The Minotaur & the Fourteen

I do not recall the sky, not the sun, or moon, or even the stars my mother named me for, nor do I recall air that is not moistened with dirt and stagnant water. I have never tasted apples, wine, or roasted lamb. I do not remember the feel of the sun or the embrace of my mother; yet they were the memories that the humans infesting my Labyrinth gnashed their teeth in longing and bitter desire.

Before they arrived, no distinct ideas occupied my mind; all was confusion. I felt cold, hunger, thirst, and darkness. My days were spent wandering the twists and forks of the Labyrinth, savaging the small creatures and insects that crossed my path. My chest sank into the hollow space between my ribs, my muscles withered away until my hide was pulled taut across my bones, and I wondered when my mother would return and save me from this hunger. Just as my days turned hopeless, and I grew almost too weak to raise myself from the dirt, the doors opened.

It had been quiet; a quiet that I wish had been peaceful in my stillness, starvation, and solitude, but no, this quiet had felt hungry, as if stalking me like a predator awaiting its prey to bed down for the night. I lay on the dirt of the ground in the Labyrinth's utter blackness, my breathing shallow and unfulfilling due to the heavy weight of my chest. Then, with a boom, came the sound of stone grinding against stone as the doors to my underground prison were dragged open. I recognized the sound from a distant memory, and I raised my head. I smelled the air stir with a warmed breeze, and I hungrily inhaled it. Then, I heard voices, real, recognizable voices that did not slither from the fear-induced hallucination that lurked in the darkness. I rolled onto my side in an attempt to gather my hoofs under me and raise myself, but my hunger had weakened me. I crawled to the passage wall and used it to support me as I shakily stood. I leaned heavily against the wall to traverse the darkness that consumed the world around me; incomprehensible shouting guiding me forward.

Before they had come, I had been unable to locate the Labyrinth’s doors in the darkness, but now I was led toward them by the perplexing grunts and the shuffling steps of what I assumed were men. More shouting followed, and I quickened my dragging steps as fast as my feeble strength allowed, believing they were calling for me. The voices grew louder in an unexplained desperation, and to my despair, I heard the grating grumble of stone against hard dirt as the doors began to shut once more. I was close, but my body would not allow me to move fast enough. I opened my mouth and cried for them to stop, hoping to slow their progress. It did not. The doors boomed shut, and tears burst from my eyes as I screamed in despair.

Why had the doors opened if not to free me? Why had fresh air warmed the cold passageways of the Labyrinth if not to beckon me out?

I was about to collapse to my knees when I heard voices again. Though I did not fully understand the strong sharpness of their Athenian accents compared to the musical lilting of Crete’s, I thank Thanatos for granting me the recollection to remember all of their words now.

“What was that?” A voice called in the darkness ahead of me.

“It must be the creature.” Reasoned another.

I limped toward them, curious to discover why they had remained when the doors had closed. I reached a corner and flinched as, what I understand now to be torchlight, blinded my sensitive eyes. I cowered against the dark wall, protectively cupping my hands over my eyes, and peeked around the corner at the mysterious newcomers. They were human, like my mother, their bodies were covered with clothes rather than a hide of short coarse hair, they wore sandals on their feet, carried bags across their shoulders, and torches of fire in a few of their hands. I recognized them to be male and female, seven of each, but they were young; not as young as I was, when I was abandoned in the Labyrinth, but just a few years older.

I frowned at the youths and maidens, puzzled. Why were they here? Had they been brought here to find me, or feed me? My stomach turned hungrily as my eyes lowered to the bags they carried and crept ever closer.

A maiden, with rounded cheeks, leaned into the chests of a youth and a second maiden at her right shoulder. “Something is moving toward us…” She said, the whites of her eyes reflecting the radiant light of her companions’ torches. “I can’t see it…Acacius, bring your torch here.” A youth from over her shoulder moved to obey her and stretched the light of the torch in the direction of my passageway. I flinched and raised my arms to protect my eyes from the light as the brown nose of my white snout was illuminated. There was a sudden inhale of breath, and I peeked through my arms, expecting to be greeted with relieved expressions, or with words of concern for my welfare; they screamed. Fourteen voices, both male and female, reverberated throughout the Labyrinth, the sound so terrible, I fell back upon the earth and covered my ears; fearing the sound would split my skull.

