The Ancient Labyrinth 3 Page 3

  He shook his head, clearing it. He needed to be completely focused to successfully control the Darkness. Removing the lid of the vase, he stepped away quickly, trying to avoid the inevitable memories. It was futile. The Darkness whispered eerily and his vision blurred. He found himself back in the town he had grown up in. The alarm bells were clanging again. Skjor knew this was a year after his first memory. The second time the raiders had come.

  Out on an errand for one of the townspeople, Skjor immediately dropped the parcel he was carrying and ran frantically towards the tavern. His sister Annalee had taken up work there to earn them some money. He had to get her out of there before the raiders arrived.

  He heard the sounds of fighting begin all over the town. People screamed, chaotically running through the streets, trying to find a safe place to wait out the raid. No one paid any attention to him as he pelted towards the large building near the centre of the town.

  By the time he reached the tavern, he was out of breath. He stopped, hiding across the street. His heart plummeted. Townsfolk were streaming out of the building. The sound of raiders upending tables and chairs and the smash of glass told him that they were inside. He watched in horror as two raiders outside the doors of the tavern ruthlessly cut down the people trying to flee. As if in slow motion, he saw Annalee leave the building. He saw her hesitate when she laid eyes on the dying people scattered at the front of the tavern. Her stricken look tore at his heart. A second later, the blade of a raider buried itself in her chest. Skjor screamed in agony as his sister crumpled backwards, the raider withdrawing his blood-reddened sword. The man looked up and towards his hiding spot, his eyes connecting with Skjor’s. A malicious grin spread across his face. He’d heard him scream. He crossed the town square, heading for Skjor’s position.

  Skjor waited, paralysed. He watched the raider approach and waited for the killing blow. At least I will see Annalee again. His heart broke as he realised what he’d just admitted to himself. His sister was dead.

  Numbly, his eyes followed the swing of the sword as it pulled back in preparation for a stabbing blow. He didn’t try to move out of the way. He didn’t even want to.

  A flash of light accompanied by the ring of metal on metal jerked Skjor out of his stupor. He looked up at the person who’d intercepted the raider’s strike. His breath rushed out.

  A Protector.

  The man quickly and efficiently dispatched the raider, while two more of his kind sent the rest of the raiders fleeing.

  The Protector leaned down. “Are you all right, lad?”

  Skjor could barely even tolerate glaring at the man. He hated him. He shoved away and ran towards his sister. Why had the Protector saved him and not his sister? Or his parents? Why couldn’t they have let him die, instead of leaving him to live without a family?

  Annalee was still breathing, but faintly. Her beautiful blue eyes fluttered open as Skjor collapsed beside her, taking her hand. She gave him a weak smile. Tears blurred his vision, but he blinked them back, desperate not to break down in front of his sister. He had to be strong for her.

  “I...I lo...” she began. She winced. The effort of speaking was obviously too much. Blood speckled her lips.

  “Don’t talk, Annalee,” Skjor begged. “Save your strength.”

  A sorrowful smile tugged at her mouth. “I love you, Skjor,” she whispered. She stared at him a moment longer before her hand went limp. The light faded from her eyes.

  He couldn’t stop the tears this time.

  The vision faded. The Councillor stood still for a moment. A single tear ran down his cheek. Furious, he swiped it away and began chanting the old words of power. His family would be avenged. The Protectors would pay for not doing their job properly.

  The Darkness began to seethe and hiss, resisting the controlling magic. The Councillor could always feel it resenting him as he shaped it to his will. He fought back the bitterness of the Darkness and kept chanting. Snaking trails of thick, gooey Darkness crept out of the urn and started forming into disfigured shapes. As they began to solidify into more definite wolverine features, he finished off the spell. The Darkness stopped flowing, hissing quietly in the vase.

  Crowded in the cell and overflowing into the corridors was a horde of Darkness wolves. The Councillor smirked. The royal family and their pathetic soldiers didn’t know how to fight the Darkness; they wouldn’t get past his new wolf army. Even the exalted Protectors would struggle to defeat the vast numbers.

