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WE ENTERED THE LABYRINTH greeted by a foul stench in the air. Rot and decay heavy and a low smog cloud circling the floor. Dimly lit sconces clung to stone-brick walls. We stood in a vast yet narrow corridor, the mouth of the labyrinth, and waited for a voice to set us on our way.
‘We’ve come as you asked, Sorcerer,’ Tarasque bellowed. Her booming voice echoed through the hall. ‘Explain your final trial so we can get on with it.’
The labyrinth was silent. No apparition of the Grand Sorcerer appeared, and no voice beckoned to us from beyond. We were alone, just the three of us. We circled the entrance, looking at one another and weighed our options if we decided to turn tail and return to the beach. The Sorcerer was either sending us to our early graves or if he was merely playing more cruel tricks on us.
We stepped out of the entrance and followed the narrow corridor to its end, nothing except a wide empty space greeted us. Silent and still, with only the flickering wicks for company.
Tarasque marched into the centre of the auditorium, her fingertips poised on the hilt of her greatsword, ‘If you do not explain yourself, I shall burn this labyrinth to the ground,’ she bellowed, her voice echoed throughout the chamber.
A sinister laughter erupted from the shadows overhead, but still no apparition appeared, instead that voice we’d been waiting for answered. “Welcome to the Labyrinth of Feyciaria,’ it said. The unmistaken voice of Ser Raexius. ‘Three adventurers have entered, but only one of you will leave.’ His words were followed by more laughter.
This is nothing but a game to him, and we are his pawns.
‘State your game, we tire of your nonsense,’ Tarasque roared up to the heavens.
A wispy illusion of the Grand Sorcerer appeared, a smirk appeared on his lips. ‘This is a fight to the death amongst friends. Between the three of you. Make it to the end of my labyrinth and you’ll be granted a single wish.’
I saw the fire genasi grit her teeth as she removed the blade from her back. Her fiery tresses ignited. But her anger was misplaced, with no physical body, there was no way to harm the sorcerer.
Tarasque turned back to face Mitztail and I, ‘We’re leaving,’ she said abruptly. She turned her back on the apparition and marched down the corridor we came.
As we approached the gate, the doors slammed shut before us, and the echoed laughter of the Sorcerer rang through my ears. A chill spider climbed down my spine, when I glanced over my shoulder I noticed a horde of fiends emerging from the floor. A crimson smog-like aura circled the skeletons, much like we’d seen in the first gate. Everything we’d seen up in those trials were the making of the Sorcerer. I couldn’t help but wonder if anything we’d witnessed had been real.
‘Not these fiends again,’ Mitztail hissed.
Tarasque didn’t reply, she stormed ahead, her blade cutting through the horde like they were butter. The metal cracked their skulls, leaving the skeletons to wither into nothing more than dust. ‘We need to move quickly,’ she called out to us. ‘I fear that our troubles will only worsen the more time we spend in these halls.’
Mitztail folded his paws across his tiny frame, ‘It seems he will do anything to see his game through to completion. My only hope is we can make it to the end before we see that side.’
I’d remained silent since we entered the last gate, our final trial. My mind trained on the idea that the three of us would end up with a similar fate to Barcius, or one much worse. Ser Raexius had made it clear only one of us could leave, and indicated we’d need to fight to the death between ourselves. He’d neglected to mention there would be fiends standing in our way, but given our previous trials, I suppose I should’ve expected it.
“Before we move forward, let us make a vow between us three,’ I said. My companions looked a little perplexed by my words, so I added. ‘Let us work together towards the end goal. We’ll force our way through if necessary.’ I thrusted my hand in between us.
Mitztail purred, adding his own without a second hesitation, ‘Together, we stand.’
Tarasque scoffed, but placed her hand on top of the pile, ‘Together, we shall prevail over this final challenge. Raexius, we are coming for you.’