“What is it?” The maiden screamed.

“King Minos called it a creature, not a monster!” Screamed another.

“Stand your ground, it’s the size of a child! It may be easily killed!” A youth shouted. A few scrambled to pick up rocks from the ground and raised them to hurl at me, but their companions were pushing them aside or pulling them into the two passageways opposite my own until all had fled from my presence.

A torch flickered in the dirt not far from where I curled, illuminating that bag that had been discarded beside it. Though frightened that any movement from me would provoke that terrible screaming once more, I cautiously lowered my hands from my ears. The screaming did not begin again. Heartened, I crawled to the bag and raised it, my eyes scanning passageways as my hand began to dig through the bag’s contents of a lumpy loaf of bread, a hard cheese that was salty to the taste, a bottle of some unknown liquid, human clothes, and a dual-sided comb. No weapons were left behind, nor any instructions on how to brighten the dimming torchlight. I reached for the torch and recoiled as the heat of it pained my fingers. I could not touch the fire, but soon discovered that I could touch the sleek wood handle beneath it. I raised the weighty torch, the bag clutched against my chest, and brightened my slow trek back to my familiar passageway; still unsure of the human’s purpose in the Labyrinth, or my own. They had mentioned King Minos—I remembered a man who made my mother cry, I think she called him Minos, but this man was not my father. He had greatly disliked it when my mother had called his daughter my sister; all of their faces were mere shadows to me, devoured by my solitude.

The torchlight did not last long in my care. Its fire sizzled and popped as water dribbled down on it from the ceiling while I traversed the Labyrinth's passageways, in search of my usual corner. I did not need the light to navigate the blackness, but I feared losing the warmth and indeterminable comfort its flame brought me. I stopped several times on my return to my corner to wave it about in the hopes of encouraging its light to renew, or feeding it bits of root and mushroom that I ate to sustain myself. It did little good. The flame dimmed to a low red glow, and then it died, casting me mercilessly back into darkness once more.

I mourned its loss.

Collapsing to one knee, I buried my face in my hands and wept bitterly. A cold chill crawled up my spine, and my eyes opened in my hands, my breath catching in my throat. A howl of wind ruffled the tuft of lanky hair I grew above my brow, its call a ghastly reminder of the terrifying visions that awaited me without the light. I fell to my side, too frightened to keep moving. I shuffled backed against the rough side of a stone wall and pulled my legs to my chest, accidentally crushing the bag I had recovered from the dirt into my abdomen. I grimaced, momentarily distracted from my fear, and extricated the bag from its painful position. Digging my hand inside, I located the bottle of unknown liquid, removed the cork, and swigged it. I felt the smooth liquid coat my tongue and frowned at its thick but indiscernible and unpleasant flavor. I rubbed my tongue against the roof of my mouth and then my teeth, attempting to scrape the liquid from it, but it filled the texture of my tongue and could not be escaped. I corked the liquid, throwing it away from me, and spat into the dirt, but still could not rid myself of the flavor.

I turned to the bag for a solution. I blindly dug my hand inside, and my fingers closed around a large oval-shaped loaf of bread. Not knowing what it was at the time, I licked my tongue against its hard outer crust. Sand gritted against my tongue, and I dusted it off the bread and took a bite. The hard crust cracked, then tore beneath my teeth. The exterior of the bread was chewy, its taste earthy, yet the flavors reminded me of something comforting. I took another bite, this time reaching the tender interior, which easily broke apart in my mouth, and filled my belly. I gorged myself on the delicious bread until I had consumed it; then I felt along the ground for any pieces that might have fallen during my feast, picking up crumbs and spitting them out when I discovered them to be nothing more than dirt or shredded bits of roots.

