CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE #2
Hunger pangs gnawed at my belly. Still, I felt no temptation to try any of the fruits hanging from the branches.
For one thing, I wasn’t so sure that I could keep food down while my stomach was so unsettled.
For another thing, I couldn’t trust that they weren’t as poisonous as the critters that roamed here.
An alcove was on my left. I narrowed my eyes, wondering if it was merely decorative … or if it was in fact one of the minotaur’s ‘doors.’
Shoving that thought out of my mind as fast as it came, I eased my way around a spiky pineapple bush, hissing as it pricked my already injured knee. I was covered in grazes and tiny puncture wounds at this point. The beads of sweat trailing down my skin made the small wounds sting and throb.
So hot I felt like a wilting plant, I pulled my water pouch from my pocket and took a long swig. It didn’t do much to help me cool down—the liquid had gone warm with the heat. Lovely.
A far-off female scream rang out, filled with terror.
I halted, my blood chilling, my heart bashing my rib cage.
Sensing that it had come from somewhere far behind me, I whirled around.
A second scream split the air—this one ringing with pain.
The sound died abruptly … and I suspected that whoever it had come from was now dead too.
My gut dropped, and I squeezed my eyes shut. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Aside from Atticus, there were no candidates I’d wish dead. At least I could be sure that the victim wasn’t Lear—she was somewhere ahead of me.
I also had no idea what had killed them. The caverns were alive with danger, so it didn’t necessarily follow that the minotaur was responsible. I did know that he’d be drawn by the sound, which meant I needed to get moving now.
Pivoting on my heel, I pocketed my pouch as I began walking fast, trying and failing to muffle the sounds of my footsteps. The blanket of gritty dirt and dead leaves made it impossible.
At one point, the muffled roar of a waterfall reached me. The idea of a swim would have delighted me if I didn’t suspect that the water might be contaminated or something.
I clamped my lips shut as I barreled through a cluster of buzzing mosquitos. A cluster that seemed to go on and on and on. A tiny pinch told me that I’d been bit on my neck. Great.
I picked up speed, finally becoming clear of the swarm. My pace faltered as I came upon a large pile of rocks. They blocked my path, but not completely. The pile didn’t reach the ceiling, which meant I’d have enough room to slide over it and clamber down the other side.
I rolled my shoulders. Yes, I could do that. I crossed to the pile, my gut clenching as I noticed two things.
One, it wasn’t merely a heap of rocks. There were also small bones there. Ew.
Two, critters were crawling all over it.
I did a full-body shiver.
It was fine. I could ignore the insects, I could ignore the bones, I could—
A faraway growl echoed along the passage. Ghostly fingers whispered down my spine. Yeah, I was totally scaling this pile, all else be damned.
I quickly began to climb, careful not to dislodge any rocks—the sound would for sure attract the minotaur’s attention.
I almost snatched back my hand as a centipede skittered over it. Dear gods. I shuddered. Fuck this Xalbia bullshit.
Up and up I climbed, telling myself a scorpion hadn’t found its way onto my back. Telling myself there weren’t ants in my hair. Telling myself the spider on my arm wasn’t poisonous.
Finally, I reached the top of the heap. I cautiously eased my way over it, thanking the gods when no rocks went skipping down the pile.
I descended the mountain of rocks, bones, and insects … only to step right into an ankle-deep puddle. A dirty puddle. Wonderful.
Having bigger things to worry about, I moved out of the puddle and then danced on the spot—shaking my limbs, batting at my hair, ridding myself of every insect, hissing when something bit my shoulder.
When I was sure I was free of the little buggers that had been crawling all over me, I exhaled heavily. Fine tremors were running through my entire body. To think that I hadn’t even finished the second circuit yet …
Needing to get out of here yesterday, I forced myself to continue onward.
I pushed my way through more spiny foliage, stepped over more tree roots, encountered more mosquito swarms, and came too close to toppling into an army ant’s nest. The whole while, the sound of the waterfall became louder and louder.
Reaching a stone wall, I paused. It was angled so that it lay at a slight incline. It was also covered in something that looked like grease.
Two vines draped over it like ropes. One seemed thick and sturdy. The other looked thin and frail. I reached for the first vine and—
Wait.
I stilled, my fingers mere inches away from it. Thorns. It was covered in tiny thorns. Well, shit.
