Mines of the Minotaur
“Yeah,” said Mack. “And now that diplomatic relations have been restored between Evie and Mr. Masterson, we’ve been invited to the opening this weekend.” He fired up the bike. “Come on, I haven’t got all day.”
Col climbed on behind his father and put his arms around his waist. Thrown back by the kick of the bike as it surged away, he tightened his grip. Col watched the masts disappear behind the hedges. The last thing he saw before the bike turned a corner was their outstretched blades appealing like semaphore signals to the sky. He wondered if they were showing the way to the future, or merely waving a last farewell before humankind irreparably damaged the world that had sustained its population for eons. Despite his misgivings, he hoped the wind farm was a sign of a more careful humanity—something the Society could use to prove to the creatures tempted to go over to Kullervo that humankind could change—but he wasn’t convinced that it was enough.
At breakfast on Friday morning, Evelyn burst into the kitchen and threw a letter at Mack’s chest. Gard, who had been slumbering by the fire, woke with a start.
“Look!” she cried. “They haven’t taken any notice of my letters! They haven’t even bothered to come and reinvestigate the cliff after all the trouble Gard and Connie have taken getting the stone sprites to help!”
Mack put down his coffee cup and read the letter. As he did so, he rose to his feet, his free hand clenched, and swore colorfully.
“They won’t,” he said when he reached the end. “They can’t!”
“Oh, yes, they will and they can!” Evelyn said, kicking the back door in her frustration.
Watching this performance without fully understanding what was behind it, Connie stretched out her hand for the letter.
“Can I read that?” she asked. Evelyn and Mack exchanged a glance.
“You’d better not,” Evelyn said, whisking the letter away from Mack and putting it back in its envelope.
“Why not?”
“Well, you’ve got a big day ahead taking the Trustees to see the mark. You don’t need anything else to worry about.”
“But that makes it worse!” said Connie. “I’m going to think all sorts of terrible things if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”
“She is right,” said Gard. “You had better tell us what is in that letter.”
“Okay,” said Evelyn with a sigh, sitting down at the table. “The town council wants us to leave.”
“Leave?” Connie gasped.
Evelyn nodded.
“But they can’t—not after the stone sprites have helped us!”
“I’m sorry, but that doesn’t wash with the council. We’ve got to get them back here somehow to look at it again. But I don’t know how we are going to persuade them. We’ll need a miracle—something really dramatic—to make them reconsider.”
It was a crisp cloudless night as Connie, Col, Mack, and Evelyn got ready to meet the Trustees at the mines.
Stepping out into the darkness, Evelyn linked arms with Connie. She could feel her niece shivering with a combination of cold and nerves.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she said softly as Mack closed the back door. “Just do as they ask and you’ll be okay.”
“I s’pose,” said Connie miserably. “But it’s not easy, you know.”
“I imagine it’s very odd, having people inside you, prying into all corners.”
“Yes, but the most difficult thing’s not interfering. I’ve discovered that my mind’s a very weird place.”
“Well, I’m sure the Trustees won’t do anything to provoke you. All they want to do is see this mark.”
The Trustees were waiting with Sentinel at the entrance to the mine. Morjik and Kinga had lit a fire, bathing the dell with rich orange light. As Connie approached, she noticed that the shadows of bird, dragon, unicorn, and minotaur were flickering on the rock face behind them, casting elongated imprints of themselves, like the pictures on her mental wall of encounters.
“Connie, welcome,” said Kinga, showing her to a seat by Sentinel. Evelyn, Col, and Mack took their places on a stone slab behind the circle of Trustees. “We’re just waiting for Ivor Coddrington; he’s summoning Hoo.”
Connie gulped. “I didn’t know they were coming, too.” She should have realized this before, she thought, angry with herself. She had given herself no time to prepare.
“Of course,” said Kinga. “All the Trustees must be present.”
“But I’ve never encountered a weather giant before. I’m not sure what’ll happen. Sustaining so many bonds at once is difficult enough….” The last thing she wanted was Mr. Coddrington wandering about in her mind.
