Keepers of the Labyrinth (7 page)

The door yawned open and shut on its hinges. Lil held herself still, listening just in case it was a ploy. After several minutes had passed, Sydney pulled the other side of the curtain back the tiniest bit.

“It's all clear,” she said. They pooled together in front of the window, an audible sigh of relief among them.

“What was that all about?” Sydney whispered, her face split by shadows.

“I don't know,” Lil said. It was true. It was as if she had a handful of puzzle pieces from different puzzles. “The only thing I know is that it was not about the conference. Not at all.”

“Something much bigger is going on here,” Kat said, her face alight with worry.

“She said she's doing rounds,” Sydney said, shaking her head. “We need to get back to our rooms. Now.”

“Sydney's right,” Charlie said. “They already saw our book.” She gulped, raising a palm to her forehead. “I can't believe I left it. But they won't know it was us.”

“Not if we get back undetected,” Lil said, leading them to the door and down the stairs. Into the dark hallways they went without light, and slipped quickly into their rooms.

9

T
he revivalists have been trying to get this location opened up to them for spiritual rituals for the past ten years,” Felice said.

Horatio laughed. The modern-day pagans were a joke. They didn't know the true history. But Horatio and Felice had known the truth of Zeus for a long time. They had studied the writings since they were children. Horatio could still see the old farmhouse, and the way Ares would come on Sunday evenings and read to them from the ancient scripts. There was no doubt in Horatio's mind that what his uncle had told him was absolutely true. The historical evidence was irrefutable. And now he, his brother and his sister would be the messengers of the Zephylites to the new world. They would seek the legendary Icarus Folio. They would be unrivaled.

Byron's voice cropped up from the shadows in the backseat. “Do you think they'll have any food at this meeting? I'm starving.”

“Quit complaining,” Felice said. “It's not every day you get sent on a holy quest.”

Horatio smiled. Felice had always gotten it. Byron, not as much, but he tried to be good. Just as their mother had said. Byron was always trying to be a good boy, despite himself.

“Well, who goes on a quest without food?” Byron said.

“They'll have the traditional fare,” Horatio said as he steered the car beneath the skeletons of old Venetian windmills. He squinted into the darkness, eyeing the tourist signs leading to the Dikteon Cave. Spotting a blue sign, he turned left and headed straight up a hill. Even without the sign, Horatio thought, he would have been able to find his way. The vibrations had changed. There was a great, ancient power here. He could feel it. That was why Horatio was the chosen messenger.

He pulled into the parking lot and eased the car into the shadows of the chestnut trees. There were only a few cars there, thankfully. Many of the others had arrived as tourists earlier in the day. Others would have walked over the western hill, and some would have carpooled. Horatio scanned the area for Giorgos: head groundskeeper, fellow Zephylite and gatekeeper to holy sanctuaries.

“Well, where the hell is he?” he huffed, sucking the life out of his cigarette and depositing it out the window.

“He's at your twenty,” Felice said, pointing to the depths of the shadows.

Horatio smirked. Felice worked with a sixth sense of her own. Nothing but perhaps the silver side of a pocket pen was peeking from the darkness at them, but she had discerned it from the slivers of moonshine that escaped through the foliage. The shadow moved and morphed, and a moment later Giorgos was there beside them. Horatio rolled down his window. He hadn't seen the old man since he was a child, and he searched his face, now wrinkled with age.

“George? Is that you?”

“Sorry, we're closed,” Giorgos said.

Of course. Horatio pulled the necklace from beneath his shirt, showing off the lightning bolt extended between the gold circle. He recited the blessing in ancient Greek. “
Athanate Dia, chaire. Chairet
e athanata tekna tou
Dios. . .
” He kissed the necklace and raised it high, translating the words in his head.
To Zeus im
mortal, blessings. T
o his immortal kin,
blessings.

Giorgos' face broke into a smile. “Young Horatio, you have changed with age, child.”

“So have you,” Byron piped up from the backseat. “And I'm not talking about in a good way.”

“And that must be Ronny. Good to see you, too.”

