Maxwell's Closet

by Steven Belskie

  “Anyway,” the hermit spoke, “I must be leaving now.”

  The hermit turned and broke into a run. Blaise let the arrow fly. A flood of birds poured into the clearing absorbing the arrow and the subsequent ones he fired.

  Just as it seemed the old man would escape a figure of horseback appeared. He rode out from behind the house. A long silver blade shimmered in the sun. Max recognized the rider. It was the messenger who had saved them earlier.

  In matter of moments the rider closed with the old man. One flick of the blade and the man fell. His body lay prostrate on the ground, motionless. The birds scattered, flying off in every direction. Without a master, they were free.

  The rider turned and trotted back to where Blaise and Max stood. He sheathed the still pristine blade and dismounted from his horse.

  “Why did you kill him?” asked Max.

  “I am afraid that any prisoner of the king who attempts to escape must be killed according the laws of the kingdom,” the rider said plainly.

  Blaise eyed the man. “That is no law. I know well the laws of my father, and no such law governs our people.”

  The man turned, looking at Blaise, his eyes full of contempt. “Do not assume, friend, that the kingdom you left is the same one to which you will return. Times are changing, and the king no longer has the privilege of granting prisoners the right of recapture.”

  “We have only been gone a few days. Surely things cannot have changed that much,” Blaise said.

  The man’s eyes suddenly looked distant. They were viewing not what was now in front of him; rather they watched events they had seen firsthand. “Only hours after you left the king’s chamber the first assault came. Goblins attacked the villages outside the city. They burnt and destroyed the huts of farmers and fisherman. Archers and javelin throwers quickly repelled them. Heavily armored orc infantry followed after the goblins, breaking the wall of missile troops and pushing them back inside the gated city.

  “We held with ease at the wall. But then trolls and dragons were brought in. The dragonfire chased the defenders from the walls and the trolls breached the gates. Then the orcs poured in like a flood. The defenders were pushed all the way to the inner palisade. Can you imagine that? A wooden wall guarding against dragons? Well, Prince Hunter knew it wouldn’t hold for more than a few minutes so he organized a counterattack. It was brutally successful. The orcs were pushed all the way out beyond the farms outside the city.”

  The man fiddled with the sword on his belt as he spoke. The blade was new. It hadn’t seen much combat besides striking down the hermit.

  “Three days later a final counterattack broke the orc army. They were split into hundreds of fleeing groups. Thousands were cut down as they ran. Some say the orcs won’t have the numbers to challenge us for at least another decade. But I doubt it. They still have thousands of warriors ready for a second chance at victory.”

  The mood of the messenger didn’t seem to lighten as he spoke of the victory. If anything he seemed to sink deeper into despair.

  “Unfortunately, only a day after our victory, we received news from the neighboring kingdom. They have taken our failure to respond to their invitation as a direct insult. As such, they have informed us that they are preparing for war.

  “Normally, our strength would be nearly even with them and the battle would be close. But in our weakened state it will be a massacre. Prince Hunter is organizing a defense, but I don’t know if it can hold. You must hurry and recover the letters so that this crisis may be averted.”

  No one spoke as the messenger turned on the horse and began to trot away. The sunlight faded behind the hill as he went.

  Chapter 10

  The trek up the mountain took over two days to complete. Max and Blaise both knew that time was short, but the mountain seemed oblivious to their concerns. Sheer rock faces and treacherous footholds slowed their progress to a painful pace.

  The tower was situated nearly at the summit of the mountain. It was a circular tower that rose only a hundred feet or so from the ground. Its sides were perfectly smooth cuts of fire-red stone. The southern side of the tower was backed up against and had its foundation built into a sheer cliff face. The precipice dropped straight down for several hundred feet before a garden of jagged rocks jutted out at a ninety-degree angle.

  There were no windows on the tower, only a large door carved out of the same red stone that made the tower. Large stone squares ringed its roof, each one a different color. In the center of the ring was a large-obelisk shaped structure made of black obsidian.

  On the side of the tower sat a large figure. He was hunched over and his face was cast with shadow. His dark yet sparse brown hair hung down covering his face. Soft mumbles could be heard coming from his mouth as he drew circles in the dirt with his massive fingers.

  Blaise was shocked to find the cyclops in such a state. He was expecting a cold-blooded tyrant in black armor wielding a massive axe. Instead they were greeted with a crestfallen and depressed soul.

  Max and Blaise both trod lightly, unwilling to give away their presence to the sleeping giant. It was hard to guess while he was slouched against the tower, but Max believed the cyclops stood around fifteen feet tall. His thick legs lying against the ground were as wide around as trees. His upper body seemed to be as massive as a carriage, and he had more muscles than Max thought existed.

  He was unarmored, but at his side, propped up against the wall, was a gruesome- looking spear that was at least thirty feet long. Surely it was impossible for a man to wield such a weapon, but looking at the long muscular arms of the cyclops, Max was sure it would be a formidable weapon.

  Sensing they might be venturing too close, both Max and Blaise halted their progress. Any closer and they would be within range of a spear thrust. If they startled the cyclops one of them could end up skewered and served for dinner.

