“Excitable little buggers,” chuckled Blaise.
“I do certainly hope,” began X, “that you have in some way arranged for my transportation back to my cousin.”
“I sent for one of the king’s messengers to come and collect you. It will take him several days to catch up to us, and we can’t wait so you’ll be coming along.” Blaise responded
“I do sorely detest such an arrangement.” X continued on, making wild claims, accusation, and ultimatums. Neither Max nor Blaise paid him much attention.
“Max, could you show our guest to his quarters with his friend?” asked a smiling Blaise.
“With pleasure,” replied Max.
“What are you doing?” asked X, flustered, as Max picked him up from the ground.
Blaise withdrew a thin brown package from his cloak and handed it to Max. Max untied the string and placed X into the envelope.
“Unhand me you giant demon! How dare you place me in this prison! Oh, hello G… . Get us both out of here now!” X demanded.
“Perhaps next time you should try talking less, you annoying fool!” shouted Blaise.
“Alright, well we have a lot of ground to cover to get to the next letter.” Blaise said.
Max followed behind him, a look of silent determination etched deeply onto his face.
Chapter 8
The hermit’s hut wasn’t very hard to find. It stood in a large clearing within the forest, nearly five acres. It sat on the top of a gentle sloping hill that stood at the foot of the mountains. Down the slope was a large collection of trees and hedges that formed a mazelike pattern all the way down to a large lake.
The house itself was rather unassuming. A roof of straw formed a dome over a large circular wall. There were no windows and only one small door. A slit in the door could be opened and closed from the inside.
Blaise and Max approached the door. Blaise knocked as Max studied the surrounding terrain. The slit on the door slid open and a pair of wary eyes stared out at the two travelers.
“State your business.” The voice was cautious and unfriendly.
“We are seeking lost letters.” Blaise stated.
“What business should I have with misplaced correspondence?” the man spat.
“Not correspondence, friend, but rather letters.” Blaise smiled.
The hermit eyed both of them nervously. Sweat rolled down his face and the sound of him cracking his knuckles could be heard through the straw door.
“I know nothing of what you speak of. Leave me be!” He slammed the slit shut and Blaise heard him locking the door.
Blaise looked to Max and he nodded. Blaise held up three fingers and lowered one after the other. When the last finger clenched into the fist he heaved his shoulder into the straw door and plowed through it.
Max rushed in behind Blaise with his dagger drawn. The hermit, who was for some reason stark naked, shrieked and dove behind the couch. Max and Blaise circled around the room cutting off any escape.
“Put some clothes on for goodness sake,” shouted Blaise. “Max, grab some clothes out of that dresser.”
Max opened the dresser and found a number of moth-eaten cloaks. He picked what he thought was the least holy and shoved into the naked man’s arms. The hermit dressed quickly with two blades pointed toward him.
“So,” began Blaise, “what do you know about the missing letters?”
“I already told you. I know nothing!” the old man spat.
Blaise smiled and stepped closer to the man. The hermit backed away but Max blocked him from moving very far. He glared at Blaise. Blaise pounced grabbing the man and placing him into a headlock. The hermit struggled at first, but he stopped as he felt the cold steel of Blaise’s sword pressed against his throat.
The man whimpered, sounding more like a dog than a human. His breathing was quick and erratic, and a pained look covered his entire face. Anger burned deep in his eyes.
“One last chance.” Blaise pressed the blade hard against the man’s throat. “What can you tell me about the missing letters?”
“Alright,” the man relented, “take me outside and I’ll show you.”
Blaise pushed the man toward the door. Max kept his dagger against the man’s back and Blaise strung his bow in case the man attempted to escape.
“On the mountain.” The hermit spoke.
“What’s on the mountain?” asked Blaise, the impatience clearly audible in his voice.
“The cyclops’s tower,” he cackled, “that’s where I got the letters from. If you need a letter I know he has one left. I’m sure he won’t mind giving it to you.” The hermit couldn’t contain his laughter, and he fell to the ground clutching, his sides.
