Max felt for his dagger. He sought the comfort of the worn oak handle. His heart sank as he realized that he had left it in the maze. He looked for Blaise’s sword but it was missing. Max saw it inside its buoyant leather sheath floating in the now unsettled waters.
Without hesitation Max took three steps, bringing himself to full speed before he dove off the pier. Moments before he plunged in the icy water, he heard the squid roar in dismay at this strange development. The water was dark and murky. Max swam in the direction he believed would lead him to the sword.
The water grew calm and Max stopped swimming. He scanned the impossibly muddied water for any sign of the beast. An impact, like that of a comet, smashed into Max from his left. His vision was blacked out as he tumbled through the water.
The air was forced from his lungs and he attempted to cough. Water rushed into his lungs and silenced his would-be screams.
He struggled to swim to the surface, but he found that his entire body was immobilized. Giant suction cups on the squid’s tentacle had attached themselves to Max. His head was nearly covered as it was sucked in further. With his vision robbed from him, he struggled to break free. It seemed that the harder he struggled, the further the suction cups pulled him in.
The tentacle lurched upward, shooting out of the water. The squid brought the tentacle only feet from his face. It seemed that he wanted to examine the catch he had made. He moved the tentacle away, regarding Max with disinterest. The squid curled the tentacle high in the air before plunging it back toward the lake.
Max, who was still gasping for breath was rocked face-first against the water. It felt to him like he collided with a wall of solid stone. He felt his nose crushed against the water. His limbs bent back at odd angles. They felt useless at his sides.
At the end of the squid’s arc the suction cups relented, allowing Max to tumble toward the bottom. He felt strangely at peace. There was no oxygen left and his brain seemed to have shut off any higher thinking. He opened his mouth and allowed the water to rush in, speeding him to his end.
He landed gently on the bottom. His hands reached out on either side and rested on the sand. His fingers dug into the sand and pulled out handfuls, and as he tossed them into the water they dispersed in clouds before falling back to the ground.
His left hand closed against something lying in the sand. He brought it to his face and realized it was Blaise’s sword. It must have sunk to the bottom. The memory of Blaise stirred Max to his senses. He kicked off from the bottom and swam as quickly as he could toward the surface. Blood pounded in his head and white spots danced in his vision. As he thought he was going to pass out he broke the water’s surface.
He gasped for breath, coughing and sputtering. The sword grasped in his hand, he took a deep breath before heading back into the water. Underwater it was a forest of tentacles. Max weaved in and out of the peripheral limbs trying the reach the monster’s core.
The body of the squid was large and grotesque. The thousands of eyes scanned around watching for any assailant. Smaller, nimbler tentacles guarded the beast’s underbelly. They glowed blue as if an electric current ran through them.
Max knew that this was practically suicide. But he knew it was the only chance he had of saving Blaise. He kicked hard and propelled himself toward the beast. One of the blue tentacles shot toward him with the speed of an arrow.
He brought the blade up to block the assault. The sword severed the limb but an electric shock passed down the blade. The wrapped handle helped to mute the intensity of the charge but Max still convulsed as the current passed through his body.
Dozens of more blue tentacles shot out towards him. He paddled hard upward propelling his body out range of the electric limbs. The tentacles passed inches from his face and their hot electric currents still pulsed through his body, burning his nerves like white-hot flames.
He kicked up, breaking the surface only feet from the colossal head of the beast. Max saw Blaise being tossed from one tentacle to another as the squid played with its prey. Max paddled forward bit by bit, but his slight splashing drew the attention of a thousand wary eyes. The squid shrieked and it tentacles began to thrash about.
This close to its body the squid could not maneuver its tentacles quickly. They splashed about trying to squash the miniature assassin. Max swam between two tentacles that could not seem to bend themselves back to reach him.
