The Maze of the Beast

Lief turned. Slowly, slowly. Holding his hand in front of him, guided by the draught of air, he moved to the wall that loomed on the other side of the stone pillar.

There was a small gap at the top. A gap that could have been a fold in the stone, but was not. Through that gap, fresh, salty air streamed. Now he could not only feel it, but smell it.

He lifted Jasmine’s dagger and chipped at the place. Soft stone fell into his other hand. There was the gentle whistling of a breeze. Forcing himself to be patient, he gently lowered the loose stone onto the ground at his feet. He rose and chipped again. This time a larger piece of stone came loose. Now the gap was large. Now the air was blowing into his face, and the hollow sound of rushing water was mingling with the sound of the breeze.

Lief’s chest was tight. He was panting. He put his hand to the amethyst, to calm himself. It was vital, vital that he did not hurry or panic. He put down the large piece of stone, as gently as he had the first. He took another chip of rock. And another.

And that last was one too many. Water began trickling from the gap. The tunnel that was beyond the wall was half full of water. And Lief had chipped too far.

Almost with despair, he saw the trickling stream hit the water at his feet. The splashing sound seemed loud — impossibly loud. The water swirled and rippled. There was nothing he could do to stop it. As if his mind had eyes, he saw the quivering hairs on the skin of the Glus stiffen. He saw the Glus begin to turn, rearing its head. He saw it moving. Moving towards him.

He heard running, far away, coming closer. At the same moment, the yellow wool tied to his wrist tightened. He forced himself to wait, to watch.

“Lief!” the call burst out of the blue-white shadows. “Lief, what is happening? Lief, it is coming!”

Barda and Jasmine were running towards him, following the yellow thread.

Lief waited no longer. He jumped, heaving himself up into the gap in the wall, gasping as icy water rose, slapping, to his waist. There was rock beneath his feet, and above his head. But it was not the rock of the cave. It was much harder and darker. And the water was not milky, but clear, and sharp with salt.

He leaned down, holding out his arms to Jasmine. As she reached him, he swung her up beside him.

Then it was Barda’s turn. He grabbed the edge of the gap. The stone crumbled under his hands and he fell back, gasping as salty water poured over him.

“Barda!” screamed Jasmine.

For the Glus was coming. It was coming, not slowly, but with tremendous speed. The sound of it was ghastly. Its mouth gaped in a snarl, a red gash in the whiteness. White threads sprayed into the air before it like a cloud.

Lief and Jasmine bent forward, muscles straining, hauling Barda upward through the pouring water. Barda’s legs kicked frantically, his feet scrabbling for footholds.

He clambered into the tunnel, drawing up his feet just as a shower of threads clamped to the wall below him. He crawled, gasping, clear of the gap. The terrible head of the Glus reared up, filling the space.

“It is coming after us!” Jasmine shrieked.

But the Glus made no attempt to enter the tunnel. Instead, the head began to wag from side to side. White threads poured from the red throat, clinging and sticking to the edges of the gap. And then they realized what was happening.

The Glus was sealing the hole. The danger to the Maze, the vast lair it had built itself over the centuries, was more important than food.

“What is this place?” Jasmine’s teeth were chattering. She screamed as the water in the tunnel suddenly surged, knocking her over, tumbling her forward. She came up gasping and choking, Filli squealing. Swept off his own feet by the current, Lief grabbed for her hand.

“We must be under the rock in front of the pirates’ cave,” shouted Barda, shaking water from his hair and eyes. “The tide is coming in. Hold on!”

With both hands he braced himself against the rock as the water was sucked back, rushing past them, gurgling like water in a drain. Gritting his teeth, Lief clung to Jasmine’s hand, stopping her from being swept helplessly backwards.

“Move forward!” Barda roared. “And when the next wave comes, go with it! Do not fight it!”

Again the water swelled and surged. Again they were swept helplessly forward, their bodies tumbled against smooth walls. Again they spluttered to the surface. Again they braced themselves against the rock as the water sucked back.

“The waves are growing bigger! They will fill the tunnel! We will drown!” screamed Jasmine.

Lief tightened his grip on her hand. “We will not!” he shouted. “We have not come so far to die now.”

“There!” Barda shouted.

Lief looked ahead, and saw light.

“It is the blowhole!” Desperately, Barda pushed Lief and Jasmine forward. “Go! Quickly! It is almost ready to blow. We must get out before it does. We must!”

