Queen's Ransom: The Golden Bulls of Minos

by Isabel Wroth

  She understood how the Red Labyrinth had gotten its name; everywhere she looked, the gleaming metal of the labyrinth walls were covered in blood.

  The smell of it was almost as bad as Cockinti's last horrifying act, thick enough that Jalia tasted metal when she licked her dry lips.

  The whirring sound she heard was the walls of the labyrinth itself shifting, spinning, moving back and forth, side to side, up and down, always in motion, the paths changing every few minutes to ensure there was no way to memorize or navigate safely past the obstacles.

  And by obstacles, Jalia meant the rows of serrated spikes, spinning blades, puffs of flame that spewed across open doorways, more blades that marched up and down from beneath the ground, swinging metal balls that crashed from side to side, something that looked like a rock crusher spinning non-stop...everything within the maze was built to kill.

  Jalia stood there trying to comprehend the sort of beings who could create something so terrible, unable to take her eyes off it until Dhega's impatient bark jolted her out of her stupor.

  She looked at him, certain there was no disguising her horror, and saw nothing of the gentler male she had come to know in his face.

  "Take your seat," he ordered tersely, pointing to a metal chair positioned beside his throne.

  Axtasusa already sat directly in front of him, leaning forward with eagerness as she studied the labyrinth and carried on a conversation with Daegana, who seemed only too pleased to share his pride in the feat of truly fearsome engineering before them.

  Entayta met Jalia's gaze, seated on Dhega's opposite side, her expression thoughtful. If she was in any way disturbed by the labyrinth, the Nirian's patchwork face didn't betray her thoughts.

  Jalia carefully made her way to the chair reserved for her, thankful for a reason to not rely on her trembling knees as she sat on the plush cushion.

  Jalia looked up at the thousands of faces in the stadium-style seats all around her.

  Some of them looked as eager as Axtasusa for the bloodshed soon to come, others laughed and made jokes with their neighbors; coins exchanged hands, drinks were sloshed, males and females alike...never in all her life had she ever seen anything like it.

  Of course, she'd heard stories of places like this. Arenas of death where gladiators fought and killed day after day, where mobs of spectators came to drink, gamble, and be entertained by the bloodshed. Crowds thirsty for violence and pain.

  It was one event Jalia had never partaken of, never had any desire to see, and now here she was, confident the Red Labyrinth would make any other deathmatch arena look like a pleasure camp.

  A low horn sounded, the vibration so strong, so loud, it felt like the marrow of her bones trembled. The crowd went silent, freakishly so, the air felt thinner, as though they all had sucked in a breath of anticipation at the same time, making oxygen scarce.

  Daegana got up and patted Axtasusa's arm in a fatherly manner, taking the steps down to the front of the pavilion and raised his voice loud enough for all to hear.

  He listed the crimes for which the Bull Island princes and the princes of Kaetonia were guilty of, and Jalia watched a line of males be brought out to a small square staging area just below them on the only patch of stationary sand just outside the labyrinth.

  Her stomach heaved when she saw one of the five missing his horns, held up by two others who had to be his sons.

  They were young and so frightened they visibly trembled as they stared at the open entrance of the labyrinth, here because Jalia had demanded Dhega do something for the pain they had inflicted on Iscarion. Because she demanded justice.

  The Bull Island princes stood stoically together, their expressions grim and resigned, and oddly enough Jalia felt no pity for them.

  She thought of Renaya, of Kypris, and then Jalia's overstimulated mind produced the memory of Renaya retelling the story of how Dhega had ordered her father and brothers be brought here as punishment for their betrayal.

  Renaya had said her little brothers...she wasn't any older than twenty, which meant her brothers had been no more than children. Jalia watched, unable to make a sound, unable to look away, wondering how far Renaya's brothers had made it before they were killed.

  Dhega said he had run this terrible, shifting maze three times. He knew intimately how dangerous and frightening it was, how slim the odds of survival must be, and still, he ordered children to be brought here to fight for their lives?

