“Maybe there is a vampire about,” Seth said in a joking manner, attempting to lighten the mood. “They are not all friendly like Hawk you know.” The looks he received made him lapse into silence.
“It almost looks as though something has been feeding from them,” Tor said. “But whatever it is did not drain their blood.”
“You are right,” Bellak announced, striding over to them. “It is stealing their life force.”
“You know what it is?” Tor asked him.
“I think so, though I hope I am wrong.” He took a deep breath before making his announcement. “I think we are dealing with a dreamweaver.”
Brin inhaled sharply. “I see our young elven friend has heard of them,” Bellak said grimly. He wearily sat down on a chair. “Everything you see here is an illusion,” he said. “I am not really sitting on this chair, but it looks to you as though I am and it feels real enough to me. There must be a web surrounding this clearing and it is that which is maintaining the illusion.”
“So if we destroy this web,” Tor said slowly, “we destroy the illusion and Patrick and Cirren wake up.”
“Unfortunately not. All you will do is destroy the illusion. Something else has hold of our friend and your brother.”
“What exactly is a dreamweaver?” Sam asked timidly. The question was posed to Brin, but it was Bellak who answered her.
“It is a kind of spider. As I have already stated, it has the ability to weave dream webs. Once you are completely surrounded by one, you will see only what the creature wishes you to see. But that is not the worst part. They deposit poison sacks, disguised as food. As soon as you take a bite, you fall asleep and enter a dream, though you believe everything you are seeing is real. While you are sleeping, your body slowly dies. Just as you take your last breath, the link that holds in your life force is at its weakest and the spider is able to suck it from you.”
“That is horrible,” Dal said, pulling a face in disgust. “So where is it then?”
“Probably hiding just out of sight, waiting. It will not wander far when one of its victims is so close to death.”
“So how do we save Cirren?” Tor asked anxiously.
“I am not sure,” Bellak reluctantly admitted. “First we should get rid of this illusion.” Tor nodded to Torrick, who removed a sword from one of the horses and started to hack at the hedgerow surrounding them. He must have hit the invisible web because suddenly the table and chairs disappeared, causing Bellak to fall to the ground. All of the food and drink vanished and was replaced by a large number of balls, all of which appeared to be filled with puss.
“Yuck,” Dal exclaimed. “Patrick ate one of those?”
“I cannot wait to tell him,” Seth said, grinning viciously. A scream echoed round the clearing, too high pitched to be human, and Seth caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye. “I guess little spidey did not like that.”
“Now what?” Ellen asked, looking at the two bodies now lying prone on the floor. Silence was her only answer. She knelt down beside Patrick’s inert body and began gently stroking his cheek. “Come back to me Patrick,” she pleaded.
“What was that,” Patrick asked, suddenly looking up. “Did anyone else hear that?”
“Hear what?” Cirren asked.
“I thought I heard a woman’s voice say my name.” He shrugged. “I must be imagining things.” He picked up a piece of bread then tossed it back onto the table. He had completely lost his appetite. Instead he reached for the wine bottle once more and poured himself another glass. As he placed it back on the table, his hand froze. He looked at the bottle, then at the glass. He had emptied that bottle and nobody had replaced it with a new one, so how had he just poured another glass from it. He grabbed the basket of bread and threw the contents onto the floor before replacing the empty basket.
“What did you do that for?” Cirren yelled at him.
“Just watch,” Patrick instructed. Kriven and the two men stared in amazement as the basket refilled itself before their eyes.
“What is going on?” Cirren asked, his voice full of wonder.
“I do not know,” Patrick replied cautiously, “but I intend to find out.” He stood up and began to pace. “Firstly I suggest that you and all of your people stop eating and drinking. The fountain is alright, but I am not sure about anything else.” Cirren called all of his friends to him and Patrick proceeded to fill them in on all he knew. He told them everything from when he and his companions first entered the clearing and found Cirren unconscious and the others dead, to when he took a bite from the apple and found himself a guest at the feast.
Silence filled the clearing when he stopped talking. Everyone was too shocked to speak. A tall thin man that Patrick did not recognise was the first to find his voice. “How long do you think we have got?”
“I have no I idea I am afraid.”
“But you have a plan to rescue us?” the man continued.
Patrick grimaced. “At this point, no. I have no clue whatsoever as to how any of you died, let alone how any of us are going to get out of this. Has anyone tried to leave the clearing?”
“Well, actually no, we have not,” a timid young lady replied. “We just sat down to eat. It had been a while since we had had a proper meal and, until now, there was no reason to leave.”
Patrick stood up and strode towards the only side of the recess that was not bordered by a hedge, but something blocked his way, making it impossible for him to go any further. “That answers that question,” he muttered.
An aroma invaded his nostrils, like the scent of the sweetest perfume he had ever smelt. He swung round and was confronted by what he could only describe as a goddess. Cirren had certainly not been exaggerating when he had described this woman; she was the most captivating person he had ever laid his eyes on.
“I see we have a new guest.” Her voice was hypnotic. “Come here.” Unable to stop himself, he walked towards her. He had the unpleasant feeling that he would obey any command she made. “I am Araneae. And you are?”
