The Maze - The Lost Labyrinth Part 6

"If you lose, Darrell Gene will deliver this to your wife."

The minotaur's outstretched hand no longer held my wounded heart or an all-seeing eyeball. Instead, it held a picture of me standing outside Karen's apartment.

"You-you can't do this! This picture is misleading!"

"The decision isn't mine to make," the minotaur said. "That's the way this place works. I'm lord here. And it's my duty to make sure the rules of the maze are upheld."

"It's not fair!"

"Don't forget that you are the one who opened the door to this place."

I gritted my teeth. "Show me who I have to fight."

"As you wish. Follow me."

Chapter 14.

With trepidation, I followed Asterion down the long hallway. Midnight padded along behind me, keeping a safe distance from the minotaur.

Asterion seemed to know exactly where we were going and how to get there. I didn't bother trying to keep up with each twist and turn. I was already confused enough as it was. Thankfully it was only a short while before we'd reached a wrought iron gate interlaced with ivy.

"Have you learned to navigate the walls yet?" Asterion asked me.

I shook my head. "I've played around with the symbols a bit, but obviously I haven't found the escape."

"Watch and learn." He located three glowing numbers. "Sixty-six. Three. Twenty."

Abruptly, the wrought iron gate swung open on well-oiled hinges.

"I don't understand."

"The sixty-sixth book in the Bible is Revelation. The third chapter and twentieth verse says, 'Behold I stand at the door and knock.'"

"So these numbers represent pa.s.sages in the Bible?"

"Among other things." Asterion didn't bother to elaborate. Midnight and I followed the creature through the door. It felt like we were deliberately walking into a trap, but there was nothing I could do about it.

The amphitheater spread out before us looked like a bowl that had been carved out of the earth. Rows of benches circled the arena, but no one was there to sit on them. A throne of bones sat higher than anything else and looked out over the battlefield. I a.s.sumed this was where Asterion was going to sit. I imagined Nero playing his fiddle on a throne like that as he watched Christians being fed to the lions.

"This is where you will fight---and possibly die."

I shot Asterion a look. "You really know how to fill a guy with hope."

"Hope is not my sole purpose." Asterion uncovered a stone table filled with weapons. "Choose carefully."

The table was filled with swords, knives, archery supplies, axes, spiked clubs, maces, morning stars, whips, and lengths of rusty chain. No warrior would have trouble trying to outfit himself for battle. Unfortunately, I was no warrior.

In addition to the standard array of weapons, there were also several items that didn't seem dangerous no matter how they were used: a bouquet of roses, a vial of a clear liquid that might have been water, a wooden flute, a plate of small pastries, a pocket watch, and a notebook. Given the popularity of Biblical allusion in the maze, I nearly asked the beast where the sling and five smooth stones were. Somehow, I didn't think Asterion had a sense of humor.

"Any hints on which one to choose? Maybe I should eat the pastries first for strength. Wash it down with that vial of water. Play a little tune on the recorder. Consult the pocket watch for the number of minutes I have left to live. And write a goodbye letter to my wife and son in the notebook."

"You forgot about the roses," Asterion said dryly. "Those would be for your grave."

"Or I could give them to you in appreciation of your overbearing menace and your out-of-this-world personality."

"This is not a laughing matter!"

"If I'm going to die anyway, I might as well laugh. Besides, I'm just trying to decide what weapon to pick."

The minotaur shrugged. "You, better than anyone else, know what your strengths are. However, I'm certain that knocking on the doors of old girlfriends is not a skill that will come in handy down here in the fighting pit."

"Touche." Apparently the minotaur did have a sense of humor. I was really starting to dislike him. Midnight barked and let it trail off into a growl. It was clear he didn't like Asterion either.

I picked a sword up off of the table and was surprised by how heavy it was. The war hammer was the same way. Neither of those seemed very suitable for fighting. I left the bullwhip and cat o' nine tails alone too. I'd owned a bullwhip as a boy and had never been able to wield it without accidentally lashing myself in the face or on the backside. The mace was a very short-range weapon, which ruled it out: I didn't want to get any closer to my opponent than absolutely necessary. I was already going to be at a serious disadvantage because I wasn't a fighter.

I just didn't know what to choose.

"Can I at least see my opponent first?"

I didn't really expect him to agree, but the minotaur nodded. He touched a few more numerals on the glowing walls and caused another door to open. He walked through the entrance calmly and emerged, struggling to haul something into the arena that seemed to be his equal in strength. The chain separating the two was pulled tight, and the cacophony coming from the darkened doorway sounded like a tub full of angry babies. Puzzled, I looked at Midnight and wasn't surprised to see the dog look back at me with bewilderment in his eyes.