Blaise drew back his bowstring and notched an arrow. He raised the bow and aimed a shot. With grace he released the string and the arrow whistled through the air. The arrowhead grazed the hermit’s ear and plunged into the ground with a thud.
The laughter ceased. He turned toward Blaise with a sober look on his face. He rose to his feet and looked from Blaise, to the arrow sticking up from the ground. He touched his ear to his hand and withdrew it, feeling warm blood upon it.
“You shot me!” exclaimed the hermit.
“Did I?” asked Blaise sarcastically. “I’m deeply sorry.”
“What’s going on out there?” called Max, who had returned to the hut to see if he could find anything useful.
“I just shot Marvin in the face.” Blaise called back.
“Marvin?” the hermit asked.
“You look like a Marvin.”
The hermit glared at Blaise while still nursing his bleeding ear. It was barely a scrape, but the man regarded it as if it were a wound to a major organ.
“Now, where are the letters you took?” Blaise asked, drawing another arrow from his quiver, hoping the hermit would take the clue. He did.
“I only have one left.” He said. “I-I-I gave the other to some witch. I swear it’s true.”
Blaise strung the arrow and the bowstring and aimed it toward the hermit.
“Where is it?” asked Blaise with a stone cold countenance. He tightened the bowstring.
The man’s look of pure terror faded as a smile spread across his face. This caught Blaise off guard and he lowered the bow.
“You can kill me but then you’ll never get the letter.” He cackled like a hyena. “I’ll tell you what, though. We’ll play a little game.”
The hermit turned and walked toward the woods. Blaise raised the bow and aimed at the hermit in case he made a break for it. But he didn’t. He stopped and let out a loud whistle. Hundreds of small birds like the one Max had watched earlier flew out of the forest and filled the sky like the clouds of a thunderstorm.
“Do you like my friends?” the hermit asked with a goofy smile on his face. “You see, I breed and train carrier pigeons to race each other. I even built them a maze to race in,” he said, gesturing to the strange lines of trees and hedges.
“So what exactly is the game?” asked Max.
“It’s quite simple really. Down on the middle of the lake is a wooden shack. Inside the shack is the letter you are looking for. If you beat my pigeons to it you may keep it, but if they beat you they will return it to me, and before you can get back here I will be long gone.”
“So, all we have to do is go down there,” Max said pointing to lake, “and if we beat the birds, then we get to keep the letter?”
“Yes, but the maze is a little tricky. I’ll give you a head start just to make things fair. Good luck.” The hermit motioned to the maze entrance and began counting out loud, “One…two…three…”
Max and Blaise ran toward the maze entrance. The hedges that had seemed neat and well kept from a distance were revealed to be in a state of disarray. They were little more than dozens of dead or dying bushes and trees that were grown so close together that their branches twisted and wound together like the threads of a shirt. Gnarled branches stuck out like hands seeking to grab those
who dared travel down the haunted road.
Mist hung like a veil through the corridors. It sparkled innocently but gave the impression that something more sinister lurked just out of sight. The silence of the maze was broken only by the crunching of dead twigs and leaves beneath the feet of Max and Blaise.
Blaise slung the ash bow back over his shoulder and drew his two-handed blade. It shimmered like a ghost in the silver mist. Blaise held it out in front of him, using its thin blade to split the shadowy curtain that hid their path.
They kept a quick pace but kept a sharp watch for anything out of place. While neither said anything aloud, both knew that this maze was a not a simple system of hallways they had to figure out. Some dangerous presence could be sensed by both of them. It seemed to flow through the hedges, following them as they made their way toward the lake.
As they traveled deeper into the maze the hedges grew taller and the branches stretched out across the path, blocking all but a few lonely rays of light. In these darkened hallways the ground grew more treacherous. Roots and branches that had not seemed to be there only moments earlier tripped them and hindered their progress.
