Mazes and Monsters (17 page)

Glacia … I am Glacia … why do I always hold back? I’m always afraid, pretending I’m not, doing things to test myself. I am Glacia, and I have sworn to seek out the evil monster Ak-Oga, and seize the treasure. Glacia turned right with the others and walked with very gingerly steps toward the sound of the dripping water. They went through a narrow tunnel and then came out upon a large room with a black pool at one end. It was breathtaking. There was something eternal about this place. She felt she had dreamed that bottomless black pool a thousand times. She felt the danger singing through her blood, and the mystery, the fantasy, the sheer beauty of something that was at the same time so menacing. She shone her lantern around the corners of the room, and screamed.

A human skeleton lay propped against the wall, lying in an attitude of exhausted despair. It wasn’t the remains of one of the students who had vanished so long ago; those bones had been found. It was someone else. Oh, God … it could be them!

Glacia the Fighter never screamed in fear.

“Alas,” Pardieu said sadly. “Who can that be? Some wanderer, perhaps, on a mission such as ours.”

“Be careful,” Nimble the Charlatan warned. “It could be a trick. Sometimes these skeletons have powers.”

Just as he spoke the empty eye sockets of the skull glittered with a mad light, all greenish and skittering. The dice clicked softly on the stones. “What do you choose to do?” the Maze Controller asked, his voice coming disembodied from the shadows of the black room.

“Is it evil?” Nimble asked.

“No.”

“Is it helpful, then?” Pardieu asked.

“Perhaps.”

Glacia remembered another adventure from a long time ago. “We will have to touch it,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady and calm. “The glittering eyes may show us a clue if we turn the head.”

“I am afraid to disturb the bones of those who rest in peace,” Pardieu said in his kind, reverent tones. “It is a sacrilege.”

“I am not afraid,” Glacia said. She strode to the skeleton and touched the head with the tips of her fingers. Her stomach churned. Slowly, slowly, she moved the skull to either side, hoping there might be some magic to open a trap door or show up invisible writing. Nothing.

Then suddenly, as if it were on wires, the entire skeleton rose swiftly in the air and flew away into the dark above her. “Ahhh …” The sound came from her own throat and from her companions: awe, terror, fascination, a gasp sharpening into a shriek.

Behind where the skeleton had been lying there were tiny luminous letters written on the wall.

“Who among us can read these?” Pardieu asked.

Nimble the Charlatan walked closer and looked at the letters. Then he turned, his eyes shining with triumph. “I can,” he said. “They are the ancient runes of my people. I learned them as a child, and I still remember some of them. It says: ‘Eat of the bitter herb.’”

“Is it a trick?” Glacia asked. “Where is the herb? Will it give us wisdom, or kill us?”

“First we must find it,” Nimble said. “Let us search this room and then go on.”

Glacia, proud and strong as she was, was glad Nimble had become the new member of their band. He was so calm and sure. She felt a great confidence by his side. Irresistibly drawn to the black waters of the pool, she knelt and dropped a small stone into its depths. The stone sank away and disappeared instantly. “But be careful of the water,” she said. “I think it has a hypnotic lure.”

“If you feel it calling to you,” Nimble said, “take my hand.”

That little bastard Jay Jay is a genius, Daniel thought, admiring and jealous. He was annoyed too, because Jay Jay’s fun-house tricks were so simple and yet they worked on everybody’s mind, even his own. He knew how Jay Jay had lit up the bulbs in the skull’s eye sockets, he had immediately figured out the wires and pulleys that made the skeleton fly away, and having the “ancient runes” in Hebrew was both ingenious and irritating—irritating because he had never thought of doing it. All Jay Jay had needed to get his hands on was a Passover Haggadah for kids; the one with the translation on the opposite page, and he obviously had. Bitter herbs! Here he was, hoping to make up games for a living after he graduated, and Jay Jay as a vacation sideline had created a minor Disneyland.

Everything was perfectly thought out, even the way Jay Jay kept in the shadows whenever he consulted his rules, in order not to disturb the reality of what was happening to them. All the time they had been moving about, awestruck, Jay Jay had been scattering rice to make a trail so they wouldn’t lose their sense of direction and get lost. He also had a map and a compass. Daniel took his pad of graph paper and a pencil from his knapsack and began to chart the maze. He put a little mark where they were now, with some symbols denoting the pool and the skeleton and the Hebrew writing, so he would be able to look at the map later and know just which room was which. He wished he had been the one to think of this game.