Midnight's bewilderment quickly changed to anger. He barked at whatever was on the other end of that chain, and much to my surprise, something barked back.

"Your opponent." Asterion dragged the beast into the light.

At first I wasn't sure I was seeing clearly. The dog was bigger than any dog had a right to be, but it wasn't the creature's size that gave me reason for pause. The dog had three heads, each of which seemed angry and ferocious and eager to rip me to little b.l.o.o.d.y pieces.

"Cerberus." The three-headed dog lunged and strained at the chain- it was all Asterion could do to keep the creature in check. He finally tethered the beast to a stake that had been driven into the ground for just such a purpose. That paltry security measure didn't fill me with confidence, and it wasn't difficult to imagine Cerberus ripping that stake out of the ground and reducing me to hamburger. I eyed the weapons on the table a little more carefully, wondering why there wasn't a machine gun or a grenade launcher among the choices.

Midnight growled at our opponent, sounding harsh and abrasive like an engine running without motor oil. Nothing seemed to scare him, and he was doing his best to get his bluff in. It made me feel better, but only a little. Cerberus barked at us in reply, sounding like an entire pack of rabid dogs.

Midnight tensed beneath my hand, ready to fight. "Not yet," I grabbed at the scruff of his neck to keep him from rushing at Cerberus in a mad frenzy.

"This dog normally guards the gate to Hades. Today he's serving a slightly different purpose. "

"Shouldn't he be getting back to his post? All of the souls might escape."

The minotaur didn't laugh. "I only meant that he's an expert on death. The Greeks feared him tremendously, as should you."

"What is it with this place and mythology? If I had known I'd be coming here, I would have read up on my history a little more, maybe even watched a few episodes of Xena: Warrior Princess."

"There are hints of truth everywhere if only you know where to look. The Greeks and Romans knew this as well as anyone."

"Good for them," I said. "That's why they've done so well over the years."

"Cerberus waits to devour you."

"I'm sure I'll give him a stomachache."

"You may view this creature in one of two ways. At the very least, he is a vicious creature who thirsts for your blood and will not hesitate to rip out your throat at the first opportunity."

"I think I'll take what's behind door number two instead. That first option doesn't sound too appealing."

"Cerberus is also a figurehead of sorts. A representation of your life."

Out of all the things the minotaur could have told me, this was one thing I wasn't prepared to hear. "Explain yourself."

"All I will say is this. No man can serve two masters---or in this case three."

"Thanks, Yoda."

"That's all I'm prepared to say."

I sighed. "Fine. I guess I'll have to face the flesh-and-blood version of this beast and figure out the rest later. Somehow, I'm pretty sure that representation over there is ready to eat me for lunch."

"Choose your weapon," Asterion urged. "The time is at hand."

"What should I pick?" I asked Midnight.

"You should understand him better than me."

The dog looked at me with sympathy and picked the recorder off of the table with his teeth.

"Seriously?" I sighed. "Maybe I'll bore him to death by playing some old Jethro Tull."

The dog offered the flute to me again. I had read about Cerberus before and knew why the recorder was significant. In one of the stories from mythology, Cerberus had been put to sleep by the music of a flute. There was no way I was going to try that approach. Number one, I wasn't a flute player. Number two, I was sure Cerberus would rip me limb from limb before I could even get the instrument to my lips.

"Is that your choice?"

"That's Midnight's choice." I tried to bend the situation to my advantage. "I still haven't chosen yet."

Asterion glared at me. "The dog does not get a choice."

"Technically I'm facing three opponents here. You only said that I would face one. So I think letting us keep the flute isn't really that much of a concession."

Asterion thought this over for a minute and finally spoke. "Choose your weapon."

Figuring that it wouldn't make that much difference anyway, I chose a battle axe that looked like it had severed its fair share of heads. I ran my thumb over the blade, drawing blood immediately. "This one feels good."

Asterion looked even meaner if that were possible. "Let the fight begin!"

Chapter 15.

Asterion took his seat upon the throne of bones, preparing to watch the battle like one of the old bloodthirsty Roman emperors. I wondered if the bones he sat on belonged to the losers of these tournaments. I wondered if I might be a part of that throne before long.

All that was missing at that point were thousands of spectators, eager to see a disembowelment or a beheading. No doubt this place had seen its fair share of blood before.

Cerberus a.s.sumed its role as the star of this show and strained to free itself from the tether. Surely this was the kind of animal Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had envisioned when writing The Hound of the Baskervilles. Just looking at it sent chills down my spine. I was expected to kill this beast. Me, a mild-mannered insurance salesman with nothing more substantial to defend myself with than an axe.