Felice leaned toward Horatio. “Good day to you, Father Giorgos,” she said, extending a hand. The old man smiled and accepted it.

“And Felice. As fast-footed and sharp-sighted as ever, I hope?”

“Even more so,” Felice said.

“You will need it,” Giorgos said. He turned toward the shadows. “When you are ready, we will proceed to the back entrance.”

Horatio opened the door. “We have been ready for all the ages.”

They stepped up the stone path to the Dikteon Cave, Horatio following Giorgos' sure footing. He turned at the top of the hill and watched the clouds roll under the moon, sending shadowy boats across the belly of the valley. His throat swelled with emotion as he thought of this day, millennia before, when Zeus had been born and hidden from his evil father, Kronos, in the cave of Dikte. The wind picked up, and Horatio lifted his face to it, breathing in the power. He raised his hands and felt the wind in his shirtsleeves.

A door squeaked on its hinges, and Felice punched Horatio in the arm as she passed. “Getting overdramatic,” she said. “Let's stay focused on the task at hand.”

Felice lacked the ability to enjoy anything with true feeling, Horatio thought as he dropped his hands by his side and stepped into the damp tunnel.

Giorgos struck a match, and a minute later a few torches were lit. He handed one to Horatio and another to Felice, and carried the third one on his own.

Horatio envisioned baby Zeus hiding here, in the belly of the caverns. The women snapped branches, and the warriors clashed their shields in the large chamber to hide the newborn's cries so that Kronos wouldn't hear him.

Horatio had visited this cave once as a tourist and once before as a Zephylite, so he knew about the hidden chamber, the one that no one could pay to see. The one where Zeus had been hidden so many years ago. It was less dramatic—no huge stalagmites or stalactites. No special LED lighting to make the fingers of rock loom gnarled and jagged. Just a back corner with a damp smell, removed from the rest.

Here, tonight, they stepped into the small alcove. A group of plain-clothed people held torches around a simple stone slab. Horatio nodded as he entered, recognizing many of the order's elders. There was Benedict and Francine. And there was Ares, his beloved uncle, the high priest.

Horatio led his brother and sister to the center. He was on one side of the stone slab while Ares stood upright and welcoming on the other.

“Shall we begin?” Ares said, his face awash with a smile.

Horatio dropped to one knee.

“Youngest first,” Ares said. Horatio hesitated, then stood. He stepped back to watch, hoping Byron would do it just as they had rehearsed. He watched as his brother lifted the top of his leather satchel and extracted the decorative bronze vial. He unscrewed the cap and poured the contents onto the stone slab, then set the vial down, his head bowed.

“Thank you for your offering, messenger.” Ares turned to a stone stool and lifted a leather thong with three charred shapes on it. “I bestow on you the three sacred symbols passed down for millennia as a token of luck and of Zeus' blessing on your voyage. The first, ash from the volcano of Thera that destroyed those who strove to destroy Zeus. This is the protection that Zeus offers you on your quest for immortality.” He turned the band. “Next, a branch of ancient oak from the grounds where Zeus once lived. A token of shelter and safety with the lord.” He flipped the band again. “Lastly, an eagle, sign of justice, but moreover to remind you that you carry a great message. May your flight be fast.”

Horatio watched with zeal as Ares lowered the emblems into Byron's hands. Byron bowed, accepting the gift, and then stood.

Felice took his place in front of the stone slab and pulled a bunch of sagebrush from her pouch. She bent it to her torch and let it crackle until a steady line of smoke soared to the ceiling of the cave. She placed the brush on the stone slab and inhaled as the smoke permeated the room, then bowed her head.

Ares stuck his hand into the satchel at his side and pulled out a leather case. “Messenger, I bestow upon you an ancient cartograph drawn by Zeus' own son Minos. Written on stone tablets and preserved by the volcanic ash on Thera. It was found by our kin and translated here.” He held out a leather scroll. “May its paths still be true to you, the chosen navigator.”

Felice bowed her head and raised her hands, accepting the map, and then stood.

Finally, Horatio's turn had come, and he eyed the stone stool.

“Messenger,” Ares said, his smile broadening.