Kinga frowned. “We understand, but we all need to see the proof—that includes them, I’m afraid.”
A twig snapped on the path beyond the firelight.
“Of course, it does,” said Mr. Coddrington as he emerged from the darkness. Connie sensed a presence behind him; dark clouds obscured the stars where the giant stood between them and the sky. “We insist that we go ahead as agreed. I will not be satisfied unless I see this supposed mark for myself.”
Connie seethed. Supposed mark? To hear him speak, anyone would think that she had been making it all up. She had to try once more to make herself understood to Kinga.
“You see, it’s just that I find it difficult to control things if I’m feeling upset,” she said.
The minotaur grunted with understanding.
“If you want to be in the Society, you’ll have to learn to do as you’re told,” said Mr. Coddrington tersely.
Storm-Bird gave an angry squawk and pecked at the ground right by Mr. Coddrington’s feet, making him jump back in alarm.
“Sorry, just spotted a worm,” said Eagle-Child, giving the weather giant companion a strange look.
“Do your best, Connie,” said Kinga as she cast a warning glance at the Native American and his companion. “We can ask no more of you.”
Connie nodded reluctantly.
“Are you ready?” asked Kinga.
“Yes,” Connie replied, trying to focus her mind and calm her emotions.
Sentinel took her gently by the shoulders and looked around at the Trustees. “The paths of the mind are never the same twice,” he warned them. “It will be like starting anew. Follow me. Do nothing to provoke our host. Touch nothing.” With that he closed his eyes, and Connie immediately saw his shape reappear at the door to her mind. He was swiftly joined by Storm-Bird, Morjik, and Windfoal, and shortly after by their companions.
“Where are Ivor and Hoo?” asked Kinga. Her shadow-self paced up and down, looking into the dark. Reluctantly, Connie reached out to Hoo, heading for the source of the buzzing in her head that she always experienced in the presence of weather giants. A cold fist advanced to meet her. Uncurling, the shadow-Ivor stepped out beside the other Trustees. The giant himself swirled around them, taking no distinct shape but shifting like storm-driven clouds.
“Let us begin,” said Sentinel, stepping through the portal.
The last time Sentinel had visited the universal’s mind, it had been a bewildering but not a hostile place. This time, as soon as he entered, a strong current of air started blowing against him, trying to drive him back the way he had come. He said nothing, but bent his head against the wind. Connie watched with dismay, wondering how she could help him. It seemed that part of her was in rebellion against her conscious self. The shadow-Morjik extended his wings slightly to shield his companion; Kira clung onto Windfoal’s neck. Eagle-Child and Storm-Bird followed close behind, taking advantage of the shelter the dragon was providing. Mr. Coddrington stumbled along at the rear, wreathed in the rags of mist of his companion. Watching them, Connie realized that her mind was trying to disperse the weather giant and evict his companion. She had to take action or the encounter would be over before it even started. Concentrating hard, she sent a countercurrent to blow from behind the Trustees. With a great effort, she forced the gale back down the corridor and mentally slammed
a door against it. The Trustees were now able to make swifter progress.
“This way!” said Sentinel, showing the Trustees a broad flight of steps. With confident leaps, he bounded down two at a time, closely followed by Eagle-Child. Storm-Bird and Morjik half-stepped, half-glided down the stairs. Kira dismounted to lead Windfoal, and the unicorn trotted gingerly down one stair at a time. But when Mr. Coddrington put his foot on the first ledge, the stairs suddenly disappeared beneath him, becoming as smooth as a slide. His feet gave way and he skidded, suit jacket flying out behind him, all the way to the bottom. When he stood up, the seat of his trousers had ripped, revealing a glimpse of red and white underpants, vivid against his shadow-body. A muffled noise echoed around the corridors like a distant audience laughing. He pulled his jacket low over the tear and muttered angrily to Sentinel: “Tell her to behave, can’t you!”
Sentinel merely glowered at him.
“She did warn us,” said Kinga with a smile. “You are lucky it wasn’t any worse.”
