Minotaur (11 page)

I sprinted directly at the charging bull. When I say sprint, it was more of a lumbering plod but you get the idea. It had lowered its head, intent on goring me. Unlike most of my practice sessions, this time I got my timing right. Well, almost.

I grasped the bull’s horns, but not before I felt a slight nick as one sharpened point grazed my palm. And then I was soaring through the air. As Androgeus had predicted, this bull was strong enough to provide the lift necessary to propel me upward and over. I flipped in mid-air, hoping to land on my feet behind the bull.

My timing was almost perfect but not quite. The bull, as I mentioned earlier, was huge. The push I received was not enough. Not only that, but I hadn’t had time to accelerate to full speed. As a result, I landed almost head first on the back of the bull. I felt the sickening impact as my own horns penetrated deeply into the beasts flesh. It roared in mortal anguish. My momentum carried us both to the ground, with me still pinned to its back.

The bull was clearly in its death throes. It thrashed about, leaking copious amounts of blood over me, pooling on the soil beneath us. It gave one last bellow of pain and then succumbed to its grievous injury.

I got to my feet and pried myself away from the dead bull. More blood spurted from the parallel wounds as I yanked my horns out. It was only then that I noticed the absence of noise in the arena. All was deathly quiet.

I looked up, catching the eye of my father. His mouth was twisted in hatred. Before I could move, he was already on his feet, furiously marching out of the Monarch’s box.

There was a grumble of discordant noise from the crowd. A few cheers cried out but they soon quieted down. Most in the crowd realized what this meant. This was a sign from the gods and not a good one either. I had killed a sacred animal. Not only that, but I had killed a sacred animal with horns that were universally regarded as a sign of divine disfavor. This was not good.

I felt an arm tug at mine. I looked down in a daze and saw Androgeus there.

“Come, Asterion. Time to leave.”

Numbly, I let him lead me out of the arena. Phaedra was waiting for me. She was taking a huge risk seeing me like this but concern for my safety had overridden common sense.

She and Androgeus guided me back to the palace. The festival was over. Despite my grogginess, I felt a little guilty. Because of me, Androgeus would not be able to compete this year.

“I’m … I’m sorry,” I slurred, gripping Androgeus’s shoulder. “You didn’t get your go.”

He patted me on the back and smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it, little brother. How could I possibly have competed with your performance anyway? Hard act to follow.”

The journey was a blur. I don’t remember arriving back, only that suddenly I was sitting down with Phaedra. She was dressing the wound on my palm. We were in her bedchamber. Androgeus stood at the window, gazing out at the ocean, his face blank. It was dusk. I felt weak, nauseous. My stomach was churning.

“Are you all right?” asked Phaedra. I could tell she was worried. “You’ve turned white.”

I wasn’t feeling well at all. Something was wrong. My palm was throbbing. Through the pain, a thought occurred. Had Minos poisoned me? Would he do such a thing? I knew with sudden certainty that he would. It wasn’t enough to uncover the bull’s horns. He had to make certain that I died.

“I don’t feel so good.”

Phaedra and Androgeus helped me lie down on a couch.

“I think he’s been poisoned,” said Phaedra. She knew me. Knew how strong I was. Something was very wrong when a slight scratch could have this effect on me.

Androgeus looked frightened for a moment and then nodded his head ever so slightly. “We have to send for a healer.”

“No,” said Phaedra. “The healers will do our father’s bidding. They will probably let Asterion die or even poison him again. Now that Father has tried once, he’s got nothing to lose by finishing the job he started.”

“Well, what then?” asked Androgeus impatiently.

“We’ll send for Daedalus. He’ll know what to do.”

Androgeus ran off to summon the master craftsman while Phaedra stayed at my side. Catreus and Deucalion arrived, crouching next to me, offering whatever support they could. Of Ariadne and Glaucus, there was no sign. For that at least, I was grateful. The last thing I wanted was for them to laugh at me.

Daedalus bustled into the room, already briefed by Androgeus. He examined me closely, even going so far as to unravel the bandage Phaedra had wrapped around my palm, sniffing the injury. He opened the wound and placed a gentle finger inside, tasting what he found there.

