The Maze of the Beast

Barda, Lief, and Dain were following the river, creeping through the trees that ran along its banks.

Many days had passed since Jasmine had left them, and though Lief watched constantly for signs of her, so far he had seen nothing. It was strange and dull to be travelling without her, without Filli’s soft chatter in the background and Kree squawking above their heads. Dain, though always dependable in time of trouble, could not take her place.

Lief was alarmed, too, to realize how much he and Barda had grown to depend on Jasmine’s sharp eyes and hearing to warn them of approaching danger. For there was danger in plenty. Twice the companions had been forced to fight for their lives when bandits took them by surprise, leaping down on them from the trees. Four times they had hidden just in time as pirate boats sailed by — large, battered wooden craft patched with all manner of odd bits and pieces, some of them with sails made of scraps of cloth roughly sewn together.

The ruffians who hoisted the sails, lay sleeping on the rough boards, or plied the long oars, were as ill-assorted as the materials that made their craft. They were of every size, color, and shape, but all had a savage, hungry look. Their clothes were ragged and filthy and their hair wild, but the knives, swords, and axes that hung from their belts gleamed sharp and bright in the sun.

A lone figure swayed at the top of every mast, strapped in place with ropes or supported on a sling of leather. From that high perch, hard eyes, shaded with a hand, hat, or branch of leaves, scanned the riverbanks and the water ahead.

Looking for prey. Looking for travellers to kill and rob. Looking for unprotected villages, for other boats to plunder.

Here, far from the mountains and the streams that fed it, the river had grown slow, narrow, and winding. It was dark and oily, flecked with evil-looking foam. The smell of death and decay hung over it like mist. Rotting, broken timbers, rags of clothing, and other rubbish bobbed in its current.

There were more sinister floating things, too. Now and again dead bodies drifted just below the surface, the water around them swirling and bubbling horribly as writhing river creatures feasted unseen.

And Ols? Who knew which bandits, which creatures, were Ols?

One evening, when Lief, Barda, and Dain had stopped for the night, two beautiful water birds, purest white, waded through the reeds to shore, bending their graceful necks as if asking to be fed. But they ignored the scraps Lief threw to them. They simply stared. And only when they raised their wings to fly away did Lief see the black spot each bore on its side, and realize what they were.

Prowling Ols. But a man and two boys were of no interest to them. They were moving on, to seek the man, the boy, the girl, and the black bird they had been sent to find and destroy.

Lief lay back, his stomach churning, staring at the brightness of the moon. In three days it would be full, and even now it was large and gleaming, lighting the darkness. Every bush seemed bright. Every tree was open to view. There were no hiding places.

Jasmine had been right. It was her presence, and Kree’s, that made their group stand out. But if the Ols found her alone, with Kree by her side, would they not strike? She was the one in true danger now.

Lief prayed she would be safe. He vowed to himself that if they all survived this test, their party would never again be separated. Prudence was all very fine. But other things were more important.

The next morning they reached a bridge that spanned another river flowing into the Tor. The bridge was arched high so that boats could sail under it, and, though in bad repair, it felt safe enough to cross. On the other side was a tiny village, nestling in the corner made by the two rivers. It seemed deserted.

“This is Broad River, I think,” said Dain, looking down at the slow-moving water as they began to cross the bridge. “You would have seen part of it on your way to Rithmere.”

“Oh, yes,” Barda answered with a grim smile. “And felt it, too — more than we would like. So this is where it ends.”

They reached the end of the bridge and began to move towards the village, which they could now see had suffered some terrible disaster. Many houses had been burned. Windows were shattered. Rubble and broken glass littered the narrow streets.

“Pirates,” Dain muttered.

There was a post sticking up from the ground ahead, and when they reached it they saw that it had once supported a sign. Now the sign lay on the ground, its edges broken, its brave lettering muddied.

“I have heard Doom speak of this place,” said Dain dully. “He said the people were brave and full of good heart. He wanted them to join us, so they would be safe. But they refused to abandon their village to the pirates. They said they would defend it with their last breath.”

“It seems they did so.” Barda’s voice was harsh with anger.

As Lief began to turn away, he saw that some scraps of thick yellow knitting wool had fallen on the bare ground along the board’s top edge. He crouched to pick them up — then snatched his hand back as he saw that they were arranged in a pattern.

“Barda! Jasmine has been here!” he exclaimed excitedly.” And perhaps she is here still. This is a message for us — a message no other person would notice. See? She has made the first letter of her name. And a picture of a bird for Kree. The other signs must tell us where she is sheltering.”

Barda considered the shapes on the ground. “The circle could be part of a building. But what is the 3?”

“A number on a door, perhaps!” Lief stood up and looked around, filled with new energy.

With Dain trailing behind them, they began to explore the village. It was a depressing task, and Lief’s excitement quickly died. Plainly, Where Waters Meet had once been a busy, thriving little town. Now, everywhere were the signs of violence and bloodshed. The tavern, the meeting hall, every house, every shop, had been ransacked. Everything of any value had been taken.

Some of the invaders had scrawled their names triumphantly on the walls of living rooms, bedrooms, and halls. “Nak” was one name that occurred again and again, twice in what looked like blood. But there were other names, too. “Finn” was one, “Milne” another.

Lief stared at the scrawlings with hatred. Nak, Finn, and Milne, he thought, I will remember your names. You are not Ols or Grey Guards, Shadow Lord’s servants, bred for evil. You are free to choose how you act. And you have chosen to prey upon your own people. You have chosen to steal, destroy, and murder. I hope that, one day, I meet you. Then I will make you pay.

With heavy hearts they finished searching. There was a circular courtyard, and some window frames in the shape of circles, too. But there were no numbers at all, and there was no sign of Jasmine.

Lief stopped outside the last house, which had a new moon carved into the door. “Moons are circles, when they are full,” he called to Barda. “Could Jasmine have meant —?”

Then he broke off, for he had at last realized the true meaning of Jasmine’s message. He shook his head, annoyed at his own slowness. “We have been wasting our time,” he exclaimed. “Jasmine is long gone. The signs tell us not where she is in Where Waters Meet, but when she was here. The circle is the full moon. Then there is a minus sign, and the num-ber 3. She was here yesterday — three days before full moon!”

“Of course!” Barda heaved a great sigh. “Then —”

Suddenly he looked alert, and put his finger to his lips, listening. Lief listened in his turn and heard the last thing he would have expected.

It was the jingling of many tiny bells, growing louder. And, even more astonishing, the merry, booming sound of someone singing.

Once there was an Ol-io,

Jolly-wolly Ol-io,

Once there was an Ol-io,

Fearsome as could be!

I said to that Ol-io,

Jolly-wolly Ol-io,

I said to that Ol-io,

You don’t bother me!