“She’s doing it on purpose!” he protested. “It’s all a part of her outrageous conduct!”
There was a loud crack, and the rock at Mr. Coddrington’s feet split open, separating him from the others by a deep fissure.
“I would not say any more, if I were you,” said Eagle-Child quietly, holding out a hand to help Mr. Coddrington jump across the chasm. “You are on her territory now. It is always unwise to insult your host, never more so than when you are at the mercy of her mood.”
Mr. Coddrington glanced nervously behind him. A lick of fire leapt out of the fissure and darted up the walls as if feeling out for him. He moved closer to Eagle-Child.
“Of course, you’re right,” he said. “Let’s get this over with before she has the chance to do anything else.”
Sentinel led his party through the network of dark corridors. Passageways branched off left and right, but Sentinel was certain of his path and did not falter. But then, turning a corner, he came to an abrupt stop. Before him stretched a vast expanse of black water: an underground lake.
“As I said,” he growled, “each visit reveals something new.” He tested the water with his hoof, sending ripples out across the mirror-like surface.
“Is it deep?” asked Kira. “Will Windfoal be able to wade across?”
“That depends on the universal,” said the minotaur. He took a step into the lake and laughed. “Look, it only reaches my ankle! She is letting us through.”
The others followed him—Morjik and Storm-Bird choosing to fly rather than wet their feet.
Mr. Coddrington, however, paused by the bank as the weather giant swirled over the water like early morning mist.
“Are you sure it’s safe?” he called to the minotaur.
“No, I am not sure,” Sentinel replied, wading on resolutely, the water gurgling around his knees.
Undecided, Mr. Coddrington hovered on the bank until he saw the minotaur get out safely on the far side. He then took a step forward—and disappeared below the surface of the water to emerge spluttering and gasping seconds later.
“I can’t touch the bottom!” he shouted.
“Then you’ll have to swim,” replied the minotaur with a shrug, turning his back on the struggling man.
Mr. Coddrington did an ungainly breaststroke across the icy lake and pulled himself out on the far side, dripping like a water rat. He seemed on the point of saying something but, after a warning look from Eagle-Child, thought better of it.
“How much farther?” asked the shadow-Mr. Coddrington petulantly, his feet squelching in his sodden shoes.
“As far as she wants,” said the minotaur. “We could be there in minutes, or be here for hours.”
The party walked on, scrambling over rock falls, climbing shale slopes, dropping down steep inclines, and wading through streams that chattered across their path.
“I do not think she wants us to reach our destination,” said Eagle-Child calmly, looking around a glittering domed chamber that they had already passed through three times.
“Come on, Connie,” said Kinga under her breath. “Let us in.”
A draft blew out their torches, plunging them into darkness. The Trustees stood in silence, wondering what to do next: they could not proceed without light, but their host seemed unwilling to allow them any. Then, with a long, slow creak, a door swung open directly in front of them, where there had been no door before. A red light flickered around its edge, broadening into a great strip on the floor at their feet.
“We are here,” cried Sentinel, rushing forward. He stepped into the cavern of the cave paintings, finding that this time it was lit with many torches in brackets along the walls. The paintings stretched as far as the eye could see in both directions, but still at the center loomed the black mark of Kullervo. The Trustees followed him, the weather giant swirling to assume his normal shape now that there was room to accommodate his great size.
But there was another difference in the cavern on this visit. Sentinel held up his hand to stop them from hurrying forward for he had noticed a small figure with a mane of black hair, dressed in white, sitting on the floor in front of the wall, staring fixedly at Kullervo’s mark.
“The universal is here,” he said softly. “Do not disturb her.”
The Trustees tiptoed quietly around the little figure. Kira knelt beside her and gazed into the child’s expressionless face, her unblinking eyes.
“Why is she here?” Kira whispered to the minotaur. “I thought this was all her—the corridors, the chambers, everything.”
“That is so, but the mind has the power to contemplate itself,” he said. “None of us are simple. We have many selves.”
