by Jake Halpern
"I'm afraid we have to get going," said Alfonso. "Can I help you into our boat?"
The old woman stared at Alfonso, as if she were only now seeing him for the first time. Her eyes were a cloudy gray, only slightly darker than white.
"I know you," she said softly. "You're the boy who floats above the flames."
"What?" said Alfonso.
"Come on!" yelled Hill from up above. "The wind is picking up—let's get her aboard! Maybe she'll make more sense after some food and water."
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we're in a bit of a rush," said Alfonso.
"Yes, I know," said the old woman, as she rose to her feet with surprising vigor. "So am I."
After boarding the catamaran, they quickly gave her some water and a little food, but this did not help. She refused to speak and instead just stared at her hands, as if she didn't recognize them.
"I'm sure she's just exhausted," said Hill. "Let's find somewhere secluded to lay anchor. We'll try again later."
Bilblox drew up the anchor and they set off. The instant they began to move, the old woman did something quite strange. Before they could stop her, she had climbed the main mast and huddled in the crow's nest. She began to point insistently northeast, but would not respond to any of their questions or commands. She looked increasingly frantic, as if she were suddenly in a great hurry.
"I don't know about this," said Resuza. "It could be a trap."
"Nope," said Bilblox confidently. "That ol' bird ain't gonna double-cross us. I got a good feelin' about 'er."
"She speaks Dormian," said Alfonso. "Besides, what other choice do we have?"
Hill gripped the tiller and nodded back to sleep, and the catamaran shot forward in the direction the old woman was pointing. The sun continued its quick descent into the horizon. Soon, they were in near darkness. It was time to lay anchor, but the old woman continued to point northeast. The sun set and, an hour or so later, a full moon rose. So they kept going deeper into the maze of islands, losing all sense of time and place, until the woman lowered her hand and uttered a small cry.
"Now what?" asked Bilblox.
"There," said Resuza. "Look in that cove."
They were passing by another series of high cliffs. Nearby was a small cove bordered on three sides by the cliffs. It looked like the perfect place to lay anchor for the night. It was fully illuminated by the moon, which glowed brightly overhead.
Alfonso peered closer. Something in the cove didn't belong there. It was shiny and lying on the beach. Hill maneuvered the catamaran closer. Within minutes, they came quite near to what Resuza had spied. It was a rowboat with a translucent hull. In fact, it looked exactly like the boat they had used to row from the rocky island to the lighthouse.
"Kiril," whispered Resuza.
They immediately looked around and scanned the high cliffs. There was no sound or movement.
"At long last," whispered Hill. "The island of Jasber."
At that moment, the stillness of the night was broken by a loud splash.
CHAPTER 46
BATTLE AT THE GATE
"GET YOUR WEAPONS!" yelled Hill.
After a moment of furious panic, they stood on the deck of the catamaran, weapons ready.
"Where's the old woman?" asked Resuza.
They all looked around. She was nowhere to be seen. Then, all at once, they saw a figure sprinting across the rocky beach toward the cliffs. It was a redheaded young woman, perhaps twenty years old, dressed in a brown cloak. When she reached the cliff, she began climbing up a series of narrow steps and toeholds that had been carved into the rock face. They watched her dumbfounded as she nimbly scaled the cliff.
"Where did she come from?" asked Hill.
No one answered.
"That's bizarre," said Resuza. "The old woman. She's gone."
The group was frozen with confusion. The red-haired woman was quickly making her way up the cliff, while somehow, the old woman had disappeared.
"I-I—" Hill paused, utterly befuddled.
"I suppose we should follow that woman," said Resuza.
They nodded and sprang into action. It took just a few minutes to drag the catamaran onto the shore and secure it. They ran to the cliff base where the mysterious, redheaded young woman had started. Up close, the hand- and footholds were more apparent, although it still took nearly a half-hour of steady climbing to reach the top. Bilblox went first, despite his blindness. It was an incredible thing to see. Kõrgu lay placidly on his broad shoulders as the longshoreman-turned-smuggler moved up the sheer cliff face.
