by R. D. Brady
A screech cut off King Priam’s words. All three of them turned as a woman strode across the garden, her arm outstretched, pointing at Clytemnestra. Long, dark, unkempt hair swirled around her. Her dark blue dress was shredded at the ends and stained across the bodice. Clytemnestra would have thought she was a beggar or even a witch if not for the quality of the material of the dress—and if not for the woman’s face. She was a younger version of Hecuba, but with darker hair and King Priam’s blue eyes.
“Impostor!” the woman yelled.
Clytemnestra’s heart began to race, and she took a step back.
Hecuba patted her arm. “It’s all right, dear.”
Priam stepped in front of the two women. “Cassandra, what is the meaning of this?”
Clytemnestra started. Cassandra, the daughter of Priam and Hecuba. In all her time here, she had not met Cassandra yet. She’d thought she had been sent away before the fighting began. But rumors of Priam and Hecuba’s youngest daughter had reached the kingdom of Mycenae. Cassandra claimed to have the sight, but no one believed her. According to the gossips, the woman was simply insane. But because she was of royal blood, she was allowed freedom within the castle, not locked up like other families would do with their afflicted.
Cassandra pointed again at Clytemnestra. “Father, she is an impostor. She is not Helen.”
Hecuba gave a weary sigh—one filled with disappointment and frustration.
“I warned you,” Cassandra said. “I warned you she would lead to Troy’s destruction. Why didn’t you listen to me? Why do you never listen to me? I found Paris for you. I told you he would bring the witch back.” Cassandra turned to Clytemnestra. “And now this one stands in for her, and you still cannot see. How can you not see?” she wailed.
Priam spoke sternly. “Cassandra, Helen is our guest, and she will be treated as such.”
“She is not Helen,” Cassandra insisted, her eyes begging her father to believe her. Clytemnestra couldn’t help but feel compassion for the woman. She was obviously desperate for her father’s approval.
King Priam sighed deeply. “My dear, you are tired.” He waved to two guards. “My men will help you back to your room so you can sleep.”
The men grabbed Cassandra’s arms, and Clytemnestra winced at how they gripped her.
“Go on, my dear,” Priam said.
“She’s the ruin of us all,” Cassandra said. “All of us. She has deceived you. You are all doomed. I can hear the hoofbeats of our destruction.” She dragged her feet as the guards pulled her away. Priam turned his back as she continued to rant.
“I am sorry you had to see that,” Hecuba said softly.
“She is—” Prima hesitated. “Troubled.”
“She has the sight?” Clytemnestra asked.
Priam shook his head. “No. It’s just senseless rambling. Pay her no mind. Now, how about if we head to the stables? One of my prized horses has given birth, and I have great hopes for this foal.”
Clytemnestra nodded absentmindedly as she followed them. But she couldn’t help but glance back to where the guards had disappeared with Cassandra. The girl had been so distraught. Years of her family ignoring her visions had taken their toll.
But Clytemnestra knew that Cassandra truly did see. They really should start listening to her.
Chapter 75
Crete, Greece
The maze was extensive, and Helen sensed that even the bear was getting confused. They had gone down a few wrong tunnels and had to double back, but the bear always seemed to get back on track.
She was a large brown bear, and at first the children had been scared of her. But after she stopped off to pick up her cub—which now rode on her back—the children had warmed to her. Hours later, though, that curiosity and interest had shifted to indifference as trudged forward.
Helen wondered if she should call a stop and let the children rest. She had to admit she wouldn’t mind sitting down for a minute herself. But just before she was about to say something, the bear let out a roar and stood on her hind feet. The cub scampered off her back.
Oh, no. “Children, duck into that last tunnel,” Helen ordered without turning around.
“What is it?” Barnabus asked.
Helen’s body was on full alert, all traces of exhaustion gone. “The minotaur.”
She still had no direct sense of the minotaur—she’d had no sense of him in all their walking. If not for the lion’s memories, she might have believed he was simply made up. But she could feel the bear’s fear, and the bear was certain.
The bear roared, and the sound was amplified by the walls of the narrow tunnel. Helen peered into the darkness ahead, where the shadows danced with the firelight.
Then the shadows joined together and moved toward her.
Helen backed up a step as the beast stepped into view. It was indeed the minotaur. It stood at least six feet tall on two muscular human legs. Dark hair hung half way down its chest where it was then bare. Its head which was that of a bull with horns on either side made it look like a demon.
Helen’s pulse raced, but she strove for calmness as she projected her thoughts to the beast. It’s all right. We are not here to hurt you. It’s all right. We are not here to hurt you.
But the beast continued forward, growling low in its throat.
“Helen?” Barnabus asked.
She frowned. “It’s not working. I can’t get through to him.”
Barnabus gripped his bone weapon tightly. “Let me.”
“No,” Helen held out a hand. “Let me try again.”
The bear fell in line with her as she stepped forward. It’s all right. We will not hurt you. There is no need to hurt us. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not get inside the creature’s head. She had no sense of it. Her fear skyrocketed. What had Minos done? What had he created?
