by Lizzy Ford
“Stop.” I order. “We weren’t lovers. I met you one day for five minutes and the next day, we talked for three hours over mochas.”
“I don’t know how long that is.”
“Not as long as we’ve been sitting here.”
“You wanted to be.”
“Does this matter?” I snap.
“What else is there to discuss?” he returns.
“Everything but that! How to survive, for one!”
“But that is what I want to know.”
“Whatever.” I shake my head. “So what if I did? That-you was different than this-you. You were nice, kind, and patient, and you seemed genuinely interested in me and not in using me to find some damn magic ring. Would I have slept with that-you? Yes. Without a second thought.”
He listens intently. “You believe I’m not nice, kind and patient.”
“I know you’re not. You’re a bit of an asshole.”
“How do you know I’m not both? That circumstances don’t dictate how I react?”
“There’s a difference between reacting and not being authentic,” I reply. “Someone who is kind wouldn’t use a stranger to find a ring or tell a bunch of vultures to eat his companion to save his own skin.”
“Interesting perspective.”
If I had any chance of making it, I’d ditch him and climb the cliff alone.
“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” he continues. “I’m saying you’re stuck with this-me. Perhaps you should accept things as they are.”
Then he says something wise, and I feel bad for not giving him enough credit. “I don’t dislike you,” I say. “But you aren’t nice.”
“You aren’t either.”
“I don’t want to be here.”
“And I do? I can’t even remember my name.”
I lift my head. “What?”
“You were right. I don’t know where I come from. I woke up here and knew what I was but not who I was.”
“Your name is Jared. I don’t know much else about you,” I reply. “You only told me you were from far away.”
“Jared.” He rolls the name around in his mouth. “It doesn’t feel like my name.”
“It’s the name you gave me. I don’t know if you were telling the truth or not.”
“It’ll do.” He shrugs. “You know your background, don’t you?”
“Yep. I’m a writer who lives in Arizona with my dog.”
“Writer.” He repeats. “You inscribe tomes and scrolls?”
“Sort of.”
He’s not impressed.
I don’t really care.
“Your name is Elf and you’re a scribe,” he says.
“My name isn’t Elf. It’s – ”
“Do you hear that?” His eyes are on the moons.
A tick. Followed by a second.
I follow his gaze. Another tick, and one moon moves closer to the central moon. A third tick, and the third moon does the same. They’re all touching!
“Stop, stop, stop!” I murmur urgently.
We wait.
Silence.
Jared and I exchange a look. We don’t have much time, and there’s a cliff standing between the castle and us.
I can’t think of any way to scale the cliff, and I’m growing more concerned. It’s morning. We’ve been on two adventures already, one of which was probably not real.
What happens if I don’t fulfill this journey? It is symbolic of me being lost in my head in a coma or in fiction? Will I never return home and see my Wookie?
It bothers me that Jared doesn’t think I’m nice. It’s not that I want him to, but I consider myself to be a nice person. Maybe I’ve been a little more guarded and defensive than usual, but I’m legitimately freaked out and scared. I don’t know how to tell him he’s a villain, and the heroine and villain aren’t supposed to get along or trust one another.
“If I’m nice, you’ll sleep with me,” he muses aloud. “I’m not sure the sacrifice is worth it.”
“Is that really what you’re thinking about?” I demand and straighten, glaring at him.
He’s teasing me again.
Like the other version of him did at the coffee shop.
The story isn’t the only thing evolving. Jared doesn’t fit into this world any more than I do, but he’s changing along with it. Every once in a while, I start to wonder if this is my journey – or his. I’m growing angrier and more frustrated, and he’s gradually becoming more relatable.
“Can you apply your mind towards conquering the cliff?” I ask.
“It’s useless.”
“This can’t be the end of our quest.”
“I didn’t say that. There have been several periods of this journey where we haven’t been in control. This is one of them. Until the labyrinth provides us with more information or an opportunity, we are wasting our time trying to outsmart it,” he explains.
“You think the labyrinth is alive.”
“How else could it be so annoying?”
I snort. It’s hard for me to let go of a problem without a solution, but his logic seems sound. Whether I’m twisting myself up in knots or relaxing and staring at the sky, the result of this part of our journey will be the same. I can’t control it. Neither can he.
We just have to wait for the living maze to change and create an opportunity. Soon. Or we’re screwed.
The day turns from morning to dusk. There’s nothing in between. I blink – and suddenly it’s twilight again. A fridge appears. Jared fetches our dinners and sits beside me to eat.
We’re facing the cliff. At no point during our long, boring day has any other solution appeared. My furtive glances towards the moons are more frequent, my unease growing.
“We’re missing something,” he says softly.
“I think so, too.”
We finish eating and stand, approaching the rocky cliff face again.
“I keep thinking about the trolls and their masks,” he says pensively.
I don’t bother correcting him. “That they can drill through dirt?”
“No. That they were one of your greatest fears.”
It takes me a second to get his meaning. “You think it was a test, and this is yours,” I state.