Standing on the cliff, he yelled for them to hurry; he had smelled the onset of a winter storm. "Trust me," he shouted. "Longshoremen have a sixth sense for weather." Sure enough, it began to snow when they were three-fourths of the way up, and their clear visibility from the moonlight was replaced with a ghostly mist.
At the top of the cliff, they had their first glimpse of the razor hedges. It was a massive barricade, around one hundred feet high, made up of thick interlocked branches. There were a few scattered green leaves, but mostly it was branches and thorns colored a dull brown. Some of the thorns were small like those on rosebushes but others were as long as three feet and curved like the swords of Cossacks. Many of the branches were cracked and broken from exposure to the elements, but the thorns were all in perfect condition, as if nothing could affect their sharpness. The ground nearby was covered with heaping drifts of snow.
"There," pointed Resuza. Her voice was strangely quiet and frightened.
Alfonso followed her gaze and saw the reason for her fear.
It was Kiril.
In the distance he was standing on a large boulder mostly hidden by the twists and turns of the hedges. He appeared to be using his khopesh to cut an entrance through the hedges.
"What should we do?" whispered Resuza, as she dropped to a crouch. The others did the same. "He hasn't seen us."
"He hasn't seen her either," whispered Alfonso. Alfonso pointed toward a snowbank just fifteen feet or so from Kiril. There, crawling slowly toward Kiril, was the young, redheaded woman they had followed up the cliff. "What on earth is she doing?"
Slowly, the young woman rose to her feet. She held a long, swordlike thorn in her hand. She paused for a moment, as if to calm her nerves, and then she ran directly at Kiril.
"There goes our surprise," whispered Resuza.
"Come on," said Hill as he rose to his feet and started running forward. "She's going to get herself killed!"
The young woman managed to get within arm's length of Kiril before he finally noticed her and, in one swift motion, spun around and kicked her powerfully in the chest. The woman flew backwards into the snow. Kiril turned around, saw Hill and the others running toward him, and immediately returned his attention to the narrow hole that he had carved into the side of the razor hedges. It was almost three feet deep and just wide enough for an arm. At the end of the hole gleamed a brass funnel on the surface of the wall. Kiril had spent the better part of a day cutting holes into this section of the razor hedges with the sole intent of finding this funnel. And at last, it was within reach. Now he had to act quickly.
Kiril reached into his pocket and took out the small glass vial of the bluish liquid known as dagárgala. It was the vial from the rosewood box found in the Alexandria depot. Kiril uncorked the vial and carefully thrust his hand into the hole through the razor hedges. He moved his arm with the utmost steadiness. There were thorns everywhere and, above all, he could not afford to cut himself. If he started bleeding, in his weakened condition, it might kill him. When his arm was fully inserted into the hole, he poured the dagárgala into the funnel. Not a drop spilled. He had done it. Then, ever so tenderly, he began to remove his arm from the hole. A moment later, a powerful blow knocked him sideways. He fell to the snow and saw that the young woman had recovered astonishingly quickly from his kick and had thrown her body against his. Clearly, he was not as strong as he had been even a day before. A sharp pain radiated fro
m his hand. He looked and saw a six-inch thorn sticking through it.
The woman stood over him with a heavy branch in her hand. Kiril swept her feet out from underneath her and she landed heavily on her back. He looked up and saw the others were about fifty feet away.
A massive rumbling noise came from the razor hedges. One section of the hedges, perhaps twenty feet long, was swinging open like a giant door. The dagárgala had worked! Before him lay the maze to Jasber.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Resuza was now shooting at Kiril, but after several shots she appeared to be out of ammunition.
Kiril crouched down for cover and hid himself beside the unconscious body of the young woman. He gripped his khopesh and waited for his attackers. Hill arrived first, charging forward at great speed. Kiril lunged into the air like a missile, catching Hill off-guard, and slashed the blade of his khopesh across Hill's chest. Blood coated the blade and spattered Kiril's face. Hill uttered a deep groan and sank to the ground.
Just as Kiril anticipated, Alfonso went directly for Hill, dropped to one knee, and checked to see if his uncle was okay.
