White Tree Sound

by Lizzy Ford

  Stung by the words, Dark Invader struggled to respond. His mentor was abandoning him.

  “Wait!” he cried as the door opened. “I can do it. Give me a second chance!”

  His master exited without acknowledging him, and the door closed behind him, leaving the space knight in the hazy light of the torture chamber.

  He faced the aliens waiting to hurt him.

  “Fight us, and it’ll be worse than last time,” one of them told him.

  Terror and adrenaline flooded Dark Invader’s system. He wasn’t going through that ever again!

  He summoned his power to murder them where they stood.

  It didn’t respond. He’d last used it to hang Elf from the ceiling of the spaceship.

  He tried again without any results at all.

  “Come get me,” he said in an unsteady voice.

  The first torturer smiled and obliged, approaching him. The space knight threw the first punch – and hit what felt like the wall.

  He cursed and shook his hand.

  The alien knocked him to his feet.

  He rose, nose bloodied, and lowered into a fighting stance once more. He was not weak. He was not afraid. He couldn’t afford to be either.

  The door clanged open behind him, and he risked a look over his shoulder.

  His master had reappeared.

  Dark Invader hesitated and then turned to kneel before his mentor.

  “To fight them is to fight me, my apprentice,” his master chided him. “Would you disobey any order I give?”

  Dark Invader clenched his teeth together. He had never once disobeyed his master, even when he was ordered to the torture chamber the first time.

  It was also that experience that made him volunteer to pursue the mythical Ring of Magic in the first place. He would wear his master’s leash and collar the rest of his life if he didn’t find a way to defeat him.

  A flicker of despair slid through him. If he disobeyed his master before he had the Ring, he would die. If he wanted a chance to find the Ring, he had to be prepared to do whatever it took, even if that meant he spent another year in this very chamber. He’d survived once; he could do it again.

  “No, Master,” he said quietly. “Forgive me.”

  “Good.” His master waved to the aliens. “Take him.”

  Dark Invader closed his eyes and braced himself for the first blow.

  The stench and stale air of the torture chamber faded, replaced by a cold wind. When no one touched him, he opened his eyes.

  The prison faded away, leaving him back in the labyrinth, standing beneath the entrance sign, scared and angry. Had he gone anywhere at all?

  A ding sounded, and he looked down. He’d lost a crystal. He glared at his watch.

  Had failing his master caused him to lose a point? How, when he hadn’t ever left the labyrinth at all? He hadn’t had the chance to fail.

  The Skeksis squawked at him from their places outside the maze.

  Frustrated, Dark Invader wiped his face. He’d spent less than an hour in the maze, and already, he understood why people entered and never returned.

  Determined to be more aware of the labyrinth’s tricks, he spun and started into the maze again. His hands trembled. He’d lived in fear of failing his master for years. He needed the Ring more than ever.

  He glanced in Elf’s direction. Was she going through something similar?

  He missed a step and then berated himself silently.

  Elf didn’t matter. Couldn’t matter. Wouldn’t matter.

  Did matter. In the same way he instinctively knew to fear his master from the beginning, the space knight had understood that his fate was bound to Elf’s since shortly after meeting her.

  His step slowed. Warring with himself was only taxing his mind, and he needed to stay sharp to avoid whatever tricks the labyrinth had in store for him. The easiest way to do that was the path of least resistance, which meant, sticking with Elf until he understood why they were connected.

  But he had his own purpose in being here. Once he fulfilled it, he’d have the Ring and the freedom to do whatever he needed to in order to understand how she was using her power against him.

  The cold wind blew against him, as if to dissuade him from pursuing the path he’d chosen.

  The space knight leaned into the wind, not about to let anyone or anything prevent him from reaching the Ring.

  “Pssst!” someone hisses.

  I turn. “Dildo! What’re you doing here?”

  “Same as you.” The small Bobbit carries his rucksack and a shovel. “Are you alone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Come with me!” He waves me over and hurries around a corner that wasn’t there before.

  I follow. As in the prison, he’s kneeling in front of a tunnel.

  “You have to go under the maze, not through it,” he tells me.

  “I didn’t think of that.”

  “The illusions stop at the ground.”

  Illusions. Okay. If I get lost, I’ll have to remember that.

  “Follow me,” he says and disappears into the tunnel.

  I do. The tunnel slopes down a few feet and then evens out. It’s a snug fit and a nice shelter from the wind.

  “How did you get here?” I ask.

  “The same way you did.”

  “I know but I mean … you got here fast.”

  “I took the fast route.”

  It’s hard to doubt him when I have no idea what route I took. We crawl for half an hour before I grow concerned. “How far is it?” I ask.

  “Not far.”

  I roll my eyes. How has he had the time to dig this long of a tunnel anyway? It took him months to finish the one in the station, and it was far shorter.

  I peek over my shoulder.

  The tunnel closes silently behind me, inches from my feet.

  Cold fear fills me. I’m trapped underground in a tunnel that leads to I don’t know where, if anywhere at all.

  Is that really Dildo crawling through the dirt in front of me? How did he get here so fast and dig a tunnel even faster? If I had my ring, it could have warned me of danger.

