“And with a rock dwarf—in broad daylight!” Mr. Masterson’s eyes bulged, and he cast a frantic look back up the field to where his construction team were working.
“Then you had better let us pass, Clive,” said Dr. Brock reasonably, “before someone notices us.”
Mr. Masterson struggled with his desire to turn them back, which was likely to create more of a disturbance, or let them pass.
“Look, Francis, you know I have nothing personal against the girl, but I’m a loyal member of the Society; you should not be associating with her like this,” he appealed to Dr. Brock. “You are putting me in an impossible situation.”
“You must do as you see fit,” said Gard gruffly. “Let others do what they see fit.”
“All right, but it will be on your own heads,” Mr. Masterson said, turning his back on them and striding away. “I’ll have nothing more to do with the lot of you if you choose her side.”
Col felt deeply sorry for Connie as the party moved off again. She did not have the nature of someone like Rat who would laugh off such comments. He moved up the line to walk beside her and pretended not to notice as she hurriedly wiped her eyes.
“He’s always been an idiot, Connie,” he said, “you can’t take any notice of him.”
“I don’t,” Connie said in a too-hearty voice. “I was just worried about what he might do to the rest of you.”
Col shrugged. “Who cares? We know what we’ve got ourselves into.”
Col and Connie led the way down the valley to the entrance to the mines. Recent rain had brought the streambed to life, and a gush of water now issued from the mouth of the tunnel. The place had a dank and gloomy feel, smelling of damp stone and rotting leaf mold. Connie peered into the entrance as Dr. Brock shined a flashlight over her shoulder. Its beam glanced off the constant ooze of water that made the green-stained walls slick to the touch.
“I suppose we had better try and find the minotaur,” suggested Dr. Brock. “Can you remember the way?”
Connie shook her head. “Not without Argand. Can you, Col?”
“Er…I think we went straight, then a bit to the right…” He sighed. “No, I can’t, to tell you the truth.”
“I’ll try and summon him then,” said Connie, “but I’d better go in alone. Knowing the minotaur, he would probably charge first and ask questions later.”
Connie took a few steps inside, to the point where the minotaur had seized her on Christmas Eve. The steady plunk, plunk of dripping water measured the moments as she dipped into her mind to call him, seeking out the golden thread of his presence. At first he eluded her—his thoughts absorbed in the disturbance of the ground overhead where the builders were working—but finally he caught her voice amid the noise.
“Universal, you have returned,” he said joyfully. “I will come to you.”
Connie sat alone and waited, counting the drops as they fell from ceiling to floor. A snort behind her, and she felt the warm touch of the minotaur on her shoulder.
“I knew you would come back,” he said, “the others will be pleased. Come.”
Connie placed a hand on his powerful arm. “Wait. I have some friends with me—people I want you to meet.”
The minotaur backed away, looking over her head in alarm, two gray plumes of breath from his nostrils visible in the faint light.
“I do not wish to see others.”
“You sound like me,” said Connie wryly.
“What did you say?
“You mustn’t be afraid. They’re here to help me. They’re my friends.”
The minotaur pawed the ground with his right foot, poised between fight and flight.
“Please,” she begged, “meet them for my sake?”
He bowed his great head. “For your sake.”
Connie turned back to the entrance. She could see her friends’ silhouettes, as they anxiously tried to make out what she was doing in there.
“You can come in,” she called. “He’s agreed to see you.”
Dr. Brock switched on the flashlight again. The beam danced into Connie’s eyes and startled the minotaur. He grunted in distress.
“Turn it off!” Connie called. “It’s too bright. You’ll have to find your way without it.”
“How are we to do that?” asked Mack as they moved into the tunnel.
“I need no lamps; I see very well in the dark,” said Gard, striding resolutely forward.
“That’s all very well for you,” murmured Mack, “but what about us mere mortals?”
“I will lead you,” growled the minotaur, standing with his arms crossed.
“Look,” said Connie, “I’ll hold onto our guide; you hold onto each other, and Col can hold onto me. No problem.”
