Labyrinth Wall (9780991531219) (4 page)

Even Darith pauses with his eyes peeled. The walls seem to shine, and complex designs fill them, top to bottom. A pale gold color comprises the background of the artwork, but there are also many blues and greens throughout. My fingers soak in the cool smooth of the marble. The intricate swirling shapes and beautiful colors draw me in like a bird to its nest. I trace a blue line with my finger before Darith yanks my arm, gesturing for me to snap out of my fixation.

We start down the hall, completely unsure of where we’re headed or how long it will be before someone realizes there are intruders. The Creator boots make loud clicking sounds on the floor. Tall pointed marble archways line the corridor every few feet. They appear completely useless to the structure, serving only as added detail.

“This looks nothing like the room we were created in,” I say. “It was dark, and the walls were rough, like everywhere else in the labyrinth. I never could have imagined how beautiful this place actually is.”

“It’s almost like they didn’t want us to know how fancy this place is. Joke’s on them ‘cause their gaudy clothes tipped me off.”

“Right.” I nod as we turn a corner to find another long stretching passageway. “They seem to think we can’t deduce that kind of logic for ourselves.”

We pace the halls quickly but not fast enough to induce attention from the other sporadic guards we pass. Spotting one guard’s finger tapping the hilt of his giant sword causes my heart to beat a little faster, but it’s imperative to stay calm. He passes by unsuspecting.

Stumbling upon a large dining hall, we encounter a banquet. Creators have been walking behind us for a couple minutes, so we go with the crowd into the big room. Fortunately, our guard clothing protects us from suspicion as we try to pass through the area without drawing negative speculation. So many feasting Creators sit on the floor, lining the table edges, it would be hard to count them. Scents of various herbs and seasonings like none I’ve ever known drift in the air and my stomach growls.

My eyes are drawn to Simul and his small crowd. They drink carelessly then devour chunks of meat and vegetable served on a stick. Sitting around a huge buffet of abundant food, while their creatio
ns starve—their
selfishness makes me sick.

Those gathered around Simul appear privileged and proud, but they don’t look like guards. A woman sits on a red cushion beside Simul. She looks older than me but younger than him with golden hair. Frowning is the only thing her lips care to do. The woman doesn’t appear to be in tune with the conversation. She’s clearly bored. Each cherry she snacks on steals my interest for a moment. Like the cracker the guard consumed earlier, I know these are cherries, though I’ve never seen one in my life. The stupid little cherries get me thinking again, asking questions. Why do the Creators take the time to build us with so much knowledge, with survival skills? Why do they give us weapons and put us in the labyrinth at all?

Darith lets out a nearly inaudible whistle under his breath, motioning toward the golden-haired woman.

“Ugh,” I respond to his tasteless gesture.

Her cap-sleeve shirt is a glimmering bright purple color which covers only her chest, granting her midsection exposure. Clearly the bare skin has taken Darith’s interest. The blouse is lined with the same dark blue of her pants. Lovely pale pink translucent pieces of floor-length material drape down around the blue pants. Though I’m unable to decipher exact details, elaborate beading is visible in her hair.

My face flashes across hers, a figment of my imagination. It’s me wondering what her beautiful clothing would look like on someone like me: someone starved, skinny, and awkward. The embellishments would just weigh me down anyway. Attempting to picture myself dressed in something so ornate without a dirt-covered face is impossible.

We’re close to exiting the over-populated room, but one more Creator catches my attention. His missing hand must be what subconsciously caught my eye. The man looks far more slender as well as a bit shorter than Simul. From my distant vantage point, his details aren’t extremely evident, but stringy brown hair hangs over his face, which I find a bit unsettling.

Meats, fruits, vegetables, and bread of many varieties tease me. It might not hurt just to snatch a little. The risk would be high. Many of them are completely drunk anyway, but the guards around the edges of the room make me nervous. After exiting the gathering through a large archway lined with purple curtains and red tassels, I let out a sigh of relief, glad we put distance between us and Simul.

The clicking of our boots on the smooth floor resumes for a good thirty minutes before we locate a secluded bench at the edge of a courtyard.

The courtyard is the nicest part of the castle so far. It features the same pointed arches from the hallways, but these run all the way up several levels. Intricate balconies abound every twenty feet. Every single one is unique, with a different pattern designed in it. The patterns aren’t drawn on, like I draw on walls. Each design is built that way with multicolored stones carved into different shapes. It’s hard to fathom how long it took them to build this place, or more likely, how long it took the Mahk to build it for them.

Thinking about the creation of the Mahk piques my curiosity. It could be done in some of the rooms
we’ve passed. I wish we could learn more about the process while we’re inside the castle. After waking up to the world for the first time, the Creators simply sent me into the labyrinth with no further explanation. What my body consists of or how my brain is wired, how life sparked within me, I may never know. It’s possible we could find where our bodies are produced or learn how they wire our brains, but realistically, we’re already treading in dangerous territory without digging that deep. We really need to find the mystery man so we can get out of here, or we’ll be killed.

Sweat crawls down my back and on my palms as my nerves threaten to expose my fear. Who knows what the Creators might do to us for sneaking into the castle. “This was a stupid idea… It’s never going to work,” I murmur. “Let’s get out of here before they catch us. We don’t even know where to find the man in white.”

The expression on his face is more serious than it’s been before. He looks down at his sooty boots. “Don’t ya want to know how he came through that wall, where he came from?”

Sighing heavily, I shrug. “Lead the way.”

“Let’s get him and get out. It’s time to rethink this game plan. We could spend days wandering this place looking for him, and I bet, by then, he’ll be dead.”

He’s right. My brain boils in search of a good solution.

“If you hadn’t killed both the guards,” I accuse him, “we could have forced information out of them.”