Letting out a quiet curse, I closed my hand around the slimmer vine and tugged hard. It held. I yanked harder. It still held. Clinging to it tight with both hands, I stepped onto the wall.
And my foot slipped right off.
I kept hold of the vine, but my knees bashed into the grimy wall. Fuck!
Anger became a flame in my blood. Anger at the Sovereigns. Anger at Xalbia. Anger at whoever designed and created the labyrinth.
I tightened my grip on the vine and tried ascending the wall again. Same result. I retried it once more. Again, I achieved the same result.
Hissing through my teeth at the throbbing pain in my abused knees, I switched tactics; used only my hands to heave my way up the wall. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t painless—the rough vine burned and grazed my palms, taking away layers of skin.
Scaling the wall, I was grateful to see a set of steps. My boots were slippery from the greasy wall, so I nearly fell twice while descending the stairs. Finally, my feet hit the floor.
And I found a small waterfall feeding into what appeared to be a shallow pool.
The water was a beautiful, inviting aquamarine. It also cut through the passage. The only way to get to the other side was to use a narrow rope bridge.
Looking beyond the pool, I saw that there was a sharp turn. I wondered if I’d now reached the end of the second circuit. Fingers crossed.
Judging by the width of the pool, there was absolutely no way for me to leap over it. I studied the rope bridge, not much liking the look of it. The wooden rungs were so narrow that I wouldn’t be able to fit both feet on one at the same time. More disconcertingly, some of said rungs were missing.
I considered the pool, wondering if I should instead swim to the other side. It would sure help cool me down, though getting soaked to the bone didn’t hold a great deal of appeal.
Something splashed in the water below.
Yeah, no, swimming was out.
I headed for the bridge, gripping the rough ropes that spanned the length of it, and placed my foot on the first rung. It creaked but held. Puffing out a breath, I started to walk across it. The godsdamn thing began to sway, so I slowed my pace; kept it slow from them on.
Reaching the spot where two rungs were missing, I carefully stretched out my leg to place my foot on the nearest rung.
And it snapped beneath my weight.
I plummeted like a dart, hitting the water with a splash. It closed over me, ice-cold. I surfaced, coughing and shoving my wet hair out of my face.
Movement caught my eye.
A snake was slinking along the surface of the water not too far from me.
Everything in me seized. Oh, gods. I felt my breathing speed up and my heart begin to pound like a drum.
The moment the snake was out of sight, I wasted no time in heading for the edge of the pool. I swam and swam, feeling the mist of the waterfall spray my hair and face. Reaching the other side, I heaved myself up and collapsed on the rough ground there.
The hatred I felt for Xalbia had just hit brand new, soaring levels.
I stayed there as long as I dared, fighting to catch my breath and slow my heart rate.
Getting to my feet, I groaned. I was positively soaked.
I wrung my hair, tunic, and breeches, squeezing some water onto the ground.
I hoped that the liquid wasn’t poisonous, because I’d inadvertently swallowed some of it.
Mentally nudging my reluctant body to walk on, I headed right for the turn up-ahead.
Again, I ducked under dangling moss … and my scenery altered slightly once more.
Gone were the branches and vines—a glittering black mildew spiderwebbed along various cracks in the grimy stone walls.
Gone was the oppressive heat—it was so cool here that the air felt sharp against my clammy skin.
And I was two steps away from a shallow ditch that seemed to go on forever.
Peering down at it, I felt my nose wrinkle.
It was filled with dirty, brackish water out of which tall reeds and grasses rose up.
Insects crawled over the partially-submerged spires and statues.
A strange thin mist rolled over the water’s surface, as did duckweed and lilies.
Droplets of water rhythmically fell from the ceiling and plopped into the ditch, making the fetid water ripple and jump.
Biting into my lower lip, I scratched at the mosquito bite on my neck. It went without saying that I had no wish to get into that ditch, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to move any direction but forwards.
Well, at least I couldn’t possibly get any wetter at this point.
I braced my hand on the damp wall and, on the off-chance that the ditch wasn’t as shallow as it appeared, cautiously lowered one foot. I met ground quicker than I’d expected—the water level stopped a few inches below my knee.
It was cold, but nowhere near as icy as the pool had been. Or maybe my skin was so chilled that this felt lukewarm. Whatever.
I stepped fully into the ditch, sensing that the ground was a little sludgy. Mud. Who didn’t love mud?