Horatio grasped his satchel and pulled the top off. He extracted three large oak branches and laid them zigzag across the stone so that they resembled the lord's famous lightning bolt. “Father, I am here to serve,” he said, raising his eyes to Ares.

Ares reached down and pulled Horatio's bag from his shoulders. What was he doing? Horatio wondered. It was common to receive a gift, not have one taken away. Ares lifted the final item into the air, and Horatio soaked in the beauty. There in his hands was a fine leather satchel, decorated from stem to stern with beautiful ancient symbols and images. He reached to place his fingers on the carvings.

“Messenger Horatio, I bestow upon you a sacred case for extraction and security of the Icarus Folio.”

Horatio felt the weight of the remarkable satchel as it landed in his hands. “That is my task, my desire and my destiny,” he breathed, happy to give up his tattered bag for this masterpiece.

A moan began around the circle as the torches swayed and the group began their ritual chant. Horatio felt the music, his voice climbing to join the others. For thirty minutes, they moved and chanted, and the room seemed alive with spirit and vitality. They honored the birth of Zeus with the passing of the wine and the banging of drums. And when the merrymaking wound to an end, Ares called the group together once more. Horatio sat bleary eyed, eager to see what lay ahead.

“We have not discussed retrieval of the key.” Ares held up a picture of a double-sided disk with a labrys on one side and pictographs on the other. Horatio had seen it many times before in the writings of Hexalodorous. Book four, verse six, this crude illustration underneath. The key. “As you know, there are three entryways to the labyrinth, as indicated on your cartograph. Getting in is easy. But to get out, you require the key. You will need to find the Protector and
encourage
her to give it to you.”

He extracted a large piece of cloth from beneath the table and laid it out in front of them, unrolling the package to reveal several weapons: a gun, a machete, a few pieces of explosives. A sword, more decorative than useful, Horatio thought. He scanned the others. There was a bronze blade and a few small daggers. Horatio reached for the machete, testing the weight in his hand. Yes, he thought as it balanced horizontally across his palm, it would do nicely.

10

W
hen Lil had returned to her room, her mind had spun relentlessly. She had paced her small dormitory, stretched and tried not to stare at the symbols in the stained-glass window that decorated the top of her door. She had ruminated over the conversation in the library until jet lag and weariness eventually caught her and put her under around 2:00 a.m.

Now, as her watch alarm warned her that the day was going to begin, she reached up to silence it and opened her eyes. Five o'clock. She wobbled to a seated position, then yawned and stretched. How could she have wasted hours of much-needed sleep? She made her way up, got dressed and placed the picture of her mom and Bente into her pocket. Maybe, Lil thought as she went to a small sink in the corner and began to brush her teeth—maybe if she asked Bente about the picture, she might find out more information about the previous night. The question was, did she want to?

Lil spat in the sink and pulled on shorts, a T-shirt and a pair of socks and sneakers. As she tightened her laces, a knock came at the door. She hurried to it, opening the top half. It was Sydney. She was all dressed and ready for the day. Her twisty hair was pulled into two big puffs at the back of her head.

“I couldn't sleep a wink,” she said, looking one way down the hall and then the other.

Lil opened the door all the way. “Me neither,” she said, gesturing for Sydney to come in.

Lil yawned and dropped into the desk chair as Sydney started pacing her room.

“I mean, we're technically all cut off from the world,” Sydney said. “Way up on a mountain ‘retreat.'” She used quotation marks for the word
retreat.
“I mean, no cell phones, no computers? A solar-powered building with few communication methods at all? From the outside it looks like a wonderful off-the-beaten-path experience, but now I can see it's the perfect storm for a psycho-thriller horror flick.”

The squeak of hinges followed by the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway. Lil waved her hand, cutting Sydney off. Maybe it was a teacher making her rounds again. Sydney froze as Lil went and peered down the hall. Kat and Charlie locked their doors, spotted Lil and rushed toward her.

Charlie looked anxious as they neared. “Did you sleep at all?”

Lil shook her head, opening the door wide. Kat sat on the side of the bed, and Charlie took a position at the window seat. Lil closed the door tight, then dropped into the chair. She placed her elbows on her knees and clasped her hands together.