Max voiced his uneasiness, “Doesn’t it seem as if the way is becoming more narrow. Almost like the hedges are closing in around us.”
“It is simply a trick of the maze; it is designed so that when you are almost near the finish you think you are never going to make it. I must admit it is quite clever. It has almost convinced me.” Blaise chuckled, attempting to reassure Max.
As he finished speaking, the path in front them seemed as if it was narrowing. Both of them increased their pace toward the opening. Now it began to close quickly and they broke into a sprint. The branches locked and weaved within each other. Blaise dove hoping to make it through the gap before it closed. Max followed suit but both collided with a hard wall of interwoven branches. An impenetrable shield of wood.
They turned back the way they had come, but the path behind them sealed itself. The sun was blotted out as the hedges melded into each other overhead.
There was only darkness and silence. Roots and vines began to rise from the ground. They poked and prodded through the soft soil and danced like charmed snakes.
A vine began wrapping itself around Blaise’s boot. He noticed but waited for the perfect moment to strike. As the vine finished binding his right boot it quickly moved, snaking across to the left. Blaise struck. He drove his sword down, slicing the outstretched vine and grazing down his right leg. The vine recoiled with a hiss as its severed arm fell in several pieces to the floor.
Dozens of vines and branches shot out like bullets, binding Blaise and delivering blows to his body and face. He swung down in a powerful slash cutting branches and vines, and they attempted to overtake him. As he wound back for a second swing a large branch pounded into his stomach, driving the breath from his lungs. In his momentary stupor the vines pounced, wrapping around his body and ripping the sword from his hands. He struggled to break free, but the vines simply squeezed harder, crushing the life from him.
Max dodged under branches as they swung for him. He wielded his dagger with precision, cutting at the vines that attempted to tie him up. His wrist flicked the blade back and forth, cutting the vines as quickly as they came at him.
Suddenly he felt two large vines wrap around his ankles and lift him in to the air. Branches shot out from the hedges pounding into his chest and face but he held his grip.
Summoning his strength he flung his upper body up toward his legs. He swung his right arm out in a small arc, slicing the two vines holding him up.
He fell hard onto his back and a vine shot out from the ground, pinning him down. The dagger in his right arm was useless as his shoulder and elbow were pinned by vines. Some of the vines were too weak and small to hold him, snapping away as he struggled. It seemed to Max as if he were watching from the sidelines. He couldn’t believe what was happening as he tore away from the vines. His muscles seemed to grow, snapping the puny vines that only moments ago had seemed thick and strong.
As his left arm broke free he swung it over and grabbed the vines pinning his right arm. With a quick yank he tore the vines from his arm. With his dagger hand free he cut the vine wrapped around his neck and face along with those immobilizing his legs. He moved to his feet.
Battling vines and branches alike he moved toward Blaise. Max only saw Blaise as a mass of matted vines.
He plunged his dagger deep into the tangled mess of vines wrapped around Blaise. Warm blood squirted onto his hand and he knew he had gone too far. He didn’t care though. He didn’t have time to readjust. Blaise was dying. The life was being crushed from him.
He drove the blade down and more blood squirted out but a large gash developed as the vines died and fell away. Max plunged his hands into the gap and tore the vines away. Thorns ripped into his hands, tearing them into tattered balls of mangled flesh.
He threw Blaise’s body onto his shoulder and ran toward the wall of branches. Grabbing Blaise’s sword from the ground he hacked at the wall in front of him. Branches and vines tore and struck at his back but Max ignored them.
As he hacked against the branches they began to recede. They seemed to shy away from his hammering strokes. He felt the muscle fibers in his shoulder tearing from the strain of wielding the blade. He hacked and hacked as white hot pain shot through his arm. With a final blow he cleaved straight through the wall and heard a tear in his arm.