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “I think it could be nerium, but I’m not sure. I’ve seen similar effects before. There’s not much I can do. Keep the arm down so that the poison doesn’t travel to his heart.”

Phaedra did what he asked and Daedalus applied a compression bandage to my lower arm. “That’s all I can do for him. We’ll just have to hope his natural strength can overcome it.”

“You have our thanks, Daedalus,” said Androgeus. “When I am King, you will be richly rewarded. This will not be forgotten.”

“Certainly not by the current King,” replied Daedalus drily. “If he finds out I’ve helped, that is.”

“He will not find out through us,” said Phaedra, trying to reassure him. “But make sure you are not found here. Go. Now!”

“In a moment,” said Daedalus. “I may be of more assistance to you yet.”

“Asterion can’t stay here,” said Androgeus. “Our father will find him, and if he does … .”

“I know where we can take him,” said Daedalus.

And indeed he did. A place where even Minos couldn’t find me. A place I didn’t know existed.

It took me two full days to recover, covered in sweat, passing in and out of consciousness. Not that I was aware of the passage of time. Androgeus told me later that Phaedra stayed at my side for much of that time. It seemed that my part-god constitution was a match for the poison employed by Minos.

Under the cover of darkness, Daedalus had me taken to his workshop outside the palace, carried by my brothers and Phaedra. Unknown to any of us, Daedalus had constructed a series of rooms underneath the workshop itself, accessed through a small, cleverly concealed trapdoor. The rooms were devoted to secret projects, projects he felt the world was not yet ready to see. Icarus knew of them, but his father had sworn him to secrecy. The rooms, I guess, were a forerunner to the labyrinth.

There were all manner of devices contained within. Some I vaguely recognized, but the purpose of most escaped me. Most intriguing of all was a set of wings, which I assumed were for Daedalus’s next stage in his exploration of flight.

In the world above us, Minos was conducting a frantic search. Androgeus and my other brothers had to leave. Their absence would have caused too many questions. It was bad enough that I had disappeared, let alone Phaedra, but most of the King’s children? Too much of a coincidence.

Even she had to leave eventually. The King had been asking about her. Once she saw I was going to recover, her fear lessoned and she left me under the care of Icarus. Daedalus continued to work in his workshop above us to allay suspicion. Guards had already searched the place, leaving disappointed.

On the second day, I began to feel stronger. Icarus fed me broth and made me drink prodigious amounts of water, thinking the water would help flush the poison from my body. Who was I to argue?

Later, I was strong enough to rise and dress. That done, I started to consider my options. They were depressingly few.

“What are you going to do?” asked Icarus.

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “My mother told me I would have to leave the island sooner or later.” I shrugged helplessly. “I suppose I hoped it would be later.” I had delayed my departure too long, and now I was paying the price for my indecision.

“You have no choice but to flee,” said Icarus. “Even if this place is never discovered, Minos will find you eventually. You can’t stay here forever.”

Icarus was right. I knew he was right, but I still dragged my heels.

We discussed options. Eventually, our conversation moved on to the wings nestled in the corner of the underground workshop. They intrigued me.

“Did your father make these?” I asked, standing and moving across the room to examine them more closely. There were two separate wings, feathers fixed on brackets of wood. On closer inspection, the feathers had been attached using wax. There were straps where presumably the wings were attached to the body of whoever was brave enough to try them.

“No,” said Icarus quietly. “I did.” I could tell from his tone that he was proud of his achievement. He was never boastful. This was about as close as he got to anything resembling arrogance.

“Have you tried them?” I asked, full of wonder.

“Not yet,” said Icarus. “Father doesn’t want me to risk them yet. He wants to help me make some changes. I know they will work though. I’m certain of it.”

I knew the answer before I asked the question. I would’ve seen or heard something if he had. It did surprise me though. Icarus, although quiet and thoughtful, was also willful and sometimes rash, often doing the opposite of what his father told him. There must have been another reason why he hadn’t tried them out. Then I knew. He was afraid. I didn’t blame him. Just looking at them made me afraid. But then again, lots of things scared me, foremost among them heights.

