own urine.
Helen lifted the lid of the box. Inside lay a scroll, obviously ancient, with a seal affixed to it—two triangles overlapping. It’s still here. But the seal had been broken. She snapped the box shut, and Minos jumped. “You opened it?”
“No, no, of course not.”
Helen glared. She didn’t believe him, but it didn’t matter. She had what she needed. But all the difficulties she had gone through to get to this point raced through her mind. All the pain the pitiful man in front of her had caused for his own amusement. She set the box back down on the table. “In the cave, the minotaur was a man,” she said. “He was about your age.”
The king looked away.
“You know who he was. Who?”
Minos shook his head. “I don’t—”
“Who?” Helen demanded.
“My brother,” Minos cried. He took a breath. “My brother. He was older than me, but not right. My parents sent him to the cave when he was eight.”
Helen felt sick. What kind of family was this? “You knew he was alive?”
“I—I had food delivered to him every month, ever since I learned he had survived.”
Helen paused. Minos had taken pity on his brother. “That action saved your life.”
She grabbed the box and headed for the door. But as she glanced once more over her shoulder, she saw that Minos had straightened, and the arrogance had crept back into his face.
Then Helen heard a cry. She paused, tilting her head. It came again. “What is that?”
“Nothing. Nothing, my queen.”
Helen narrowed her eyes. A wind blew through the room, rustling all the curtains. Behind one, she saw a door. She walked over to it.
Minos scurried after her. “There’s nothing in there. Nothing important.”
Helen tried the handle. It was locked. “The key.”
“I don’t seem to—”
Helen kicked the door open.
The door led to a small, dark room. Three boys were chained to the walls, their arms and legs held tightly in place. They wore only loincloths. Helen guessed they were only about seven years old.
Helen turned to Minos. “Why are they here?” she asked quietly.
“They—their families could not control them. They begged me to take them. They are evil—possessed by evil spirits.”
Helen glanced at the serving woman, who shook her head slightly.
“Don’t move,” Helen ordered Minos. Placing the box on the ground, she grabbed a key that hung just inside the door and used it to unlock the shackles around the boys’ wrists and ankles. The first two boys just slumped to the ground. The third, his eyes big, tears streaming down his face, fell to Helen’s feet and croaked, “Thank you. Thank you, mistress.”
Helen gently pulled him to his feet. “What is your name?”
“Orestes.”
“We’ll get you to your family, Orestes.”
“I have no family,” he said.
“Why?”
“They were killed when I was taken. My father spoke against the king. These are my cousins. We are all that is left.”
Helen whirled on Minos, who was trying to sneak away. “Is this true?”
“No, they lie. They would say anything to—”
“Be quiet.”
Helen knelt down and picked up one of the other two boys. He was barely conscious. “Orestes, have you enough strength to lift your other cousin?”
“Yes.” Orestes quickly wrapped his arms around the other boy.
Helen walked over to the serving woman and placed the boy in her arms. “See that they are fed, clothed, bathed, and taken care of. They are under my protect
ion now. Is that understood?”
The woman glanced quickly toward Minos. “He—what he does to them is not natural.”
Helen went still. She saw Orestes look down, shame in his eyes. She turned to him and spoke softly. “Look at me, Orestes.” She waited until he complied. “What he did—that is his shame, not yours.”
“But I—”
Helen held his gaze. “Did nothing wrong. Do you understand?”
Orestes nodded. But Helen knew it would be a long road for him to truly accept that fact. After Theseus, it had taken her a long time as well. “Go on. You are safe now.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I am sure.”
“Thank you, mistress.”
Orestes and the serving woman walked slowly from the bedchamber, carrying the other two boys.
“You—you will be leaving now?” Minos asked hopefully.
Helen tried to keep a lid on her anger. “In a few days. I have a long list of things I need to do before I go.”
“Is there anything I can do to speed your departure?” he asked.
Helen grabbed the box from the table. Thunder rumbled. “Actually, there is.”
Half a dozen bolts of lightning shot through the window and struck Minos. The force flung him across the room into the wall, his skull cracking. He fell to the floor in a smoking, smoldering heap.
Well, that’s one thing off the list.
Chapter 83
Helen wanted to leave immediately, but in good conscience she could not. Crete was without a leader, and she knew all too well how evil people could step into a power vacuum and create a situation much more dire than the one these people had just escaped. So she and Barnabus spent two days in Crete searching for a new leader who would restore the freedoms of the people.
They first considered Minos’s son, but he was far too young to take the mantle. Minos also had a few cousins, but after speaking with them Helen was convinced they would be any better than the deceased king. But then she came across Gaelous. He was the next adult in line for the throne, but in order to protect his family from Minos, he had renounced his claim to the throne fifteen years ago. Ever since, he led a quiet life as a blacksmith. Yet word was that he was well liked by the people of Crete—he was known as a good man who cared for others.