“There is nothing to eat in this room,” Kate said. She picked up a few grains of the rice Jay Jay had dropped and looked questioningly at him.

“No,” Jay Jay said. “That’s so you won’t get lost. Leave it there.”

“Let’s move on,” Daniel said.

They went back through the narrow tunnel into the first room, and then they turned left, Daniel leading the way. Kate followed, and then Robbie. Their lanterns made wavering shadows and glistening light on the walls, where something sparkled in the blackness. Mica, I bet, Daniel thought. Jay Jay brought up the rear, dragging along his battery-powered lamp, but he had turned it off to make the journey more frightening.

What a strange and wonderful place this is, Daniel thought. All this time it was right here and I never went in to investigate it.

“A wandering monster!” Jay Jay cried. “Over there!” He switched on his lamp and tossed the dice. “A Gorvil … followed by three others!”

Gorvils were stupid, soulless, and attacked anything even when they weren’t hungry. They were covered with scales, had short webbed arms, huge fangs, and a large eye in the center of their lizardlike foreheads. They were over seven feet tall, and vicious. Daniel took out his knife … no, his sword. He wanted to get into the game and stop analyzing everything. This was an imaginary Gorvil, part of the game he knew; not Jay Jay’s manufactured, theatrical prop. There was no point in being jealous; it was self-destructive. Now he could go into the fantasy on his own terms, not someone else’s, and enter the adventure of his own imagination.

“Kill them!” Glacia cried, waving her sword.

“Kill them!” Pardieu cried, rushing forward, his sword drawn too.

“Kill them!” Nimble growled fiercely, and stabbed the nearest Gorvil again and again, while it bucked and lunged to kill him with its fangs and its black blood poured in torrents over the floor of the maze.

“They are all dead,” the Maze Controller said.

“Be careful,” Glacia warned. “There may be more.”

“Indeed,” Pardieu said. “They will surely come to seek revenge. The noise they made as they died was frightful.”

Gentle Pardieu felt sickened with guilt and remorse as he surveyed the mutilated bodies of the dead monsters. A Holy Man should resort to violence only when he could not overcome evil with reason or spells. He still had his charms safely tucked in the little leather pouch he wore attached to his belt, and he had not used them. No, he had flung himself into the fray with reckless abandon, as if he were a Fighter, which he was not. Holy Men had been given their magic spells to compensate for their lack of warlike skills. He could have been killed, and then he would have been of no help to his dear companions. But what really upset him was that he had never known he had this capacity for violence within him. He had been so proud of his goodness. Pride was a sin. One sin led to another, and thus, he supposed, to his violence. I didn’t even think … I merely acted, like some instinctive beast …

He would have to think on this later, when there was time to rest and meditate. He had to pull the evil out of himself, by the roots; do penance if need be.

“You were brave, Pardieu,” Glacia said.

“Perhaps foolhardy,” Pardieu answered sadly. “I should have used my spell of paralyzation instead.”

“You used that up in the other game,” Nimble said.

Game? What game? He felt his pouch, looked inside. Where was The Eye of Timor? He felt icy cold. The Eye of Timor, to raise the dead, had been his; he had felt it, seen it. But that had been in a dream … Never mind that the spell of paralyzation was lost, but not this one … no! He had to have it. He
needed
it.

The others had stopped to rest, eat, and drink. They had sandwiches of cheese and meat on thick bread, and cold beer. The food stuck in Pardieu’s throat. Why did his magic spells appear and disappear? Was this some kind of punishment for his pride and his secret violence? Why had Nimble said he had already used the spell? He had been traveling for such a long time and he was so tired. Yes, he remembered now; he had used the spell of paralyzation to stop the moving stairs, long ago. It had been in a different maze.

The others had eaten now and were refreshed. They rose to go on, tossing their empty beer cans into the corner. He got up too, and followed them. I must try harder to be a true Holy Man, Pardieu thought. I must, and I will.

