Malig Tumora

by James Moloney

  He jumped onto the box that protected Aden. The extra height gave him a little advantage, though the pig-dog could easily leap up and topple him. Berrin looked at the sword in his hands. Was it enough to kill the beast? The pig-dog had taken several cruel blows from the blade already and it was still as strong as ever. He needed something more powerful to fight it with.

  His mind leaped to the boxes. He had opened one, the one he now stood on, but the other two could help him. He tried to remember the pattern. He had been right about the sword. Did he dare risk a second choice?

  He jumped down and ran to the middle box. But in doing so, he dropped his precious weapon. The pig-dog saw its chance and charged. There was nothing else for it — Berrin was about to find out if he had solved the puzzle correctly. Taking a firm grip on the middle box, he heaved it upwards, careful to keep its bulk between himself and whatever lay beneath.

  An instant later he had his answer. Blinding light banished the shadows and then came a surge of heat so intense Berrin feared he would pass out. But he wasn’t the one who bore the brunt of it. The pig-dog saw the danger too late. A mass of flames shot out from beneath the box, enveloping the creature in its deadly yellow fingers.

  Its squeal of agony was overpowered by the roar of the fire. The flames lasted only a few seconds, soon dying to gentle embers, but by then there was little left of the pig-dog but a heap of charred bones and those two fearsome tusks.

  EIGHT

  The Second Maze

  BERRIN PUSHED OVER THE box to reveal Aden cowering on the ground in a ball. The boy screamed in fear when he realised his protection was gone.

  ‘You can get up now. It’s dead,’ Berrin told him, rather brutally.

  ‘Dead!’ Aden lifted his head and looked around. He screwed up his nose at the stench that rose from the smouldering pig-dog.

  ‘It couldn’t solve the puzzle of the boxes any better than you could.’

  Aden was on his feet by then, his head hung in shame. ‘I panicked,’ he confessed. But then he became angry again and went on the attack. ‘You should never have made me come with you. If you wanted a warrior, you picked the wrong person.’

  ‘Calm down,’ said Berrin wearily. ‘I told you, I didn’t pick you for your fighting skills.’

  Both boys fell silent for a minute, surveying the scene. They had survived when it seemed certain they would be cut to ribbons. The only wound was a shallow gash above Aden’s ankle. He inspected it, wiping away the blood. When he spoke again, his tone was more even. ‘I’m sorry I froze like that. You saved me. I should be thanking you.’

  Berrin recognised the apology and replied more kindly, ‘I haven’t changed my mind, you know. It was the right decision to bring you along.’

  Aden smiled. ‘Well, the red door can’t be far away and we can take our time to find it now.’

  Berrin picked up his sword and together the boys walked back to the junction where they had made their fateful decision. ‘Must be this way then,’ Berrin said.

  They rounded a right-hand corner and saw, at the end of a long passage, a large red door. When they reached it, the door opened without either of them touching it and they found themselves out in the wider streets of the menagerie again.

  ‘You-have-completed-the-first-maze. Well-done.’

  The boys looked up to find the observation ball hovering above them. It was not the only thing in the sky. As they watched, a bird came flying towards them on huge, powerful wings.

  Yet something wasn’t right. Judging by its size in the sky, the bird must already be very close, but the fine muscles in Berrin’s eyes told him it was still some distance off. It was an eagle of some sort, but what eagle was ever such a size? When, finally, the bird slowed and began to circle menacingly above them, it cast an enormous shadow across the ground.

  The observation ball directed them across the wide road to another blue door which opened as they approached. ‘Through-here,’ it commanded.

  Looking up, the boys saw the eagle glide easily to follow them. Its talons were as long as Berrin’s forearm and its hooked beak large enough to bite him in two. Fortunately, it showed no signs of attack. It seemed connected to this new maze they were entering, but was it here to torment them, or to defend them from something worse?

  Perhaps it would pick him up and carry him away from here. No, that was too much to ask, but with no enemy to fight as they approached the new maze, Berrin let himself imagine riding on the wings of that giant eagle. He would see the rest of the menagerie, and much of the city beyond, especially the building called Obsidian where his parents worked.

