The Makings of a Warrior

by Peter Wacht

  He smiled as understanding came to him. Rya had been adamant when teaching him how to master the Talent that he comprehend one point: You could do almost anything with the Talent, if you had the strength and necessary control, yet each environment required a slightly different approach. He had been handling the Talent the wrong way.

  Thomas took a deep breath to steady himself, then tried again, this time adapting the Talent slightly to compensate for his current environment. Yes, that was it! The power flowed easily through the stone now. In a matter of seconds he had a map of the entire Labyrinth in his mind, showing him the dead ends and, more important, the exit. He saw every twist and turn clear as day.

  Holding the image of the Labyrinth in his mind, he took the right passageway, still moving slowly, wary of a surprise attack. The Makreen had been gone too long, increasing Thomas’ worry. As he walked down the passageway, Thomas twirled the two-bladed quarterstaff in front of him, expecting an attack at any moment. Yet there was only silence and no sign of movement up ahead.

  The passageway changed somewhat as he walked along. It had a rougher cut here, with holes about the size of his palm running along the length of the wall where it met the floor. That was strange. He was about to shrug it off as the end of the hallway appeared up ahead when he suddenly stopped in his tracks. He had heard something scrape against the floor just off to his left, close to the base of the wall.

  Thomas redirected the Talent, pulling in the power from the entire Labyrinth to focus it on the passageway he now stood in. He gulped nervously. He had spent too much time looking at the big picture rather than the details.

  Of course there were holes in the wall here. How else were the rock vipers supposed to get into the tunnel? He extended his senses the length of the passageway. It was literally teeming with the small, extremely venomous snakes. They slithered up and down the sides of the tunnel, tentatively pausing every now and then in search of prey — in search of him, he realized.

  Rock vipers were tiny compared to a bloodsnake, but they could be just as deadly. A single bite carried enough poison to kill a man in a matter of seconds. They lived in the darker recesses of the world, preying on mice, rats, moles, bats and the like that inhabited the caves and crevices dotting the earth. Because of the darkness of their habitat, they hunted by movement, sensing the reverberations of their prey as it moved along. And Thomas had walked right into their nest without even realizing it.

  His first instinct was to make a run for it, thinking that he could get down the tunnel before one of the rock vipers struck. He lifted his foot slightly off the ground. The warning hiss of a snake kept his foot off the ground and sent a bolt of fear through him. He looked down with his eyes, not wanting to move his head. A rock viper was coiled up just a fingerbreadth away from his bare foot. Thomas would be dead in seconds if he moved.

  His mind worked furiously, desperately searching for some solution, yet nothing came to mind. A flash of movement caught his eye. The clink of a quarrel hitting the wall of the passageway just to his left greeted his ears, followed by the sound of several snakes striking out at the crossbow bolt when it fell to the stone floor.

  Thomas looked for the source of the bolt, not surprised to see the Makreen standing at the end of the tunnel, no more than forty feet away, grinning wickedly at his prey’s predicament. Thomas cursed himself for a fool. He should have remembered the traps! How could he have forgotten them?

  During the entire time the Labyrinth had been used as a Trial, the stories about it focused on the exploits of the Makreen, yet the history books reported that most of the people sent into the Labyrinth died because of the traps, not the Makreen. That didn’t make for as exciting a story, though, so the Makreen was always the main villain.

  Thomas became almost frantic, his feet itching for the opportunity to escape. Yet he had nowhere to go. He could die either from the bite of a snake or the bolt of a crossbow. It was really no choice at all.

  Shaking its massive head in pleasure at Thomas’ situation, the Makreen raised the crossbow to his chin, sighting the crosshairs on Thomas’ chest. Thomas watched in morbid fascination as the process of his death played out in front of him. He could think of nothing to do, nothing at all. A cold sweat began to drip down his back, causing a shiver along his spine. There had to be something. He had a weapon after all. He had to try something.

