Labyrinth

  “Oh, how very clever,” sneers Angelica. “Is this what they teach you at the Guild these days? To fly about like a monkey?”

  I move my hand, directing the seat toward the spiral staircase. I leap onto the structure just as a flying spear of ice severs the rope, sending the seat crashing to the ground. I hook my foot over one of the lower railings and hurl a flock of screeching birds toward Angelica. She sweeps her hand to the side, transforming the birds into a shower of harmless rain, while I position my arms to hold my bow and arrow. They appear a moment later in a blaze of fiery warmth.

  The idea of an arrow in her forehead doesn’t seem to bother Angelica. “Come down here and fight like a real guardian,” she taunts.

  “No!” shouts Nate. He’s standing a few feet away from Angelica, looking as though he desperately wants to do something, he’s just not sure what. “Stop fighting!”

  I ignore Nate. “Real guardians don’t fall for ploys like that,” I call down to Angelica. “We have no problem shooting from a distance if it means getting rid of the enemy faster.”

  “Enemy?” Nate’s voice is higher than usual. “Who said we have to be enemies?”

  “Go back to the tunnel, Nate,” I tell him.

  “No!” Angelica grabs her son’s arm. She needn’t have bothered. I’m pretty sure Nate wasn’t about to listen to me.

  Something cold pricks my arm and I look down to see a tiny white flake melting against my skin. Several more flakes land on my hand, while others disappear with a sizzle as they drift too close to the sparking arrow.

  “Seriously?” says Angelica. “Snow? My opinion of the latest Guild trainers is falling further by the minute.”

  “I doubt there’s anyone at the Guild who takes your opinion into consideration,” I say. And the snow must be some strange new labyrinth concoction, because I’ve got nothing to do with it.

  “Come down here, silly girl!” Angelica screeches, stamping her foot like a child demanding a new toy. When I don’t respond, she lets go of Nate and, with all her might, throws a glittering white ball of magic at me.

  I jump.

  Time seems to slow down as I somersault through the air, the floor coming closer, the staircase upside down, the white dots of snow falling oddly upwards.

  And then I land—on my feet. Of course. Because I’m the type of person to practice a move until I know I can get it right every time. But I have no chance to pump my fist in the air as I would after achieving a perfect landing during training, because snake-like vines writhe across the chamber floor toward me. I use a sword, slashing from side to side in a figure of eight. Pieces of vine fall to either side, bursting into green flame before smoldering into nothing. But no matter how many I slice up, more keep slithering their way across the stone floor. One of them sneaks its way around my ankle. Before I can cut through it, it tugs me to the floor and yanks me clear across the chamber to where Angelica stands.

  “Stop it!” Nate lunges for his mother, wrapping his arms around her neck and waist and pulling her backward. My fingers reach for the handle of my whip. I flick it forward, and the sparkling golden end wraps around Angelica’s ankle.

  You’re not the only one who can play this game, I think, tugging hard. I bring her crashing to the floor just as her bare hands ignite with ice-white flames. She wraps her hands around my leg, and pain sears my skin. I kick her as hard as I can with my free leg, and she lets go with a yelp. I scramble toward Nate and shove him under the archway and back into the tunnel, crawling after him as fast as I can. But something solid clamps down on my foot and jerks me backward.

  “Nate!” I yell, reaching out to him. A war of emotions fights across Nate’s face, but he grabs my hand and pulls. With my free hand I direct a blast of magic at the metal chain that’s squeezing the feeling out of my foot. The chain only tightens its grip. I turn my power toward Angelica instead, who has a firm hold on the other end of the chain. She tries to dodge, but a purple flame burns across her shoulder. She lets go with a cry of pain.

  The tug of war ends, and Nate stumbles backward into the tunnel, dragging me beneath the archway. Angelica throws herself after us—only to slam against an invisible barrier.