  The wolves snarled and slathered, keen to go on the hunt.

  “Stay here,” the Councillor commanded. You’ll have your fun when the time comes.” He replaced the lid gingerly on the vase. A small frown creased his forehead. The vase was ancient, he knew, but had it always had so many cracks in it? It looked like it was being held together by magic alone. Unease flitted briefly through his mind. What would happen if the vase shattered?

  He shrugged the idea off and dismissed the uneasiness. That would never happen. The Darkness was secure. His own immense power and the strange symbols on the vase made sure of that.

  He turned and strode out of the room. The Darkness wolves had already vacated the area, wandering through the dim dungeon corridors. He closed and locked the door behind him, hurrying back to the main council chamber to keep an eye on the annoying pair bent on destroying his power.

  ***

  Behind the locked door, the vase rocked on its stool, a muffled demonic screaming leaking past the lid. More cracks appeared, scoring through the three main symbols down the front. A tiny chink of the pottery popped from its place, bouncing off the stool and clattering to the floor, the flowing pattern of the first symbol broken.

  A small blob of Darkness oozed from the gap the broken piece had created. The Darkness seethed quietly to itself.

  The time was drawing near...

  3 Cierra

  Cierra followed Dru closely in the forbidding darkness of the underground maze. The makeshift torch he carried flickered in the small breezes floating through the stone corridors. The wind also brought with it strange echoing sounds from deep within the Labyrinth. She shivered and tugged the red cloak tighter around herself.

  “Are we still going in the right direction?” Dru asked.

  She held her glowing bracelet up. The jewel charm shone brightly, casting almost as much light as the torch. It pointed straight ahead, but as they came to a fork in the road, it veered off to the left.

  “That way,” she said, pointing down the left-hand pathway. As she did, an eerie scraping noise drifted from the tunnel. “But we might be able to circle around from the right,” she amended quickly.

  Dru almost chuckled. “We’ll be fine, Cierra. Come on.” He led the way down the left corridor.

  “Fine?” she asked, hurrying after him. “You’re the one who told me people come down here all the time and are never seen again! What if those noises are coming from whatever got them?”

  “I’d say it’s far more likely that people got lost and couldn’t find the way out rather than them being attacked,” he replied.

  “Then wouldn’t we see…” she gulped, disgusted. “Wouldn’t we see … skeletons?”

  “We might, deeper in the Labyrinth.”

  She shuddered. “Please, no.”

  “Stop worrying, I’m sure there’s nothing down here.” Dru’s voice was confident, almost convincing her.

  “If that’s the case, then what are all the creepy noises?”

  “Probably echoes floating down from the entrances. Why should there be anything dangerous down here? No one has ever reported seeing anything.”

  “Yes, because nobody ever survives to be able to tell anything!” Cierra snapped. “Besides, Dru, you have dangerous things on the surface. In a world like yours that is under the influence of the Darkness, I’d say it’s a pretty fair guess that there is something down here. Especially if the Keyhole is down here. The Councillor has tried to stop us before. I don’t see why it should be any different
this time around.”

  Dru looked to the roof of the tunnel and let out a slow, exasperated breath. “I was only trying to reassure you. If you didn’t talk as much, I think you’d be a lot better off.”

  Cierra was stung. “Sorry,” she muttered and fell silent.

  After a minute, he sighed. “I’m sorry, Cierra. Talk if it makes you feel better. I’ll try not to snap at you. I’m a bit on edge, trying to concentrate on the threats at hand.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t mind. Anyway, I’m sure you’re right. There won’t be anything dangerous down here.”

  He glanced back at her and she glimpsed a wry smile in the flickering light.

  “Are you trying to reassure me now?” he asked.

  “Is it working?”

  He snorted. “Almost.”

  He stopped unexpectedly and she bumped into him.

  “What-” she began, but he motioned for her to be quiet. She strained her ears, but couldn’t hear anything. Even the creepy noises had subsided for the time being.