Max screamed in agony as he dove through the opening, taking Blaise with him. Warm sunlight splashed over his body. The hedges around them were now neither murderous nor moving except for a gentle sway caused by the cool breeze coming off the lake. Blaise began to come to his senses. He coughed and spasmed as he gasped to fill his crushed lungs.
“Don’t move.” Max tried to calm Blaise.
“What the hell happened?” Blaise sat up but winced as the gash along his side split open, pouring blood onto his armor.
“They almost got you,” said Max, pointing to the hedges, “I nicked you trying to cut you free. It’s just a little scratch.”
Blaise laughed. He rose to his feet wincing in pain while holding his side. “I should be fine. Just fetch me some bandages and then we have to get moving. We don’t have much time before those birds get to the letter.”
Max found the bandages in the satchel stung across Blaise’s back and wrapped them tight around Blaise’s torso, covering his wound. He tied them tightly and hoped they would hold.
“They should be good for now,” Max said, examining the wrappings, “We’ll have to change them in a few hours, but they last for a little while.”
Blaise began to trot down the hedged-in alley. Noticing that Max wasn’t following, he turned and shouted to his friend to hurry.
Max smiled, admiring his friend’s spirit. He could smell the lake water now. He knew they were close. Only a bit farther and he would see…
There it was: the end of the maze. He burst out from the hedges into the beautiful daylight of the lakeshore. Blaise was already crossing the narrow pier that connected the wooden shack to land. Max followed.
The shack itself was small and rather plain. A wooden door hung on rusted and creaky hinges. It swung inward to reveal a square room with a single unlocked wooden box. Blaise moved forward and opened the box. Inside was a silver Q. It was plain yet breathtakingly beautiful. Max could almost see himself on the flawless surface.
“Hurry up, you fools!” Though Max had spoken with X, he was still taken aback as the silver letter shouted at them.
“You seemed nice and cozy inside that box. Didn’t even try to escape, I bet,” Max responded.
“As if I could! I’m not used to going anywhere without U. It’s all been quite an ordeal.”
Max and Blaise walked out of the shack, smiling at having recovered yet another letter. Blaise seemed almost lost within himself. It had been a trying day but he was overcome with joy.
Max thought he saw a la
rge shadow cut through the water to the left of the pier. Before he could say anything, Blaise began to speak.
“I guess we’ll cut around to the left of the maze.”
“Blaise…” Max attempted to interrupt, but Blaise didn’t notice.
“Then I guess we’ll make camp in the clearing tonight before heading up to the cyclops’s tower.”
“Blaise…” Max tried again.
“If the hermit’s still there then we could try to get some more information out of him. Perhaps explain to us how he got the letter.”
“Blaise!” Max shouted. He saw the shadow cut through the water again.
“What is it, Max?” Blaise sounded annoyed.
“I think there’s something in the water.” Max’s voice shook as he tried to mask his fear.
“Don’t be foolish; we won the task. We have the letter. There is nothing in the—”
Blaise’s sentence was cut short as the pier exploded beneath him. Water shot upward in a massive pillar as fragments of splintered wood, along with Blaise went hurtling through the air.
Tentacles shot up from the deep. Each one was as long as ten men and as thick around as a horse. They flailed through the air, smashing the pier and dragging the wooden shack into the depths.
A tentacle shot out and wrapped around Blaise, catching him just before he hit the water. The dozens of remaining tentacles pushed down, heaving the massive monster to the surface. The head and body of a monolithic squid broke the water’s surface. Thousands of beady black eyes stared at Max. They seemed to bore through his body, penetrating into his soul and weakening his power.
A large beaklike mouth lined with serrated blades clicked open and closed. A guttural roar escaped the beast. With the beak were not one but three large tongues covered in a sticky-looking goo. They sloshed and churned inside its mouth in anticipation of a meal.
Max stood on a small section of the pier that had not been destroyed. The lake stood no more than a few feet on any side. The squid eyed him like a child holding a magnifying glass might study an ant.
Maxwell's Closet Page 6