“No problem?” muttered Mack to Col. “A bullheaded monster is leading us in the dark to his lair, and she says ‘no problem.’”
“Shut up, Dad,” whispered Col. “He’s her friend—not a monster.”
“Hah! You’ve obviously not heard the stories I’ve heard about minotaurs: they rip apart anyone who stumbles upon their secrets.”
“And you, human,”—Col and his father both jumped—“have not heard the story about our sharp senses!” bellowed the minotaur. “We can hear the fall of a water droplet in a cavern a mile deep.”
“Er…no, I hadn’t heard that one. And I’m not interested in any of your secrets…er…Mr. Minotaur. Let’s just get that straight.” Mack moved farther off, as the minotaur stared suspiciously after him, fists flexing.
“Hadn’t we better go?” whispered Connie, touching the creature on his forearm.
He grunted his agreement and took her hand in his.
The line of walkers set off. Gard walked by Connie’s shoulder, tapping the walls of the tunnel thoughtfully, listening to the echoes. Col and Dr. Brock trudged behind, with Mack bringing up the rear; they had to take it on trust that Connie would not let them be led astray—or into one of the many shafts that lay hidden in the shadows. After ten minutes of walking, they arrived at the minotaur’s cave, where he had a fire already burning. In the light, his good eye inspected each guest, lingering longest on the rock dwarf. Col returned the scrutiny, amazed by the beast that stood before him—a strange marriage of man and bull: neck the width of a buffalo’s, arms that would put any Olympic weightlifter to shame.
“Why did you bring them here, Universal?” the minotaur asked Connie in a tender voice.
“When I came here the first time, you said that you could help me find the way through the labyrinth of my mind,” she replied. “My friends have come to help. Gard here knows the layers of the mind better than anyone. Dr. Brock—he’s a dragon companion and can read dreams. The others are here because they’re my friends.”
The minotaur crouched down on his haunches in front of her. “I do not take others into the mazes. I can guide only those with whom I have a bond.”
“But you can, you see,” said Connie eagerly, sitting forward. “I can hold many voices of mythical creatures in my mind at once—that’s the chief gift of the universal. And through their bond with their companion species, my human friends can be there, too.”
“Hmm,” grunted the minotaur, looking at her skeptically. “You think this will work?”
“I’ve done it before.”
Gard stepped forward, his dark skin glittering jewel-like in the wavering light. His stout form was level with the minotaur’s head as he brooded by the fire.
“I need you to guide me, Minotaur. I can pass through the layers of my companion’s mind, but only those she is willing to show. Something is hiding inside the universal, something we must pursue and reveal to the light. We need a skilled person to lead us and, without you, we are unlikely to succeed. I think it is a task that has been appointed for you.”
At those words, the minotaur’s ears pricked forward, his face alert as if snuffing the scent of battle. “My task, you say, Rock Dwarf?”
Gard nodded. “This is a task that needs an in
ner eye; it does not depend on outward sight. You are the perfect guide. You are the one who should guard the universal’s labyrinth.”
Silence fell.
Finally, the minotaur spoke: “Then I agree.”
He startled them all by raising his head to the ceiling and giving out a great bellow—a battle cry and a shout of joy. Col thought for one terrified moment that the minotaur was about to turn and gore them all with his horns, but saw instead that he had grasped Connie and folded her in an embrace. “You have restored me to myself. I said you would.”
Connie laughed, wiping away tears. “So have you found your name again?”
“Yes,” he cried. “The Universal’s Sentinel! I’ll be the envy of all my kind when they hear of my new title.”
“Well, Sentinel,” said Gard. “Shall we begin?”
10
Cave Paintings
Gard beckoned the minotaur to take a place at Connie’s side. Sentinel sat with his arm around her, good eye roving the shadows, alert for any threat to his charge.
“It will be very dangerous to enter the mind of the universal. How shall we undertake this journey?” asked Dr. Brock, stirring the embers and sending sparks whirling to the ceiling.
