by Troy Denning
The beast was much larger than a bear, with a high, pointy head, a flat face, and a circular maw lined all around by stubby, sharp-peaked teeth. Long mats of ice-gray fur dangled from its entire body, lending it an indistinct shape that made it even more difficult to distinguish from the driving hail. Jayk's legs, kicking wildly, protruded from a particularly large snarl of fur. That was all the Thrasson saw of her before the creature vanished into the hailstorm.
The Amnesian Hero heard Tessali groaning on the ground and barely managed to lift his brick foot in time to step over the fallen elf. The Thrasson noticed that the golden thread was not winding off his arm, but trailing down toward the ground; Silverwind's lance had not lodged in the monster. He had no way to follow the creature, and, judging by the speed with which it had disappeared, less than no chance of overtaking it.
A clatter of hooves sounded at the Amnesian Hero's side, then Silverwind streaked past at a full gallop. The old bariaur lowered his head and disappeared into the storm.
In the next instant, there was a dull thud, a deafening bellow, and a muffled crash. Silverwind cried out, then Jayk shrieked in anger. The Amnesian Hero clumped another step forward and saw the back side of the monster three paces ahead, rising out of the ground fog as though it were struggling to its hands and knees. The Thrasson saw no sign of either bariaur or tiefling until the beast roared and raised its arm.
Jayk was clinging to its wrist, her face buried deep in its tangled fur. The monster bellowed sharply, then snapped its hand toward the wall. When the hairy arm reached the end of its arc, the tiefling seemed to hang on the creature's wrist for just an instant before coming loose and slamming into the hot iron wall.
The Amnesian Hero reached the monster and brought his sword down on the hairy arm that had just flung off Jayk. So tough was the beast's flesh that even that star-forged blade of his barely sliced its sinews; had the blow not landed exactly in the joint, the limb would have been saved. As it was, the Thrasson's strike, well-placed as always, cleaved off the great arm at the shoulder.
No geysers of red blood sprayed from the wound. The creature did not bellow in anguish or collapse in shock. Instead, a substance like black sap oozed from the wound, and the monster twisted around to look at its attacker. The Thrasson raised his sword and saw a gray blur arcing at him out of the fog. He pivoted into the blow, shielding himself behind his shoulder.
The strike landed full on his pauldron, slamming the Amnesian Hero into the creature's hip with such force that, had he not taken the blow on god-forged bronze, he would surely have perished. The Thrasson merely groaned, then, finding himself pinned against the monster, swung at its exposed midsection.
Again, his star-forged blade bit deep, but not deep enough to slice the great creature in half. The beast slammed a boulder-sized fist into the Thrasson's shoulder pauldron, with no more effect than before.
The Amnesian Hero tried to clump forward to attack again, only to discover himself stuck to the monster's side. He attempted to jerk his sword back and found it caught fast in the beast's black-oozing belly wound.
The creature opened its hand, extending a long yellow talon at the end of each Finger. Had the Amnesian Hero not stared into the eyes of death a dozen times before – and sometimes more closely than this – he might have panicked or despaired. But he well knew that salvation often comes at that last instant, when the vicious attacker, sensing victory, grows reckless and moves in for the kill too quickly.
As the monster reached for him, the Thrasson switched his grip and shoved the hilt of his sword forward. The blade pivoted on the edge of the wound, driving the tip deep into the creature's belly.
The Amnesian Hero did not hear the monster's bellow in his ears; he felt it in his shuddering sword. He grasped the hilt with all his strength, then hunched down between his shoulder pauldrons and tried not to scream as the beast's claws closed around his abdomen.
With a sound like tearing sailcloth, the monster ripped the Thrasson away from its hip. The Amnesian Hero felt his sword slipping from his grasp and redoubled his efforts to keep hold of the hilt. For a moment, he seemed stuck, then, with a long, sticky slurp, the blade came free.
The Amnesian Hero found himself sailing backward through the hail and realized that whether he hit the wall or the ground, the amphora would break his fall. He flung his feet up over his head, turning a half-somersault in the air, then smashed face first into the hot iron wall. The searing pain came an instant before the aching agony, and both came before he fell headfirst to the ground.