  “Wait, Nathaniel!” she cries, beating her fists against the curse that traps her inside the chamber. “WAIT, PLEASE!” Nate turns back, his face tortured. “Please, Nathaniel, please. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

  Yeah, I’ll say. I doubt this was how Nate planned to introduce his girlfriend to his mother. I clutch a fistful of his jacket to hold him back—just in case he feels like rushing forward to her.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t leave me here alone,” she begs. Snow falls thickly around her, gathering in her silver-black hair and resting on her arms. Nate shakes his head, his hands in his hair, fingers gripping desperately, knuckles white.

  “Come on, Nate.” I can feel a tremor in the ground like distant thunder. “We need to get out of here.”

  “NO!” Angelica’s face is wet with tears. Real or conjured, I can’t tell. “No, don’t leave me!”

  I tug at Nate’s arm. He takes a few faltering steps backward before turning away from his mother. I pull him, forcing him into a jog. The light I conjured up earlier illuminates the way.

  “You’ll come back, Nathaniel!” Angelica’s scream echoes down the tunnel. “When you’re all alone and you realize you don’t fully belong in the human world, you’ll come crawling back to your mother.”

  Nate presses his hands to his ears and runs faster. I choose tunnels at random, with no thought for which direction we should be going in. I only want to get as far away from Angelica as possible.

  The tunnel narrows and zigzags sharply left and right, left and right, left and right. I sense Nate lagging behind me. I wait until the tunnel straightens out again before slowing to a stop. I bend over to catch my breath.

  Silence.

  I whirl around, my heart doubling its pace. No footsteps. No breath other than my own.

  Nate is gone.

  I tear back through the tunnel, shouting Nate’s name. I send my mind out, searching desperately. I don’t need one of Nate’s belongings in order to find him. I know him; the connection is already there. But for the first time ever, my mind comes up with nothing. Nothing.

  It terrifies me.

  I’m well and truly lost now. Ahead of me, the tunnel divides into two paths. A mirror hangs on the wall between them. Without looking into the mirror, I follow the path on the right. It curves slightly, then turns sharply to the left. It continues straight for a while, slopes uphill, then down, then a sharp turn to the right—and I’m standing in front of the fork with the mirror again.

  Wait. That doesn’t make sense. How did I walk in a circle? I choose the path on the left this time. I walk in a straight line for what feels like ages before the path disappears around a corner—and ends up at the fork with the mirror.

  I go left again, running now, and the path is completely different, and within minutes I’m back where I started.

  “Stop it!” I scream out loud. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!” I turn around and run back the way I came. I keep going. Going and going and going, and there’s no mirror anymore, just the light that bobs a few feet in front of me, and a voice singing somewhere in the distance.

  The voice is deep and rich, like velvet to my ears. I follow it, hoping that at the source of the voice is someone who knows what happened to Nate. The ball of light ahead of me never dims, which is strange. I spent a considerable amount of energy holding the water back earlier, and I used up magic to fight Angelica. And, of course, it took immense power to stun a creature as big as that troll. I should be exhausted now, my strength waning, my power diminishing.

  I come to a complete stop as something registers in my mind. The griffin disc. Angelica must have told the truth about it containing power. How else would I still have strength? I continue forward once more, my mind ticking over the events of this evening. I think of t
he books I sent colliding into my shelf, and the glass ball I exploded in Tora’s library, and the light that nearly blinded Nate when we first arrived in this tunnel. All because I didn’t realize I had a booster pack of magic in my pocket.

  My feet stop at the edge of a bare cavern. I’ve found the source of the voice: a centaur. The bottom part of his body is covered in sleek, copper-colored hair. It matches the hair on his head, which is tied neatly at the nape of his neck. He’s standing in the center of the empty space, facing a large stone that leans against the other side of the cavern. A shield is slung across his back.

  “Excuse me,” I say, loud enough to be heard above his singing.

  The abrupt silence rings in my ears. The centaur turns to me, and I see he’s carrying a sword in his hand. “Ah, you’ve answered my call,” he says. “I’ve been looking for you ever since you arrived here.”

  “What?” I’m distracted, but only for a moment. “No, I need your help. It’s urgent. Have you seen—”

  “You will come with me now.” He walks toward me, the clip-clop of his hooves echoing in the cavern.