  After a moment, he shrugged and continued walking. “I thought I heard someone following us.”

  “Or something,” Cierra said quietly. She gazed into the darkness behind them, but could see no glaring red eyes. She spun back quickly and hurried closer to Dru.

  “This place is worse than some of the foster homes I get sent to,” Cierra commented absently, trying to distract herself from the gloominess and scraping sounds that had resumed.

  She bumped into Dru a second time as he stopped abruptly.

  “Dru!” she exclaimed. “Stop doing that! At least give me some warning.”

  He turned to her. “Foster homes?”

  Dang it, Cierra thought, realising what she’d let slip. “They’re just places I’ve stayed at,” she said breezily, trying to forestall the questions she sensed would come. Dreading the pity and disdain that often came from people when they found out that she was an unwanted child, changing families often.

  But Dru was a Protector and trained to pick up on things that were hidden. She could see it in his eyes as they reflected the flames. He could sense her secret pain.

  She looked away before he could completely bare her soul. “It’s nothing,” she whispered.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, with unusual gentleness for him.

  Cierra shrugged. “There’s not much to tell,” she said, trying to avoid the issue.

  He continued to stare at her, his sympathetic eyes asking to be told her story.

  She sighed, resigned to telling him at least part of it. “My parents were killed in a plane crash when I was about three years old. They were on their honeymoon, which my grandmother had insisted that they finally take, even paying for half of it. When they died, I was sent to live with her. She was my only relative. She never got over their deaths, I think partly because she felt guilty. She’d been the one to tell them to go. It got too much for her and she died a few years later.” She paused as old, painful memories were pulled to the surface.

  Dru said nothing, waiting for her continue when she was ready. She could tell that they wouldn’t be moving on until she told him more.

  “That’s when my life as a foster child began. I’ve been in so many different families over the last nine years that I don’t remember all of them clearly. Truth be told, I don’t even want to remember some of them. They don’t abuse us or anything, but you don’t always connect with a family you’re put with.” She swallowed. “Sometimes, the children can be cruel. They feel threatened, like you might take their place in their family.”

  “Don’t the Protectors of your world stop them?” Dru asked.

  “You mean the authorities?” She shrugged. “It’s kids messing about to them. Besides, foster children have reputations for being right little brats and troublemakers and when it’s the family’s word against ours... well, we’re not always taken seriously.”

  “That’s not very fair.”

  A cynical laugh slipped out before she could stop it. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you, Dru? Life isn’t fair. It’s just fairer for the lucky ones.”

  A loud scraping startled them out of their conversation. Neither of them had noticed the noises becoming louder and louder as they talked. It sounded as if whatever was making them was just around the corner ahead, and coming closer.

  Dru started backing up, keeping Cierra behind him, out of the direct line of danger. She didn’t think he even noticed he was doing it – for him, it was a reflex reaction; protect those around him.

  The torch flickered violently, threatening to go out. He handed it over to her.

  “Quick, take it.”

  As soon as it was out of his hands, he unsheathed his sword and flicked open his wrist device, the shield unfolding and clicking together into a solid metal plate.

  The noise continued to grow, the echoes making it seem closer than it was. Cierra was certain she could hear the tapping of hooves, but it was masked by angry snorting. A shadow appeared on the wall by the corner, growing larger and larger. Ferocious pointed horns were clearly visible.

  She tugged on Dru’s cape, desperate to run. He held his ground.

  “If we run now it will chase us,” he hissed. “Undoubtedly, it knows this place a lot better than we do – it would catch us in a matter of minutes. And you aren’t the most fleet-footed person either.”

  Cierra was too scared to rise to the insult about her clumsiness. She kept her gaze fixed on the corner, waiting for the monster to appear. She was ready to run at the slightest sign of danger, no matter what Dru thought of her physical abilities.

  When the creature rounded the corner, Dru was ready. He leapt forwards, striking with incredible speed that startled her, ripping the folds of his cape out of her clutching fingers.