In a few short strokes he made it to the head of the beast. Without a moment’s hesitation he plunged the blade down, slicing through dozens of the beady eyes as it sank into the monster’s flesh. The squid roared in anguish and darted its whole body down into the water. The blade, still lodged in the beast, was wrenched from Max’s grip.
Blaise’s limp body was tossed high into the air. Max traced the arc of his lifeless body as it fell downward, splashing into the lake. His eyes searched the waves where Blaise had landed, hoping he would surface, knowing he would not.
The minutes seemed long as Max struggled against the currents. The squid’s movements below the lake caused waves on the surface. They crashed and hindered Max, filling his lungs with their water. Max’s heart quivered, knowing that the creature lurked just below him and could at any second yank him to his watery grave.
He dove beneath the waves. He spotted Blaise’s body floating slowly toward the bottom. The squid was nowhere in sight and so Max made for his falling body. Just as Blaise touched the bottom Max reached him.
Wrapping Blaise’s arm around his own neck, Max began the steady ascent toward the surface. The seconds passed and Max knew that Blaise would die if he weren’t resuscitated soon.
They surfaced next to a section of the pier still standing in the middle of the lake. Using all his strength he hoisted Blaise up onto the shattered splinter of the pier. He climbed on after him and took quickly to the task of saving his dear friend.
He had no training in CPR or first aid. He knew only what he had read in books or seen on television. Luckily for Max Blaise began to cough up water and breathe. The only thing Max had to do was stop the massive bleeding from multiple lacerations across Blaise’s chest and neck.
Max tore parts of his own overcoat into longs strips and used them to wrap the wounds. In seconds the blood soaked them and they needed to be replaced. Max hurried but things were becoming messy. Blood covered his hands and made them slick. Each bandage he placed became sodden in moments and the blood continued to flow. Max knew that if he didn’t find a way to stop the bleeding Blaise would die in his arms.
Even as he scrambled to clog the wounds Max sensed a presence rising in the water. The waves were becoming rough as the beast began to surface again. Its tentacles tore through the water dragging its body with them. As it launched out of the deep Max spotted the sword still lodged in its head.
The giant beast reared up, staring with pure hatred toward Max. Max knew this was the end. There was no hope left of survival for him or his friend. Even if he survived the initial attack, he knew Blaise would drown or be eaten by the beast. And Max knew that he was too tired to make it back to shore. This was it.
The beast raised it massive body and prepared to strike a finishing blow. Just then Max heard a whistling noise from behind him. He turned his head as a black streak flew past him and buried itself into the squid’s head. The beast shrieked as the arrow stuck in one of its many eyes. Three more arrows streaked across the sky and found their marks.
Max now saw a figured garbed in black wielding a large bow. He stood knee-deep in the lake water nimbly firing arrow after arrow toward the beast. The squid shot its tentacles behind itself, pushing with surprising grace and speed for its massive size. Before the beast could reach the shore the warrior had sank half a dozen more arrows into it.
He dodged under a swinging tentacle and loosed an arrow into the beast’s open mouth. It groaned in pain as it swung a tentacle toward the warrior, colliding with him and sending him flying. The squid struck a tentacle down, hoping to crush the stu
nned warrior. But the man rolled, dodging the blow. While the tentacle still lingered on the ground the man unsheathed his dagger and thrusted it deep into the squid’s limb. He yanked it out, severing the nerve cord. The tentacle flopped helplessly about, the signals from the brain unable to be processed.
The man leapt over a swinging limb and ducked under another before reaching his bow. He strung two arrows and shot them straight into the beast’s mouth. Striking against the back of its throat the arrows made the squid roar in agony and begin to retreat. Its tentacles flailed, trying to disengage it from the shore. Meanwhile the warrior loosed arrow after arrow into the panicked beast, until it sank under the surface of the water.
Max looked on with a sense of great relief as the beast sank defeated into the depths. He felt suddenly tired and felt himself falling asleep right where he stood. As he fell down he toppled off the pier and into the lake. Fast asleep.
