Keepers of the Labyrinth (18 page)

30

T
he torchlight cast a warm glow around them, and Lil felt a surge of energy as they moved forward. This passage was larger, wider. The ceiling was higher. There was more space. More air. Less death.

Lil glanced at her watch. It was two o'clock in the morning. Seven p.m. in Vermont. Dad would be eating dinner soon alone, his mind spinning with unanswered questions as night was falling. And here was Lil feeling the bounce of the disk by her waist. With the labrys leading the way, surely she was coming closer to answers. What they were she didn't know.

“If these are all ancient artifacts,” Charlie mused, “then this place—this labyrinth—is a treasure trove. Archaeologists would die to see this stuff.”

“It just doesn't make sense,” Sydney said. “If Bente and the others knew this was down here, why not just turn it in and make money?”

“Put it in museums,” Kat said, coughing. “Why hide it?”

Lil shook her head. “I don't know.” Her throat was still raw from the smoke, and she automatically reached for her hip, as if her water bottle holder might be there, but her hand came up empty.

The sound of a flag tossing in the wind flapped overhead. She looked up, holding the torch high. She spotted a large, winglike sail. Ten feet farther, she could detect the corner of another.

“I think this is it,” Sydney whispered.

Lil jerked to a stop. She was so busy looking at the sails, she hadn't even noticed the door to their right.

“See,” Sydney said, moving a large root to the side, revealing the labrys. Unlike the dark and multicolored rocks that made up the passageways, this labrys was made out of white sandstone. As the light radiated over it, she could see the surface was rough with what looked like fossilized leaves.

Lil panned the torchlight over the door until the glow landed on a dusty old plaque to the right. The English, at the bottom, was covered by twigs and sticks, and Lil reached down and pulled the debris away until they could see the inscription.

Daedalus—the first to test flight,

Gre
at inventor, miscalc
ulated height?

And h
is boy would meet a
sorry plight.

If onl
y they had flown at
night.

Creation to d
estruction bends

Des
pite a father's wish
to make amends.

Sel
ect the tool he used
to mend

And a helpi
ng hand do lend.

Charlie quickly scribbled the text into her notebook, flipping the page and proceeding to the next. Lil looked both ways down the hall, tapping her foot.

“All set,” Charlie said, nodding.

Lil looked up at the sconce by the window. “Would you like to do the honors?” she asked, looking to Sydney.

Sydney scowled. “Not particularly.”

Lil reached up and pulled the sconce. As the door opened, a small switch flipped at the hinge and the chamber lit with a soft glow. They stepped inside and the door closed, bolts locking into place.

The room was round. And as Lil peered inside, it took a moment to realize what she was seeing. Lamps popped to life all around the walls, springing out like little glowing toadstools of varying colors. Candle flames hooded by stained glass. Malformed and thick stained glass, but stained glass, nevertheless. They were all different, as if each were a useful experiment but not yet perfected.

The rest of the room was a mess. A rough-hewn desk sat against the far wall. Tablets were scattered from the desk to the floor. Chisels and daggers, cudgels and arrowheads hung from hooks on the walls. One corner was a resting place for a large, floor-to-ceiling labrys. Other hooks were vacant, their tools scattered on the floor. A sculpture loomed to the right, a half-formed face emerging from the rock. Next to it sat a long bench with tablets covered in fossilized leaves. The plants that had made the prints had long since disintegrated.

The strangest piece was the wheel protruding from the left wall sitting parallel to the floor.

“And there are the wings,” Charlie said, looking up. Lil glanced toward the ceiling.

There was fabric stretched over thin wooden frames. Some had tapered edges, others rounded. Some were shaped like dragon or bat wings, others like the long, smooth wingspan of a blue jay. There was one pair, hung just above the others, made of feathers, and it loosed a few quills to the ground as they stepped toward the center. The girls crowded around Charlie, who turned her notebook back to the beginning of the riddle.

“‘Creation to destruction bends,'” Sydney said. “I don't like the sound of that.”

Lil swallowed, surveying the room. “Do you guys see anything obvious?”

“Just the wings,” Kat said. “The wings Icarus used were ones with wax, right? They melted in the sun?”

“Right,” Charlie said, “but that's what we
know
as the story. That may not truly be the case.” She tapped the barrel of her pen on her notepad. “The traditional story says that Daedalus built wings to escape from the labyrinth. He was imprisoned there”—she gulped—“here, by Minos.”