“So like I was saying,” Sydney said, returning to her pacing, “this is the perfect storm for a psycho-thriller horror flick. We basically have no means of communication with the outside world. We're at the mercy of these ‘counselors.'” She used quotation marks once again
.

Lil's mind raced. Sydney seemed to think they were all dangerous. Surely a friend of her mom's wouldn't be dangerous. The symbol Mom wore, it couldn't mean something bad. Could it?

“I think you might be jumping to conclusions,” Charlie said.

Sydney leveled her with a stare. “Jumping to conclusions? I don't jump to conclusions.” She pulled a roll of papers out of her back pocket, went to Lil's desk and flattened them against it.

Lil stared down at the top sheet as Charlie and Kat came across the room. It was a meticulously drawn map of the surrounding area.

“Is that computer generated?” Kat asked, leaning closer.

“Like I said, no technology. I had to hand-draft it. I did my best based on my GPS.”

Lil nodded, noting the homemade device attached to Sydney's hip.

Sydney traced the line of the road. “I drew it out to give you the whole picture. We're approximately one hour from Chania by bus. From there, along the national road just to the base of this mountain was eighty miles. Then”—she started tracing the winding road with the turnstiles up to where they were—“we had an additional ten miles up this road. The nearest house is—” Sydney's finger traced back down the mountain, straying to the main road they had come in on. Written in all capital letters in neatly slanted writing was a single phrase:
LAST
SIGN
OF
LIFE
.

Lil tried to remember the ride up the mountain. She'd noticed the goats and sheep. She'd noticed that there were a few shepherds in the fields, but the houses? The houses, she remembered, slipped away into a tiny little model town in the distance. “No other houses for at least ten miles?” Lil said.

Sydney nodded and made a big, even-handed circle around the manor. “Farther in any other direction.”

“So it's off the beaten path,” Kat said, standing and crossing her arms. “We knew that coming here. You read all the reviews online. It's the premier Future Leaders International Conference. It provides a unique experience.”

“Yes, but it's important to factor in that we are now in a new situation. We have gained knowledge.” Sydney flipped her page to reveal a complex weblike chart.

“We're countless miles from home in each direction.” She traced a thread. “We have very limited means of communication.” She traced another thread to a Z inside a circle. “There is something called a Zephylite. I hope that's not like a Cylon. And lastly, they are coming for this thing.” She traced a line to a picture of the disk with the labrys on it.

“The key,” Lil heard herself saying. “I mean, they called it a key.”

“A key to what?” Kat said.

“That's another valid question,” Sydney said. “However, it's not as important as the one we should be asking—” She traced the thread to a huge balloon on the upper right where there were four stick figures. She had written in the counselors' names along with their credentials, circling the word
international
underneath each person. “Fairly high-profile figures. Working internationally. Hiding a key from some group that we have never heard of.” She underlined the counselors' names. “Who are they, really?”

Lil's mind worked. Mom had started in the air force and then moved over to a job in the Department of Homeland Security. She had a habit of disappearing suddenly in the middle of the day. She was there for breakfast, but when Lil returned home from school, her plane would be missing from the airfield. She could always see the Longhorn, or the lack of the Longhorn, from the bus window as they circled toward the outlying farms.

“So are you saying,” Kat said, twisting her bangle bracelets on her wrist, “you think this is some sort of a governmental conspiracy? An international spy ring—”

“That's just it,” Sydney said, running the end of her pencil along the line to an empty bubble. “We don't have enough clues to come to a conclusion.” She drew a big question mark in the empty bubble.

“We need more information,” Charlie said.

Lil found her hand at her pocket again. Would telling them about the picture, about her mom and her mom's death, help them figure any of this out? Would it paint Lil as part of the conspiracy, too? Her fingers curled and uncurled. Maybe she could get some more information from the library tonight, and see what was really going on. Then she could share the rest . . . if it was necessary.

Lil and Sydney's watches started beeping suddenly. Lil pressed hers off. It was 6:00 a.m. “Let's think about it and talk more later. For now, we have a scholarship to win.”