“I do.” His eyes travel up the cliff towards the fog and the top of the cliff we can’t see. The worry lines are around his eyes again, and he grows one shade paler. “How did you escape the trolls?”
“I didn’t have a choice,” I reply. “I wasn’t going to die right there underground. I had to leave.”
“You faced your fears, took action, and the labyrinth let you go,” he surmises.
“Yeah.”
He nods and draws a deep breath. “Let’s try again.” He approaches the rope. His fingers are trembling already.
I’m doubtful we’re going to make it half as far as last time, or I’d remind him my biceps aren’t going to last the entire journey. Fortunately, I’m still wearing my Hammer pants. If we fall again, I’ll be able to stop us from splattering on the ground.
I wait for him to pull ahead about six feet before gripping the rope. I begin walking up the side of the cliff again.
We go fifteen feet.
“You okay?” I ask with a glance upward.
“Yes.” The response is tight. He continues onward.
I envy his strength and soon can’t keep up with his pace. He barely expends any effort, while I’m panting thirty feet off the ground.
Jared slows, stops and hunches. Fear flutters through me. He did the same last time before he fell.
“You’re a space knight!” I call up to him. “You command legions of aliens and zip around the galaxy in a huge spaceship. You can climb a silly cliff.”
He’s frozen.
I think hard. “If you fall, I’m not catching you this time. I’m going to find the Ring first and then feed you to the Care Bear.”
He draws a deep breath and stretches upward once more.
Thank god.
> I don’t want to continue on this insane journey alone or witness him plunge to his death.
We climb upward. I take more frequent breaks and stop to put as much of my weight as possible on my legs. I’m hitting muscle failure with my upper body.
“The fog’s moving, isn’t it?” I ask, squinting upward. We should’ve reached it ten feet ago, but it remains ten feet above us.
“It is,” he confirms. His voice is shaky, but he’s doing it. He’s climbing despite his fear.
“You okay?”
“Gnarly.” He glances down and just as quickly returns his gaze to the cliff face. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not exactly as strong as you,” I respond. “My arms are killing me.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“I just need a break,” I say.
The rope shifts, and I automatically adjust my balance. Stretching one arm, and then the other, I don’t expect for a maroon boot to barely miss my head as it finds its foothold near my ear.
“Come on.”
When I look up, he’s stretching one arm towards me. He’s pale and carefully avoids looking down, focusing instead on my face.
“Um, no offense, but you’re barely holding yourself together,” I say.
“You’re not going to make it on your own,” he returns. “If I fall, you fall anyway.”
I can barely close my hands. My breath catches. I’m wearing parachute pants, but still. I don’t look forward to falling off a cliff again.
“Maybe that’s the whole purpose of the labyrinth. We have to conquer our fears and learn to work together,” he says.
He doesn’t sound convinced, but it’s a nice thought anyway. We’ve been like two cats in a bag thus far. What if we did try to work in concert with one another, rather than resenting each other long enough to survive?
I reach up to take his hand. My arm quivers, and the muscles jump in my biceps and shoulders.
He pulls me upward, taking the stress off my upper body. My legs can take it for a while longer, and I walk up the cliff. It’s unsettling how strong he is. He positions me in front of him and then releases my hand to wrap his arm around my waist to position me between him and the cliff. If we weren’t dangling fifty feet above ground, I’d be distracted by the strength and heat of the athletic frame pressed to my back. His scent soon fills my nose and winds around my thoughts.
I like it when he touches me. Too much. It’s a good thing he’s an asshole.
His hand clasps the rope above my head.
We begin to climb together. My arms give out more than they work. Each time, he steadies me long enough to recover. We use one another to brace and balance, me pressing back against him, and him pushing his weight against me. Our breathing syncs with our coordinated movements, and we fall into a rhythm that moves us gradually up the cliff face.
We work well together, when we aren’t arguing.
Jared pauses. His arms are trembling, though his grip remains sure. “You’ll miraculously catch us again if we fall, right?” he asks.
I glance down at my trusty parachute pants and then back.
Uh, oh. My clothing has changed again. Shoulder pads in my t-shirt, and high waisted, acid-washed jeans. Fear streaks through me. There’s no way in hell we’re going to make it. Freaking him out with the truth is going to send us to a quick death before I have time to figure out what to do.
He’ll know if I lie to him.
“You can trust me,” I say carefully. I think it’s true. It feels that way.
He releases a deep breath, relieved. Refreshed after the quick break, we begin climbing again.
We reach the fog – finally.
We enter the fog and creep steadily up the cliff. The clingy mist cools my face and the exposed skin of my arms.
Jared stops again. His body quivers against mine from exertion. He rests his head on my shoulder, and his warm, quick breath tickles the nape of my neck.
We’re probably going to die soon, and I’m turned on. There are worse ways to go than in the arms of a man like this.
He’s a villain, I remind myself.
“You okay?” I ask quietly. I shift to help support the weight of our bodies.
“I need a shot of whiskey.”
“Do you know what whiskey is?”