  “Stop.” I hold up my hands and place an invisible wall of magic between us. “If you’ve been looking for me, then you’ve also been looking for the boy I was with. Where is he?”

  “You will come with me to the Silver Lady,” says the centaur. “She demands to see everyone who enters her labyrinth.”

  “I don’t have time for this!” I shout, urgency boiling within me. I can’t remember the last time I cried, but I feel ridiculously close to tears right now. “If you know where he is, then tell me. If you don’t, I’d appreciate it if you’d get out of my way.”

  He raises his sword and points it directly at me. A bolt of white light shoots from the tip. It hits my barrier of magic, causing it to shimmer in protest. He shoots again. And again, and again. I can feel the barrier weakening. I do what I did with the troll, gathering as much power as I can while the barrier still protects me. It doesn’t take as long; the centaur is big, but not nearly as big as the troll.

  With a burst of power I push the barrier toward the centaur before letting it disappear. He stumbles backward. I hold the swirling ball of magic in one hand, pull my arm back, and throw it with all my might. The centaur flies backward, hits the wall, and slumps down onto the floor.

  It’s horrible to see such a majestic and beautiful creature lying useless, almost dead. But he was blocking my way, and I have to find Nate. I run to the other side of the cavern. Holding my hands a few inches away from the stone that leans against the wall, I force it to move. With a grinding rumble, the stone begins to roll to one side, revealing an opening in the wall behind it.

  I consider creating another ball of light, but the ever-present sparkles in the ceiling are enough for me to see by. And what I can see is that there’s nothing on the other side of this opening but another tunnel. There must be a reason it was concealed though, so I step through and hurry forward.

  After only a few minutes, I become aware of a thumping sound. Faint but continuous, I can feel it vibrating through the soles of my boots. The tunnel grows larger, gradually widening until it reaches a size that could easily accommodate the troll I stunned earlier. One by one the pinpricks of light in the ceiling wink out, to be replaced by a soft yellow glow that seems to be emanating from the walls.

  I continue further, and the thumping is joined by a noise that I strain to make out. Music. Quiet at first, but growing rapidly louder as I advance down the tunnel. I begin to run, the music fueling my need to find Nate. I can see an end to the tunnel up ahead. I run faster, pushing myself, only slowing down when I can see exactly what it is at the end of the tunnel.

  A door.

  I stop right in front of the door, breathing heavily. I raise my hands and rest my palms against it; the wood shudders beneath the beat of the music. Knowing that I don’t have to worry about depleting my supply of magic, I take a few minutes to draw enough power to stun a large man. After all, who knows what might be right behind this door? I wrap my free fingers around the doorknob. Surprisingly, it turns easily. I pull the door open—and find a mass of writhing bodies.

  A burly faerie standing at the door turns to me in surprise. He has acid green hair and one eye to match; the other eye is an empty socket. “What—”

  I throw my hand forward and stun him without even pausing to think. He falls against the doorframe and slides to the ground. Fortunately, no one seems to notice. I stand on tiptoe—which adds next to nothing to my height—and scan the kaleidoscope of dancers. Flashing lights of various colors reveal almost every kind of fae I can think of. Jumping, dancing, swaying, screaming, laughing. This is clearly where Creepy Hollow’s Underground comes to party.

  I’m about to back out through the doorway—after all, the chances of Nate being here are ridiculously slim—when a bolt of light hits the wooden doorframe just above my hand, causing it to splinter and smolder. I spin around to see the centaur galloping down the tunnel toward me.

  What?How the hell did he wake up so quickly?

  I stumble back into the Underground club and pull the door closed behind me. At the same time, I realize something: I’m not in the labyrinth anymore, and that means I should be able to open a way out of here. Now, if I could just find Nate—who’s probably back in the labyrinth somewhere—and keep myself from getting killed by a centaur and a club full of Undergrounders.

  I push through the crowd, thankful that everyone here is too preoccupied with having a good time to realize that a trainee guardian is in their midst. Sweat, scales and feathers rub against me, and a shudder of revulsion courses through my body. Someone stands on my foot; someone else grabs my hand and twirls me in a dizzying circle before letting me go. I’ve lost all sense of direction now, but I see a wall nearby, and I push against bodies until I reach it.