  The creature snorted in surprise and stumbled back, dodging the blow by centimetres. It reared its head back, eyes wide, the whites glimmering in the glow from the torch.

  “What in the world?” breathed Cierra. “A minotaur?”

  The creature stood on two legs, which looked like the hind quarters of a bull. It had a man’s torso and arms, although the hair on them grew thicker than she had ever seen on the average male. The face was almost human as well – apart from the bull’s ears and horns that sprouted from the top of his head. Thick, brown curls tumbled over his forehead and fell in tousled locks around his strange ears. A glowing stone on a chain around his neck shed bright light around him.

  Dru struck again, managing to score a slight scratch on the minotaur’s arm, shaving off some of the copious amounts of hair. The minotaur staggered, falling against the wall behind him. He had nowhere left to go.

  He looked down at the scratch starting to bleed then at Dru. “What was that for?” he asked petulantly. “I didn’t do anything to you. You should be more careful when swinging around that sword of yours. Innocent bystanders could get hurt. Like myself, for example.” He slid down the wall, sitting with his back against it. He looked so much like a wronged toddler, Cierra couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.

  Dru hesitated. She could practically see the gears turning in his head, Protector instincts kicking in. He was judging whether or not the minotaur was trying to lull him into a false sense of safety.

  She pushed past him, flicking off his hand as he tried to stop her. “Are you okay? Sorry about him,” she said, jerking her head to where Dru stood. “We weren’t sure if you were an enemy or not.”

  The minotaur eyed Dru and his sword suspiciously. “Do you treat every person you meet like that?”

  “Not everyone,” Cierra said. She turned to Dru. “Put the sword away.”

  Reluctantly, he did as he was told.

  The minotaur snorted. “Too late now. The damage has been done, hasn’t it?” he whined, pointing to the scratch. It was a tiny mark. Already, most of the bleeding had stopped, but the minotaur continued to whimper as if it was a fatal wound.

  Cierra giggled. She knelt in front of the M
inotaur and pulled out the small vial that Elamiina had handed her before she left, regarding it thoughtfully.

  In case of emergencies, Elamiina had said. What did that mean exactly?

  The minotaur’s eyes opened wide. “Is that...?”

  Dru knelt beside her, taking the vial and inspecting it. He unstoppered it and sniffed the contents. “Where did you get this?”

  “Elamiina gave it to me,” Cierra replied, confused by their reactions. “Why? What is it?”

  “This is Stardazzle Potion,” said Dru. “It’s very rare. Most people don’t even see this in their entire lifetime.”

  “But what does it do?”

  “It will heal almost any ailment,” the minotaur said, gazing reverentially at the small jar. “If there is anything wrong with you, a couple of drops of this will have you back on your hooves in no time. It’s incredibly rare. Practically no one has access to it and it’s very, very expensive if you do.” He looked at her. “This Elamiina person must like you a lot to hand this over.”

  Cierra was bewildered. “But I hardly even knew her,” she murmured. Dru handed the vial back. She held it over the minotaur’s arm. He drew away.

  “No, no, no! You shouldn’t waste it on my insignificant scratch. Save it for when you really need it,” he said.

  “I don’t mind, it’ll only be one drop,” Cierra told him. “I really want to see how it works.”

  The minotaur hesitated for a second, then proffered his arm. “Just one drop then.”

  Cierra carefully let one sparkling drop of the liquid fall from the lip of the vial. It splashed onto the minotaur’s skin, absorbing quickly, twinkling and flashing as it went to work on the wound. In mere seconds there was no sign of the scratch. A dried trail of blood was the only indicator that he’d been hurt.

  The minotaur giggled. “Oooh, it tickles!” He flexed his arm. “Wow, it really does work wonders! My arm feels as good as new. Better, even! I never thought I’d ever see that potion in my life, let alone have it used on me. And that’s saying something, considering how long I’ve lived!” He got to his feet, offering a hand to help Cierra up. She realised how tall he was when he towered a full head and shoulders above Dru. That wasn’t even including his massive horns.