Let's start at the very beginning... (click here for Chapter 1)

Chapter 12

written by Jackie Nicklas

            The labyrinth had been built somewhere around the beginning of time.  Its decaying walls bore witness to its age.  And yet, despite the crumbling rock and overgrowth, the stone walls maintained their majesty.  Though Robert was quite tired of all these surprises, he decided he would not complain this time.  Rising unsteadily to his feet, he began to venture forth by way of the portal closest to where they had been dropped.  Pati was about to follow him when she saw something that made her heart stop.  With widened eyes, she whispered in a panic, “Robert… Robert!!”

            “What?” Robert replied, looking about him. 

            With terror in her eyes, Pati whispered, “Did you see them?”

            “See what?” Robert asked, a bit annoyed.

            “Them!” Pati cried, pointing behind Robert. 

            “I don’t see anythi-“ Robert began.  But before he could finish his sentence, two giant purple creatures attacked him from behind.  One of the creatures, who vaguely resembled men, put his hand over Robert’s mouth to muffle his cries, while the other pinned his arms to his sides.  Pati had barely conceived what was going on before they carried him off with great speed. 

            Pati ran after them at once, however the abnormally tall men were traveling so quickly and making so many turns in the great labyrinth that she soon lost them.  When she realized that she could no longer see the creatures or make out the sound of their footsteps, Pati leaned against a wall to catch her breath.  It was only then that she realized her surroundings had changed.  The labyrinth walls were no longer made of stone but greenery.  They were essentially giant thick hedges.  And off in the distance, the hedges seemed to turn into a dense forest.  The ground had also changed from stone to dirt, with patches of moss and dead leaves here and there.  Pati sat down on a nearby log to figure out what she should do.

            As she sat there, growing rather cold, for night was falling, she heard a faint noise.  It was almost like a tiny cry.  Then she heard it again, a bit louder.  It seemed to be getting closer.  Finally, when it seemed to be right next to her, she identified the sound.  And sure enough, when she looked down at her feet she saw a cat.  It was a beautiful sleek black cat.  And it was making the most pitiful of mews.

            “Poor thing,” thought Pati, “It must be hungry.”  But having no food even for herself, Pati had nothing to offer the cat.  So instead she picked up the cat and set it in her lap.  Gently stroking its head, Pati began to talk to the cat.  (For remember that Pati could speak in the languages of all kinds of animals.)  She told the cat her name and briefly told from whence she had come.  Then she asked the cat its name.  The cat made no reply but shook its head vigorously, causing its collar to jangle.  Looking at the dangling nameplate, Pati read the inscription out loud.  “Pussyfoot.  Is that your name?”  The cat nodded its head and purred.  It was then that Pati realized the cat must be mute.  Her spirits sank slightly at this, for she had hoped the cat would be able to tell her something of the purple people and where she might find her brother.  But ever the optimist, she did not despair.  Instead, she told Pussyfoot of her adventures thus far.  When she got to the part about Robert’s capture, she asked if the purple people lived in the Labyrinth.  Pussyfoot purred in the affirmative.  Leaping off Pati’s lap, he padded away in great haste.  Pati immediately followed, keeping up very well with the light-footed Pussyfoot.  Before long, they were in the forest Pati had admired from a distance.  By now it was very dark, and all Pati could see was Pussyfoot’s swaying tail ahead of her and the dark figures of the trees around her. 

            Finally they stopped beside a large bush.  Pussyfoot let out a low purr and gestured toward the bush with his head.  Very carefully, Pati approached the bush, which was just shorter than her.  Beyond the bush and about twenty yards ahead, Pati could see a great bonfire gleaming in the dark forest.  All around it the beastly purple creatures were dancing and laughing, having the merriest of times.  Scouring the crowd, she eventually made out the figure of Robert, bound and sitting off a few feet from the others. 

            None of this alarmed Pati.  She reasoned that the purple people were having enough fun that she could easily untie Robert and quickly escape without them noticing.  She was about to execute this plan when she suddenly noticed the backdrop to this scene.  The bonfire was where the forest began to clear.  And not too far off a large mountain could be clearly seen.  But this was no ordinary mountain.  The short sporadic bursts of orange that protruded from the peak revealed its true nature.  It was a volcano. 

