The Maze The Lost Labyrinth - By Jason Brannon Page 0,29
to the standard array of weapons, there were also several items that didn’t seem dangerous no matter how they were used: a bouquet of roses, a vial of a clear liquid that might have been water, a wooden flute, a plate of small pastries, a pocket watch, and a notebook. Given the popularity of Biblical allusion in the maze, I nearly asked the beast where the sling and five smooth stones were. Somehow, I didn’t think Asterion had a sense of humor.
“Any hints on which one to choose? Maybe I should eat the pastries first for strength. Wash it down with that vial of water. Play a little tune on the recorder. Consult the pocket watch for the number of minutes I have left to live. And write a goodbye letter to my wife and son in the notebook.”
“You forgot about the roses,” Asterion said dryly. “Those would be for your grave.”
“Or I could give them to you in appreciation of your overbearing menace and your out-of-this-world personality.”
“This is not a laughing matter!”
“If I’m going to die anyway, I might as well laugh. Besides, I’m just trying to decide what weapon to pick.”
The minotaur shrugged. “You, better than anyone else, know what your strengths are. However, I‘m certain that knocking on the doors of old girlfriends is not a skill that will come in handy down here in the fighting pit.”
“Touché.” Apparently the minotaur did have a sense of humor. I was really starting to dislike him. Midnight barked and let it trail off into a growl. It was clear he didn’t like Asterion either.
I picked a sword up off of the table and was surprised by how heavy it was. The war hammer was the same way. Neither of those seemed very suitable for fighting. I left the bullwhip and cat o’ nine tails alone too. I’d owned a bullwhip as a boy and had never been able to wield it without accidentally lashing myself in the face or on the backside. The mace was a very short-range weapon, which ruled it out: I didn’t want to get any closer to my opponent than absolutely necessary. I was already going to be at a serious disadvantage because I wasn’t a fighter.
I just didn’t know what to choose.
“Can I at least see my opponent first?”
I didn’t really expect him to agree, but the minotaur nodded. He touched a few more numerals on the glowing walls and caused another door to open. He walked through the entrance calmly and emerged, struggling to haul something into the arena that seemed to be his equal in strength. The chain separating the two was pulled tight, and the cacophony coming from the darkened doorway sounded like a tub full of angry babies. Puzzled, I looked at Midnight and wasn’t surprised to see the dog look back at me with bewilderment in his eyes.
Midnight’s bewilderment quickly changed to anger. He barked at whatever was on the other end of that chain, and much to my surprise, something barked back.
“Your opponent.” Asterion dragged the beast into the light.
At first I wasn’t sure I was seeing clearly. The dog was bigger than any dog had a right to be, but it wasn’t the creature’s size that gave me reason for pause. The dog had three heads, each of which seemed angry and ferocious and eager to rip me to little bloody pieces.
“Cerberus.” The three-headed dog lunged and strained at the chain- it was all Asterion could do to keep the creature in check. He finally tethered the beast to a stake that had been driven into the ground for just such a purpose. That paltry security measure didn’t fill me with confidence, and it wasn’t difficult to imagine Cerberus ripping that stake out of the ground and reducing me to hamburger. I eyed the weapons on the table a little more carefully, wondering why there wasn’t a machine gun or a grenade launcher among the choices.
Midnight growled at our opponent, sounding harsh and abrasive like an engine running without motor oil. Nothing seemed to scare him, and he was doing his best to get his bluff in. It made me feel better, but only a little. Cerberus barked at us in reply, sounding like an entire pack of rabid dogs.
Midnight tensed beneath my hand, ready to fight. “Not yet,” I grabbed at the scruff of his neck to keep him from rushing at Cerberus in a mad frenzy.
“This dog normally guards the gate to Hades. Today he’s