“Patrick,” he said, taking her pro-offered hand and kissing the back of it. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance.”
She laughed lightly. “Of course you are. Why is nobody eating?” she asked, looking around at the assembled crowd. Instantly everyone was running back to their places at the table, except Patrick, who still held on to her hand.
“We found a problem with the food,” he told her. “Well more an oddity than a problem actually.” He watched her face carefully as a flicker of fear crossed it before being replaced by a smile.
“Really? And what may that be?” The slight quiver in her voice did not go unnoticed.
“The bottles and food containers refill themselves,” he stated matter-of-factly, his tone remaining calm.
She stared at him. “That is absurd. You must be imagining things.”
“I think not,” he replied casually.
“Then let me find something else to occupy your enquiring mind,” she said, turning from pleasant host to seductress. “Kiss me,” she commanded. Her smile was full of hungry pleasure as she watched him approach the table and refill his glass. He drank deeply before returning to her side and taking her in his arms. He kissed her passionately, teasing her mouth open with his tongue. Too late she realised that he had not swallowed all of the wine as he forced the remainder into her mouth. He held her locked in his embrace, forcing her to either swallow or choke. He felt her reluctantly swallow the liquid and released his hold on her, smiling viciously.
“Why?” she asked quietly, backing away from him.
“Because, my dear, you are not what you seem.” Beads of perspiration appeared on her forehead and she began to tremble. As the wine coursed through her, she started to scream and collapsed onto the ground. Cirren rushed over to her and took her still trembling body in his arms.
“What have you done?” he shouted accusingly at Patrick.
“Hopefully just saved all of you
r lives.” He watched as Araneae released her final breath of air and became still.
“What now?” Cirren asked, tears flowing down his face. Patrick did not have time to answer before they both fainted.
“I think he is waking up,” Patrick heard a voice softly calling. He opened one eye, then quickly closed it again as the sun hit it, blinding him. He tried to speak, but his mouth was too dry. “Do not try to say anything until you have had some water,” Ellen said and helped him sit up. She placed a cup to his lips and he swallowed the small trickle of liquid she allowed into his mouth. Instead of quenching his thirst, it increased it. He tried to take the cup from her hands, but she moved it out of his reach. “Slowly,” she instructed as she handed it to him. Resisting the urge to gulp down the remaining water, he followed her instructions and sipped it.
“What happened?” he asked when he had drunk his fill.
“That is what we want to ask you,” Tor said, sitting cross legged on the ground beside him. He proceeded to explain all that had taken place from the moment Patrick had taken a bite from the apple to when he had awoken. When the illusion web had been shattered, a large spider had emerged from where it had been hiding behind a hedge. It hissed and spat at them in frustration as it tried to re-spin the web, but made no attempt to attack them, not even when Torrick proceeded to destroy all of its hard work once again. They, in turn, made no attempt to harm the creature, fearing it may adversely affect Cirren and Patrick. Then, unexpectedly, it curled up into a ball, screamed as if in agony, and died. That had been two days ago. Patrick’s breathing had changed rhythm, indicating he was moving from unconsciousness to sleep, and they had managed to get him to accept a little liquid, so some volunteered to stay with him for a while longer, while the rest went on ahead. The decision was made to continue travelling in the morning, so a litter had been made that could be pulled by a horse if he had not woken up. Those who continued their journey promised to faithfully follow the correct route, noting down every time they changed direction. If they found the next blockade, they were under instructions to not attempt the puzzle and to send back a messenger. Nobody was to try to cross the threshold until all of them were together once more.
Then it was Patrick’s turn to tell all he knew. He explained about travelling back in time and finding everyone alive and enjoying themselves at a feast.
“I am sorry to tell you this,” Tor said gently, “but you did not go back in time. Everyone except Cirren is still dead.”
“But I was speaking to them all,” Patrick argued.
“It was all an illusion I am afraid, a dream you had while unconscious. Please, continue. How did you kill the dreamweaver?”
Patrick told everyone about the food and drink replenishing itself and how Araneae had appeared. “I forced her to drink some of the wine, but if it was not real, how did it kill her?”
“Some illusions are very powerful,” Bellak said. “The food and drink had to be poisoned to keep you unconscious and in the dream. Sometimes, what happens in this sort of dream actually has a physical effect. The dreamweaver had immersed herself in it in order to make sure everyone kept taking the poison, so when she took it, her body believed it had been poisoned and reacted accordingly.”
“So if I had stabbed myself in the illusion, my body would have bled?” Patrick asked.
“Exactly.”
“So why did I not wake up immediately?”
“It probably took until now for the poison to work its way out of your system,” Ellen explained. “Cirren ingested a lot more than you did, so it will take him longer to awaken. Hopefully he should be conscious by the morning. If not, we put him in the litter.”
“You think he will live then?” Ellen nodded, though her face showed she was not entirely certain. Patrick looked at the crowd assembled around him. “Any chance of some food? I am starving.”