The beast lumbered forward, dragging a giant club. Light glinted off its dark, matted fur. Then, with a scream, it lunged for her.
Helen stumbled back. Protect! she screamed in her mind, toward the bear.
The bear leapt in front of her with a roar, swinging at the beast. Her nails carved deep into its flesh, and the minotaur fell to the ground with a cry.
Helen went still—because that was no animal cry. Stop! she ordered.
The bear growled, but backed away.
Barnabus grabbed for her arm. “Helen…”
“It’s not what you think,” she said quietly, her heart hammering as she shook off his hand. “Keep the children back. Don’t let them see.”
She walked slowly toward the creature. It lay still on the ground and released another piteous cry. Blood poured from the creature’s chest. It was not long for this world.
As Helen approached, she saw that the minotaur’s muscular arms and legs were hairless. Its giant bull head was thick with matted hair that hung down over its shoulders, but that hair stopped halfway down its chest.
She knelt down beside its head. Gently, she pulled the head off.
“By the gods,” Barnabus whispered.
Underneath the bull head was the face of a man. He had gray hair, but his face was that of an child—a scared child. There was a simplicity in his gaze that told her he was not a monster born, but raised. He blinked, then pulled back.
Helen reached out a hand, and a cry erupted from the man’s throat. “It’s all right,” she said. “I won’t hurt you.”
“What is he?” Barnabus asked quietly from behind her.
Pity threatened to swallow Helen whole. “A human. One who has been trapped down here to play the part of the minotaur.”
From the look on the man’s face, she knew his mind was slow. No doubt that was why Minos had banished him here, thinking he would die. But he had lived—and had taken on the role of the monster.
The man’s blood flow was slowing. Then he wheezed—and went still. His eyes stared straight ahead, seeing nothing.
Helen reached forward and closed the man’s lids.
; “So there never was a minotaur?” Barnabus asked.
Helen sat back, suddenly exhausted. “I don’t know. Maybe at one point. But I’m guessing Minos used this cave to deal with family members who did not live up to his expectations.”
“You think he’s part of the royal family?”
“Look at him, Barnabus. He is connected to Minos.” The man’s eyes had been an exact duplicate of Minos’s—minus the cruelty.
“How has he survived all these years? I mean, children are only sent in every two years.”
“The cattle that have gone missing—I’m betting that was him. He must have found a way out.”
“If he could escape, why did he return to the cave?”
“Maybe he thought of the dark as his home.”
“It is a sad existence.” Barnabus gently pulled Helen to her feet. “But we are not done yet. We still need to find the key. And now we have no obstacles in our way.”
Helen sighed. “Of course. We should go.”
“It’s not your fault, you know. His death.”
The horror of this damnable cave washed over Helen. The bear and the lion, banished here to live out their days in darkness. The children, left to die. And this poor man, who had turned into a monster. Anger, pure and bright, burned through her.
“No, his death is not my fault. That blame lies at the feet of Minos.”
Chapter 76
Helen and Barnabus covered the man’s body in rocks, as they had done for the lion earlier. One day and two graves. The deaths were weighing Helen down, but she knew they could not stop. So they continued on. The maze seemed to run the expanse of the whole island. The bear had no sense of time or distance, so Helen cold not tell if they were close or hours away.
Helen’s feet were starting to ache, and she was pretty sure the kids were doing even worse. She wasn’t sure if she should call a halt for the night or continue on.
Then the bear let out a roar. Helen’s head jerked up. Finally.
She jogged to where the bear stood. They were on the edge of a cliff; there was no way to move forward. Helen looked down—and wished she hadn’t. The drop appeared endless.
But across the expanse, fifty feet away, just visible in the flickering light, was a tiny ledge. And on that ledge, standing tall and proud, was the stalagmite from the bear’s memory. Engraved on its side were two entwined triangles, and resting on top of it was the box.
Barnabus walked up and gave the bear a wary look. But the bear merely sat on her haunches and licked her paws. Her cub curled up next to her and closed her eyes.
“So. We are here,” Barnabus said.
“I guess so.”
“Are you going over there?”
Helen stared at the ledge. It did not look as if it would support a person’s weight, much less the impact from a jump. “Somehow, I didn’t think it’s going to be as simple as that.”
“Ideas?” Barnabus asked.
Helen let out a breath, rubbing her ring. “This challenge is meant for a ring bearer—which means the box can be retrieved using an ability only I have.”
She closed her eyes and called on the wind. She felt it stirring and created a funnel next to the stalagmite. Carefully she sent a second wind behind the box, blowing it into the funnel.
“Careful, Helen,” Barnabus warned.
Helen gritted her teeth. Sweat rolled down her back as she drew the funnel toward her. “Barnabus?” she said.
As soon as the box was within his reach, he snatched it from the funnel.
Helen released the wind. Her shoulders slumping, she leaned against the bear for support.
Barnabus grinned at her. “See? A piece of cake.”
“It’s beautiful,” Helen whispered, running a hand over the top of the wooden box. It was eighteen inches long and about ten inches wide. The lid had two intertwined triangles carved into its center, and ornate drawings rimmed its outer edge: someone falling from the sky; a group standing on a mountaintop; other signs of nature—wind, rain, animals. All things I can control.