Lief remembered the towering spout, the water crashing back to the unforgiving rocks, then sucking back with a force no one could resist. He struggled on, half-crawling, half-swimming, Jasmine sobbing and scrambling ahead of him.

The surge of a new wave overcame him, sealing his eyes, filling his ears with its roaring. Is this the one? The one that will mean our death? he thought, as he was swept towards the light. But still he gripped Jasmine’s hand, and when he opened his stinging eyes there was sky above their heads. Dawn sky. They were bobbing in the mouth of the blowhole.

Lief pushed Jasmine up, up and out. She flopped onto the wet rock as he clambered after her, fighting against the water as it sought to pull him back into the tunnel. Barda followed, panting and dripping, taking great gasps of air.

Between them they hauled Jasmine to her feet and began floundering away from the hole, making for the shore.

There was a glad screech as Kree swooped towards them. Then there was a shout from behind. Lief looked back. Two figures were running from the pirates’ cave, pounding across the sheet of rock towards them.

Finn and Nak, swords held high, howling in fury.

We have only one dagger, Lief thought, running, the breath rasping in his throat. One dagger against two swords …

There was a soft rumbling sound.

“Jump!” Barda roared.

Lief jumped. His feet hit the sand of the shore. He rolled over, breathless, Jasmine and Barda tumbling beside him. He looked back at the rock.

Nak and Finn had stopped. It was as if they were frozen in mid-stride. Their faces were masks of terror. Then, terribly slowly it seemed, they began to turn, casting away the swords, taking one step, another …

Too late. The blowhole gushed, roaring, throwing them onto their backs. They scrambled helplessly for a moment, like overturned crabs. Then with a mighty crash the water fell back on them, swirling them, catching them in its grip. With a terrible sucking sound it began to rush, rush back into its rocky tunnel.

Then it was gone, and there was nothing but smooth, wet rock, and two swords lying in puddles of water that gleamed in the rising sun.

The companions gathered their possessions from the deserted pirates’ cave, then turned their backs upon the surging waves of the shore. Exhausted and hungry as they were, they wanted nothing more than to put as much distance as possible between themselves and that terrible sea.

The sun was high in the sky when finally they found a place where they could feel safe — a long-abandoned hut by the riverside. They made a fire in the crumbling fireplace, for comfort and warmth. Then, ravenously, they ate nuts and dried fruit, traveller’s biscuits, and Queen Bee honey, washed down with water from the crystal streams of Dread Mountain.

They talked little at first. None of them wanted to think of what they had seen, what they had survived. Lief’s thoughts drifted to Dain. Would he live to make his way to Tora? Would they meet again? And what of Doom …?

Jasmine spoke at last, echoing his thoughts strangely. “Did Doom betray us?” she murmured. “Or was the writing forged, to make us suspect him?”

Lief shook his head helplessly. He did not know.

“The map was all a lie. A false clue,” Jasmine persisted.

“Planted on the dead pirate by that Ol in my shape, to lead you astray and at last cause you to abandon the quest!” Barda shook his head in disgust. “No doubt there were a hundred copies, and a hundred Ols on the river to carry them. Ols with orders to deceive, rather than to kill, if they found us.”

Jasmine shuddered. “This was why no enemies waited for us on the shore. The plan this time was to cause us to abandon the quest, and to spread the word that it was hopeless, so that it would never be attempted again.”

“Ols to kill. Ols to deceive. The Enemy has many plans, it seems. Plans woven together like a net, so that if we are not caught one way, we will be caught another.” Lief stared at the surface of the river, that smooth, gliding surface below which horrors drifted and squirmed.

“The Shadow Lord may have plans,” said Barda quietly. “But this time, they have failed. And why? Because he made an error. He did not count on the pirates. They blundered in and tore his net to shreds.”

“And if we are fortunate, he will not find out, at least for a while. For who is there left to tell him?” Jasmine added. She glanced at Lief and Barda. “So does this mean that, for now, we can stay together?”

Lief put his fingers over the Belt of Deltora, now hidden under his shirt once more. He traced the shapes of the six gems in turn, and knew the answer. “We must stay together,” he said. “Like the gems in the Belt, we need one another. For faith. For happiness. For hope. For luck. For honor. And for truth.”

Barda nodded firmly.

They clasped hands briefly, then lay back to rest.

Another long, perilous journey lay ahead of them — a journey to the place called the Valley of the Lost. The great diamond, symbol of purity and strength, the seventh and last stone of the Belt of Deltora, was waiting for them there.

Now all they had to do was find it.