The Maze of the Beast

At last they could walk no farther. They squeezed into a narrow space between two lumpy, dripping walls. There they rested, panting and shivering, one wall pressed hard against their backs, the other a hand’s breadth from their faces. The sound of Milne’s screams and splashes floated, echoing, in the air. He was still running, lost somewhere in the Maze.

And the terrible sound of the Glus never stopped.

“It is moving so slowly,” whispered Jasmine, listening. “How can it hope to catch him?”

“It has only to follow, and wait,” said Barda. “Even if he does not make a mistake, and meets it face to face around some corner, he will have to rest sooner or later.”

His voice sounded odd. Lief glanced at him quickly. Barda was looking at the wall in front of him. Carefully he raised his hand and slowly traced shapes in the gleaming stone.

A bony arm. Five fingers. A skull, its mouth gaping in a silent scream.

“Here is one who stopped to rest, and stopped too long,” Barda said. He twisted his neck and looked over his shoulder. Milky drops ran slowly, ceaselessly down the wall at his back. Already they were pooling on his shoulders, setting into a fine crust of stone.

With a cry of horror, Lief and Jasmine pulled themselves forward. Drying stone cracked and slid from their backs and shoulders, splashing into the water at their feet. They edged out of their hiding place and, looking back, saw their own shapes imprinted in the wall.

“How long would it have taken before we were stuck fast?” asked Barda grimly. “An hour, perhaps? Even less? If we had slept …”

They began to move again. And now they saw the twisted shapes, the lumps and ridges on walls, columns, and pillars, for what they were. Everywhere they looked were the bones of the dead — clawing hands, sprawled legs, skulls that seemed to shriek of terror.

Lief felt himself shivering all over. He imagined the horror of waking and finding himself trapped by the stone of the wall. He imagined struggling, struggling … while the Glus moved slowly towards him.

“We must not rest,” he muttered. “We must not sleep.”

They crept on, and on, trying to make as little movement as possible, their faces turned to the wall, their hands held out in front of them. After a while, Lief’s thoughts became a wandering haze — a haze of water, white walls, endless movement, words. There is a way out. We must find it. We must not rest. We must not sleep.

Lief’s head fell forward, jolting him awake. He blinked, confused, and realized that he had been walking in a dream. He had no idea of how much time had passed.

Dimly, he became aware that Milne’s screams and splashes had stopped. Perhaps they had stopped a long time ago.

And if — if Milne had stopped running, where was the Beast? Sweat breaking out on his brow, Lief listened to the echoes, and at last made out a soft, horrible sound, mingling with the dripping water. It was not the sticky sliding he had heard before, but a still, sighing, sucking sound that raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

“Barda, Jasmine …” he whispered. But his friends did not answer. They moved, but their eyes were fixed and glazed. They were in a dreamlike state, as he had been.

He took a breath to speak again. Then, suddenly, it was as though a flame shot through him, from his fingers to his face.

The Belt! The Belt had grown hot! Lief stopped, shocked and disbelieving. A rounded pillar of stone stood beside him. Cautiously he moved towards it. The Belt grew even hotter. It seemed to burn under his fingers.

Barda and Jasmine were turning a corner, moving out of sight. Calling, he splashed forward recklessly, catching at their arms to stop them.

Then he froze. For straight ahead of them was the Glus. Its bloated body was rippling and heaving, its head invisible. And from the billowing mountain of flesh came that soft, hideous sound.

But in the same moment, the sound stopped. The body stilled, the head reared upright and faced them, its gaping mouth dripping with blood. The Glus slithered forward, away from the ghastly remains of Milne on which it had been feasting, towards the new disturbance. Its spiked tail curved upward. The stripes on its back began to glow.

Then it struck, lunging forward, white threads hissing from its throat.

Lief, Jasmine, and Barda hurled themselves backwards, falling into the water, scrambling up again and plunging away. The Glus moved on, a little faster.

They reached the rounded pillar of stone. Lief caught hold of it, the Belt burning at his waist. “Barda, Jasmine, the gem is here, inside the stone!” he shouted.

Barda and Jasmine swung around, disbelieving. He nodded violently. “We have been deceived. The gem has been here, all the time.”

“Lief — leave it! We must run!” Jasmine urged, tugging his arm, her eyes on the Glus, swollen and ghastly, sound bubbling deep in its chest.

“No!” Lief cried, holding fast to the pillar. “If I leave this place now I will never find it again!”

