The Maze of the Beast

Gasping in horror, Jasmine and Lief both lunged forward, stabbing and tearing at the thing, trying to pull it away from Barda. The cold, wavering mass shrank and re-formed. The thing staggered, but its grip held.

“Through the heart!” the injured boy shouted. “Stab it through the heart! Kill it outright or it will finish him!”

“It is stabbed through the heart already,” Jasmine shrieked. “It does not fall.”

Growling, the thing turned on her. With a cry she was swept aside by a rush of white that sent her sprawling.

“Now, Lief! Strike on the right side!” the boy screamed. “The heart is on the right side, not the left!”

Lief plunged his sword home. The thing shuddered, then collapsed, its body a shapeless, writhing mass bulging horribly here and there with limbs, faces, claws, ears. Choking with disgusted horror, Lief recognized the face of Marie, the pointed snout of a wood mouse, the wing of a bird …

Then there was just a bubbling pool of white, that sank, as he watched, into the sand.

Barda lay shivering and coughing, the breath rasping in his throat. Already the dark red marks of the Ol’s strangling fingers on his neck were darkening to purple. But he was alive.

“He was lucky. Another minute and it would have been too late.”

Lief spun around and saw that the boy he had attacked had managed to crawl to his feet and was standing behind him. He heard Jasmine exclaim and glanced at her. She was staring at the boy in amazement.

“It is you!” she exclaimed. “The boy who served the drinks at the Rithmere Games. You are one of Doom’s band. You are Dain.”

The boy nodded briefly, then limped to where Barda was lying and looked down at him. “Your friend needs warming,” he said. “He is wet, and Ol attacks chill to the bone.”

He turned away and began walking slowly towards the trees.

Lief hastened to make a fire and heat water for tea while Jasmine ran for more blankets. By the time Dain returned, dragging a small backpack, his injured arm in a rough sling, Barda was well wrapped up and sitting close to a crackling blaze. The terrible shivering had eased and the color had begun to return to his face.

“Thank you,” he said to Dain huskily. “If it had not been for you …” He winced, and lifted a hand to his throat.

“Do not try to speak,” Dain advised. He turned to Lief, holding out a jar he held in his uninjured hand. “A warm drink sweetened with this will help him,” he said. “It strengthens, and eases pain. It is very powerful. One spoonful should be enough.”

The jar bore a small handmade label.

Lief unscrewed the lid and sniffed at the jar’s golden contents, drawing in the sweet scent of apple blossom. “Quality Brand,” he murmured, glancing at Dain. “The initials are interesting, but the name itself is ordinary. So ordinary, in fact, that I suspect it is false.”

“As false as the names you gave at the Rithmere Games, Lief,” the boy answered evenly. “These are hard times. You are not the only ones who must be careful.”

Lief nodded, realizing that he had overheard them calling to one another before the Ols’ attack. There was no help for it, but it was unfortunate.

He took a mug of tea and stirred a small amount of the honey into the steaming brew. Then he gave the mug to Barda, who wrapped both hands around its warmth and sipped gratefully.

“What are these Ols?” Jasmine demanded, as she passed Dain a mug of tea for himself.

“Shape-changers from the Shadowlands,” Dain said, stirring a spoonful of honey into his own cup. “The Shadow Lord uses them to do his evil work. Perhaps I should not be surprised that you have not heard of them before. They are more common here, in the west, than in the east, where you come from.”

He paused, watching them under his brows. Barda, Lief, and Jasmine remained expressionless. Did he think they were going to fall into so simple a trap?

Dain laughed easily and bent to draw in the sand.

The mark of the Resistance. The companions looked at it in silence, then glanced at one another.

Dain leaned forward. “We are both on the same side, are we not?” he asked earnestly, suddenly dropping his easygoing manner. “What does it matter if I know where you live? Doom says —”

“How did you come to be here?” Jasmine asked abruptly. “How did you find us?”

Dain drew back, and his face closed once more. “I was not looking for you. I was returning to our western stronghold when I saw the Ols. I knew them for what they were. Grade One Ols are crude and cannot hold a form for very long. They are easy to recognize when you know what to look for. I followed them, waiting my chance to destroy them. And then, lo and behold, you appeared, and the Ols were plainly interested.”