With our vow sealed, we moved back to the main hall, where we’d encountered the apparition moments ago, only this time the chamber was no longer still. Thankfully no more skeletons greeted us, but in their place stood crimson hooded figures.
‘The Imprisoned ones followers,’ I muttered as a gasp escaped my lips. ‘But their master is no more, how could they be in this place?’
Mitztail removed his lute from his back, his paws grazing the strings. ‘Let us deal with them swiftly,’ he said, a slight smile on his lips.
I hoped he wasn’t considering presenting himself as their God again. But as I looked from companion to the cultists I noticed something different about their words. They were still chanting about their God, the Imprisoned One, but not for his great return.
One of the cultists rushed up to me, grabbing me by the shoulders and laughing maniacally. ‘Have you not heard?’ they asked. Crimson eyes glared at me. ‘He has returned. Our Lord, our Saviour, whole once more.’ They released their grip, shoving me backwards, just as Tarasque’s blade made purchase with their throat. A thin slice cut cleanly through flesh, their body collapsed to the floor like a marionette, yet the form lacked stains of crimson.
‘Puppets,’ the fire genasi said, ‘Made to look like those we’ve seen before but are nothing but wooden replicas.’ She kicked the body to one side, the hood swept back from its face revealing a doll crudely carved from cheap wood. ‘Calcifer, come forth.’
Tarasque snapped her fingers, the fiery form of her familiar towered before me. He enveloped the marionettes into his embrace, flames licking at their crimson cloaks, tearing cloth from flesh, and their wooden bodies into nothing more than ash. The sentinel disappeared once his work was completed, leaving the fire genasi more limp than she’d been before his arrival.
I hurried to her side, fingertips reaching towards her, ‘Are you okay?’ I asked.
Tarasque shrugged me off, regaining her stance and holstered her blade. ‘I’m fine, let’s keep moving forward. There’s no telling what tricks lie in this place.’ She said before hurrying ahead towards a doorway to the north.
Footsteps approached me, and as I looked down Mitztail was standing beside me. ‘I understand mewr frustrations but know she’s tougher than she looks,’ he purred.
My eyes followed our leader, ‘That may be so, but she can’t do everything alone.’
‘Then let’s do our best to help her.’
I gave the tabaxi a single nod to confirm and hurried after Tarasque. Another dimly lit corridor greeted us, the sound of dripping wax on the stone ground echoed eerily. The fire genasi was only a short distance ahead of us, but her tresses were no longer aflame.
Not even an ember remained. Something about our comrade felt off. Both her clothing and armour blackened with soot. I tried to step towards her but Mitztail put his paw out to prevent me.
‘I’m not picking up her scent,’ he said, his words a warning. ‘More trickery no doubt.’
The false Tarasque slowly turned around, her ashen face grimaced at us. The blade resting in her hand was a pale imitation of our comrade’s beloved greatsword. Her grey eyes were void of emotion, and when I looked at her, it felt like she was looking through me. But there was a feral hunger in them, and I’d no doubt she’d do anything for us to be the prey.
‘If it is just an illusion as you say, let us cut the fiend down,’ I said, wielding my crook in my right and slammed my left on the adjacent wall. Vines erupted through the tiny cracks in the stone and hurled themselves at the shadow creature. They fastened around her wrists rooting her in place.
Vines continued to flow out from the stone, even when I took my hand away.
‘Saria, stop it,’ Mitztail squeaked, crawling up my back and onto my shoulder. ‘If they keep growing we’ll be the ones stuck.’
I screwed up my face, trying to pull the energy I’d given to the land, but the earth refused to budge, ‘This isn’t my doing.’ I tried pleading with the land but my calls were left unheard. This was not my domain, I’d no power here. Only the Sorcerer himself did.
‘More of his tricks,’ I announced.
Mitztail strummed a little on his lute, his wispy purple magic swirled up and morphed into a hand. As his paws moved faster down the strings, the hand closed into a tight fist and slammed into the shadow fiend, sending it crashing into the back wall. The stones crumbled beneath her weight, revealing a secret room behind it. The shadow creature faded into nothing and standing in her place was a familiar face.