  “I’m thirsty,” I say, struggling to keep my growing panic out of my voice. “Can we go above ground for some water soon?”

  “It’s not far.”

  “Where exactly are we going?”

  He stops and glances back at me. I’ve asked one question too many.

  Dildo definitely didn’t have spiky orange hair. I’m trapped underground with a creature of questionable motives.

  Don’t lose it! I chant the words.

  “You’re not my Dildo,” I whisper. “I mean, the Dildo I’m familiar with. Who led me through a dark tunnel before we ended up in handcuffs. On a spaceship.”

  I’m so embarrassed, I hope this guy turns into a creature that eats or kills me to put me out of my misery.

  He’s staring at me.

  “Can we just get this over with?” I add and swallow hard. “Whatever horrible thing you want to do to me?”

  He turns and begins crawling again. “It’s not far.”

  “Great.” The dirt is inching closer to my toes, as if to urge me onward.

  I don’t have much of a choice and crawl after not-my-Dildo.

  “Do you eat people like me?” I question.

  “Not usually,” he replies.

  “That’s good. Torture?”

  “Probably.”

  “I don’t know anything about anything, if that helps.”

  “Oh, we do it for fun.”

  I release a breath slowly.

  Right now, Evil-Jared is sitting somewhere with a refrigerator, smiling smugly, confident and pleased about the fact I’m about to be tortured and murdered.

  The idea he chose the safer route pisses me off. Anger reinforces my backbone, which is about to snap in a torrent of tears. If I die today, it won’t be here!

  Not-my-Dildo leaps out of the tunnel. I scramble to follow him before the dirt
behind me eats me and tumble into a dark room with earthen walls. I’m surrounded by small trolls with wild, highlighter-hued hair sticking up at all angles.

  The dirt tunnel seals behind me.

  Not-my-Dildo receives a round of cheers. I shift into a seated position. The ceiling is too low for me to stand up straight. The room is sealed off from what I can tell. No entrances or exits. It’s dirt everywhere I look. These must be magic dirt trolls, because there’s no other explanation as to how they got to be here and how they leave.

  “Start the torture!” one of the trolls cries gleefully.

  I brace myself for pain of some kind. The dirt trolls dive for the walls and floor. Tunnels form in front of them, and they burrow into them and disappear.

  Are they going to fill this place with water and drown me? Unleash some kind of beast to devour me? Some other form of maniacal torment?

  The anticipation is killing me. I’m ready to cry, and it hasn’t even started yet!

  Tiny holes appear on the ceilings. The trolls don’t return – but something else drops down from the ceiling.

  When I was little, I awoke in the middle of the night to a huge spider hanging down from the ceiling into my face. I’ve never gotten over it.

  But this is worse. So much worse. These huge spiders are wearing Ronald McDonald clown masks.

  I scream and throw myself onto the cool dirt floor, horrified by the idea of any of those things touching me. They don’t drop completely to the ground, just dangle a foot above my body. Dozens of them bounce and wriggle. I cover my head and scream until my throat hurts and then just lie there, cry and pray I die soon. Several times I think I feel something brush my arms and jerk away.

  I close my eyes. I can’t even look at the grotesque display dancing above my body. Do they plan on releasing the spiders and dropping them on me?

  I have dirt in my eyes from crying with my face to the ground. This adventure has been too much – and I’m done with it. I don’t know what I’m doing here, or why I’m being tormented by dirt trolls. Why do they have masks small enough for spiders lying around? The questions I’ve been asking along this journey leave me thinking I might have gone to hell, because nothing makes sense, even when it does make sense.

  Eventually, I cry all the tears I have and lie still, too emotionally exhausted to do anything about it. I’m going to die right here, underground, and Ronald McDonald is going to be what kills me. Not the cheeseburgers – but ninety spiders dressed like clowns.

  The worst part: Evil-Jared is going to beat me to that damn ring.

  I eventually calm as much as possible given my situation. Instead of cowering, I use all my will power to focus on my surroundings. Not upward, but around. There has to be a way out of here. I can’t imagine I’m going to spend the rest of my life being tormented by stupid little dirt trolls from an imaginary world!

  Wiping my eyes, I draw a deep breath. Light is coming from somewhere. I didn’t notice it before, but I can see the spiders. I refuse to look up and shift around on my belly, not about to get close to the monsters dangling above me. The light comes from behind me, from what looks like a door.

  I’m sure the door wasn’t there before, but I’m not about to question it. Anyplace is better than here!

  I low crawl to the door and reach up to the handle, coming dangerously close to one of the clown-faced arachnids out of a nightmare.

  The door opens. Fresh air hits my lungs, along with the weak light of early evening. I scramble out of the cavern and stand, doing the desperate ninja dance of someone caught in a spider web. Shuddering and disgusted, I swipe at imaginary spiders until my panic subsides. Breathless, I look around me.

  “Son of a bitch!” I cry.

  I’m back at the beginning of the labyrinth, just inside the neon sign marking the entrance.

  But there’s a crystal floating in the air beside me. I can’t even imagine why. I punch it, and a third symbol pops up on the face of my watch.