  As Thomas saw the Makreen’s finger close around the trigger of the crossbow, releasing the bolt, an idea finally came to him. Tensing his muscles, he jumped for the ceiling, driving the blade of the quarterstaff into the stone. The bolt passed right where Thomas had been, slicing through the snake that had sensed Thomas’ movement and struck at him.

  Thomas glanced down the passageway and breathed a sigh of relief. The Makreen was gone, for now. Maybe his luck was still with him after all. Yet, he still hadn’t reached safety. How long the blade would remain in the ceiling he didn’t know, and his movement had attracted several dozen more rock vipers, now slithering beneath him in anticipation.

  Thomas held onto the quarterstaff with all his might, yet his sweaty palms were becoming a hindrance as he slowly slipped down its length inch by inch. His escape had only been momentary. And if he didn’t think of something else quickly, it would become wasted effort all together.

  As his right hand slid down to the middle of the quarterstaff, a slight indentation met his grip. Pressing in on it, his ears were greeted by a quiet click. He smiled. Yes, his luck may be turning. Pulling with his right hand, the quarterstaff came apart in the middle, giving Thomas two small spears with which to work.

  Checking the passageway once more to make sure the Makreen had not returned, Thomas began his journey along the roof of the tunnel, driving one blade after the other into the hard rock, steadily drawing closer to safety. Every movement racked his tortured body with pain, his muscles protesting from the strain and the wound in his side throbbing in defiance. He endured it, preferring the pain to the dreamy, endless sleep offered by the bite of a rock viper.

  It was slow-going, but Thomas didn’t want to risk missing the mark with a blade as he pulled himself across the ceiling. Finally, after several long minutes of struggle, he reached the end of his journey, pulling the blades free from the ceiling and dropping down to the floor safely away from the rock vipers. He had made it, if just barely. He took no comfort in his success, however. He had a feeling that his struggles had just begun.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Premonition

  “So, Chertney, are you still concerned?” Rodric leaned back in his chair, twisting his head to speak to the man sitting directly behind him. “Do you really think the boy will make his way past the Makreen? In one thousand years a single man has never defeated a Makreen on his own.”

  Rodric looked from side to side, watching the lords and ladies in his gallery chatter excitedly about the probable outcome of the Trial. Most had agreed that it would be over within the hour — the boy was no match for the beast. Rodric tended to agree with them. But that time limit fast approached.

  The forbidding shadow lurking behind the High King grimaced with distaste. How such a small and petty man could rule a kingdom he didn’t know.

  “If anyone could, it would be he,” answered Chertney.

  He had learned much from Thomas the night before, if only in terms of the boy’s character. The boy’s strength was obvious. Chertney had left Thomas with a vague sense of worry. If there were more like him waiting to defend the Kingdoms as they had in the past, his master’s grand plan could be in jeopardy.

  “You give the boy too much credit,” said Rodric, not bothering to turn around this time. Instead he looked over at Gregory and his daughter.

  The girl obviously wasn’t taking this very well, and her father was furious. The latter filled him with glee. Gregory had hindered his plans for years. Now Rodric finally had the opportunity to return the favor.

  “You should have killed him right away,” replied Chertney, lea
ning down to whisper into Rodric’s ear, his words coming out in a malevolent hiss.

  Chertney had a bad feeling about the boy. The scars on his body proved his fortitude. Still, there was something else that bothered him about Thomas, but what? That’s what worried him. Surprises tended to come back and haunt you, and Chertney was not in the position to take such a risk, not with a master such as his.

  “Relax, Chertney. Relax and enjoy the fun. In just a few minutes you will have nothing to worry about. You will have your wish and the Makreen will have his kill.”

  Chertney looked down at the balding top of the High King, visible through the crown perched precariously on his head. Perhaps. Then again, perhaps not. Chertney’s premonition of danger increased with each passing minute.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  A Swim

  The click as Thomas pushed the two blades together to form the quarterstaff echoed down the passageway. Looking back the way he had come, Thomas was pleased to see that most of the rock vipers had returned to their holes once all movement ceased. He breathed deeply to steady himself. He was at a crossroads again and could go either right or left. The Makreen had disappeared, probably to plan his next attack. Thomas didn’t want to give him too much time to think. He had to move faster.