Connie, watching all this from her bird’s eye view of the multiple bonds, was suddenly very afraid. She was afraid of the cold, still child staring at the mark, recognizing her as the part of herself that was dangerous—deadly dangerous. A rumble like an earth tremor ran through the cavern, bringing tiny pieces of rock down upon the heads of the Trustees. She was tempted to end the encounter there and then. They had seen the mark, hadn’t they? Surely they should be satisfied with that?
The child rose to her feet and spoke: “Leave now,” she said in a dull voice, eyes still on the wall in front. “She wants you to leave now.”
The Trustees looked at one another. Kinga approached the child cautiously.
“We need a few more minutes. We have to look at the mark. We’ve come all this way—surely a little more time will not hurt?”
The child did not reply, so Kinga turned back to the others.
“We’d better make this swift. We’ve outstayed our welcome.” She strode toward the blot on the wall. “Is it an opening or is it merely a black mark?” she asked Sentinel as she stood as close as she dared to the wall.
“I do not know,” said the minotaur, “but the companion to pegasi said he could hear a voice and feel a breeze coming out of it.”
Kinga stood still and listened. “Yes, there does seem to be a faint noise, like the wash of the sea on the shore,” she said.
The other Trustees crowded around her, the weather giant standing behind them, a shadowy barrier between them and the torchlight.
“What does it mean?” asked Kira, looking to Windfoal. The unicorn shook her mane uneasily.
“It’s quite clear to me,” said Mr. Coddrington sharply. “It means that the universal has been irreparably damaged by Kullervo. She is his now.”
The cavern shook, and a large fragment of rock fell from the ceiling and crashed onto the floor by the door through which they had entered, shattering into pieces.
“Will you be quiet!” snapped Kinga. “Keep your thoughts to yourself until we are safely out of here.”
At that moment, the giant moved forward, passing between them like a damp cloud brushing a mountaintop.
“Do not touch!” cried the minotaur as the giant raised his hand to the wall. It was too late: Hoo thrust one great finger into the mark. With a rumble
and a roar, the wall fell in upon them and they were deluged by a tide of dark water. The flood flowed past them. It swirled around the legs of the child who stood gazing down at it, making no effort to save herself. Kinga clutched onto Morjik to prevent herself from being swept away; the minotaur grabbed the end of the dragon’s tail as he was buffeted back by the waves. Kira struggled against the tide and was only saved by grabbing hold of Windfoal’s horn. Storm-Bird flapped above the flood, clinging onto Eagle-Child’s jacket to prevent him from being sucked under. The weather giant scooped Ivor Coddrington out of the water.
“Save the girl!” Kinga shrieked to the weather giant, but Hoo did nothing. Then the child, laughing wildly, lifted her face to the ceiling, threw her arms wide and fell back into the water. The weather giant roared his approval. The other Trustees watched in horror as the girl was swept away, spinning like a leaf borne on a rain-swollen stream.
“We had better get out of here!” bellowed the minotaur. “Break your bond before it is too late!”
On his command, the creatures abruptly ended the encounter and returned to consciousness at the entrance to the mine.
Evelyn, Col, and Mack were lying in a heap at the base of the rock wall like discarded toys. Connie had gone.
16
Reaping the Whirlwind
Col was shaken back into consciousness by Eagle-Child. Opening his eyes, he found the side of his head was aching and there was a trickle of something wet running down his cheek. Groaning as he sat up, he wiped the wetness away and, in the dying light of the fire, discovered that it was blood.
“What happened?” he muttered.
Eagle-Child looked relieved to hear him speak. “Where are you hurt, Col? Can you move?”
Col waggled his feet experimentally and lifted his arms. Apart from the pain in his head, he was unharmed. “I’m fine,” he said. Suddenly remembering where he was, he looked around for his father and Evelyn. Kinga and Kira were helping them sit up. Morjik was reviving the fire to cast more light on their injuries. The minotaur galloped past the dragon and up the path out of the dell, disappearing in the darkness. Ivor Coddrington was sitting on a boulder with his head in his hands.