“Our numbers should be few,” said the minotaur.
“I will come, of course,” said Gard, “and Dr. Brock should accompany us.”
“That means we need Argot,” said Dr. Brock. “I will have to summon him before I can join the shared bond.”
“What about one of Connie’s guardians—surely either Evelyn or Mack should be with us?” suggested Gard.
Connie felt uneasy. She had not liked her encounter with the Kraken nor the banshees.
“I’ll come,” volunteered Mack quickly.
“Hang on a minute, Dad, just how are you going to get the Kraken here?” asked Col, reading Connie’s dismayed expression.
“Col’s right,” said Connie, trying not to offend Mack. “And I think that both the banshees and the Kraken are too unpredictable to be part of this.”
“So that rules us out,” said Mack, a shade grumpily.
“But not Col,” suggested Dr. Brock. “As, dare I say it, one of your closest friends, someone who knows you better than any of us, I think he can be helpful.”
“Yeah, Connie.” Col grinned at her. “After all, you trampled through my mind last year. About time I got to pay a return visit. You won’t mind us, will you, Connie?”
“No, I think I can cope with you and Skylark,” she said. “If you’re sure you want to do this.”
Col squeezed her hand. “I’m sure.”
There was no prospect of bringing Argot and Skylark to the mine until nightfall, so the party dispersed: Mack to inform Evelyn of what was happening, Dr. Brock and Col to fetch their companions. Connie and Gard remained behind with the minotaur.
Connie sat for a long time watching the light flickering on the walls and ceilings, the horns of the minotaur interlocking in mock shadow-battle with the shovel-shaped head of the rock dwarf.
Connie was the first to break the silence. “There are many other creatures down here, Gard. Hurt creatures. I’d like to help them.”
Gard poked the fire with a stick. “There are many such colonies in the secret places of the earth,” he said. “All are waiting for healing, but the Society has been at a loss for what to do to help. I fear we have become too preoccupied by other matters—Kullervo, not the least of them. If you can heal these creatures, then you have a great task ahead of you, Universal; perhaps one that will require more than a single person’s lifetime, so brief is your stay on Earth.”
He fell silent. Connie guessed that he was still mourning for Frederick Cony. It must be hard for a deathless creature to see his friends pass away again and again. Never to die: it was hard to imagine a life like that.
“Gard, you’re immortal, aren’t you? What was it like at the beginning of everything?” she asked.
Gard looked up. “The beginning? I am immortal as long as this world endures, but even I was not there at the beginning. Then, we were all stardust, sent into space by our Creator.”
“Our Creator?”
“Do you think we sprang from nothing? I believe we are part of a greater design—something that is more than the sum of atoms that makes up our being. Each life has value and meaning—even the briefest.”
The minotaur grunted. “The world I know is not like that,” he said. “It’s full of pain and grief, short bitter lives and desperate ends. Where is your Creator in all this?”
“My friend, you said yourself but a short while ago that the universal had restored you. Through her, through the hands of others, we can see our Creator at work. I believe that we each have the power to heal and make whole, if only we can find it. There is hope for the creatures hiding here if the universal can rise to the challenge.”
Could she rise to the challenge? Connie wondered despondently. She didn’t know how to help herself, let alone others. She felt like a complete failure—and if her Creator was watching, that somehow made it worse: just one more person she had let down.
“Let’s go,” she said, getting up stiffly. “I can sense the others approaching.”
They returned to the entrance of the mines. Darkness had already fallen, pierced by a scattering of stars.
Connie looked up and felt her spirits lift. Stardust. It was an amazing thought: her bones contained the same stuff that made the Milky Way. Was that just chance or was there a plan behind it all, as Gard believed?
Two shadows rippled over the stars, blocking their light for a brief moment, before Argot and Skylark circled down to land in the valley.
“We’ve checked the surroundings. Everyone has gone home. We have the place to ourselves,” Dr. Brock announced, sliding nimbly down from the crimson dragon.