Chapter 9
Max awoke. He struggled to pull his mind from his dreams into reality. His body ached and his muscles were stiff. Next to him lay Blaise. His wounds were patched and wrapped neatly but his skin was pale and his breathing labored.
“He should make it through this,” a voice spoke.
Max turned to see the black-garbed warrior who had defeated the squid. He sat next to a roaring fire.
“Did you save me from the lake?” Max asked.
The man was fully clothed in black. Even his face was wrapped in a black turban so that only his eyes could be seen. The eyes regarded Max compassionately.
“Yes, I suppose I did. I swam out and retrieved you and your friend. You seemed fine, just a little bruised up, but the other one, he was badly cut. It took everything I had to save him and it almost wasn’t enough,” the man stated.
“I thank you very much—,” Max paused waiting for the man to supply his name.
“Oh my, where are my manners? My name is Ishmael. I am a messenger of the king. I believe you have sent for my aid?”
Max studied the man. His ensemble was not what Max had seen to be customary of those in service to the king. He also bore no seals or marking to distinguish his place as a member of the king’s messengers.
“How can I be sure you are who you claim?” asked Max.
“I know you must be cautious, but I assure you that you have nothing to fear. I was in the chamber the day the king sent you and Prince Blaise on your mission.” The man eyed Max.
The voice seemed somewhat familiar to him. Perhaps he had been one of the men who had been conversing with the councilmen or had greeted Blaise. Anyway, he was satisfied that at the very least this man meant them no harm. If he had wanted them dead he could have let them drown. But he had saved them.
“So what is it exactly that has caused you to request my services?” The man looked toward Max.
Max relayed the entire story, starting from their departure from the king’s chamber. He told him of X’s demand and that he would be needed to be taken back to deliver the message to the king. He told him of the witch, of the cave, and of the squid. The man did not speak but seemed engrossed within Max’s telling.
“So you have acquired three letters?” The man asked.
“Yes, G, X, and Q but X is the only one needing to be transported,” said Max.
“No, I’m sorry to inform you,” the man spoke, “but the king has requested that I retrieve both of the letters mentioned in your request and return them to the royal vault for safekeeping.”
“Well, I guess that makes sense.” Max said.
Max withdrew the letters from the bag in which he had placed them.
“What is this?” demanded X. “Looks quite the unsavory fellow, this one does. Won’t be going with him. No way. No how.”
“Is U with you?” Q asked the messenger.
G remained silent. The two men ignored the letters.
“Very good. Now if I could just have G and X. As I have no explicit orders, Q may remain in your possession for the time being.” Max handed the messenger the two letters and he sealed them in an envelope bearing the king’s seal.
“I must be leaving for a short time to pick up a royal package. When I return I have further instructions to relate to you from the king. When your friend awakes you should continue your task. Until we meet again, Max.” The man jumped onto his horse turned swiftly, and rode off.
It was another hour or so before Blaise was awake and ready to move. He was stiff and sore, but it appeared he was only a bit worse for wear. When he came to, Max explained to him about the messenger and Blaise seemed satisfied. Max helped him up and they began the ascent up the hill.
The ascent was long and tiresome. Max struggled to support Blaise, as they climbed the rocky and uneven hill. It took over an hour to reach the top. The clearing was empty. The man and his birds were nowhere to be seen. Max left Blaise outside leaning up against a tree and searched the house. Several things had been taken and it seemed the hermit had taken off.
Returning to Blaise, Mas took Q from the bag and admired his prize. It seemed they would have to continue toward the Cyclops’s tower without any further intelligence. Max rested his head against the tree. His eyes closed as he dreamed of finally finishing the quest.
He heard a stream trickling somewhere in the distance. Leaves rustled gently in the wind, like a lover whispering sweet words into the air. Birds sang sweetly, their songs lulling Max gently nearly to sleep. His eyelids that had just been resting now felt too heavy for him to lift. Deep inside himself he felt his body succumbing to sleep. Seconds away from it he hovered just inches from the wondrous clouds of dream.