  The longer he was in the Labyrinth, the better his chances of dying — either by some trap or his own weakness. Extending his senses, the picture of the maze returned to his mind. Pinpointing his current location, he turned right. After walking down that tunnel, he turned right, then left, then right again. His senses were raw with anticipation as he searched for the Makreen, but the beast did not reappear, a fact that worried him.

  As he continued on his way, the map of the Labyrinth became fuzzier in his mind. He was having a much harder time using his Talent through the rock. The tunnel had changed in appearance. The walls and floor were now made of blocks of stones, much like any hallway in the Palace above, which explained his difficulty with the Talent.

  The stones grew increasingly bigger the farther he went down the passageway, until finally each one was large enough for a horse to comfortably stand on. Bending down, Thomas studied the floor, an odd feeling of danger passing through his mind. There were slight spaces between the blocks of stone that he could fit a finger through. What strange workmanship.

  Thomas stood up and walked a few more feet down the tunnel. He didn’t get far. Without warning, the stone below his feet fell away, dropping him thirty feet into a pool of water. Plummeting to the bottom, he pushed off the slimy floor with his feet and propelled himself back toward the surface.

  Gasping for air, he shook his head to clear the water from his eyes. He was doing quite well, he thought sarcastically. Of the two traps he had discovered so far, he had fallen into both quite easily, and this one literally. Thomas swam over to the wall, which was covered by a slimy moss.

  At least with this trap Thomas would have an easier time getting out. Pushing in on the indentation, his quarterstaff snapped into two. Thomas drove one blade into the wall just above where the water lapped against the stone, glad to see the ease with which the steel bit into it. He drove the other blade into the wall and then began the laborious process of pulling himself out of the water and up the wall.

  Thomas stopped in mid-motion, a shiver of fear coursing through his body. What was that? Something had brushed against his legs. Something rough and scaly. Not wanting to find out what it was, Thomas hurriedly made his way up the wall. His feet were almost out of the water when something tightened around them and then jerked him downwards. His hands slipped off the spears, and he was pulled beneath the surface to the bottom of the pool.

  Thomas struggled to get his head out of the water, but couldn’t. The scaly skin was wrapped tightly around his feet, then his ankles, and was now moving quickly up his body. The darkness was complete underwater. Thomas could only make out the faintest of outlines of what had attacked him. As the scales tightened around his body, though, he didn’t have to see the creature to know what he was up against.

  A sea serpent! Why should he be surprised? Snakes seemed to be the preferred creature of the labyrinth. The scales continued to tighten around Thomas’ body, forcing the breath from his lungs. He struggled against its grip, trying desperately to free his legs. Spots appeared before his eyes. He needed to breathe.

  Confident in its victory, the snake coiled its scales around his chest then brought its head around toward Thomas’ face. Even in the underwater gloom he saw the rows of sharp teeth bearing down on him. A very hungry snake. Normally they waited until their prey had suffocated before feasting, but not this one. Thomas had to do something — quickly! The spots appeared more and more frequently, clouding his vision. Time was running out, and with it his life.

  As the snake’s head surged forward, Thomas caught it in his hands, forcing the jaws apart. His strength was rapidly failing as darkness settled around the edges of his vision. He had been underwater too long. The strong coils of the snake were squeezing the life from him. He would not be able to hold back the fangs much longer.

  Marshaling his will, Thomas opened himself to the Talent, taking in as much as he could. At the moment he could care less if Chertney discovered his skill. In a matter of seconds he would be dead anyway. Controlling the power within him, a sharp bolt of energy flashed out of Thomas’ hand, striking the snake full in the face and killing it instantly.