Icarus looked me up and down, calculating. “I never designed them for someone of your weight, but it might just work.”

“What!” I exclaimed. “You can’t be serious. Even if I did get into the air, do you really think they will get me to the mainland?”

“Maybe,” said Icarus. “With the right wind behind you. What other choice have you got?”

“I could get a fisherman to take me?” I asked hopefully.

Icarus shook his head. “What fisherman around here would defy the King? Would they really risk it for you—someone who clearly hasn’t got the favor of the gods? Even if they did decide to take you, they’d probably huddle in fear the whole voyage, waiting for a lightning bolt hurled from the gods.”

“I could steal a boat?” I suggested.

“Can you sail then?” asked Icarus, raising one eyebrow at me. He knew just as well as I that I didn’t know the first thing about boats.

It was hopeless. We spent the next few hours suggesting and then abandoning various ideas.

It must have been after midnight when Phaedra and Androgeus returned. Unfortunately with bad news. Androgeus had a large sack slung over his shoulder.

“Our father knows you’re here, somewhere,” exclaimed Phaedra, breathless.

“How?” I asked but it was unnecessary. I knew.

“It must have been Ariadne and Glaucus,” said Androgeus. “They know you spend your free time here. They probably saw us carry you. We were careful, but Ariadne is not stupid. Now that our father is getting desperate, she has finally played her hand in order to reap the greatest reward.”

Already, I could hear the tramp of heavy feet above us. The King’s guards had arrived. They would tear the place apart, eventually finding the secret trapdoor. I didn’t have long and all I could do was wait. They wouldn’t get me without a fight though. I started looking around for a useful weapon, hastily pulling items away from the wall, frantically searching.

“No need for that,” said Icarus. “My father planned well. There’s another way out.”

And indeed there was. A hidden access way in one of the walls opened to reveal a rock passageway.

“You go on,” said Icarus. “I’ll catch up.”

I was about to protest but Androgeus took my arm, forcing me into the narrow rock passage. He passed me a burning torch liberated from one of the sconces to light the way. It was a tight fit for someone of my size. Claustrophobic. I still wasn’t fully recovered from the poison, and my body poured sweat, which leaked into my eyes, obscuring my vision.

I could hear Androgeus and Phaedra shuffling behind me. They weren’t breathing nearly as hard as I.

It seemed like we were in the passage for hours, but it must have been less than one. Eventually, the passageway sloped upward. The flickering light from the torch revealed a dead end above me. It was stone. I immediately started to despair but then logic—logic painstakingly drilled into me by Daedalus—kicked in. He wouldn’t have built an escape tunnel without a way out. Experimentally, I gave the stone a push. It rose easily, revealing a dark, cloudless sky punctuated by stars.

I squeezed myself out and reached down to help Androgeus and Phaedra. Not that they needed my help. If anyone needed help, it was probably me. Phaedra closed the stone hatch. It really was a piece of clever engineering. Designed to look like any other stone, it would go unnoticed. The field around us was littered with similar rocks. On closer inspection, I discovered that Daedalus had attached a lever that made lifting and closing easy enough for a child to manage.

We stood together, saying nothing. I quickly got my bearings. We were facing toward the north. The passage had somehow taken us to the cliff tops outside the palace grounds. The Cretan sea spread out below us, a vast never-ending expanse of water that glittered in the starlight. I would’ve thought it was beautiful had it not been for our predicament.

“Now what?” I asked eventually.

Androgeus set his sack down and leant over the cliff face. “I see a path,” he declared. “Not much of one. Probably used by goats but we should be able to get down to the beach.”

“And then what?” I asked. “Am I meant to swim?”

“No,” said Phaedra, a grim smile on her face. “I’ve seen you swim. It’s not a pretty sight.”

“After that?” I asked, my voice rising. Conscious of being heard, I asked again, this time in a whisper.

“I organized a boat,” said Phaedra. “I gave a fisherman that I know some of my jewelry. He won’t take us himself, but I know enough to manage. He should be here.” She joined Androgeus at the cliff face, her face contorting into a worried frown.

“What’s this about ‘we?’” I asked. “You’re not coming with me. It’s too dangerous.”