  Would he discover clues about what Malig Tumora was up to? These mazes were more of the evil man’s experiments, in order to make things called clones. Berrin did not understand what a clone was, but he worried that simply by surviving these trials, he was helping in their creation.

  The observation ball led them down a long passage, towards the centre of the new maze. The boys saw immediately that this one was very different from the last. There were passageways and walls, yes, but it seemed much more open. Finding their way around would be a breeze. The only obstacle seemed to be an array of pots at the T-junction where the observation ball came to a halt.

  Berrin inspected the pots, all of them the reddish brown of fired clay. Some were small enough to pick up in one hand while others were taller than he was. On the wall ahead of them was this sign and beneath it a chequered pattern:

  You are standing at the point marked with

  a triangle. Exit is through the red door only.

  LIFT A DENTED URN

  ‘These circles must be the pots,’ said Aden.

  ‘Looks easy,’ Berrin commented suspiciously. ‘Maybe the pots are the challenge. Do you think it’s a test of strength?’ He read the odd instruction on the wall above the diagram: lift a dented urn. ‘Or is there something hidden under one of them, like under the boxes? It says to find a dented one.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Aden replied, though he sounded far from certain.

  ‘I can’t see any marks on this lot,’ Berrin said, as he looked about him. He wandered across to the larger pots that blocked the right-hand path. No damage that he could see, but he was sure he could push them over with a bit of help from Aden.

  ‘Is a pot really the same as an urn?’ Aden asked, speaking partly to Berrin and partly to himself. He still hadn’t taken his eyes from the notice on the wall.

  ‘Pots, urns, what does it matter?’

  ‘This kind of pot doesn’t usually get dents. If something hard bangs against it, it smashes.’

  Berrin was barely listening. He was about to take a closer look at the pots blocking the left-hand path when he felt claws dig painfully into his shoulder. He gave out a cry of alarm, afraid that the eagle had swooped down without him noticing. But it was Aden’s hand restraining him, his fingernails gouging in his skin.

  ‘What’s the matter with you?’

  ‘The observation ball used to play a game with me, a kind of word game,’ Aden explained.

  ‘So?’

  ‘It worked like this. It would give me some words that seemed to mean one thing, but if I switched the same letters around for a while, I came up with new words that meant something completely different.’

  ‘And you think this is the same game?’

  Aden nodded. ‘The pots are a trick.’

  Berrin joined Aden in front of the maze map and the odd instruction above it: LIFT A DENTED URN.

  ‘If you move the “t” you can make urn into turn,’ Aden pointed out.

  Berrin had never played this game before but he soon caught on. ‘If you switch the “i” and the “e” you could change lift to left. Then it says something about turning left.’

  They dropped to their knees and wrote TURN LEFT in the sand. Nearby, they wrote the remaining letters: I A DEND.

  They worked separately on the letters, writing words and sweeping the dirt clear when the idea made no sense. Then wi
thin moments of each other, they both stumbled across the solution.

  Their mouths went dry as they stared down at the words spelled out in the dirt: TURN LEFT AND DIE.

  ‘How can we be sure that’s what it’s supposed to say?’ Aden asked.

  Berrin stood up and, taking one of the smaller pots, heaved it high and long into the left-hand passage. They watched it rise and then quickly loop downwards, but before it hit the ground the whoosh of powerful wings sent them both sprawling.

  The eagle had plummeted from the sky to seize the pot Berrin had thrown. Clutching it tightly in its talons, it rose quickly, ten metres, twenty, thirty, and there it released its cargo.

  The pot plunged to earth, landing near the startled boys and bursting into a hundred jagged pieces.

  ‘That could have been me,’ said Berrin quietly. ‘If you hadn’t held me back.’

  They looked beyond the pots that stood to their right. At the next junction, the same jumbled instruction could be seen on the wall. ‘I’ll bet that sign is at every corner. How can you get through a maze by only turning right?’ Aden asked for both of them. ‘It’s impossible!’