  I press my back against the wall, trying to figure out my next move. The centaur is inside the club now. He’s taller than most of the creatures here, and the flashing lights reveal his passage through the crowd as a broken series of different colored images.

  Okay. So I need to get back into the labyrinth without the centaur seeing me, somehow find Nate, return to this club, and open a doorway home. I can do that. I can.

  I’m trying to decide whether to go left or right around the room, when the centaur freezes. By the next flash of light—orange—I see his face turned in my direction. Blue, green, magenta, and then he starts forcing a way through the crowd toward me.

  Oh crap, oh crap. I crouch down. Keeping my right side against the wall, I run. I squeeze past a group of pixies, a faerie couple tangled in each others’ arms, a woman with bat’s wings, a confused boy who looks like—

  Nate?

  I turn back and grab his shoulders. “Nate! What are you—how did you—”

  “Violet! I . . . I . . .” He swallows, blinks, wraps his fingers tightly around my arms. “I don’t know . . .”

  No time for this. I hold his hand securely in my own, slip my stylus out of my boot, and write on the wall. Please open, please open, please open. And it does.

  “Stop!” The shout is loud enough to be heard over the music. I spin around and find myself face to face with the centaur’s sword. Slowly, hating the fact that I have to do it, I raise my hands. “You will not leave,” the centaur commands.

  I slide one foot backward through the doorway to prevent it from closing. I’m about to ask the centaur what he plans to do to stop us when I feel my eyes drawn over his shoulder. A boy with blue-black hair and a look of contempt on his face is staring at me. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” I say. What the hell is Ryn doing in an Underground club?

  “No,” says the centaur. “There is no kidding. If you enter the labyrinth you may not leave without seeing the Silver Lady.”

  My eyes are still fixed on Ryn. His gaze slips from me to Nate and back again. He shakes his head, mock disappointment written across his face. Dammit! Do I really have to run int
o the person I dislike most in the world now?

  “Come,” says the centaur, and the tip of his sword glows white.

  “Sorry,” I say, feeling a dagger materialize in each of my hands, “but I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  The centaur thrusts his sword forward just as Nate dives in front of me. The force of the lightning bolt throws him back against me, and we fall through the doorway. “No!” I scream, and fling both daggers through the rapidly diminishing slit of space as the edges of the doorway melt back toward each other.

  *

  I fall through the darkness, Nate on top of me, and land on something soft and hairy. We tumble onto my bedroom floor beside an enormous brown bear—Filigree. I sit up, grab Nate’s shoulder, and roll him onto his back. Just below the centre of his ribcage, a hole is burned into his T-shirt. His skin is blackened and bleeding. His eyes are closed.

  “No no no no. Filigree!” I punch Filigree’s shoulder to wake him. He raises his head. “Help me get him onto the bed. Now!” Filigree shifts into gorilla form, stands, and lifts Nate from the floor. He drops him onto the bed, then changes into a mouse and scurries up Nate’s arm and onto his shoulder.

  I reach under the bed for my training bag and pull out my emergency kit. I scramble through the vials, powders and bandages until I find what I’m looking for. It’s a clear potion with tiny green flecks in it, excellent for speeding up the healing of burns. Nate is only half faerie though, and I have no idea if it will work on him.

  I pour a few drops into the open wound. The potion sizzles as it meets Nate’s skin, giving off a smell like crushed leaves. I grab the edges of his T-shirt and tear the hole bigger, then place my hands on either side of the wound. Despite the life-or-death situation, it doesn’t escape my notice that my fingers are spread out across Nate’s bare chest. Filigree lets out a squeak. I look up at him. One eye bulges slightly larger than the other, as though he’s trying to raise his non-existent eyebrow. “What?” I ask, feeling my cheeks flush. “I’m not just doing this so I can touch his chest, okay. I’m trying to heal him. Besides, he’s actually a halfling, not a human, so you can stop judging me.”