All three of the dog's mouths barked, snarled, and foamed in anger and frustration. From the looks of things, it would be loose in a matter of seconds. Its muscles tensed and flexed, and the chain stretched a little. The links wouldn't endure that kind of pressure very long. I cast a nervous glance in Midnight's direction, unsure of what we should do to prepare. The dog still clutched the wooden flute in its mouth, but he growled and glared at the three-headed animal with a look of blind fury.

I held the axe tightly, but it wasn't much comfort. It felt like I was taking a cap gun into a showdown at high noon.

The dog was almost as tall as I was and much more ferocious. As I held my weapon tightly, I couldn't help thinking that an axe usually took several blows to cut down a tree, even one the size of Cerberus. I wasn't sure I would get more than one swing.

In those few seconds before the battle began, all I could think about was Amy and Peter and how much I would give to see them again. I didn't want to die without telling them I was sorry, without telling them I loved them. Although I was hopeful, I knew in my heart that I didn't stand much of a chance.

With one final tug, Cerberus was free, and the thing I wanted most was to turn tail and run away. But I knew that what Asterion had told me was true; if I didn't defeat this creature, Amy would receive that Polaroid. She already had enough circ.u.mstantial evidence to draw her own conclusions, and my coffin already had all the nails it needed without adding one more.

The h.e.l.lhound raced toward us, its eyes alight with a demonic fire. All three heads were eager for a bite of my flesh. Spittle and foam flew from each dangerous mouth. I stood there, statue-still for a moment, the axe held high above my head. I was frozen in place by fear.

Midnight dropped the flute, leaped through the air and broad-sided the ma.s.sive hound. It was like watching two patches of shadow collide and repel each other. Midnight took a vicious, b.l.o.o.d.y bite out of the sable flank of Cerberus, and was bitten three times in return. It pained me to hear Midnight howl, but I knew that pain wouldn't compare to the agony I would feel if Cerberus got hold of me. I raced into the fray, prayed that one blow would do it and brought the axe down as hard as I could across the h.e.l.lhound's back. It was like firing a gun at a window made of bulletproof gla.s.s. The axe blade skidded off of Cerberus' back, jarring my hands. The h.e.l.lhound scarcely even noticed. He was too preoccupied with Midnight to care about me.

Midnight was bleeding, but that didn't stop him from launching attack after attack. Some of his bites went deep, taking out huge gouges of underworld flesh. Others merely annoyed the three-headed dog, distracting it long enough for me to lift the large axe into the air again. The second time I struck the creature, I went for the head in the middle and this time the results were a little more favorable. The flat side of the axe pummeled the middle head, knocking it unconscious. Much to my dismay, the axe handle came off in my hands while the blade landed on the other side of the battleground.

Where I had once had an axe, I now had a makeshift club.

The remaining two heads snapped and barked while the middle head drooped like a wilted flower. The head on the right volleyed with Midnight, biting and nipping, while the one on the left studied me with interest and growled. That head knew I was defenseless and that he had the upper hand.

I raised the axe handle, ready to play baseball with one of the heads. As I did so, I noticed that the dog followed the stick with its eyes. An idea quickly formed, and I picked up the wooden recorder with my other hand. I held the axe handle out to one side and the flute out with the other. Both heads stopped barking and studied me intently. The head in the middle was just beginning to wake up.

I knew that I would have to time this just right.

Midnight stood in front of me, as if to ward off the three offending heads. His hackles were raised; his muscles were taut, and his coat was thick with drying blood. At that moment, he looked more like a guardian of the underworld than Cerberus; his crimson coat gave him a certain menace. He growled at the h.e.l.lhound, but the monstrosity wasn't paying any attention to him. Each of the heads had their eye on what was in my hands.

I waited until the unconscious head in the middle opened its eyes. When it did, I tossed the axe handle in one direction and the wooden recorder in the other. The head on the left went for the axe handle while the one on the right wanted the flute. It was like watching a tug-of-war: each head strained against the other, and the one in the middle was clueless as to what was going on.

The heads immediately began snapping and biting at each other. Midnight turned to look at me, puzzled by this development, and I couldn't help noticing the circular bite marks that marred his left flank and back. The bites were deep and bled copiously. Midnight hardly seemed to notice. He was too busy watching Cerberus rip itself apart as the three heads fought with each other.

Cerberus is also a figurehead of sorts. A representation of your life.

I thought about what Asterion had said as the h.e.l.lhound became its own worst enemy.

A man cannot serve two masters...or in this case three.

Was I like Cerberus? Was that what Asterion had been trying to tell me? I thought about my life and the things that ruled me. I tried to live a good life, but there were times that I stumbled. In fact, I made mistakes all the time. My life was nothing more than one big war between me, myself, and I, where conflicting desires and needs clashed on a daily basis. Like the part of me that wanted to explore the possibilities with Karen and the part of me that wanted to fight for my family. I was at odds with myself.