  Berrin stared at the diagram. He could see the door that would free them, but they would have to make a number of left turns to reach it. There didn’t seem any other way. Aden was right. It was impossible.

  But that didn’t make sense either. Why would Malig Tumora set them a challenge that had no solution? There must be a way out. Berrin began to trace the white paths with his finger. Right turn, right turn again, and again … ‘Aden, look!’ he shouted.

  Aden joined him at the diagram and quickly saw what Berrin had discovered. ‘If we turn three times to the right, it’s the same as turning left.’

  But no challenge from Malig Tumora would ever be easy. They might have found a way to head to their left, but the diagram showed they would keep arriving at T-junctions where the same problem awaited them every time.

  ‘Still no use,’ said Aden.

  Berrin traced more of the passages with his finger. ‘No, wait, I think I see it. We have to keep moving in circles — like this,’ he added, showing what he meant on the diagram.

  They were excited now. Berrin had found the solution. Aden made him trace the route with his finger from beginning to end. As soon as Berrin was finished, he made him do it again, and then a third time.

  ‘Right, I’ve got it now, all up here,’ he said, tapping the side of his head. His face broke into a smile. ‘I could lead us out of here with my eyes closed.’

  Berrin laughed with relief. ‘No need to show off. Keep them open, and make sure you don’t forget sometime and lead us round a left turn.’

  Aden led the way along the series of circles that would take them to the door. It was not hard, once they had found the solution, and this worried Berrin. The challenge should be harder than this, he thought.

  It wasn’t until they completed the final circle that Berrin discovered this challenge was going to be more painful than anything he had faced so far.

  NINE

  The Last Obstacle

  ADEN WAS THE FIRST TO SEE the bright red paint in the distance. ‘We’ve made it,’ he called as he rounded the corner.

  He was about to congratulate himself boastfully when his lips fell silent. Berrin sensed something was wrong and hurried to his shoulder.

  ‘Who are those two grown-ups?’ Aden asked.

  Berrin stared along the length of the passage. The two figures were in shadow but he could make them out well enough. A man and a woman, he guessed. This discovery alone made his heart race. Could it be?

  He ran towards them and with each bound he became more convinced. Finally, he saw enough of their faces to be sure and, still running, he turned his head to call the news to Aden. It’s my parents, he was going to shout.

  But he didn’t. Instead he stopped so suddenly that Aden slammed awkwardly into his back. The collision sent them both crashing into the dirt.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Aden wanted to know as they picked themselves up and brushed the dust from their pants.

  What’s the matter? Berrin repeated in his head. Malig Tumora is testing the flower’s fragrance again, that’s what. He wants me to stir up my parents like last time, to see whether I still matter to them. Not that he could explain any of this to Aden. As he had done in the laboratories, Berrin forced his face into a blank expression. Yet even as he put on this mask, he remembered how despairing he had felt later, when he was returned to the enclosure.

  Am I doing the right thing? he asked himself. He had no answer.

  Meanwhile Aden had gone closer. ‘They have chains around their wrists,’ he announced.

  Chains! Berrin had been too busy looking at their faces. He saw the chains now, and with his eye followed the rope of links from his father’s wrists to a metal ring fixed to the wall behind him. His mother was chained in the same way. A hard stone of anger settled deep into his stomach.

  The eagle swept overhead. It was flying lower now, a menacing gleam in its cold eyes. Aden noticed. ‘We’re not out of this maze yet,’ he pointed out.

  Together, they took a closer look at the wall behind Berrin’s parents. Red represented the door to freedom, but this time the door wouldn’t simply swing open and let them through. In fact, the door was a section of the heavy outside wall, held in place by a complicated array of ropes and pulleys at the top.

  ‘Like a drawbridge,’ said Aden. At the side of the passage, a length of rope was coiled around a drum with long spokes at one end.

  ‘I see what we have to do,’ Aden went on, pleased that he had worked it out on his own. ‘The wall must tilt towards us. We just have to let out that rope until it’s flat on the ground. Then we can walk out of here, over the top of it.’