Disappointed, I returned my attention to the contents of the bag and removed the chunk of cheese from the bag, though at the time, I thought it better resembled a rock; however, its texture was more reminiscent of mushrooms. It had been wrapped in a cloth that had been coated in a strange substance that rubbed off on my fingers. I discarded the cloth and sniffed the cheese. The smell was strong, and while not wholly pleasant, it made my mouth salivate. I took a bite and grimaced at the bitter taste, moving it around in my mouth as I tried to decide if I liked it. The flavor coated my tongue, and my stomach turned uneasily when I swallowed. I decided to take one final bite before throwing it away. This second taste was better than the first. While salty and smelly, it did not upset my belly, and I determined to finish the cheese.

While the bag’s contents had been a pleasant distraction from my fear, there was nothing left in it to occupy me. I discarded it from my shoulder, my young mind seeing no more use for it as I had the liquid. Then I picked myself up from the dirt and retreated to my familiar corner.

The Labyrinths' echoes did not permit me to descend once more into my misery before delivering the noise of the human activities to me. For beings who had acted so afraid of me, they were not quiet in their movements. They stomped through the passageways, their sandals—swacking—the ground with enough force to send the smaller animals, insects, and myself scurrying for the safety of darker passageways long before they lite upon our deserted locations with their brilliant and enticing torchlight. The humans' voice rose from the cautious whispers they’d used for a short time after their arrival; now they called to one another across great distances and shouted with more anger in their voices than fear. The humans shouted and screamed, their echoes frightening water droplets from the ceiling and making the walls vibrate with terror; their voices like giants. There was dissent within the group, and though I did not understand why, because their language was still a mystery to me, the fourteen broke into two groups of five and one group of four.

I cowered in the darkness, unable to settle because I feared their approach, until they bedded down for the night, and I found myself unable to keep myself from them. The passageway whispered with an unfriendly wind, raising the hair on my spine. My hoof-steps were haunted by the echoes of chipping rock, sifting dirt, and dribbling water as I approached them. I could see the shapes of their bodies outlined by the light of their fires; two groups of five and one group of four were seated a distance from each other in the same passageway. I crept toward them, careful to keep my steps silent upon the dirt, my ears raised and alert for danger.

“There were stories of this place years before Androgeos came to Athens.” A youth whispered from the group of five closest to me.

A maiden hissed. “Don’t say his name!” She scolded and rubbed her arms against the chill air, her eyes darting around her as if expecting his words to summon the fear the lurked in the darkness around us. I stalled outside the firelight and sank into a crouch, my curiosity too raw not to listen.

Another youth in the group snorted. “Minos isn’t here, Arete. He enslaved us and signed our deaths. We can say whatever we please.”

The maiden curled a fist against her heart. “How can you continue to speak as though you’ve given up? Minos has told us how to free ourselves and rescue our people from future sacrifices.”

The youth stared at her with stone-black eyes. “He painted that creature as a mad lion terrorizing the passageways of the Labyrinth.” The first replied. “Yet by its appearance, it is no older than a child that has been corrupted by a bull.”

The second youth grunted in agreement. “Neither Thanatos nor the Keres would touch that thing—perhaps Mania, but I pray even she would not touch a white hair on that beast.” One maiden gasped at the names and clutched something that hung around her neck.

I looked from her to my hands, and rubbed my thumb across my arm, feeling the hair of my white hide. They were speaking of me, yet I did not understand why. What did I have to do with the rescue of their people? Why had Minos told them of me? And what was their purpose here?

The second youth raked his fingers through his shadowed curls. “Aegeus should have just let Minos kill us.”

“Stop it,” the maiden snapped, stood between them, and walked to the opposite side of the fire to sit between two silent maidens. “If you continue to speak as though you have already given up, you may as well slit your own throat and let us feast on you.”

“Arete!” the maiden on her right gasped, horrified.

“I will not die here,” Arete replied, without apology.