As he landed in a crumpled heap, the Thrasson managed to twist onto his side and keep his full weight from landing on the amphora. Nevertheless, he heard the tiny rasp of the cracked neck's two halves grating against each other. He could not tell whether his skin hurt more from its brief contact with the scorching iron or his bones ached more from the impact, but there was no time to contemplate the matter.
The Amnesian Hero scrambled to his feet, then spun toward the center of the passage to see Silverwind trotting up to him. The bariaur held Tessali's groaning Figure in his arms. The elf's cloak was shredded and bloody. Though one knee was bent at an impossible angle and his eyes were glazed with pain, he remained conscious and alert.
"By my name, I am glad I imagined you!" Silverwind exclaimed, stopping at the Thrasson's side. "All the same, I wish it hadn't been at the other end of my golden thread."
"My golden thread." The Amnesian Hero stepped around the bariaur, peering through the hailstorm in an unsuccessful attempt to locate the monster of the labyrinth. "What happened to the beast?"
Silverwind grinned proudly. "I imagined it out of existence."
"I suspect it will be harder to destroy than that." The Thrasson glanced along the wall, looking for Jayk. "Did you see what became of the tiefling?"
"Zoombee, I am here."
The Amnesian Hero turned to see Jayk a short distance away, rising out of the fog and holding her temples with both fingers. Her pupils were round and her fangs folded out of sight. The tiefling's shadowy complexion made it difficult to look for injury, but aside from her furrowed brow, the Thrasson saw no outward sign of harm.
"Are you hurt, Jayk?" asked the Amnesian Hero.
"My head, she feels like a shattered egg."
"But can you run?" asked Silverwind.
"I had thought I was advancing to the One Death," Jayk answered. "But I am not so lucky. I can mn, as long as I can do it gently."
"Then I suggest we be on our way." The bariaur nodded toward the intersection. "I don't have much control over my dark self, I fear. It has a way of reasserting itself at the worst times." Ash Winds
Twining thread about his wrist as he hobbled along, the Amnesian Hero followed Silverwind back toward the intersection where they had met just a few minutes earlier. Despite the chance that the monster, wounded and furious, would be coming after them, the Thrasson had no intention of leaving a loose end of thread lying about the foggy maze; as one of his few connections to the past, the golden strand was far too precious for such carelessness.
After the tumult of battle, the roaring hail seemed almost quiet in his ears. The aching in his bones was already subsiding, but his seared, chest still burned where it had touched the hot iron walls. The air seemed more scorching than ever. No number of foul-tasting hailstones could quench his thirst, and his parched throat felt ready to swell shut. He uttered a silent prayer to Hermes, begging the god of journeys to help the old bariaur retrace his steps quickly; if they did not escape the labyrinth soon, the Thrasson would perish of thirst.
At the Amnesian Hero's side walked Jayk. She kept her fingers pressed to her temples, as though trying to keep her brain from shaking inside her skull, and she seemed somewhat dazed. The Thrasson would have liked to stop and let the tiefling gather her scrambled thoughts, but that was out of the question until they found a safe place to rest. At least she was in better shape than Tessali, whose groans periodically overwhelmed even the battering hail
.
As the Amnesian Hero approached the intersection, the angle at which the golden thread descended into the fog grew steadily steeper. Soon, it pointed almost straight down, and the Thrasson realized he had to be standing almost on top of the other end.
"Silverwind, wait a moment." The Amnesian Hero stopped and bent to retrieve the lance around which the bariaur had twined his end of the thread. "I don't want to lose you in this storm."
"Until I have treated with you, I don't see how that is possible." Silverwind turned around to see what the Amnesian Hero was doing. "But we really must – oh!"
The bariaur squinted down the corridor, then pinched his wrinkled face into a mask of self-reproach. "No, you old fool! Don't lose control now!"
Without" rising, the Thrasson pivoted on his good foot. Through the curtain of hailstones, he saw a shaggy silhouette, barely perceptible, rising out of the fog. So efficient was the creature's camouflage that the Amnesian Hero could tell it was facing away 'from him only by the location of its missing arm.