Chapter 10
As Ellen had predicted, Cirren awoke the next morning, though he was too weak to speak. She managed to get him to drink a lot of water and eat a little food before he fell asleep again, so when everyone was ready and all water containers had been refilled from the fountain, he was strapped into the makeshift litter. He woke up again briefly when they stopped for a midday meal and Ellen ascertained that he appeared to be recovering well, though it would probably be a few days before he would be fit enough to walk. A kind of depression had overcome the group and it lifted slightly at this news. While only three of them actually knew any of those who had died, it had brought home to them all the reality that everyone may die in the maze.
Patrick had only known a few of Cirren’s companions and Tor was too preoccupied with worry over his brother for any other emotions to take hold, but Brin had gotten to know them all well and was greatly affected by their deaths. A deep melancholy enveloped him and he became morose, only speaking when directly spoken to and often remaining silent even then.
Sam, sensing the problem went deeper than the grief of losing his companions, stayed by his side. She did not ask what he was thinking; he would tell her when he was ready. Later, when food was being distributed, he spoke to her.
“I spent months with those people,” he said quietly. “Getting to know them, becoming friends with them. Now, except for Cirren, they are all dead.” His anguished eyes met hers. “Am I going to lose everyone here as well?”
She lovingly squeezed his hand. “Nobody can predict the future. We may all die tomorrow, we may get out alive. All we can do is try our best to survive.”
“You are not being very reassuring,” he accused.
“I’m a realist. I can’t tell you everything is going to be okay, because it might not be. But I can tell you that if we spend all our energy worrying about the terrible things that may happen, we will not have our minds focused enough on the problems we need to solve to get through this. So have something to eat, try to get a good night’s sleep and we can worry about tomorrow when it arrives.”
“Yes my lady,” he replied and attempted to bow while sitting down.
“Stop being silly,” she said, her voice filled with laughter, and threw a friendly punch in his direction. He leaned back just in time to make her topple over into his lap.
“Thank you,” he whispered into her ear as he placed his arms lovingly around her and gently kissed her forehead.
“If you two have quite finished,” Ellen said, holding out two pieces of bread with slices of cheese on top. They both sat up and gratefully took the food from her outstretched hands. Before they could take their first bite, they were distracted by sound coming from the litter. Cirren was awake once more and attempting to sit up. Ellen rushed over to him and, loosening the blankets that were holding him in place, helped him to rise.
Sam regarded him closely, unable to see the resemblance between the brothers. Cirren’s long blonde hair was hanging lifelessly round his face, obscuring his features. When he brushed it back with his hand, he revealed a pleasant, though unhealthily thin and pale, face. His blue eyes had the potential to be bright and sparkling, but were currently dull and surrounded by deep shadows. His ordeal had physically affected him, but he would recover; Tor would make sure of that. He had not been awake long enough for anyone to assess how he was emotionally, which Ellen was more concerned about than his physical well being. Tor had agreed to be the one to tell him about his friends, but not until he needed to. Cirren had known some of his companions for many years and had been extremely close to them. Tor knew his brother would take the news of their deaths very badly, probably blaming himself for placing them in danger in the first place.
“Where am I?” he asked weakly. “Ellen, is that really you?”
“Yes,” she replied gently before forcing a cup between his lips and allowing him to drink a little. “Would you like some food?”
He shook his head. “Am I still in the maze?”
“Yes. We are with Tor and Patrick. Patrick rescued you from....” She stopped herself, unable, or unwilling, to continu
e. Instead she called to Tor, who rushed to her side.
“Hello little brother,” he said grinning. “How are you?”
“Tired,” he replied. “What happened?”
Tor grimaced. “I will tell you later. Right now you need to get some food inside you and go back to sleep. You have been very ill and it will take you a while to recover.”
Cirren, used to obeying his older brothers, did as he was told. Ellen placed a few chunks of dried meat and a finely chopped carrot into a cup of water, into which she added a few herbs from her medicine bag. She then warmed the contents by placing her hands around the cup and singing a heating spell. When it was cooked, she spooned the contents into her patient’s mouth and he managed to eat most of it before sleep once again claimed him.
The next day they continued travelling, making turn after turn. They seemed to be going towards the centre, but in a maze it is easy to lose your sense of direction, so none of them were confident they were making any progress. Both food and water supplies were beginning to run low and, with no sign of the next challenge or their companions being found, frustration was beginning to set in, increasing with each corner they rounded.
Cirren was managing to stay awake for longer periods and was becoming more talkative. Tor still refused to let anyone mention the fate of his friends, but they all took it in turn to let him know about their adventures so far on the quest; conversing with him to ease their own boredom as much as his. Of all those who had entered the maze with Tor, only Sam, Brin, Ellen, Bellak, Torrick and Liselle had remained behind with the two unconscious men. Tor felt it important to send as many onwards as possible. Brin had insisted on staying. He wanted to be with Cirren when he awoke and Sam would not be parted from his side. The only surprise had been Liselle and Torrick’s insistence in staying with Tor. Tor had tried to argue, but when Torrick pointed out that he had joined the expedition to help protect the Prince, he gave up and agreed to them remaining.
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