  “Excuse me.” Max spoke and Blaise looked at him. Blaise knew even more now than he had at the cave that this was not the same child he had taken with him from his father’s chamber. He was taller now, not just the few inches he had noticed before but nearly a head taller. His shoulders were broad and his chin pronounced. Light stubble covered his chin and neck. When Blaise had first seen Max, he would have guessed he wasn’t yet thirteen but now looking at the icy blue eyes staring defiantly at the Cyclops, he looked no younger than eighteen.

  The cyclops brought his head up. He reached out his massive hands to brush away the long stringy hair that hung in his face. His lone eye was a bright and mesmerizing green. His nose was almost nonexistent, but his nostrils were large and flared open each time he took a breath.

  “Who is it that comes to my land?” The cyclops’s voice was absent of the anger Max had expected. There was only calmness. The defiance in Max’s gaze softened.

  “My name is—”

  “Max,” the cyclops interjected softly. “Yes, I can see it all now.”

  The cyclops’s eyelid retreated and the large eye studied Max. Max felt as if the eye could see into him. He felt as if he was telling everything of his journey to the cyclops without even speaking a word.

  “I know what it is you seek, young one.” The cyclops stood, his massive frame towering over Max. “I am afraid I cannot part with what you seek easily. I must ask a great favor of you.”

  “What must we do for the letter?” Max asked.

  “The letter? Oh, yes, I did see that as well.” Max looked puzzled. “You must forgive me. I am granted a sight unlike your own. I have seen what you shall desire most, and the letter will not be your primary concern. But if you do as I ask of you, both shall be granted.”

  The cyclops turned and pressed his hand against the large stone door. The door swung open before the massive strength of the cyclops.

  “Come, my friends. I will show you what you seek.” The cyclops walked into the chamber.

  Max and Blaise followed behind the massive man. The door hissed shut. The room was bright and spacious. The
re were no windows or candles yet the room was bright and cheerful.

  The floor of the tower was marked with hundreds of colorful gems. They were arranged within square tiles, and each one appeared to be some kind of symbol. The square touched on the corners and formed concentric rings across the floor.

  Hanging on the wall were dozens of small lamps. No light came from them but rather smoke of many different colors. Blue, green, red, purple, and orange diffused throughout the tower, each one bringing an enchanting aroma.

  Seven pillars rested against the walls and ran straight up to the ceiling nearly a hundred feet above. Nestled in the shadow of each of these were two sarcophaguses that flanked either side of the pillars. Each tomb depicted a cyclops armored in ornate battle gear and holding two curved swords across its chest. The eye on each one was still open, and Max felt as if even in death they still watched him.

  “They were my firstborn.” The Cyclops motioned to the graves. “The only ones born of my wife. The only ones born true to our race.”

  A sad look stole across the cyclops’s face. “You see, my wife and I were both cursed to never die a natural death. We were destined to be the parents of an entire race, the only ones capable of reproducing true pure members of our race.

  “My sons grew up brave and strong. Warriors like the world had never known. They won me a hundred great victories, and I was wealthy beyond the imagining of men. At that time the kingdoms were weak. They were little more than barbarian tribes warring with one another. Against the Princes of the Eye there would be no victory. “

  “After decades of triumph and bloodshed, the tribes below the mountains united under one banner. No longer groups of tired drunken fools, they raised an army of a thousand champions.

  “Like a fool I sent my sons to face them. I believed each one of them invincible. They fought like gods and they slaughtered hundreds with their blades. The champions fell like wheat before a sickle. But at length they prevailed. One by one my sons tired and, outnumbered, succumbed to the eternal sleep.

  “The remaining army came to take this tower, but I was here to defend it. I fought like a madman, knowing that these were the murderers of my sons. Nearly five hundred fell to my spear before they broke like water against the dam and fled like sheep.

  “In my bloodlust I had not realized they had slipped behind me. They had gotten into the tower and they had killed my beloved.”

  Tears streamed down the cyclops’s face. He buried his head in his hands and wept loudly.

  “The stories about your kind are not true, it would seem.” Blaise spoke.

  “You do not understand. Under any circumstance other than those in which I now find myself I am as you think. In my truest self I am a bloodthirsty warrior who feasts upon the bones of your women and children. Upon my spear I skewer and cook the bodies of your men.

  “What has happened to change you?” asked Max.

  “The hermit who told you where to find me stole two of the letters from me. When I discovered he had taken them. I launched into a rage I have never known. I grew terribly angry.” The cyclops looked up, with calm in his eyes. “Quite simply, I lost my temper.”

  Blaise stifled a laugh while Max cocked an eyebrow.

  “Lost your temper?” Max’s voice was uncertain.

  “Yes, lost it quite well I’m afraid. I can’t seem to find it anywhere. I’ve searched the whole mountain and come up with nothing. I think I may have spotted it a few times but it was gone before I could get a good look.”

  “So,” Blaise ventured. “You are a monster without a temper for bloodshed, for retaliation, for combat?”

  “Precisely,” the cyclops replied in a melancholy tone.

  Blaise moved close to Max and whispered into his ear. “We could kill him now and take the letter. He can’t stand and fight against us. If we retrieve his temper for him then he will kill us. But if we just slay him now we can take the letter and be gone.”