"Zoombee, why is Silverwind leaving?" Jayk's voice was low and puzzled. The bariaur was fleeing. "You told him to wait. I'll make kiss with him, yes?"
"No! He's doing the right thing. I want you to go with him." The Thrasson pushed her toward the bariaur. "And don't bring your lips anywhere near him."
Jayk sighed, then groaned as she started after Silverwind.
Keeping his gaze fixed on the monster, the Amnesian Hero squatted on his heels and ran his hand over the fog-shrouded bricks. When he did not find the broken lance, he grabbed the thread and began to pull. The beast slowly turned toward him, holding its dismembered arm in its good hand. The creature pressed the base of the severed limb to its truncated shoulder and carefully held it there.
The Thrasson glanced behind him and saw Jayk following Silverwind into the hail. He gave the thread a rough jerk and felt it vibrate as the spool rolled across the bricks, but he did not find the lance itself.
The monster of the labyrinth took its hand away from its dismembered arm. Though the limb fell slack, it did not fall off.
"By Zeus, you are going to be difficult to kill." Even that quiet whisper hurt the Amnesian Hero's raw throat.
The beast gazed in Silverwind's direction and started shambling forward. The Amnesian Hero swept his hand over the bricks one last time and found nothing. He rose and clumped away, drawing his sword and keeping a careful watch over his shoulder.
The monster exhibited no particular hurry to catch up. Like the Amnesian Hero himself, it seemed to have concluded that this battle would be won by patience and providence, not ferocity or stealth. It would stalk its quarry at a distance, ready to spring when they finally grew distracted or collapsed from thirst.
The Amnesian Hero reached the intersection, where he found Silverwind waiting. The bariaur held Tessali's battered form in his arms, and Jayk was at his side.
"I don't see the monster." The bariaur sounded more relieved than was warranted.
The Amnesian Hero glanced back and saw that the beast had vanished into the storm. "The monster is there, be assured. You cannot imagine it away."
"Of course I can." Silverwind twisted around to scowl at the Thrasson, drawing a groan of agony from the elf in his arms.
Now that the Amnesian Hero was closer, he could see that the monster had opened a number of gashes in Tessali's side, in several places baring the elf's ribs.
"How does Tessali fare?"
"He needs my undivided attention, if he is not to fade away. I'll think on him when we find a sheltered place to stop."
"Let us go, then." The Amnesian Hero turned in the direction from which Silverwind had come, only to discover the bariaur facing the opposite way. "What are you doing? Show me to where you found the thread."
The bariaur shook his head. "I was following it in the opposite direction."
"That does not matter." As he spoke, the Thrasson pivoted on his brick foot, keeping a careful watch for the labyrinth monster. "The exit lies where you first found the string."
"That's ludicrous! Why would I imagine a golden thread leading away from the exit?"
The Amnesian Hero frowned, unsure of how to answer. Tessali seemed to have had the most success pretending to accept the mad bariaur's logic, but the Thrasson was not adept at such maneuvers.
"I cannot say why you would do such a thing. But when I appeared in the maze, I had the spool with me." The Amnesian Hero thought he saw a silhouette slipping through the hail behind Silverwind. He stepped around the bariaur and saw nothing, then displayed the tangle of thread wrapped around his hand. "The barrel is in my hand now, inside this tangle. If we had time, I would show it to you."
Jayk squinted at the Amnesian Hero, as though she were having trouble seeing him. "Perhaps you're hissh way…" The tiefling's words were slurred and slow. "Hissh way out."
Silverwind's eyes lit in sudden comprehension. "Yes, of course. You are my way out. Why didn't I see it before?"
"You must show me where you found the thread." The Amnesian Hero's voice was little more than a gravelly rasp. All this talking had left his throat as raw as a scuffed knee. "The exit is there, even if you did not notice it."