  There was no fight.

  This was a brutal, painful, terrifying death.

  *****

  Countless others had sat as Jalia did, wearing the same expressions of horrified sadness. Of bleak shock at being face to face with the stark reality of Minoan justice.

  Not once in all his years had he ever been moved by tears or felt guilty for the sentences he passed on those who ran the Red.

  The single soundless tear that slid down Jalia's cheek disturbed him past the point of understanding.

  She sat rigidly straight, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap they were white.

  Her hair was a dull shade of silver, and her skin so pale the crescent moon upon her brow stood out in sharp contrast.

  All around him the mob cheered when Milal fell, abandoned to his fate as his sons struggled to move forward, to live a few moments longer.

  Jalia flinched as though struck, and Dhega remembered what it was to feel shame.

  Axtasusa cheered and clapped, greatly entertained as she and his fore-sire took bets on who would be the next to die. Entayta seemed bored, contently nibbling on some fruits brought to her by her attendants. They couldn't be less bothered.

  Jalia's assassin bent to whisper in her ear, and he must have asked if she wanted to leave because she gave a quick shake of her head, her answer just barely audible.

  "No. This is my fault. I can't leave."

  If not for the people watching, judging, whispering behind their hands, Dhega would have leaped up and carried Jalia away.

  Away to somewhere, they could be alone, where he could disabuse her of the foolish notion today's spectacle was in any way her fault.

  The assassin caught his eye, and the look he gave wasn't difficult to decipher.

  This mistake will cost you.

  Dhega watched Jalia from the corner of his eye, listening to the crowd begin to shout directions, some trying to help, others purposefully driving the males running towards dead ends.

  Mecistios fell prey to a wall of spears, skewered as the maze shifted, the walls turning on one another, separating the males onto their own paths.

  Mantios fell next to fire, his screams causing Milal's sons to panic and call out for one another in fear. The mob booed when they died, unhappy the spectacle was over so quickly.

  Dhega looked to Tom and gave a jerk of his chin, glad when he hustled to get Jalia on her feet and out of the stadium.

  "That one has no stomach for the sport?"

  Dhega withheld the bile that wanted to fly from his mouth, wishing he had a legitimate reason to silence the bastard forever.

  The old bull loved his palace, his mob, his labyrinth.

  It was the only reason Dhega could be certain Daegana would never move to strike him down. He was happy in this hellish place.

  As for sport? To his fore-sire, watching condemned prisoners and would-be kings try and die was a most delightful way to spend the day.

  Dhega remembered standing behind this same seat he sat on now as a child, his sire, and fore-sire in front of him, Daegana whispering in his father's ear the secrets of the Red Labyrinth.

  After a lifetime of watching prospective kings and criminals run through the maze, Daegana had memorized its movements. He could have run it and won the right to be king, but that would mean leaving his sport behind.

  Faced with him now, Dhega got up without a word, gave the old bull his back and made his way back to the palace that had once been his home.

  Several hours later at the dinner table, as Daegana was never one
to miss an opportunity to exploit what he perceived as a weakness in others, Dhega wished he'd just answered.

  Dhega watched his fore-sire as he carried on a conversation with Axtasusa about the customs of her world, all while he scrutinized Jalia.

  Still pale and gray, Jalia picked at her food with a vacant expression. She hadn't eaten anything but was working on her third glass of wine, a sure sign to the observant she was trying to dull her senses.

  "I apologize, Marchesa, that you did not find our spectacle entertaining today." Daegana offered with a solicitous leer.

  Jalia went still as a statue, parting her lips to draw her tongue across her teeth as she inhaled slowly.

  She stared at her plate for a moment before raising her gaze, not flinching under his fore-sire's probing stare. She set her glass down with a soft clink, shaking her head in a move indicative of someone who was used to having long hair.

  "Entertaining," she repeated quietly.

  Daegana made a superfluous sound, giving Axtasusa a commiserating glance.

  "It was over far quicker than I had hoped, no doubt the reason for your discontent."