  Thomas would have breathed a sigh of relief if he could have. But his lungs still begged for air and the coils of the snake remained wrapped around Thomas. The dead weight of the creature pulled him to the bottom of the pool. He struggled frantically to get free.

  The darkness was almost upon him now, a vast, welcoming darkness, where he could forget his worries and just sleep. It seemed so inviting, so peaceful. No!

  He retreated from the edge of the darkness waiting to engulf him. He needed air desperately. His lungs felt like they were about to explode. Struggling feverishly, Thomas unwrapped the heavy coils from his body, then pushed off of the bottom of the pool once more. As his head broke the surface of the water, he hungrily gasped for air.

  Thomas didn’t waste any time getting his breath back. Still gulping down air, he lunged for one of the blades still caught in the wall, thankful to take hold of it on his first attempt. He then began to pull himself up again, not wanting to be near the pool of water a second longer than necessary. He had no desire to find out if more than one sea snake lived beneath the Labyrinth. No desire at all.

  Several minutes later he pulled himself over the edge of the hole and onto the floor of the passageway. He lay there for several minutes sucking in air, fully expecting the Makreen to appear at any second and not really caring. Once he breathed easier, he pushed himself to his feet and walked unsteadily but warily down the hallway, wanting to get off the large stone slabs as quickly as possible.

  When he felt the surface of the passageway change beneath his feet from the stone slabs to roughly cut stone he finally breathed a sigh of relief and took a moment to gain his bearings. Two traps down. How many more remained, he didn’t know.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  New Danger

  Thomas had made his way through more than half of the Labyrinth now, and the Makreen had not yet reappeared. Though he had defeated two of the Labyrinth’s traps, he much preferred fighting the Makreen, even with the beast’s penchant for surprise. At least then he knew what he faced. Each trap offered a new danger, and he worried that if he didn’t exit the Labyrinth soon, one trap eventually would get the better of him.

  Though the blood had stopped flowing from the wound on his head and the slash on his ribs, he could feel his strength slipping away with each step. Thomas pushed away the cobwebs that formed in his mind. He couldn’t allow his exhaustion to take hold. Otherwise, he’d make a mistake. And in the Labyrinth, his first mistake would be his last.

  The tunnel had not changed since he had escaped from the sea serpent. At least he d
idn’t have to worry about that. Still, for the last few minutes he had heard a strange rustling noise coming from behind him. Faint at first, it had grown in intensity. He continued to follow the map in his head, at the same time trying to determine the cause of the noise. As the minutes slipped away, the skittering sound behind him grew louder.

  Stopping for a moment, Thomas extended his senses back along the way he had come. He immediately dashed off down the tunnel, pumping his legs as fast as he could. He could understand now why the Makreen had not bothered to come after him. There was no need.

  Thomas ran down the tunnels, the map still in his mind, almost falling as he sped around several sharp corners. The noise behind him increased. He wasn’t going to make it. Looking back as he turned another corner, a giant rat — about three feet in length — bounded around the corner after him, chittering in anticipation, its sharp teeth exposed. Behind the first rat came the rest of the pack, scrambling over one another, their desire for food driving them on.

  Another branch appeared before Thomas as the lead rat nipped at his heels. Thomas stopped suddenly, swinging the quarterstaff behind him and gutting the rodent with the blade. He immediately kicked the body off the weapon and ran around the corner. He heard the pack stop for a moment, followed by the frantic sounds of the scramble for food. Then the rats continued the chase, devouring the wounded animal in seconds.

  Thomas ran as fast as he could down the tunnel, the maneuver having bought him a little extra time. But not enough. The pack was gaining on him, the skittering of the hundreds of clawed feet scratching against the stone setting his teeth on edge. Panting heavily, the wound in his side continued to bleed and ached with every pounding step.

  Thomas stopped again, swinging his quarterstaff in front of him with renewed energy borne of desperation. The sharp steel blades tore into the furry bodies. Not waiting to see how many he had killed, Thomas ran off again, hoping he had gained more time.