At that moment, the rumbling stopped. The gateway leading into the labyrinth was now fully open. Kiril was tempted to flee through it, but he knew he had to hold them off for a few seconds more.
Resuza dashed toward him, followed by Bilblox and an oversize wolf. Kiril swung the khopesh in a powerful arc toward Resuza. She leapt into the air and avoided the khopesh's blade, but landed off balance. In this moment of vulnerability, Kiril floored her with a roundhouse kick. The wolf snarled and leapt at Kiril's neck, but Kiril escaped the wolf's jaws at the last second. At that moment, Bilblox arrived, swung his club at Kiril, and struck the white-eyed man squarely in the chest, sending him backwards almost ten feet. Kiril landed inside the maze itself. Bilblox roared and followed him into the maze, with Kõrgu at his side. The rumbling sound restarted, and the gate to the labyrinth began to close.
"Where's Kiril?" gasped Hill. Alfonso had turned his uncle over so that he was lying face-up on the snow. Blood covered his entire chest and turned the surrounding snow a bright red. Hill tried to wipe his face, but his arm faltered halfway up and then dropped to the ground. "W-Where is he?"
Alfonso looked up and saw that Kiril was lying face-down in the snow, with Bilblox closing in.
"He's inside," explained Alfonso, "on the other side of the hedges. Bilblox is after him."
"Go after them," whispered Hill. "This is your chance; the door is closing."
Alfonso glanced up and saw that the gate was already a quarter of the way closed.
He shook his head.
Hill raised his head slightly off the ground. "GO," he said with as much strength as he could muster.
"It's okay," Resuza told Alfonso. She had just staggered back to her feet but was bent over, coughing violently. She had gotten the wind knocked out of her, but she seemed okay. Her eyes shone as she spoke to him. "Go on," she urged. "I'll take Hill back to the lighthouse and wait for you there."
The gate was now halfway closed. A noise nearby caught Alfonso's attention. It was the young, redheaded woman. She had regained consciousness and was crawling through the doorway into the maze.
"Hurry now," whispered Hill. "Stop Kiril. Find my brother."
Alfonso took a deep breath and darted through the doorway into the maze.
CHAPTER 47
BLIZZARD
SNOW FELL THICKLY on the scene where the battle had just taken place. Resuza sank to her knees in the snow next to Hill and examined his wound. It was not deep, but it was long, stretching from the top of Hill's rib cage all the way down to his hip. There was a great deal of blood on Hill's clothing, but it did not appear as if any major veins or arteries had been severed. The real danger, Resuza concluded, was infection and loss of blood. She needed to treat the wound and then patch it up as quickly as possible.
"Can I get up now, my dear?" asked Hill, with a faint smile. "A man my age really shouldn't be lying in the snow. I'm bound to catch a cold." His smile disappeared. "It's so quiet. I'm worried about Alfonso and Bilblox. Even wounded and old, Kiril is a terrible enemy to have."
"We need to get you back to the lighthouse," said Resuza. She glanced up at the sky. Even darker storm clouds had moved in, and the wind had begun to pick up. Visibility would only get worse. They would have to find shelter, and fast. "Do you think you can walk?" asked Resuza.
"Of course I can walk," said Hill indignantly. "Let's get going."
Very shakily, Hill rose to his feet, leaving behind a puddle of blood-soaked snow. He stumbled a bit, and began limping back in the direction of the cliff. Resuza followed closely behind Hill, giving him support whenever he needed it, and watching with dismay as a steady trail of blood dripped after him.
When they reached the cliff, Resuza took a coil of rope out of her pack and fashioned a sling for Hill to sit in. "I am going to lower you down the cliff," said Resuza. "Are you ready for this?"
Hill nodded, winced in pain, and then stepped into the sling that Resuza had made. He maneuvered himself over the edge of the cliff and then Resuza began to lower him as slowly as she could. The whole process took almost an hour.
By the time Resuza made it to the bottom of the cliff as well, a true winter storm was raging. The snow was falling so heavily that Resuza could barely see Hill, who was standing just a few feet away. Sailing would be impossible, especially given that she'd have to sail by herself.