"How could I have, when I had not yet found you?" With that, Silverwind danced around and started up the passage at a trot. Though the pace seemed gentle enough for the bariaur, it was all Jayk and the Amnesian Hero could do to keep up. The Thrasson clumped along beside the bariaur's rear quarters, one hand holding his sword and the other trailing the golden thread. He did his best to maintain a watch, but whenever he turned to look over his shoulder, he fell a step behind. His throat felt like it was growing smaller with every scorching breath, while the leg lifting his brick foot began to throb with a dull, deep ache.
Jayk did better than the Amnesian Hero, running alongside the bariaur with a steady, fluid stride. She complained frequently about her throbbing head, and also about how the constant jarring aggravated her pain. After a while, the tiefling stopped pumping her arms for balance so she could keep her fingers pressed to her temples. Not long after that, she started to stumble.
Still, their guide ran on through the storm. How Silverwind navigated all the twists and turns so confidently, the Amnesian Hero could not comprehend. He could barely see from the bariaur's rear quarters to his curling horns, yet the old fellow rushed through the hail and the fog as though he could see a hundred paces ahead. He would suddenly turn down a broad corridor masked by a curtain of gray hail, then dart toward a solid wall of iron, only to round a hidden buttress and rush into a network of narrow, twisting passages. Never did the old bariaur lead them into a dead-end blind, nor, as far as the Amnesian Hero could tell, circle back upon a path they had already taken.
The golden line dangling from the Thrasson's wrist always remained taut, but no matter how convoluted their course became, or how many comers they rounded, it never seemed to snag or drag. The Amnesian Hero took this to mean that he was dragging the broken lance along behind him, though he realized there might be other explanations. The thread was obviously magic, for instance, and perhaps that prevented it from tangling.
At last, the inevitable happened: Jayk stumbled and disappeared into the fog. There was a groan and two slaps, then the tiefling began to wail. Silverwind halted and turned around, and the Amnesian Hero kneeled at her side.
"Jayk, quiet!" The Thrasson feared her cries would draw the monster of the labyrinth. "I'm here."
"Zoombee! The spots, there are too many of them in my eyes!"
The Amnesian Hero pulled the tiefling to her feet. Her dark eyes remained unfocused and glassy, even when he poked his fingertips at them.
"She's lost her sight," said Silverwind. "I can carry her. Put her on my back."
The Thrasson made no move to do as the bariaur requested. "Her headache has been getting worse."
"Of course – she banged her skull," said Silverwind. "But I can't do anything about it here. When we get to a quiet place, I'll take
care of it."
Jayk clutched the Amnesian Hero's arm and nodded. "I am strong enough to hold his waist, Zoombee. I only panicked because I felt lost. As long as I know you will not leave me in this place, I will be fine."
"Never! I promise, Jayk."
The tiefling managed a weak smile. "Then I am not worried."
The Thrasson helped her onto Silverwind's back, and the small company resumed its flight. The Amnesian Hero clumped along at the bariaur's flank, keeping a wary watch over his shoulder and expecting their guide to duck into some sheltered hiding place at any moment. Silverwind merely continued to trot along, picking his way through the comers and intersections with never a doubt
After what seemed an eternity of running, the Amnesian Hero could take no more. His parched throat seemed in danger of bursting into flames with every breath, even his good leg was trembling with fatigue, and it was all he could do to drag his brick foot along behind him.
"Silverwind, stop!" The croaking words sounded more slaad than human. "I can't… keep this up."
The bariaur did not slow. "Only a little farther. I can almost picture the conjunction now."
The Thrasson tripped and fell. For a moment, he allowed himself to believe he was too tired to stand – then he felt a tug on the golden thread and thought of the monster of the labyrinth. If it was following, now would be the perfect time for it to attack. He drew a fiery breath into his aching lungs and, with a terrific growl, pushed himself to his feet
Silverwind stood a few paces ahead, waiting impatiently. The Amnesian Hero spun away from him, half-expecting to see the monster charging out of the storm.
There was nothing but hail.
Silverwind clopped to the Thrasson's side. Jayk sat slumped against the bariaur's back, eyes closed and winsome face entirely blank; only her arms, still locked about the bariaur's waist, suggested that she remained conscious. There could be no doubt about Tessali's wakefulness, however; the constant lament of pain that poured from his lips sent shivers down the Amnesian Hero's spine.