“‘If only they had flown at night,'” Sydney said, shaking her head. “Ridiculous.”

“What do you mean?” Lil asked, looking at the quills lying at her feet.

“I mean, the poem—” She took the notepad from Charlie and read aloud. “‘Daedalus—the first to test flight,/Great inventor, miscalculated height?/And his boy would meet a sorry plight./If only they had flown at night.' He would never have tried to fly with wax wings in the daylight,” she scoffed, handing back the notepad. “Wax melts in the heat, anyway. They would have melted before they even left the ground. Like I said, that story is ridiculous. I mean, if we're going with this ludicrous theory that we need to untangle myth from history. Well, if he was a great inventor, he wouldn't have made that mistake.”

“Sydney's right,” Lil said. “Daedalus can build a winding labyrinth, but he can't figure out that he shouldn't fly in Crete with wax wings?”

“Valid point,” Charlie said, scowling and putting the end of her fountain pen to her lip.

Sydney smacked it out of her hand. “That's disgusting. Are you trying to get typhoid?”

“Well, what if they had limited resources?” Kat asked, sidling up to the half-completed sculpture. “What if wax and feathers were all he had?”

Sydney looked up at the canvas wings. “I have a feeling they had a lot more than wax and feathers. Even the earliest inhabitants of the earth created technologies.” She nodded toward the arrowheads, daggers and battle-axes. “You employ your resources. They had bronze and gold and wood and stone, and they had ships manned by thousands with giant oars. They had tools and fabrics.” She tugged on one of the cloth wings.

“Well, if it isn't the wings, then what?” Lil said.

“In the other rooms, there was something that seemed different from the rest,” Charlie said, picking up her pen and wiping it off on her pants.

“The sculpture is different,” Kat said, looking into the one completed eye. “Art, not technology.”

“Well, it's not really that different,” Sydney said, going to it. “Art and technology are both created. The wings were a creation. The axes were a creation. The labyrinth, a creation. They share creation.”

“The lamps were a creation,” Lil said, accidentally knocking one of the glass tops to the ground. It hit the stone and shattered at her feet. She jumped back as the splintered glass skittered toward her legs. She held her breath, waiting for the walls to move or the room to go up in flames, but nothing happened.

“‘Creation to destruction bends,'” Lil said, backing away from the wall. “We need to find something that causes destruction.”

“But that's the point,” Sydney said. “All of this causes destruction—or is destroyed.” She went to the other wall. “You create an ax, it can be used to slice off someone's head. You create an arrow, it can be used to cut straight through organs.” She moved to the sculpture and picked up the hammer and chisel. “You create a sculpture by destroying its original form. They're intertwined. You can't have one without the other. It's cyclical.” She set the hammer and chisel down and stared at the wooden wheel.

“Like nature,” Kat said.

“Right,” Sydney said, leaning over the spoked wheel. “Cyclical.” She tentatively placed her finger to a stopper, flipping it forward.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the wheel turned. The sound of water rippled through the walls, and the wheel spun faster. A rush of wind swooped into the room. The stained-glass lamps were snuffed out. Lil was blind, hunched over the torch, trying to protect it from the same fate. The wind changed course, sending the flame hungrily up her arm. It bit at her skin, and she batted it away, dropping it from her hand. The torch clattered on the floor. Someone screamed behind her. Was it Charlie? Was it Kat? Lil turned to see. To help. But the chamber dissolved into darkness.

31

L
il's skin smarted as she reached into her pocket with the opposite arm. She yanked out the box of matches, glad she had thought to grab them to go to the library earlier that night. The wind slowed to a modest breeze and she lit the match, holding her hand around it to protect the flame. She spotted the torch first. Just two feet away. She shuffled to it, relit the top and held it aloft.

She spun. The sound of water still rushed somewhere unseen. As she looked back to the center of the room, she saw a large gaping hole. She leaned over to examine the opening. It was perfectly round, like a sewer drain.

“Help!” Kat's voice rose up from the dark. “Charlie's hurt!”

Lil's heart catapulted into her throat.

She bent the torch in, trying to see how far down it went, but it only lit the opening with a hellish halo.

“Over here, Lil, please!” came Sydney's voice.

Lil looked up. There across the way, Sydney was leaning hard against a cog in the wheel, but it pushed relentlessly on, dragging her toward the wall.

“It's a turbine!” Sydney shouted, her face straining.

Lil ran to her, trying to understand.