  When I whirl, the door to the troll underworld is gone. There’s no sign of it – or if I even left this point at all. I hate the thought, but maybe I should have gone with Evil-Jared or kept the mood ring.

  I look down the path I went and then in the direction in which Evil-Jared had ventured. I just can’t do it. I can’t follow him. If my path was a nightmare, then what can his shadowy, creepy path be like?

  Concern flutters through me. I don’t want to think of him in danger. Of the two of us, he’s better equipped to handle whatever this labyrinth throws at us. My gaze lingers long enough for me to begin lecturing myself about how little I want or need that man in my life.

  Determined to make it to the center of the maze, I strike off in the direction I chose originally. This time, I know better than to trust anyone who looks like Dildo. Or like anyone else I’ve met. I can’t imagine the trolls will take on the form of Dildo again. If it involves a dark tunnel or Dildo – I’m out.

  I march into the maze again. The original turn I took is gone, and I walk for ten minutes before I reach a T-intersection. I boldly turn left to go deeper into the maze. I may not know what I’m doing, or where I’m going, but I’m not going to wait for more sadistic trolls to find me.

  The space knight turned several corners, seeking crystals as well as any other sign he was on the right path.

  “Where are you going, friend?” asked a voice behind him.

  He whirled. It wasn’t possible for anyone to sneak up on him and yet this creature had. It was waist high and round, resembling a turtle, but with a soft shell and fluffy, a toy of some sort. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, as if from a hazy dream, he recognized the creature. Its name was at the tip of his tongue.

  “Can we help you get there?” another creature asked from behind him.

  Dark Invader shifted to keep an eye on both of them. “Maybe,” he allowed, suspicious about anything in this place. “I need to reach the center of the labyrinth.”

  Whispers came from the direction of the other creature. When he glanced towards them, three additional creatures had joined the first.

  “We can take you as far as we know to go,” said one of them. “It may not be as far as you’d like.”

  “I’m content to go where you know to go,” he said, pleasantly surprised. “Which way?”

  All except one of the creatures morphed before his eyes. They rolled back into their shells, creating a fluffy ball. One bounced past him and rolled towards the group that had formed.

  “You can’t go like that,” said the one who hadn’t turned into a ball. “We have to go like them.”

  Dark Invader frowned. “Like how?”

  “We can only get there by rolling.”

  He’d never heard anything this ridiculous in his life. He was too taken aback to respond.

  “You can popple, can’t you?” asked one from the group, who had lowered his shell.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he replied.

  “It’s okay,” said the first one. “I’ll show you.” The toy widened its stance and bent over backward, drawing the shell up and over him. “Just like that.” His voice was muffled within the ball.

  “But I don’t have a shell,” Dark Invader said. “I can just walk behind you.”

  Gasps filled the air. The others had un-poppled and were staring at him, aghast.

  “What does he mean he has no shell?” one whispered.

  “How can one walk places?” another asked.

  “We can help,” said a third. “What if we break his back and peel off a layer of skin. Then he could roll.”

  “Oh, yes! That would work!”

  Dark Invader didn’t like where this discussion was headed. He thought he could take, or outrun the creatures, until he realized several dozen more had appeared when he wasn’t looking.

  “Let us help you,” one said, starting towards him.

  “He will popple or we will make him popple,” another one stated menacingly.

  “I just remembe
red. I do have a shell,” the space knight said quickly. “But I’m self conscious about people seeing me transform. Can you all turn around?”

  “Oh, of course!” chorused the creatures.

  They obediently turned their backs to him.

  Dark Invader scoured the area around him. The creatures blocked the only paths available to him. He glanced down at his shirt and then back. He had an idea. It wasn’t a good one, but it was better than having his back broken and his skin peeled.

  He crouched on the ground. Pulling his shirt up over his head, he then tugged the shirt around his knees and legs to the ankles. He tucked his chin to keep the shirt in place. Uncomfortable and concerned, he wasn’t in any position to defend himself, if his ploy didn’t work.

  “I’m ready,” he called.

  He heard shuffling and the whispers of the others.

  “What an odd popple,” someone said.

  “I’m twice as tall and half as wide as you,” he replied.

  “Ah, yes.”

  “That explains it.”

  “Let’s go!” someone cried.

  “Roll!”

  The creatures bounced and brushed by him.

  Dark Invader tucked his chin against his chest and did a somersault then another and another. He was soon dizzy from rolling amongst the popples. He waited for them to pass him, so he could sneak away before they noticed. He bumped against those ahead of him and those behind bumped him. They were keeping to his pace.

  Just when he thought he was going to vomit from the movement, he ran into the creature that had stopped in front of him.

  “We made it!” the toy said happily.

  Fortunately, it didn’t take as long as he thought it would.

  “Safe travels, ugly popple!” one shouted.

  He remained where he was until the last one rolled past him, and the sound of their soft bodies bouncing against the stone pathway faded.

  Dark Invader stood and bent over, struggling not to vomit. Fresh air reached his lungs. His thighs were shaky, and a headache was forming from his skull hitting the stone one time too many.

  But he’d done it without permanent damage to himself, and he’d gotten closer to his goal. Sometimes, a little pain went a long way.

  He straightened and looked around.