Leaving Hill sitting under a cliff overhang, Resuza searched the area and found a small cave about a hundred feet away, just above where the waves lapped against the shore. She struggled through knee-high snow and helped Hill to the shelter.
The cave was deep, narrow, and well protected from the wind. Best of all, the floor of the cave was covered with several long pieces of dry driftwood. At one point some kind of animal had probably made a nest here, but the animal appeared to be long gone. Resuza helped get Hill comfortable and then she built a fire. The heat felt wonderful and the cave warmed up rather quickly.
As the fire crackled, Resuza rummaged through her backpack and took stock of what she had. Hill must have been pondering the same question because, as she searched, he smiled wanly and asked about their supplies.
"Well," said Resuza. "We have a pot, a knife, honey, a bit of tea, a wool blanket, a needle and thread, some cooking supplies, and a small bit of salted pork."
"What kind of cooking supplies?" Hill whispered.
"Flour, salt, pepper, vinegar, garlic, and oil."
"Wonderful!" said Hill. "And do you have any lint in your pockets?"
Resuza nodded.
"Good, we can proceed," said Hill. He instructed her to boil a pot of water. Next she cut half a dozen strips of cloth from her blanket and then placed these strips of cloth in the boiling water in order to sterilize them. Once the strips were sterilized, she used them to clean Hill's wounds.
"Okay," said Hill. "Now I want you to spread that honey thinly across the length of the wound—it's a natural antibiotic. And then I want you to take the vinegar and garlic, mash it up, and cram that into the wound as well. Finally, stuff in a bit of lint. It'll help the wound seal."
"Are you serious?" asked Resuza.
"Quite serious," replied Hill. "Variations have been used since ancient times to fight the bubonic plague. I learned it in an air force survival course. Can you do it?"
Resuza nodded. It took her the better part of an hour to do everything Hill asked. Hill passed in and out of consciousness. Resuza tried to be as gentle as she could, but still Hill winced quite often.
"Thank you, my dear," said Hill with a kindly smile, when Resuza had finished. "Now I think I shall go take a brief nap and, perhaps, when I wake, we can have a spot of tea." Hill's eyes looked watery and feverish.
"All right," said Resuza. She was worried.
As Hill closed his eyes, Resuza walked to the mouth of the cave to peek outside. The wind was howling, snow was blowing sideways
, and visibility was nil. They weren't going anywhere anytime soon. She threw a few more pieces of driftwood onto the fire and then reached into her pocket and pulled out Alfonso's sphere. She doubted that she would be able to use the sphere nearly as well as Alfonso did, but it was comforting to have it, especially given that she had run out of bullets during the fight with Kiril.
Resuza aimed the sphere toward the mouth of the cave and tossed it gently in that direction. It shot out of her hand, veered off to the left, ricocheted off the walls of the cave, caused several large rocks to fall—one of which nearly hit Resuza in the head—and then came back to her outstretched hand.
"Try not to kill yourself," whispered Hill. He was feverish and drifting in and out of sleep.
"I'm afraid I won't be much good with this," replied Resuza. She then held the sphere in the palm of her hand and spun it slightly, just as she had seen Alfonso do. The ball began to glow, and moments later the image of the one-eyed monk flickered across the surface of the sphere. At first the monk was engaged in completely normal activities. He peeled what looked to be an orange, and threw the peels into a nearby fire. However, he soon did something that commanded Resuza's rapt attention. The monk took a blue sphere out of the folds of his cloak that appeared identical to the one she held. The monk paused, nodded as if he had just made an important decision, and then tossed the sphere into a raging fireplace. Resuza let out an audible cry of disbelief.
"What did you see?" asked Hill softly.
"The monk was holding a sphere like this one and tossed it into a fire!"
"Hmm," said Hill. He stared up at the ceiling and pursed his lips.
"What is it?" asked Resuza.
"I just remembered a bit of verse," replied Hill.
"Verse?"
"Yes," said Hill. "The verse that was inscribed on the statue of the Cyclops where Alfonso found the sphere. In the Straszydlo Forest."
"How did it go?" asked Resuza. "Can you remember?"
"I can," replied Hill. He then cleared his throat, closed his eyes, and recalled the ancient words: