by Troy Denning
"As you wish. But stay close. If the monster takes one of you, I won't be able to catch it." The Amnesian Hero scowled in Tessali's direction, then added, "This brick foot is somewhat less than nimble."
"I can cut it off any time you like," replied Tessali.
Refusing to dignify the elf's offer with a response, the Amnesian Hero clumped into the hail. As he moved, he slowly twirled his left wrist ahead of him, winding the thread onto his arm while leaving his other hand free for his sword. Already, the spool had grown so thick that he could not have scratched his ear. If they did not come upon the exit in the next league, his arm would become too bulky to move.
They followed the thread down a series of short, dogleg turns, then found themselves in a region of broad, black-paved passages. The iron walls seemed to loom higher than ever, and the hail fell harder. Through the orange-glowing fog, the Amnesian Hero occasionally saw a dark, window-like square set high on a wall's iron face, but the shapes were always too distant to investigate more carefully. Every now and then, what might have been a tongue of flame licked out of one of these portals. The Thrasson tried to stay in the middle of the avenue, preferring to let the black forms remain a mystery-if that was possible.
They advanced perhaps a thousand paces into this strange region before the Amnesian Hero felt a soft tug on his left arm. So gentle was the pull that he thought he had imagined it, then it happened again.
The Thrasson said nothing and continued forward, trying to convince himself that the sensation was a result of his own weariness. He had, after all, been twirling his arm for untold hours, gathering an ever-increasing burden. Sooner or later, the repetition was bound to take its toll. The tug came again. It was difficult to be certain in the hail and the fog, but this time it seemed to him the thread had bobbed.
The Amnesian Hero felt his heart drop into his stomach. He knew at once the monster had found their thread, but he did not say anything to his companions. From the start, Tessali had despaired of Finding a way out of the mazes, and even Jayk had fallen ominously silent over the last several hours. If he told them what had happened before he thought of a way to counter the misfortune, they would lose heart and surrender to despondency.
"Zoombee, what is happening to the thread?"
"What do you mean?" The Thrasson silently cursed Jayk's watchfulness.
"I see it, too!" Tessali added. "There. It's bobbing."
The Amnesian Hero clumped forward, trying to think fast. "The spool is getting difficult to wind." He raised his hand to display the massive tangle, then cringed as the thread snapped taut and gave a sharp twang. "And, every now and then, a hailstone bounces off the line."
"Zoombee, I don't like it when you lie to me," warned Jayk. "Something pulls on the thread, yes?"
Sensing it would be useless to try hiding the truth, the Amnesian Hero sighed and stopped walking. "Yes, but don't despair. We can still find the exit."
"How?" Jayk demanded.
"I, uh… we know the general direction…"
"We can worry about that later." Tessali, sounding surprisingly resilient in the face of their disaster, spoke with an air of authority. "If something's following that thread, I'm guessing it's the monster. Cut yourself loose, and we'll flee."
"Cut the golden thread? Never!" The Amnesian Hero was appalled at the elf's cowardice. "We'll set an ambush and deal with this monster properly. I will be the bait, of course. The beast will follow the thread straight into my arms."
"And then we attack it from behind!" concluded Jayk.
"If that should prove necessary." The Thrasson's throat, already tender from breathing the hot air, ached from so much talking. "After slaying the Hydra of Thrassos, I think I can kill a single labyrinth monster."
The Amnesian Hero clumped over to a wall and began to retreat, allowing the golden line to spiral off his arm as he moved. Jayk and Tessali walked at his sides, still holding onto the amphora sling and peering over their shoulders, as though they actually expected to see the monster coming. The fog remained thick as a blanket, and the hail continued to hiss and roar as it battered the labyrinth. As they passed beneath one of the windowlike shapes high on the wall, a tongue of yellow flame shot out to crackle above them, laving their heads with blistering heat and filling the air with an acrid, ashy smell.
They moved a little away from the wall. The thread continued to jerk at regular intervals, and again the monster's bellow rumbled through the labyrinth. The roar sounded even louder than before, but no one commented on it. Tessali's expression remained one of grim fear; Jayk's shadowy face seemed more angry than frightened. The Thrasson imagined that she was less afraid of dying than of remaining trapped in the mazes and never reaping her vengeance on Komosahl Trevant.
After a time, they reached the mouth of a side corridor. Although it looked to be as broad as the one in which they had been traveling, the Amnesian Hero thought it would do for their ambush. He sent his companions down the passage, having them count out each step until they could no longer see each other. It required only five paces before their figures were completely obscured by hail and fog.
"Stop!" He had to yell to make himself heard above the thundering hailstones, further abusing his scorched throat. "Wait there until I call. Do you understand?"
The reply came in the form of a barely discernible croak that the Amnesian Hero took to mean yes. He retreated five steps into the intersection and stopped to await his foe. The hail beat a brisk, broken cadence against what remained of his armor, but he doubted the monster would hear it over the roar of the storm. He pushed his sword into its scabbard and caught a few hailstones in his palm, then slipped them into his mouth to quench his thirst. The icy balls tasted like fish, but he let them melt and forced himself to swallow the foul water. If the fight happened to last more than a few moments, he did not want his breathing troubled by a dry throat
The thread continued to tug at his left arm. The monster was winding the line up, suggesting it was a creature of foresight Would the brute pause at the comer to check for an ambush? The Amnesian Hero caught another handful of hail and slipped it into his mouth, then drew his sword again. If he felt a sudden change in the tugging of the line, he would rush-or, rather, hobble-forward to attack. The Thrasson reminded himself to be careful; now that his torso armor had been crushed, his most vulnerable area would be open to a counterstrike. His first priority would be to destroy whatever weapon his foe would be carrying. The next attack would be a crippling blow to a leg, both to put the monster on an even footing with himself and to prevent it from carrying off one of his companions. The third strike would be the killing one.
The Amnesian Hero's planning came to an abrupt end as a tall, manlike silhouette appeared in the fog. Cowering against the battering hail, the figure looked distinctly unmonsterlike. It had a bulky head with a rather squarish crown, a slender hunch-shouldered build, and a pair of skinny, goatlike legs. The creature kept its gaze fixed firmly on the ground as it twined the golden thread around the shaft of a long lance, apparently oblivious to the possibility of ambush.
A monster of ploys and deception, the Amnesian Hero decided; they were the most dangerous kind. He leapt forward, landing brick-foot forward to present his armored flank to the beast, then struck the lance off midway down the shaft. The creature croaked out a hoarse cry of astonishment and suddenly rose into the air, safely lifting its knobby legs over the Thrasson's slashing sword.
A pair of stone-hard hooves slammed one after the other into the Amnesian Hero's shoulder pauldron, driving him back before he could reverse his blade for an upstroke. Unable to bring his brick foot around quickly enough to catch his balance, the Thrasson stumbled and fell on the scorching bricks.
He found himself looking at the underside of what appeared to be a rearing goat. "A bariaur?" he gasped.
The "monster" dropped its forehooves to the bricks, and the Thrasson saw that it was, indeed, a bariaur – and an ancient one at that. Chipped and colorless as they w
ere, the fellow's horns had two full curls. His eyes were rheumy, and a gray, mossy beard covered everything from his cheeks to his chest. His woolly pelt had grown into such a bushy mat of snarls and tangles that the shabby saddlebags laid across his back were barely visible.
The Amnesian Hero brought his sword into a guarding position, but made no move to rise off the hot bricks. "I beg your forgiveness. In this fog, I mistook you for the monster of the labyrinth."
The bariaur's gaze went to the golden spool wound around the Thrasson's arm, then he sighed in disappointment. "It can't be." His voice was brittle with age. "I won't allow it."
"I apologize for my mistake." The Thrasson gathered himself up, moving slowly to avoid alarming the old bariaur. "But you have heard the roars? When I felt the tugging on my line-"
"Nol Be strong, you fool!"
The Amnesian Hero froze in a half-crouch. "Please. I mean you no harm…"
"No harm!" The words were something between a snort and a laugh. "He must go away!"
The bariaur lifted the butt of his broken lance. The Amnesian Hero raised his guard and started to pivot away, but there was no need. The old fellow closed his baggy eyelids and brought the shaft down between his horns, striking himself soundly on his own pate.
"He must go away!"
Confused, the Amnesian Hero thought it best to do nothing. The bariaur remained motionless a moment, then opened his rheumy eyes.
"Still there." The bariaur dosed his eyes and hit himself.
"What are you doing?"
The bariaur struck another blow against his brow, this time without opening his eyes.
"Stop! You'll hurt yourself."
The bariaur brought the shaft down once for each word, at the same time muttering, "He must go away. Must go away."
Realizing that speaking would only make matters worse, the Amnesian Hero shoved his sword into its scabbard and clumped forward to restrain the mad bariaur. After suffering an inadvertent blow as the club hit him on a backstroke, the Thrasson caught hold of the shaft and wrenched it from the old fellow's grasp.
"I'll hold this for you." The last thing the Amnesian Hero wanted was for the bariaur to knock himself senseless – at least until the old fellow led the way to where he had found his end of the golden thread. "Beating yourself will not make me vanish."
The bariaur slapped his hands over his ears and, without opening his eyes, spun toward the side corridor, where Jayk and Tessali were just emerging from the fog. Both had their daggers in hand.
"Don't harm him!" the Amnesian Hero warned.
The pair stopped two paces short of the bariaur, who continued to cover his ears and keep his eyes closed.
"What are you doing here?" asked the Thrasson. "I didn't call for you."
"We hear yelling." Jayk flicked a hand skyward. "With all this noise, we think it is you, yes?"
"It wasn't me; it was our monster." The Amnesian Hero gestured at the bariaur. "I think he's what you call barmy. The old fellow keeps beating himself and saying that I must go away."
Tessali raised an eyebrow, then turned his gaze upon the cowering bariaur. After a moment, the elf pursed his lips and nodded grimly.
The Thrasson retrieved the severed lance and displayed the golden thread wrapped around its shaft. "If you convince him to show us where he started collecting this, we can find the exit."
The elf held his finger to his lips, then sheathed his dagger. The three companions waited silently in the battering hail. At last the bariaur took his hands from his ears and looked up. When he saw Tessali and Jayk standing before him, the old fellow wailed in despair and dropped to his foreknees.
"Silverwind, you old fool!" he cried.
Silverwind began to slap himself between the horns again. The Amnesian Hero moved to restrain him, but Tessali motioned the Thrasson back.
"You were almost out, and now you've lost control again," Silverwind complained.
He ran his rheumy gaze over the unexpected company, then he pitched forward into the fog. There was a sharp crack, then the bariaur's head rose briefly into view and disappeared again. Another crack followed, then another, and the Thrasson realized Silverwind was butting his horns against the ground. So powerful were the blows that pieces of brick began to fly whenever the old fellow raised his head. Still, Tessali refused to let the Amnesian Hero intervene. Finally, after the flying brick shards had given way to powder, the old fellow stopped. He left his head beneath the fog and, despite the smell of singed fur beginning to fill the air around his forequarters, made no move to return to his feet.
Tessali squatted on his haunches and waited patiently. When Silverwind finally looked up, the elf touched his fingertips to his own chest. "I am Tessali." He gestured at Jayk, then the Thrasson. "My friends-"
"Do not presume!" hissed Jayk. "I am no friend of yours."
The elf accepted the interruption without changing expressions, then continued, "My… companions are Jayk the Snake, and the Amnesian Hero." He extended a hand to the bariaur. "Why don't you stand? Your fur is beginning to scorch."
Silverwind glanced toward his knees, then allowed the elf to help him up.
"You were saying that we must go away," Tessali said. "Why is that?"
"Because I don't want you here." Silverwind's reply was meek. "You're in my way."
"In the way of what?" Tessali asked.
Silverwind turned half away, regarding the elf out of the comer of his eye. "They're not here." He closed his baggy eyelids. "Be strong, Silverwind."
"You can keep your eyes closed as long as you like, Silverwind. We'll still be here when you open them."
Silverwind covered his ears again.
Realizing that this might take some time, the Thrasson began to twine the thread off his arm onto the head of the bariaur's spear. If he wanted to avoid cutting it, working the golden strand onto its proper spool was going to be a major task.
After a moment, Tessali reached up and gently pulled one of the bariaur's hands down. Silverwind gasped and recoiled from the touch, then stared at Tessali as though the elf were a pit fiend.
"You see?" said Tessali. "We're still here. You can't make us go away."
With astonishing quickness for a bariaur his age, Silverwind dropped his head and butted Tessali in the chest. The blow drove the elf straight to the ground, where he landed with a loud groan. The Amnesian Hero rushed to restrain the bariaur, but, with his brick foot, he was not nearly so quick as Jayk. Before the Thrasson had taken his second step, the tiefling was at Silverwind's side, pushing her dagger up toward the bariaur's throat.
"Jayk, no!"
The tiefling stopped, her arm half-extended above her head and the tip of her knife pressing against the ropy outline of the bariaur's jugular. Her fangs were folded down and her pupils were shaped like diamonds. Silverwind stood motionless as a statue, his astonished gaze fixed upon the top of her head.
"But he attacked us, Zoombee!" Jayk complained.
The Amnesian Hero knew better than to appeal to her compassion. He raised the lance head, displaying the spool of thread the bariaur had gathered.
"We don't know where Silverwind started this. If you advance him to the next stage, how will we find the exit? How will you avenge yourself on Trevant?"
Jayk rolled her dark eyes. "You don't need to sweet talk me, Zoombee. If you say don't cut him, I don't cut him."
"Then be good enough to step back." Tessali rose, rubbing his chest but otherwise looking little worse for wear. "I'm sure Silverwind realizes by now that he won't be rid of us by attacking."
Jayk ignored Tessali and did not step away until the Amnesian Hero nodded. Once the knife was pulled away from Silverwind's throat, the bariaur closed his eyes and shook his head sadly.
"You were so close. So close."
"So close to what?" asked Tessali. "Tell me, Silverwind."
The bariaur opened his eyes and glared at the elf. He looked past Tessali at Jayk, then he turned to stare at the Amnesian Hero. "Why
did you have to imagine them, old fool? You were so near escape; you had the golden thread. You would have made the exit soon."
"Wonderful," Jayk growled. "A Signer."
"Signer?" the Amnesian Hero echoed.
"Sign of One." Tessali rubbed his chin, continuing to focus on Silverwind. "They consider themselves to be the center of the multiverse and claim to create everything in it through the power of their minds. Silverwind's isolation seems to have convinced him that he is the only real being in the maze – or even in the entire multiverse."
Silverwind snatched the head of his severed lance from the hands of the Amnesian Hero, then turned to walk away. Tessali shook his head sharply, then pointed at the bariaur's arm and cupped his hand as though grasping something. The Thrasson nodded and grabbed the old fellow's shoulders.
"Silverwind, you should know better," said Tessali. "You cannot walk away from the creations of your own mind, anymore than you can walk away from this hailstorm you imagined. If you want to be rid of us, you must treat with us first."
The bariaur's shoulders sagged. "I suppose I must." He turned to face them. "Very well. Tell me your names again."
The elf smiled. "You will be glad of your decision. Call me Tessali."
A fierce bellow rumbled through the labyrinth, so deep and loud that it shook the bricks under the Thrasson's feet. The orange fog swirled around the company's hips, as though stirred by a wind they could not feel, and, for an instant, it seemed that even the hailstones paused in their battering.
"I thought he was the monster," Jayk complained.
" I… I am." Silverwind's hands were shaking, his bushy brow raised in fear. "What you hear is my dark self."
"Then tell it to be…"
Jayk's command came to a sudden halt as a massive gray paw emerged from the hailstorm to cover her face. The Thrasson glimpsed the shaggy silhouette of a huge, bearlike figure in the fog behind the tiefling, then the creature pulled her away and disappeared into the storm.
"Jayk!"
The Amnesian Hero grabbed Silverwind's broken lance and hurled it after the vanished beast, then reached for his sword and clumped after the monster as fast as he could. Tessali's figure dashed past, and there was a horrid scream. The elf's gray silhouette rose high in the hazy air and came down, striking the ground with a muffled crunch. Only a step and a half later did the Thrasson glimpse the monster again.