The first youth shifted his position on the ground and leaned toward her. “You haven’t fought a day in your short fourteen years. What makes you so sure you can survive here?”

Arete was back on her feet, her determined expression cast in haunting shadows by the fire illuminating her face from beneath her chin. I stared at her, transfixed by her movements and emotions; I had spent so long in the darkness of my solitude that I had forgotten the power an expression could contain. I dropped forward from my crouch onto my knees, eager to hear what this maiden would say to the youth, who had given up hope, but I had forgotten how close I was to the circle of light. My movement drew the maiden’s eyes. Her eyes widened with unmistakable terror, and she screamed.

I shrank at the startling sound, my forearms scraping the ground as I scrambled in the dirt toward the safety of darkness. A youth ignited a torch and leapt after me, followed by nearly a dozen others. “Monster!” He roared. He raised the torch above his head and arched it toward me in his right hand. I raised my hands to shield my face from the attack, my hoof kicking out at him. I caught him in the chest, and his torch jerked upward, the flame barely missing my skin. The youth gasped, his breath shallow in his chest, and fell onto his back.

His companions ran to him, and I sat up. “Nicander?” The first youth called, shaking the one on his back. There was no response. I stood and could see the youth, whose chest I had kicked, lying with his eyes raised to the black ceiling’s abyss, his mouth still open in his final gasp for breath. The youth who knelt over him turned to meet my gaze. “You killed him.” I had, though unintentionally, done just that. “You killed him!”

I was not prepared for his anger or his strength when he charged me. His shoulder sank into my abdomen, his arm wrapped around me in a crushing embrace, and he knocked me off my feet. The air was driven from my lungs when he landed on top of me. My great mouth opened seeking breath, but the youth struck my snout with his closed fist, rattling my teeth. He hit me again, and my eyes began to water. He hit me again, summoning a strange buzzing to my ears, and my lungs begged for the air that his weight on my chest would not allow. He raised his arm to hit me again, but I kicked my legs, using the movement to twist my body to the side and fling him off of me. He sprawled in the dirt, spitting, and I hurried to my knees. Another body rammed into my shoulder, knocking me off balance, but I did not let them climb on top of me again. I twisted my head to them, intending to shove them away, but my short-left horn caught the determined maiden in the cheek, and she screamed as it tore the skin of her cheek.

“Arete!” The other maidens and the youth cried. My eyes widened at the sight of the blood streaming down her face. The youth stood to charge me once more. I looked from him to the bleeding maiden, then to the youth I had killed, and fled. Darkness quickly absorbed me, and though youths and maidens followed me with the light of their torches, they were not fast enough, nor did they know the Labyrinth well enough to catch me.

I mourned with them that day, but kept my distance, determined to use my knowledge of the Labyrinth, never to meet the humans again. I had killed a youth. I had killed small animals to feed myself, but in the depths of my core, even at my juvenile age, I knew this was different. I had killed another being like myself who walked the passageways of the Labyrinth, and an ache in my chest screamed the wrongness of it. When they moved, I moved.

At first, they prowled the Labyrinth with new fear in their voices, using their sleeping patterns to track the passing days. Then, they grew louder, angry, desperate and hungry, becoming noisier and noisier, until suddenly I was awakened from their twenty-seventh sleep by the sounds of screaming. I sat up, my body thrumming with the rushed beat of my heart and an alarming chill in my blood. The maiden cried for help again, her scream tickling the sensitive hairs around my ears. I backed into a wall, not daring to rush to her aid and risk being attacked for a third time. My chest rose and fell with rapid panting as I waited for one of her human companions to aid her, but the maiden received no such relief as she loosed one final scream of terror. Then, stillness descends in the Labyrinth, raising bumps upon my arms. Had death arrived to claim the maiden? Or had the goddess Mania, I heard the humans speak of, claimed her mind?

It took forty-one sleeps for the humans to fall quiet, for the eerie stillness of the Labyrinth to return to what it was before they had come, and for me to realize the humans had turned on one another.