He paused. “They have been following you for days, you know,” he added in a hard voice. “They took the shape of wood mice and watched your every move, listened to you, deciding how they would proceed. In the end, they chose to appeal to your tenderness of heart. Once they had separated you, they would have struck. You would have had no chance.”

Lief, Jasmine, and Barda glanced at one another. All felt ashamed.

“We thank you for aiding us,” Barda said stiffly at last. “We ask you to forgive our suspicion and secrecy. We have learned to be cautious.”

“As have I,” said Dain, still in that hard voice, “though for a moment I forgot myself in the pleasure of seeing familiar faces.”

Lief suddenly realized that the boy was older than he had thought — at least as old as he was himself. The slight body, the fine-boned face, and the silkiness of the dark hair that flopped carelessly over Dain’s forehead had deceived him.

Dain swallowed the last of his tea and stood up awkwardly, protecting his injured arm. “I will leave you in peace. Be on the watch for Ols. Grade Ones, like the two we have just dispatched, always travel in pairs. The others — well, you will probably not recognize them, anyway. It is best to trust no one.”

He shouldered his pack and turned to go.

“Wait!” Lief exclaimed impulsively, jumping to his feet. “You cannot travel alone! Your arm is hurt. You cannot use your bow, or even a dagger.”

“I will be all right,” Dain said. “I do not have very far to go.”

But Barda was shaking his head. “Wait one night, and we will escort you,” he croaked, his hand on his throat. “It is the least we can do.”

Lief saw Jasmine stiffen. Clearly, she did not approve of this plan. She does not want to see Doom again, he thought suddenly. She distrusts him. But Jasmine said nothing, and Dain seemed not to notice her expression.

He was hesitating. It was plain that his pride, which urged him to leave them, was struggling with his common sense, which told him that it was madness to travel unprotected if he had a choice.

At last, he nodded. “Very well,” he said, dropping his pack. “Thank you. I will wait. Then we will go together to the stronghold.” He paused, biting his lip. “It is to the southeast. It is out of your way.”

“How do you know? We have not told you where we are going,” Jasmine snapped.

Dain’s delicate face flushed red. “I thought perhaps that you may be travelling to — to Tora,” he stammered.

Jasmine stared. The name meant nothing to her. But Lief was thinking furiously.

Tora! Del’s great sister city in the west. He had been taught of it. But it was so long since he had heard its name that he had forgotten it existed!

Dain was waiting for an answer, leaning forward anxiously.

“Indeed,” Barda said smoothly. “Well, if we are going to Tora, it will not hurt us to reach it a day or two later than we had planned.”

Jasmine stood up. “I will find a secure place to camp for the night,” she said. She stalked off into the trees, with Kree flying ahead. Dain gazed after her, and Lief saw a flicker of admiration in his eyes.

Lief felt an unsettling twinge of jealousy, bit his lip, and turned away. If only I had not injured him, he thought. Then he could have gone his way, and we could have gone ours.

Immediately he felt ashamed. He told himself that he was just upset because the journey to the Resistance stronghold would waste precious time. Every day of delay was another day his father and mother remained in danger, perhaps in torment, in the dungeons of the Shadow Lord in Del.

But, if he was honest, he also had to admit that he did not want Dain as a companion, even for a short time.

Dain made him uncomfortable. His gentle, polite ways were appealing, his quiet dignity was impressive, and, despite his lack of great strength, he had acted bravely in saving them from the Ols. But though he seemed easygoing on the surface, Lief could sense that there was something deep inside him that was hidden. Some secret he kept to himself.

No doubt he feels the same about us, Lief thought. And, of course, he is right. So we do not trust one another. That is the root of the problem. While we are with Dain we cannot discuss our quest, or the Belt. We cannot discuss my parents, or wonder aloud how they are faring. We cannot be comfortable.

Restless, unwilling to stay by the fire with Dain and Barda any longer, he went to help Jasmine. But as he walked into the trees, a new idea occurred to him.

Fate had played strange tricks on them before — and somehow it had always turned out for the best. Could there be some reason for their being forced to keep Dain’s company? Were they somehow meant to get to know him? Were they meant to go to the Resistance stronghold? To see Doom again?

Only time would tell.