  Max considered Blaise’s words but shook his head in disapproval. He turned and spoke to the cyclops. “What is it that you ask of us in return for the letter?”

  “I seek only for you to catch my temper and return it to me. Then you may have the letter.”

  “And the other desire you claim shall be greater?” asked Max

  “It shall not arise for some time, but when it does I shall deliver your wishes to you.”

  Max stared into the large green eye. “What is to stop you from killing us once you have been given back your temper? As you said, you are a bloodthirsty tyrant who skewers men on spears.”

  “I have seen what is to come, and I know that both of you who stand beside me are noble. I shall join you in your quest, and I believe you will find my skills to be useful. All I ask is that your return to me my true essence.”

  Blaise looked nervously at Max. How could he possibly believe this monster? As soon as he got what he needed he would kill both of them and then go off to pillage some poor town.

  “We shall return shortly with what you seek. But if you should turn upon us we shall slay you and defile the graves of your sons.”

  “I should have it no other way,” said the cyclops.

  Bowing to the giant Max and Blaise exited through the massive stone door and out onto the mountainside. The wilderness around was vast and dense. Finding the temper could prove nearly impossible. But they had no other choice.

  “We should split up. That way we can cover more ground and hopefully find it quicker,” Max said to Blaise.

  Blaise nodded in agreement and silently walked off to the left. Max scanned the area around him and decided to head for a small patch of tree about thirty yards down the slope. It was dense and thick and looked like an obvious place for anything looking to keep out of sight.

  When Max reached the patch of trees he realized it was teeming with life. Birds flew through the air and monkeys leapt from branch to branch. Rabbits ran through the underbrush as foxes chased after them, looking for a meal.

  “What brings you into the forest?” a familiar voice called out to Max.

  Max craned his head upward looking for the source. Perched high above on a tree branch was a familiar-looking bird with deep blue feathers, a strong, large beak, and an intense gaze. The bird stretched its wings and moved off from the branch. It beat its wings as it descended to a branch even with Max’s face.

  The bird’s deep penetrating gaze studied Max. The bird made note of each feature, comparing them with what he had observed during their last encounter.

  “The room in which we first met, do you remember it?” the bird asked.

  “Yea, how could I forget?” replied Max with a smile.

  “That room was a room of illusion.”

  Max regarded the bird with some interest. “What? Do you mean it never happened? How else do we both know each other?”

  “I see that what I saw within that room was only an illusion of yourself. I saw a child frightened and alone. Now, I see a warrior brave and proud.”

  “But I was not only a child within that room but in all the rooms of my life. What you saw was who I used to be. Now you see what I have become.” Max spoke proudly.

  “I saw then who were and I see now the same person. That room was not the only illusion of which you were a part. Everything around you here and even in the world from which you came is at some level illusory. Here now in this forest we stand still in illusion. But unlike in the room we are deeper in the illusion, farther down the rabbit hole, a little closer to the truth.”

  “You are to tell me that I have not changed since our first meeting?” asked Max.

  “What makes you believe that you have changed?”

  Max stood tall and proud. Taking a deep breath he expanded his chest. “Since I last saw you. I have learned that I am the descendant of one of the noble Tenton knights.”

  “There is no Tenton blood within you.” The bird watched as the pride in Max’s face drained. “The orcs made a mistake. They took the wrong
child. The king assumed the orcs had it right so he told you that you were something that you are not. The blood that flows within you is not Tenton. But that does not cheapen the value of a drop.”

  Max’s face looked white. The blood had drained from it as he heard this surely fabricated tale. “You are mistaken.”

  “I daresay that I am not.” The bird’s intense gaze softened. “The Merchant has found who he was looking for. You are not descended from the knights of legend.”

  Max slumped onto the ground, crestfallen. He felt his strength sapped from his body. He felt weak and childish. He felt himself becoming again what he had been that night locked in the room, alone.

  The bird looked at him. Through the feathery face and curved beak Max thought he saw compassion. Compassion for him.

  “What you have become is no less true because of who you thought you were. The Tentons were great and noble warriors. This is true. But when they banished the evil from the land it came back. It seeped slowly and imperceptibly back into the world. But sure enough it has returned. You need not be bound by the chains of any predecessor.”

  Max stood and felt a great emptiness inside. Not joy or sorrow; he felt nothing.

  Close by Max heard movement and coarse laughter. He looked to the bird for some explanation. “These woods are owned by the Merchant. His mercenaries are here to capture you.”

  Max showed no emotion as he asked, “How do they know I am here?”

  “I have given them your location. I told them I would keep you here until they arrived. You must understand this is your path. It is not so simple as good versus evil.”

  Drawing a feather from its back the bird allowed it to float down into Max’s grasp. “Remember,” the bird spoke, “the letters are not simply letters; the feather is not just a feather. Look through the glass to the truth.”

  The bird flapped its wings and took off, soaring into the sky, while Max stood on the ground. Alone and uncertain.

  “There he is!” Coarse shouts could be heard all around him as burly men dressed in ragged clothes surrounded him.