Skylark snorted and nudged Connie with a wet kiss of his nose.
“I have missed you, Universal,” he told her. Connie stroked his cheek affectionately.
There was an air of expectation as the friends gathered in a circle around Connie at the entrance to the mines. She sat at the feet of the minotaur with his hands resting on her shoulders. Dr. Brock leaned back against Argot and closed his eyes. Col buried his head in Skylark’s mane. Gard stood, feet apart, eyes bent to the rocky ground. Connie began to shiver, but Sentinel increased his grip to steady her.
“Do not fear,” he said softly. “I have never led anyone astray.”
“It’s not that. I’m just afraid of what you’ll lead them to,” she replied.
But it was too late to turn back now. Connie closed her eyes and began to feel out for the mythical creatures. Sentinel she found swiftly, waiting for her at the gateway to her mind. Argot flew into her thoughts confidently, landing at the minotaur’s side. Gard emerged between them as if he had always been there and had just been waiting for her to notice. Last to arrive was Skylark, who circled down and landed with a clatter. Connie sensed that with the winged creatures came their companions. As she thought this, she found she could see them: shadows of their real selves sitting on the backs of their mythical creatures.
“Welcome,” Connie said to her guests. “You may go in.”
Connie imagined opening a gate for them to pass through into her mind. The shadow-door swung open, and Sentinel stepped forward.
“This way.” He raised his arm and a torch leapt into life in his hand.
Col had never experienced anything so uncanny as this journey into Connie’s mental world. Part of him was fully aware that he was sitting on Skylark’s back, head forward on his mount’s neck, but the rest of him was deep in an intricate labyrinth—more complex than any mine system he had ever heard of, full of strange branches and circular paths that seemed to bring them back to the same point. At one stage, the minotaur appeared to lose his way and stood for many minutes in silent thought.
Gard gazed at the rock of the walls that surrounded them. “We are not deep enough yet,” he called. “These ar
e the superficial levels in the universal’s mines—ones I’ve visited frequently. We must go deeper.”
Sentinel lifted his head. “I have it.” Taking a passage to the right, they came upon a rough stair winding downward, disappearing far beyond the feeble light of their torches.
“What if she doesn’t want to show us what’s down there?” the shadow-Col whispered to Dr. Brock as they followed the others.
“I don’t know,” the dragon companion replied, watching as the mist of a dream curled around his ankles, glittering with strange lights.
“She can throw us out or trap us forever any time she wishes,” said the minotaur, overhearing their debate. “It is her labyrinth—she governs it.”
“Oh,” said Col, his heart racing. He just hoped that whatever had gotten into his friend recently was sleeping at the moment.
Gard tapped the wall. A musical tone like a bass note on an organ echoed around the tunnel.
“We are approaching the deepest layers,” he said. “Prepare yourselves!
Against what? wondered Col.
Leaving the stairwell, the explorers came out into a vast hall—its size suggested that this was the most important location in Connie’s mind. In front of them stretched a huge expanse of smooth rock wall. But the wall was not bare like all the others they had passed; it was a riot of figures painted in reds and blacks. In one corner, a stick man fought with a bull; a winged horse flew across the smudged sky, chasing the whipping tail of a dragon; ripples of water waved along the bottom edge, rising at intervals into human shapes; a many-armed creature burst out of one side, its limbs flailing; snakes writhed in a halo around a woman’s head, her eyes like blazing suns. These and other creatures swirled in and out of one another, many lost in the shadows beyond the torchlight—a record of each of the universal’s encounters. But Col had eyes for none of these. He, like his companions, was drawn to the center of the wall. There, in the very heart of the mural, was a great blackness, empty of life. Just looking into it from a distance drained all the energy from him, and yet he felt inexorably drawn to it. He could not tell if it was solid or not. He took a step nearer. Now he could hear a faint whispering and a wash of waves. A cold breeze was blowing out of the emptiness and ruffling his hair. It reminded him of something—something he could not quite remember.