“Water propulsion,” she said. “I opened the door. I can't stop it.” She shifted as she reached the wall, pressing her back into it and extending a foot against the wheel.

“Help! Something's coming!” Kat screamed, and Lil heard a rush of water below.

Lil slammed the torch into the hand of the nearby statue and sidled in next to Sydney.

Planting her feet against the wall, next to Sydney's shoulder, she winced as a cog pushed into her ribs. With her feet planted, the wheel seemed to jolt and give. Then with another gush of water, it redoubled its strength. She'd never in her life felt something so powerful.

“I don't know if I can hold it,” Lil gasped.

“It's too much,” Sydney said. “It's going to crush us.”

Lil fought for breath, her muscles straining against the wheel.

“Please!” Kat shouted. “Throw down the fabric. Or something. Please!”

“The water's rising!” Charlie shouted.

Lil stared at the wall in front of her, trying to remember how many wings were on the ceiling. Would there be enough to reach Kat and Charlie if they tied them together? “We're not going to be able to stop the water,” she said, the wheel's cog biting between her ribs. “Maybe we can get a sail and send it down the chute.”

She sent all her strength to her legs.

Sydney squeezed her eyes closed and nodded. “We just have to move without getting crushed.”

“You go first. Let go and duck under my legs,” Lil said.

“You sure?” Sydney gasped. Lil saw her legs quake.

Of course, she wasn't sure. Would she be able to hold it on her own? But Kat and Charlie needed them, and they needed to, somehow, get out of this.

“Yes,” Lil said, bracing her feet an inch farther apart. “Go now!”

Sydney dropped and rolled out of sight. The wheel dug into her back, and Lil could feel herself breaking under the weight. She took a deep breath, pushed and dove to her left, crashing hard against the floor. The wheel snapped into a fast spin above her head. She stayed low, sure it could easily break her neck if she got it caught between the spokes. Lil could hear the water gushing in the walls and in the chamber below. Faster now.

“NO, nonononono!” Sydney shouted.

Lil looked up. Her vision wobbled. But she saw Sydney scramble across the floor. She saw a circular lid sail across the opening. Sealing Kat and Charlie inside.

Sydney looked up at her. “They're going to drown!”

Lil leaped up and tore the torch from the sculpture's raised hand. Then she landed next to Sydney, trying to find the seam. As she felt for the corners, her fingers scraping against the hard stone, she paused. The top of the door was changing before her eyes. First, a small rectangular plaque holding three wooden objects revealed itself. Next a little door opened and something began to appear.

“It's a hand,” Sydney gasped. It was lifelike, but wooden, like the automaton had been.

Lil bent her head to the seal. The sound of rushing water seemed to be louder. She could hear Kat—or was it Charlie? The voice was too muffled to discern. Her heart pounded against her rib cage, her mouth going dry. Her mind raced, trying to think of what to do. If she could pry open the door. Send something down. But her fingers bent against stone, more likely to snap back on themselves than to accomplish anything.

“Okay,” Sydney said, pushing the arms of her glasses firmly back behind her ears. “This is a puzzle, just like all the others.” She nodded. “We do this right, we open the door. It's going to be okay.”

“We can do this,” Lil said, wiping some sweat from her upper lip.

“We need to remain calm and think,” Sydney said. “It's just that I don't remember the riddle.”

Lil's mind raced, trying to recall what it said. “Something about a tool he used to mend.”

Sydney's eyes shone with tears, and Lil watched her eyelids flicker fast as she tried to blink them back. Or was she trying to remember the details of the riddle that was now with Charlie, far out of reach?

“What tool is used to mend?” Lil asked, looking down at the three objects next to the hand. First, a wooden compass. Next, a small set of wings. Third, a crossed hammer and chisel. And one empty spot at the right. What if the answer had been there? Now it was gone. Then they wouldn't be able to open the door. Lil banished the thought from her mind. The only thing she was sure of was that one of the objects was meant to be placed in the hand. But which? All of them seemed to be equipped with a handle that would match the fingers. How did it work? Did it detect a variation in weight? Did it detect the width of the object's handle? They all seemed to be slightly different sizes.

“So we choose the correct tool and place it into the hand and it will open the door,” Lil said.

Sydney nodded, grimacing. “If the pattern so far in this place is correct, we ignore the common story,” she said, scanning the items. “We know the wings are out. They didn't mend anything. Instead, Icarus died by them.”