Suddenly the Q was ripped from his hands. He shot awake to see a bird with the letter clutched in its beak flying toward the old hermit, who was running out from behind a tree. Ax shouted for Blaise to wake.
Max sprang to his feet and made for the robber. Birds shot out like a swarms of locust from the trees. Max batted them from his path as they pecked and scraped at his skin. Behind, Max heard Blaise string an arrow. Then a whistling noised passed Max’s ear. The shaft seemed to be possessed as it weaved in and out of the birds avoiding all those save its final target.
The arrow struck the bird only feet from the man. The letter rolled to the ground and the old man ran toward it. Max dove, one hand reaching out for the letter; the other cocked back to strike. His first hand landed on the letter; the second exploded, crushing into the man’s jaw and sending him tumbling backward.
Max pressed the letter firmly to his breast and rolled to his feet. Blaise’s whistling arrows had forced the birds to disperse into the trees. Now only the three men remained. The hermit lay on the ground semiconscious, holding several of his teeth in his hands.
Max helped him to his feet and began questioning him.
“Was this your plan all along? To just steal the letter from us even if we won the contest?” Max paused for a second, but the hermit only mumbled in confusion.
“What about the enchanted maze or the monster in the lake? Was that all your doing? “Max’s face was flushed red with anger.
“Perhaps.”
“Do you not have any morals?”
“Only what society has given me: An eye for eye, and no breakfast after ten-thirty.”
The hermit studied the wounds that covered Blaise’s body. He noticed the bandages wrapped around his chest and neck. He also saw that Blaise was sickly pale from a loss of blood.
“I see my friends gave you a little present. It seems like they really liked you. No?” The old man cackled.
“They were just delighted to see me,” said Blaise, “as they were the blades that pierced them.”
The hermit stopped laughing. “Any harm that has befallen my pets will be paid in kind against your kingdom. If one branch is broken a thousand houses will burn!”
“Then I suppose you shall have to burn every house. For when my father hears of your little estate he will not tolerate its existence. This forest will be razed to the ground and that mo
nster will be slaughtered and burnt.” Blaise stared at the man with cool eyes.
“Your father? Your father the king? He is nothing more than a brazen old fool unfit to rule even a chicken coup. His incompetence is laughable. It has cost your kingdom more than you could ever know.”
“You know nothing of my father.”
The hermit said. “My dear boy, the truth is that I know too much about your father. I know too much about the truths of this world. It is scary, too scary for delusional princes and little boys.”
“You are crazy. It is people like you that make foolish men too paranoid to trust each other. You ramble about silly conspiracies that don’t exist,” Blaise said.
“I speak not of conspiracies, but rather of truths. Truths that wrapped themselves around us so fully that we can scarcely see what is out there, what is ours for the taking.” “The hermit spoke accusingly.
“The only things we are hidden from are the very vices that would destroy us. If we all took the path that you have then the world would collapse in chaos.”
“Not chaos but renaissance.”
“You have gained nothing through your effort. You claim you are powerful as a god yet, you are alone. Your powers are no aid to you and you stand at the mercy of this delusional prince and this little boy.” Blaise drew back the string on his bow and notched an arrow. He aimed the arrow at the hermit’s chest.
The hermit was afraid, but he sought to hide it. His bottom lip quivered and sweat poured from his brow. He struggled to compose himself and then he spoke. “Don’t you see that your father has robbed you of your rights? He controls what is reported in the kingdom. He decides which victories are embellished and which losses are omitted. In his infinite wisdom he determines what people may read, what they may say, what they may do. You do not see the world as it truly is. You only see the world as your father see fit for you to see it.”
Blaise shifted where he stood. He wanted to claim that everything the man said was a lie. He himself had helped the king decide which losses to downsize and which victories to embellish. He believed it was for the good of the people.
Maxwell's Closet Page 7