Jay Jay looked at his watch. It was midnight. The hours had gone by so fast he could hardly believe it. This had been one of the happiest nights of his life. Everything he had planned had been just right. He’d loved it when they screamed; it was like the screams of the audience at a Hitchcock movie. He congratulated himself for keeping the levels of reality and fantasy perfectly mixed. He had been right not to try to make any silly monsters out of papier-mâché. That would have destroyed the whole illusion. The game was perfect just as it was. The best monsters were the ones in the mind.

CHAPTER 3

They came back from playing the game in the caverns, tired and excited. The four of them sat in Daniel’s room and rehashed the moves, as always, but this time they were full of praise for Jay Jay’s ingenuity, and he took his bows with no pretense at all of modesty. He had brought the skeleton back with him, and now it was in a shopping bag in the back of his closet; a tacky way to treat the poor guy, Kate said.

“I have to return him to Perry,” Jay. Jay said. “I was scared you would decide to go left first, and Perry has to have him back tomorrow night.”

“Or we could have gone straight ahead,” Daniel said.

“No hints,” Jay Jay said. They all laughed.

Robbie was even quieter than usual. Now that he was back in the familiar dorm he felt drained. He took Kate’s hand and held it.

“What a fantastic place,” Kate said. “It’s like a dream. I felt as if I were dreaming—didn’t you?”

Daniel and Robbie nodded. “It was spooky,” Robbie said. He didn’t go further. How could he explain the panic he’d felt that had nothing to do with the game or the place, when now he could hardly even remember it?

“Of course, my greatest triumph,” Jay Jay said, “was that Daniel gave up his usual Saturday night screw to play with
us
.”

“Come on,” Daniel said. “You make me sound like a bore. Sometimes I have a Wednesday night screw.”

They all laughed. “Boys will be boys,” Kate said.

“Don’t make fun of me just because you’re married,” Daniel said good naturedly.

“Married?” Kate said. She sounded annoyed. “I’m not married. Are we married, Robbie?”

“No,” he said. “Of course not.”

“Well, that’s what they call it in the dorm,” Daniel said.

“I don’t care what they call it in the dorm,” Kate said. “It’s just this year’s word for going steady.”

“The way you can tell we’re not married,” Robbie said, “is that we never fight.” They all laughed.

Kate got up and pulled Robbie to his feet. “I don’t know about anybody else,” she said, “but I’m about to fall asleep right here.”

“Tomorrow night,” Jay Jay said. “We’ll start early; as soon as it gets dark.” They had already agreed not to play in the daytime—it would be too easy for someone to spot the car.

“Tomorrow night,” the others said. “Tomorrow night.”

“I can’t wait!” Kate said, grinning excitedly.

In the double bed, in his room, because it was a weekend and Kate could sleep with him all night, Robbie was happy. He made love to her gently, holding back his own desire until he knew she was satisfied. He wanted her to think he was the best lover she’d ever had. He loved her so much, and her small, slim body excited him even when he wasn’t touching it. Just looking at it, even when she was dressed, knowing what was under those shirts and jeans, remembering the silky feel of her skin, made him want her. She was so beautiful, and she was his. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He was so lucky. He kissed her neck and her little ears, and fell asleep with his face buried in her hair that always smelled of shampoo.

He was in a tunnel, dark and cold, where rays of yellow light glanced off rocky walls and showed that the tunnel went on so far he couldn’t see the end of it. He was the one holding the lantern that shed this light, and he was Pardieu. He didn’t know how he had come to be here, but he wasn’t afraid. Then he saw another light, blue and ghostly, at the far end of the tunnel, and it began to come closer.

“Pardieu …” a voice whispered. He knew that voice: it was The Great Hall. He remembered that whisper from a long time ago, but he had forgotten where. He shivered slightly.

“I am Pardieu,” he said.

“Once you were a low level of Holy Man, and you gloried in killing,” the voice said. Soft as it was, it echoed in the tunnel. “Now you are of a higher level and you feel guilt. That is good. To attain the highest level of power it is necessary to be perfect.”

“Oh, I can’t be perfect,” Pardieu said sadly. “Never …”

“The qualities of a Holy Man are these: piety, humility, and chastity. Celibacy, my dear Pardieu. A Holy Man must walk alone.”

“But I’m married,” Pardieu said. He knew he was speaking the truth, but he couldn’t remember whom he was married to.