“Right,” Lil said.

Sydney rambled on. “The compass, a tool used to measure, not to mend.”

“HELP!”

Lil shuddered as the voice jumped toward the door. The water must have been high now, pushing Charlie and Kat closer and closer to the ceiling. Closer and closer, and yet there was no way to reach them.

Sydney gulped and placed her hand on the compass, then retracted it. They both looked from one tool to the next.

“None of these are used to mend,” Lil said.

“Maybe the chisel? Could you mend something, anything with a hammer and chisel?” Sydney said, moving her hand to the chisel.

“I don't think so,” Lil gasped. “It seems more like something you would use to break things apart.”

“So?” Sydney said. The water below gurgled, and Lil jerked back as a thump came from the other side of the door.

“They're near the door. They're going to run out of air any second,” Lil said, scraping across the stone with her fingers. Her nails screamed and then bent back on themselves. Her fingertips throbbed.

“What do you think was in this spot?” Sydney said, looking at the empty place. “What if that was our key?”

A scream came from below them, but it seemed to fill the room, to bounce around the walls. To echo in Lil's head. Lil heard a gurgle, and a small stream of cold water washed over her fingers. She jerked her head up.

“We're out of time,” she shouted.

Sydney scanned the tools once more. “What else did the poem say? There was another line.” She muttered a few words under her breath. “‘Select the tool he used to mend.'”

“The compass?” Lil shouted. “We're out of time.”

Sydney's head snapped up, her eyes going wide and clear. “That's what's missing. ‘And a helping hand do lend.' ‘Select the tool he used to mend/And a helping hand do lend.'” She held up her hand, palm extended, and then slammed it into the fake hand. The wooden fingers popped and closed, clamping down hard.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” Sydney shouted, her face filling with regret.

Lil reached out to pry the wooden fingers, but they released before she could move them. The room shook as the seal peeled back. Rolling water spilled into the chamber. Lil scanned the top, trying to see beyond the black bubbles. Cold water soaked her legs. She shoved her hand into the abyss. As she held her torch high, trying not to let the light go out again, her other hand grasped at nothing. Were they too late? She searched frantically, blindly. No hands, no hair. Nothing but age-old water. Its musty rankness climbed into her nose, making her gag.

Sydney grasped around frantically, her legs and arms soaking. “I don't see them!” she shouted.

Lil leaned farther. Water rolled over her arm for what seemed like an eternity. Something slipped past her fingertips. Was it Kat's hair? She grasped at it, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come.

“Oh God, we lost them,” Sydney shouted, her hands coming to her face. “We were too slow. We lost them!”

Lil stared as the water frothed out of the opening like saliva from a hungry mouth. Was it true? An eternity seemed to pass. Her heart started to sink down, down, down, a heavy throb working its way into her stomach. How could this— A hand grabbed the edge of the hole, making her jolt back. Then all of a sudden there was Kat, sputtering up out of the water. A moment later, Charlie came, too, gasping and reaching for something to hold onto. Lil grabbed her and pulled. Kat and Charlie both convulsed, spewing water, drinking in air. For a few moments everyone sat there, breathing, panting as the water flooded the room. Lil collapsed next to Sydney.

“Nicely done,” she said, squeezing her shoulder. “Hands can mend.”

“We need to get out of here before the water rises more,” Sydney said, through gritted teeth. She pushed herself up and pulled Kat with her, pointing toward a stairwell that had opened behind the desk.

“Take . . . to the high . . . ground,” Charlie wheezed as she pushed herself to her feet. She reached for the wall, one foot held awkwardly.

“You're hurt,” Lil said, positioning herself under Charlie's arm.

Charlie winced, her short brown hair now matted to her head. Her cabled sweater, twisted and torn. “
Un
petit peu.
A little.” She wiped the water from her face. “I'll manage.”

The water surged, licking at the backs of Lil's knees. She fell into step behind Kat and Sydney, helping Charlie to the door. They stopped at the brick that extended from the wall like a small drawer. Lil's eyes found it fast now that she knew what to look for. There, lying in the center, was another charm. Sydney raised it by the leather thong and stared at the symbol that swung from it: hands held in the shape of wings, the thumbs latched together at the center. Sydney draped the pendant over her head as Lil peered into the base of the brick, happy once again to see the labrys. One more clue. One step closer. She pictured her mom carrying her upstairs to bed on that night before she lost her, and she hurried onward, determined to find her again.