Helen ran her fingers over the drawing of a woman, her hands held up.
“Is that you?” Barnabus asked.
Helen shook her head. “No. I think that’s my mother.”
“Well, let’s see what all the fuss is about.” Barnabus extended the box toward her.
Helen took a breath, and with a trembling hand, she opened it.
“Son of whore,” Barnabus muttered.
The box was empty.
Chapter 77
“Empty?” Helen ripped out the fabric that lined the box, but there was absolutely nothing inside, and the fabric itself was just a piece of burlap.
“Do you think Minos has it?” Barnabus asked.
“Oh, I’m sure he does. I would bet anything that is why the first King Minos cut Crete off from the world—to keep it protected. To keep it for himself.”
Barnabus’s face darkened. “So what is the plan now?”
Helen’s eyes flashed. “Now we are going to chat with Minos.”
Barnabus grinned. “About time.”
Helen turned and strode down the tunnel, the bear and cub at her side. She stopped short in front of the children. Their faces were covered in dirt, and exhaustion weighed down their frames. A few looked as if they were seconds from falling asleep on their feet.
Her anger was replaced with concern. “I think we could all use a little rest,” she said. “What do you think?”
The children nodded.
“I was about to say the same thing.” Barnabus turned to the children. “All right, children, let’s get some sleep before we continue on.” He led them all back down the tunnel to one of the larger caverns they had passed. It had multiple exits, which would make it harder to defend if needed, but it also had a rock shelf large enough for all the children to lie down on.
Helen watched the children climb onto the shelf and lay down their heads. Many of them fell asleep immediately. Images of her own children swam in her mind. She missed them so much. But until this was done, she could not even go near them without endangering them. Just as Minos was endangering these children. What was it with powerful men who felt no compunction about destroying innocent lives in their quest for more power? How did they sleep at night?
“Helen?” Barnabus called softly.
She turned to him.
“Are there any threats nearby?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said softly, “all the threats are gone. Now it’s just the maze. Get some sleep.”
Barnabus leaned against the wall near the children and closed his eyes.
Helen turned to the bears. Rest, my friends. And keep the children safe.
The bears lumbered over to the ledge where the children slept and curled up in front of it.
Helen sat down and leaned her back against the cave wall. She struggled to keep her eyes open, then gave up the fight. The bears would warn them of danger, and besides, she had spoken truthfully to Barnabus—she sensed no other threats.
No threats—and no information. She grabbed hold of the anger trying to bubble through her and shoved it down. She needed to sleep before she dealt with Minos.
Sleep well, King, for tomorrow you will have a reckoning.
Chapter 78
Helen walked along the Eurotas River in Sparta. Its crystal-clear water sparkled in the bright sun. A family of six was seated for a meal by the river’s edge, and asked Helen to join them. With a smile Helen shook her head, explaining that she had somewhere to be.
She continued her walk, each step bringing her more peace. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back as a wind blew. The scents of Sparta rolled over her. She smiled. There was no place in the world she loved more.
“Helen.”
She turned and saw her mother walking toward her with a smile. Her red hair shone brightly in the sunlight. Helen knew immediately she was in a dream, but she would take any time she could get with her mother, dream or not.
&n
bsp; She wrapped her mother in a hug. “Mother, I have missed you.”
Leda put her hands on Helen’s cheeks. “I am always with you. No matter where you go.”
“But I didn’t go anywhere. You did.”
“Just because you can’t see me does not mean I am gone.” Leda linked her arm in Helen’s, and the two began to walk along the shore of the lake. Helen felt the sun on her face and breathed deep, a sense of contentment rolling through her.
“You’re almost there,” Leda said.
Helen frowned, looking around. There was nothing as far as the eye could see. “Almost where?”
“At the end of this part of your journey. When you leave the cave, you will still have a long fight ahead of you. It will test all that you are.”
“People will die,” Helen said softly. The clouds moved to block the sun.
“They always do. But you must stop Zeus. No matter the cost. The world cannot survive his control. Thousands more will be killed.”
Helen knew it was true. “Mother, I—”
A strong wind blew, and Leda’s head whipped to the side. “Danger is coming.”
Helen squeezed her mother’s arm. “Don’t tease. We are perfectly safe. Look around. There is nothing to fear.”
Her mother’s grip tightened painfully. “No Helen. It’s coming. It’s coming for you.”
Chapter 79
The bear let out a roar, and Helen’s eyes popped open to see an arrow embedded in the bear’s side.
“Barnabus!” Helen yelled, but he was already moving. Helen rolled to her side just in time to avoid an arrow engulfed in flame. She looked to find its source, and saw man standing just inside one of the cavern’s side tunnels. He wore the attire of Minos’s guard.
Wind, Helen ordered and a wind blew threw the cave. It struck the line of fire that illuminated the cave, fanning the flames and blowing them onto the shooter. The man let out a yell as his hair and tunic burst into flame.
“Barnabus, get the children out of here! Go!”