“No.” He sounds frustrated.
I smile. The silence between us is pleasant for once. We’re not at each other’s throats or baffled by the ever-changing world around us. He feels too solid at my back for us to fall, and I want to believe I’m due for another miracle. Hammer pants aside, the only times things have gone my way were riding across the desert on ponies and finding a mocha – and one of those incidents was a dream.
“Ready.” He leans away from me and resumes his grip on the rope. He’s still trembling.
We’re going to die.
I assume my climbing position against his body, and we climb through the fog. When we did this the first time, where he passed out, the fog was all of five feet thick.
We climb for half an hour this time. It has to be thirty feet thick, or perhaps, it’s moving with us like it kept pace above us earlier.
I really am sick of this place. Tired and scared, tears blur my vision. I draw a deep breath. We might be doomed, but I’m not going to be the reason we fall off the cliff.
“We aren’t going to make it, but I can lie to you, if you want,” Jared offers, hearing the hitch in my breath.
“No, but thanks for trying to be nice.”
Our focus returns to the arduous task at hand. My arms go numb soon after, and he takes breaks every other step. I’m feeling guilty about telling him I can rescue us if we fall. I don’t want him to experience my fear, but it doesn’t seem right to keep something that crucial a secret.
“Jared, I can’t –”
“I know.” He sounds weary, drained. “It was your pants, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
I prepare to reach for the next rock – and can’t move my arms. The muscles are numb, and my legs aren’t far behind.
“Go on ahead. You’ll be able to climb better when it’s only your weight,” I say. “Pull me up when you reach the top.”
He neither responds nor moves.
“Go,” I say more firmly. “You wanted to feed me to vultures outside the labyrinth. You should be able to leave me here without a problem.”
He snorts. “I can’t use your ring, remember?”
“It’s been useless anyway.”
I haven’t been able to figure out if he’s genuinely only interested in the cheap mood ring or if he uses it to hide the tiny sliver of chivalry he possesses. He offered to feed me to the vultures and then, ten minutes later, didn’t want us to separate inside the maze.
It could be my ring. It could also be this place. The rules change, and little makes sense.
“Well, I’m stuck,” I say bluntly.
“We didn’t have a chance anyway.”
Before I can register what he’s doing, or talk him out of it, he wraps an arm around my body and releases the rope. We topple backwards.
Fog and wind rush by my ears. I scream.
We hit something soft and cease falling.
I freeze, afraid to disturb whatever it is that’s preventing us from a quick drop and sudden stop. Lying on top of Jared, I’m uncomfortably aware of his body and the two arms wrapped tightly around me.
We don’t move. We’re stuck in the fog, and I can’t see anything beyond the wall of white.
“What the hell is going on?” I whisper. “Why aren’t we falling?”
He releases me with one arm. I hear him pat the ground. It sounds like … dirt?
I stretch out an arm as well. Crumbly dirt greets my fingertips.
The fog thins and then clears away completely.
I shift to the ground on my knees.
We’re on top of the mountain. The cliff edge is ten feet away from us. With some difficulty, I stand and walk near the edge
. Far, far below, the labyrinth sprawls out as far as I can see.
Jared joins me, his athletic frame at my back. “We passed the trial,” he says.
As if to punctuate his words, two crystals appear in the air in front of us. I snap mine up before he can steal it.
“But what was the trial?” I ask. “Working together?”
A roar sounds in the distance behind us. We turn.
A three-headed monster, framed against the evening sky, races towards us across the field separating us from the castle by a few miles. It’s far enough away we have time to figure out what to do.
Our options: boulders, a forest, or a lake.
The monster roars again.
I start towards the forest.
Jared heads to the lake.
We make it ten feet apart before facing one another.
“What if it can swim?” I demand.
Simultaneously, he asks, “What if there’s nowhere to hide?”
Having survived the climb by the mercy of this fickle world, we’re at odds again. I’m barely on my feet after the journey up the cliff, and his arms tremble visibly. Neither of us is in any condition to survive without the other.
“I see a cave beside the lake,” he says finally. “I wasn’t thinking about swimming or fighting a monster. I can’t protect you in this shape.”
I was ready for another fight. The fact he chose to explain this time relieves me.
“Okay,” I say. “I can’t handle fighting a monster either.”
He motions towards the lake.
We trot in that direction together.
The roar grows nearer but not quickly. Trees obscure our destination from the monster’s approach. I follow Jared around the crescent-shaped lake until we reach the cave he spotted. It’s low and small, and half of it is wet. He hunches over and moves into the cave. I enter and sit down on a lopsided boulder a safe distance from the opening. My arms are moving but not capable of much else.
I sag and prop my head up with my useless limbs. I can’t remember being as tired as I am after several insanity-filled days. The tears in my eyes are from fatigue and emotional distress.
I shift to sit on the pebble-strewn floor. A dripping sound comes from somewhere towards the back of the cave. It’s too dark to see how deep this cave goes.
The monster roars. It’s much closer – somewhere around the lake.