‘Tarasque!’ the tabaxi cried, leaping off my shoulder and bounding towards her.
But the fire genasi grabbed his face, holding him at an arm’s length, ‘Enough. Where did the two of you disappear to?’ she asked.
‘We’ve been here the whole time, it is you who disappeared,’ I countered. ‘What was that being anyway? Despite its poor resemblance to yourself, it is a wonder where it came from.’
Tarasque dropped the tabaxi, stroking him behind the ear. ‘As I came down this corridor I was struck down, and when I awoke I found myself in this chamber instead,’ she said.
Mitztail returned his lute to his back, ‘More trickery from the man himself, no doubt,’ he said.
‘What does he possibly hope to achieve by creating shadow fiends of us?’ I wondered aloud.
Tarasque’s face was grim, ‘The same thing he asked of us. A fight to the death.’
Not another word was spoken between us, and in the silence I knelt before the rumble, admiring the stonework. As I picked up a discarded stone, it crumbled between my fingers. All of this had been a cruel trick to get us to turn on one another.
‘We will press on, just stay close,’ the fire genasi warned.
Both the tabaxi and myself followed inches from her heels, round whining corridors and avoiding tight nooks. The emptiness of the halls unnerved me. We hadn’t been in this labyrinth for long and already we had encountered the undead and shadow fiends. My mind wandered to the possibility of what awaited us next, but I feared the intensity would only increase.
As we walked, a question arose in my mind, ‘Those Cultists, they were unlike the ones we’d faced before, yet they still mentioned their Lord had risen,’ I said aloud. ‘What if-’
‘Don’t entertain the thought,’ Tarasque cut me off, ‘Barcius is gone, let him be at peace.’
‘But-’
‘Saria, not another word,’ she said coldly. She couldn’t bear to cast me a glance. Instead Tarasque kept her distance from me as we continued down yet another whining corridor. The sconces here were caked in candle wax, the wicks almost spent. The only light we had for comfort was the glowing embers of our leaders' tresses.
I glanced at the walls, watching shadows dance on the stones. I swore I saw the faint resemblance to my companions and myself, but on a second glance they’d disappeared. My anxiety being in the labyrinth was beginning to show, even my mind was playing tricks on me.
We came to another sizable hall, the light no brighter than that of the corridor.
Tarasque held her blade across our path, holding both Mitztail and myself back.
‘A familiar scent,’ the tabaxi said. ‘Most curious.’
‘Something about this place seems off,’ Tarasque added, ‘Saria, is there anything you can do to aid us?’
I gave a single nod to confirm and knelt at her side. I placed my hands on the ground, smooth stone beneath my palms, cold to the touch. An uninviting presence made themselves known to me. A sinister whisper in my ear sounded all too familiar.
‘That can’t be right,’ I said aloud, my voice coming out more like a whisper.
‘Is something the matter?’ Tarasque asked, her hand was already poised on the hilt of her blade, eager to pierce any foe.
‘The voices, their tongues converse in the language of fey. But their words speak of grave tidings. Their friends were taken from them by some beast.’ I got back to my feet, gripping tighter to my crook. My comrades readied their own weapons.
Around us, fireflies began to emerge. Their twinkling lights brightened the space. My eyes attuned to my surroundings. My suspicions had been correct, fey creatures walked among us, but their faces were full of fear. Some huddled against their friends, others stood like statues, petrified to move an inch. But it was at the north end of the room I saw the foe that had immobilised them. Even I stood horrified at what I was witnessing.
Blackened fur, crimson red eyes, wicked sharp talons squeezing the life out of a winged creature. Another was crushed between his fangs, their blood dripped from the corner of his lips.
A creature I knew all too well, and someone we’d all presumed dead.
‘Barcius.’
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