  Her laugh was little more than a puff of air, anger beginning to build in her expression. In the way her hair slowly bled to shimmering black, and the whites of her eyes themselves turned black, while the iris turned a sinister red.

  Used to her mercurial shades, the change didn't phase him, but for the first time in his life, Dhega saw fear flash across his namesake's face.

  It came and went so fast, if he hadn't been looking, Dhega would never have seen it.

  "I understand the need for a justice system that puts the fear of the gods into those who would do harm to others or break your laws.

  “But when you add innocent children to that meatgrinder, make babies pay for the sins of their fathers and place bets on how long they'll survive, laugh when they scream in fear, you're no longer upholding justice. You're a murderer, and I want no part of this."

  Jalia threw her napkin down and shoved away from the table, and though her parting words had been directed at Daegana, Dhega knew they were for him.

  Axtasusa appeared confused, Entayta hid a smile in her wine, and his fore-sire huffed. Insulted someone would dare speak so ill of his beloved labyrinth.

  "Told you," the bastard grunted, "no stomach for it. Not good enough to be your queen. My moneys on this one." Daegana hooked a thumb at Axtasusa.

  Never in his life had Dhega wanted to feel blood spurt beneath his fingers so badly.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Everywhere she looked, Jalia saw towering trees and shaded meadows bursting with a riot of wildly colored flowers.

  The air was softer, more comfortable to breathe it felt like, and despite their purpose here, Jalia felt herself beginning to relax. Strange birds hummed, insects buzzed, the wind was a whisper through the trees.

  It was beautiful. Peaceful.

  She loved it, right up until the moment Ephidon palace came into view, and the lake it sat on.

  Her feelings of relaxation, her appreciation of the beautiful land all around her, quickly became a thing of the past.

  Dismally Jalia prayed the Labyrinth of Mirrors had nothing whatsoever to do with water.

  The palace seemed to be floating on the surface of the glassy lake, it's deep green waters placid, so still not even the wind left ripples in its wake. From their perch on the hill high above, she could see the palace was built in a triangle shape, the point arrowing away from them, the wider base facing shore.

  Down into the valley they went, and by the time they crossed the stone bridge into the grassy fore-yard Jalia was sweating, images of being forced to swim the wide inlet between the palace and the shore...

  "Welcome! Welcome, all!"

  She had been told during their journey, the prince of Ephidon was called Phelestes, but no one had mentioned Phelestes was so short or so spherical.

  The tips of his gold painted horns would barely peek above Jalia's head, twice as wide as she was, and perhaps then some.

  Phelestes was also the hairiest Minoan she had encountered, his gingery pelt covered every inch of his arms, back, shoulders, and scalp in long, crimped waves.

  He smiled jovially at all of them, looking at Axtasusa like she'd just disembarked wearing nothing but a smile. If Susa noticed the prince's lust-filled glances, she didn't react in any way, busy looking around skeptically at the towering edifice of the palace itself.

  Dhega introduced she and the girls one at a time, Phelestes giving an awkward bow around his bulk, until Susa finally noticed him, and made a face of wry confusion as to why the short prince was attempting to kiss her hand.

  "I am so pleased to welcome you to Ephidon, my lady." Susa pulled and tugged until Phelestes was forced to release her. Jalia ducked her head to hide her smile at the prince's crestfallen look. "And just in time for the festival of the Golden Moon!"

  Festival? Jalia's stomach churned with distaste, wondering how anyone could go from carnage to celebration in a matter of days.

  They were invited in, the women of the palace coming forward to usher Jalia and the others in, chattering pleasantly the whole way to yet another new suite of rooms, up another flight of stairs.

  Why were there always so many stairs?

  I miss my damn ship.

  Hours later Jalia curled up on a comfortable chair in the warm sunlight while the attendants assigned to her unpacked her things and put them away.

  Jalia didn't know why they bothered. They'd be leaving soon. The women were trying to explain the festival to her, but Jalia couldn't find it in her to care.