“If you stay you will die!” Jasmine shrieked. “Lief!”

Barda gripped her shoulder. His face was grim and set. “Jasmine and I will draw the Beast away, Lief,” he snapped. “Stay still — still as that stone — until we are long gone. Then get the gem and do your best to find your way out. Jasmine! Your dagger!”

“No! We must stay together!” Lief shouted, as Jasmine passed him the weapon.

But already Barda was pulling Jasmine away. She was fumbling inside her jacket. At last she pulled out a ball of yellow wool. Shaking off Barda’s hand, she plunged back to Lief’s side, pulling out a trail of wool as she ran.

“I found this in Where Waters Meet. Hold it fast!” she cried, thrusting the loose end of the wool into Lief’s hand. “It will be our line back to you.”

“Beware!” Barda roared.

Lief slid behind the stone. Jasmine leaped away. Another tangle of white threads sprayed towards them, falling into the water just short of its mark. Jasmine turned and ran, splashing, back to Barda, leaving a trail of wool behind her. Shoulder to shoulder they waded on till they were lost in the maze.

Then there was only the lapping of the water, the dripping from the roof and the stealthy slithering of the Glus as slowly, slowly, it followed.

Lief crouched, holding his breath, as it passed him, its tiny eyes waving at the ends of their fleshy stalks. Its body narrowed, then bulged horribly, as it squeezed past the stone. Now he saw that its skin was covered in short, fine hairs that stuck straight out, quivering, alive to every ripple, every splash, every tiny movement in the waters of its kingdom. One mistake, and it would be upon him.

Still. Still as the stone.

The Beast crawled on. Every muscle in Lief’s body was twitching, aching to move. But he held himself rigid, the slender yellow thread that was his link to Barda and Jasmine clutched tightly in his hand.

Cautiously, Lief stood up. The Glus was long gone. He could hear it moving, far away. But he could no longer hear the splashing sounds of Barda and Jasmine running. They were remaining still — to confuse it, perhaps, or simply to rest. In any case, they led it away from him. They had done their part. Now he could do his.

To what purpose, Lief? a voice inside him seemed to mock. With the gem, or without it, you will walk this maze till you can walk no farther. Then the Glus will bind you with its sticky threads, and suck the flesh from your bones. What it did to Milne, it will do to you.

Lief shut the voice out of his mind. He put one hand on the Belt of Deltora, and the other on the pillar of stone. He moved his fingers over the cool, wet surface, waiting, waiting …

And then he felt it. The unmistakable throb that told him where the gem lay. About two-thirds of the way up the pillar.

He began to dig with the point of the dagger, holding his free hand cupped beneath it to catch falling fragments. The outer layer of the stone was soft and damp. It came away easily, and soon he had made a hole big enough to take his whole hand. But as he came to the center of the pillar, the work was more difficult. The sharp steel grated against the harder stone, setting his teeth on edge. Always he was terrified that if he worked too fast, too carelessly, he would injure the gem.

He could see nothing within the hole. He could hear nothing. He could smell nothing. So, he thought, all that is left is touch. I must be like the Glus, and let touch guide me.

He closed his eyes. He moved his hand down the dagger till the point was as one with his fingertips. He scraped delicately, calling the smothered gem in his mind, probing at the same time with his fingers for the touch that would tell him …

And there it was. A cool, still center within the column. The moment his fingers touched it, the coolness rolled forward into his hand, the white stone around it crumbling to powder.

Slowly, carefully he withdrew his hand and uncurled his fingers. There, veiled by a film of white dust, was a great purple gem.

The amethyst, symbol of truth.

A feeling of immense peace stole over Lief as he smoothed the dust from its shining surface, marvelling at its beauty. The Belt around his waist was burning hot, but his mind was cool and clear. He remembered words about the amethyst in The Belt of Deltora:

† The amethyst, symbol of truth, calms and soothes …

Indeed, Lief thought. And calm is what I need now. The calm to place this gem into the Belt, where it will be safe. The calm to wait until Jasmine and Barda return to me. The calm to believe that they will return.

He crouched, water swimming about him. He unclipped the Belt of Deltora and placed it across his knees. The amethyst slid into place beside the emerald and shone there steadily. Lief replaced the Belt around his waist, and carefully stood up again.

Now, I have only to wait, he told himself. He raised his wet hands to dry them on his shirt. And it was then that he felt it, cool on the back of his left hand: a soft breath of air, coming from behind him.