“If you think that’s the best way, that’s how we’ll do it.” He takes off away from the courtyard, motioning for me to follow.

It doesn’t take long for me to recognize where he’s headed. We passed a bath hall about twenty minutes ago.

“It’ll be easiest to take someone that’s off duty and unarmed,” he announces.

My lips purse unintentionally, but he’s right.

“Why don’t you do the dirty work?” This seems like a good job for him. I’m not eager to see any naked people.

“I’m way ahead of ya.” He motions for me to wait in the hallway as he slips inside.

As the mist flows out into the hall, warm slimy residue forms on my skin. I glance back and forth down the passageway. The wait for his return feels endless. A good fifteen minutes pass, but he still doesn’t emerge with a guard.

I’m tapping my fingers nervously when the one-handed man in black from the banquet rounds the corner, then starts walking toward me. For a minute, I completely panic, thinking he knows I’m a Mahk. Then I remember I’m in guard attire. I stand stiff and upright at his approach; like I’ve seen other guards do for Simul.

Just when it seems he’s going to walk right past me without a pause, he turns to face me.

Chapter 4
“Criminals”

His almost entirely black ensemble is actually fairly detailed upon close inspection. It’s composed of a loose long-sleeved shirt tucked into pants which are not that different from Mahk pants. Ours are a little less baggy and certainly not as durable, but they also close at the ankles like his.

A slightly faded silk vest rests over his charcoal shirt, and a particularly unique shining silver sash hangs from one shoulder. The designs on it feature two symbols, one that’s stitched into all Creator clothing, including those that I’m wearing. Lines run parallel and adjacent, forming a maze, and it isn’t hard for me to know this symbol has something to do with the labyrinth in which we live. What I’m not certain of is the meaning of the thick vertical lines slicing through the maze. Below
that symbol is one which is also on Simul’s clothing, a round circle that has flames and ice in it.

The long brown hair hanging past his eyes is even more disconcerting close up, because it’s hard to guess what he’s thinking. I breathe heavily, attempting to maintain my salute.

He shoves me against the wall. “When did Simul start posting guards outside the bathhouse?”

“Oh, he didn’t. I was waiting here for someone.”

He leans in close to me. The man must be studying my face, but his eyes are elusive under all his hair. “Hmm,” his raspy voice continues. “Simul’s an idiot, but at least he’s not posting guards at the bathhouse. You.” He turns his attention back to me. “Report to authority and request a transfer.” He runs his hand along my hip. “Pay me a visit sometime.”

Gross, that was completely vile. Every muscle feels tense. He smirks and then turns away.

He’s several feet down the corridor now.

“What a pig.” He better be glad he stopped when he did. My dagger would have been up his stomach in a second.

The man continues down the hall only to stop about thirty feet away. After extracting a key from his vest, he unlocks a door then waits quietly for a moment. High-pitched creaking follows as he slowly pushes it open.

“You haven’t mentioned if you’re finding these accommodations pleasing?” he inquires hoarsely.

No response follows his question, so he pounds his fist against the doorway. “I assume they’re to your liking. It’s time to tell me the information I’ve been patiently waiting for.”

A woman’s gentle voice replies, “Why does it matter? We’re minding our own business.”

He grunts loudly, pulling her partially out of the room. She has long black hair, but her face can’t be seen from my vantage.

“You’ve had enough time!” the man in black yells at her. “You tell me now, or you won’t live for another opportunity.”

“I’m not going to say anything, you animal,” she retorts. He begins to push her inside the room. “Please don’t…
” she begs.

I start to glimpse part of her face when
suddenly a woman wearing partially buttoned pants and an undershirt slams into the wall across from me.

Darith follows her, tossing the rest of her clothes at her feet. “Be quick,” he threatens as he reaches for one of the trident spears strapped across his back.

“Quiet.” My finger points down the hall. I lunge forward to muffle the scream our prisoner is about to let out.

A door slams heavily as I jerk my head back up. The one-handed man and the women are no longer there.

“They’re gone,” Darith confirms. “Put those on now,” he reemphasizes to our newly captured guard, motioning at the layered clothing piled next to her.

She narrows her brown eyes, grits her teeth, and spits in his face.

Extracting the dagger from my hair, I shoot her a heartless stare.

She somehow takes my unspoken threat more seriously. Dressed within a minute’s time, the woman is shoved into the lead by Darith, and then we’re off.

The woman’s short hair is soaked. She doesn’t stand quite as tall as me and is all muscle. She moves reluctantly at first down the passageway, trying to stall for time until my dagger nicks her shoulder, causing her to wince. She hastens her pace, leading us quietly through the halls.

Passing mostly bedrooms and the occasional closed door, I’m very dismayed to see the giant fluffy beds and satin pillows. Temptation begs me to go lie on one, just to experience the contrast from sleeping on solid ground.

“How’d you two get in here anyway? Didn’t come through the front door I assume,” our guide remarks.

“Doesn’t matter how,” Darith replies.

“A window?” She searches our expressions. “The field,” she tries again. Her eyes meet mine. “It was the field.” She smirks.

Darith scoffs at me.

“I didn’t say anything,” I defend.

“Not with your mouth. Just keep movin’, lady,” he tells the guard.

Scrats, she’s clever; reading me like that. Wait, did I just see Blue? Squinting out into an open courtyard, for a moment, I think I spot Blue. But there are two, no three more of her. It’s not her at all. This must be where she came from. Eleven other birds looking almost identical to her meander peacefully through the indoor pool and garden. They have the same tall skinny legs and blue bodies, but they don’t have the same three random long dark green tail feathers as her. They wander tranquilly through the water within a confined small pool, looking almost like prisoners.