  He couldn’t understand why Berrin stared back at him grim-faced and silent.

  ‘It won’t be hard. We’ll have it down in no time,’ he assured Berrin, watching at the same time for the patrolling eagle.

  Still that stony expression from Berrin. Aden turned to the contraption again. What was the problem? It was pretty straightforward as far as he could see. He ran through the operation again, seeing it in his mind this time. The wall would come towards them until its full weight lay flat on the dirt.

  That was when he realised — anything beneath it would be crushed and the two grown-ups were chained to the wall.

  ‘If we lower that wall, we’ll kill them,’ he said, shocked.

  The thought of seeing his parents dead sent a shudder through Berrin from head to toe.

  Before they could speak again, the observation ball reappeared. ‘You-must-leave-now. The-eagle-grows-impatient-for-its-meal.’

  ‘Send it away,’ Berrin demanded. ‘We followed the rules of this maze. No left turns. The eagle has no claim on us.’

  ‘Not-you-no-but-the-other-humans-are-its-reward-for-watching-you-so-carefully.’

  ‘No!’ shouted Berrin.

  ‘Leave-now-or-you-will-share-their-fate,’ droned the observation ball.

  ‘You can’t do this!’ Aden exclaimed. He looked at the two grown-ups standing silent and motionless, aware that their lives hung in the balance. It was too much for him. Tears welled in his eyes. ‘Berrin, what are we going to do?’ he cried. ‘These poor people. It’s not right that they have to die so we can get out of this maze.’

  The eagle passed overhead again, only a few metres above them, the air churned by its wings raising a cloud of dust around the boys.

  ‘That eagle is looking hungry, Berrin.’ Glancing at the unfortunate grown-ups, Aden added, ‘It’s going to be us or them.’

  Berrin couldn’t bear it any longer. He had to share the truth with Aden. Coming close enough to whisper, he said, ‘It’s not just anyone. They’re my parents.’

  Aden was startled by the news. He stared at the two grown-ups for a moment, then his eyes quickly returned to Berrin.

  Berrin felt those eyes on him, poking and prying. He didn
’t need words to know what his companion was thinking. There was confusion in that look, but more than anything he could see envy. Aden longed for parents too.

  Berrin realised at last that he had delayed enough. He had denied his feelings in some pointless plan to thwart Malig Tumora. He couldn’t do it any longer.

  He rushed to his mother and took her hands. The chains stopped them from embracing, but that touch alone was a comfort. Could he break the chains and free her? He still carried the sword from the first maze. He slashed at the chains, but knew it was futile. In a final furious blow, the sword was jarred from his hands.

  The observation ball hovered above them. ‘This-pair-will-die-no-matter-what-you-do. Save-yourselves-and-leave-them-to-the-eagle.’

  To Berrin’s surprise, the sword’s blade flashed upwards, narrowly missing the ball as it retreated. He looked around to find that Aden had retrieved the weapon from the dirt. He took a second ungainly swing but the observation ball was well out of reach by then.

  ‘We’re not opening this door, are we?’ said Aden. ‘We’re going to die here instead.’

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ Berrin answered with a sigh. He hadn’t expected Aden to accept the end so bravely.

  ‘The eagle will come for us any minute,’ Aden went on. ‘You’d better talk to your parents while you can. I’ll keep the bird off with this.’

  Berrin could see Aden still didn’t have a clue how to wield the sword, but he appreciated the offer. He turned to his mother and father again.

  What should he say? He had never had to find words for these feelings that coursed through his body. Until now, the Rats had been the only people he cared about. He liked them all: Dorian, Quinn and especially Olanda who was his closest friend. But a mother and a father … the moment seemed both wonderful and confusing at the same time.

  His parents had not said a word but a light was beginning to spark in their eyes. They had been out here in the open air for a few minutes at least. The flower’s fragrance must be starting to wear off.

  It was his mother who made the first sounds. He could see her fighting against the gas, willing her lips to move. ‘Berrin,’ she said at last. ‘It is you … my son …’