  When she closed her eyes, all she saw was the shifting, grinding, blood-soaked paths of the Red Labyrinth.

  All she heard was the deafening roar of the crowd, and the piercing screams of the young boys as they were ripped apart.

  All she could smell was old blood and burning flesh.

  She hadn't slept more than a few hours in the past few days, the sound of the crowd and the screaming of the princes who had run the labyrinth had replaced the roaring of the ocean as it closed in on her, and it wasn't seawater she drowned in.

  It was blood.

  Hot, sticky, it coated her skin, and when she opened her mouth to scream it filled her mouth. Pushed up her nose, plugged her ears, and when she broke the surface she saw Dhega sitting there on his curved stone chair, staring dispassionately down at her, Daegana stepping out of the darkness like a demon to whisper in Dhega's ear,

  "She's not good enough to be your queen. Too weak."

  *****

  "What do you mean, she's declined to join us?" Dhega growled, glaring so hard at Jalia's assassin, several of the palace attendants had run for cover lest they face his wrath on accident.

  The assassin merely rolled his shoulder, waving at where Phelestes and Dhega's surviving prospective brides sat on the padded cushions of the pavilion.

  The cushion to Dhega's right was meant for Jalia, they had all been waiting on her before beginning the festivities in truth, and now she wasn't coming? He ground his teeth, his fingers curling in the silk of his seat cushion, the urge to get up and storm through the palace, drag her out—

  "My lady has found rest elusive after changing beds and locations with such frequency. She asked me to compliment you, your highness, on the heavenly perfection of the quarters given to her. She says she can truly be at ease here." Tom bowed to Phelestes, making the stumpy prince preen with glee.

  "The Marchesa will join you for the morning meal."

  Having delivered Jalia's declaration, Tom melted into the growing shadows, ignoring Dhega's fury as though it were of no consequence.

  "Well, no matter! The sun has set, the moon rises, and the feast begins!" Phelestes cheered, leaning forward to tell Axtasusa all the many beautiful dishes his cooks had prepared, but all the Duggan wanted was meat, which made Phelestes pout like a petulant child.

  They hadn't spoken more than a few words to one anothe
r in passing during the journey, and each time he had attempted to catch her eye, Jalia looked away.

  Dhega knew she still struggled with fearful visions of the Vanishing Labyrinth, with the horrors of the Red Labyrinth and the realities of Minoan justice.

  Dhega wanted her here beside him where he could assure himself she hadn't given up and decided her life was not worth risking, decided the challenges of the labyrinths were too much and refused to move forward.

  What did it mean that she chose to stay away, sequestered in her quarters alone? Was she truly resting, or lying awake for fear of falling asleep and returning to the cold ocean?

  This was for her.

  Knowing Jalia still struggled with fearful visions of the Vanishing Labyrinth, with the horrors of the Red Labyrinth and the realities of Minoan justice, Dhega had planned the journey to Ephidon at just this time, in hopes the distractions of Ephidon and the festival would take her mind off all she had seen. A reprieve from the nightmares that plagued her.

  An opportunity to set aside the doubts she held as to whether or not she was willing to stay, yet each time he had attempted to catch her eye, Jalia looked away.

  Dhega wanted her here beside him where he could assure himself she hadn't given up and decided her life was not worth risking, decided the challenges of the labyrinths were too much and refused to move forward. He ground his teeth, infuriated by her absence.

  "The Marchesa's presence is required. Bring her, Nivir."

  The captain of his guard—who had never failed him—returned empty-handed.

  "The Marchesa, she says she is uh...well, she refuses, my king."

  A muscle in his jaw ticked, his temper swelled, and everyone around him held their breath in nervous anticipation.

  "She says, what, Nivir? Spit it out."

  Nivir met his stare without hesitation, and Dhega was shocked to see his lips twitch with amusement. "My lady states she is not your queen and is therefore not obligated to bow to your demands, your majesty.

  “She says she will not come, and threatened to...hand me my balls, should I dare try to force her."