            Pati gasped.  Pussyfoot purred solemnly.  Just as she was beginning to recognize the gravity of the situation, Pati watched in horror as the purple people halted their dancing and carried Robert off above their heads in one manic swoop.  “Come on, Pussyfoot!” she cried, and the two of them pursued the purple people toward the valley below the volcano. 

            Suddenly there was a flash of light, and something large and heavy fell out of the sky, nearly crushing Pati.  Though no one was hurt, the impact was enough to send Pati, Pussyfoot, and the unidentified object into a rapid confused tumble down the sharp decline.  It was not until they reached the level ground of the valley and Pati was taking stock of her bumps and bruises that she realized what the fallen object had been.  It was a man.  And he was sitting beside her, looking very bewildered indeed.

            “Hello!” she said, rather shocked, “My name is Pati.  Who are you, and did you really just fall from the sky?”

            “Hello,” the man replied, shaking the dirt from his clothes, “My name is Mboto Lightfoot, and I have no idea what has happened to me.”  Then he spoke of an island which he governed and of a statue with a secret staircase hidden inside.  He told of a tiny ball of light which led him to a vast room with a mysterious pillar of red light.  He had been caught up inside the light and thrown at such great speed until he was dropped here.  But where “here” was, he knew not.

            “Yes, yes,” Pati said with a smile.  “That is precisely what happened to me.  Welcome to the Labyrinth.”

            “Labyrinth?” Mboto questioned, looking about him.  “Doesn’t look like much of a labyrinth to me.”

            “Well it did,” said Pati, “Off that way…”  She pointed vaguely in the direction of the forest.  Though she could not be sure which way it was as she was quite disoriented after having tumbled down that hill.  “Anyway,” she interjected, coming back to her senses, “That doesn’t matter now.  We have to save Robert!”  Without another word, she darted away in the direction of the now far-off purple people. 

            “Wait!  Who’s Robert?!” Mboto called after her. 

            Pati merely answered over her shoulder, “Hurry!”

            And Mboto followed her, for since she was the only person he had met so far in this strange world, it seemed he had no other choice.  Besides, she was exceedingly beautiful, even in the dark.  So he followed.  And unknown to him then, Pussyfoot padded along softly at his heels. 

chapter 11

Mboto Lightfoot
- by Aaron Schiffer

Mboto ran to the next large Juju fruit tree and hid. He crouched and listened attentively to things like the air, and the earth, and other more abstract concepts. Overhead a huge, gangly, sloppy golden eagle soared, raising a ruckus in the forest canopy. Mboto ignored it.

During the course of last night, Mboto had been shaken from a dark dream, and well before sunrise, he had fled the palace on foot, taking only a small sachel, containing a sacred jewel, and his grandfather's map of the island.

The hunter prince rarely set foor in the forests west of the volcano. There roamed, according to popular theory, the degenerate forms of the Monkey-maulers, of the ancient breeds, that the ancestors had tamed and made into docile slaves. A more popular theory was that the forest was ruled by rabid banshee-ants. Mboto stepped with caution, not causing the least disturbance, not upsetting the smallest vestige of leaf nor twig of the forest floor.

He passed through cold and shady wooded valleys beyond the knowledge of his village. Chill winds carrying despairing air subsided only several hours later, as he came to the untrodden southern shore, safe, unscathed, and generally bored and disappointed. Here he was. There wasn't anything remotely dangerous or exciting about that whole trip; nothing of valor or value or anything. The waves just lapped at his disgusted feet playfully, and one of the feet kicked them, and they retreated as a group into the sea. Mboto felt even more rotten, and cursed the sea for being such a pansy.

The sun climbed steadily behind him, as Mboto surveyed the sandbars and the waters. Heaving a sigh, he watched leaves flutter and crabs scuttle, and started to wonder whether that entire journey had been born out of an over-tired mind. It was a burden, running a kingdom, managing satraps and governers, all that. No doubt he would be missed, and sacrifices would be made to the fealty-goddess Shivah, of hares and bulls, and prayers would be ordered for his safe return. Except there was nothing dangerous about his situation. He was just sitting with wet, sandy feet, on some grass, watching the waves erase footprints further down the beach.

But at this he jumped up with a start, for he had not trodden on the beach beyond. These prints emerged from the sea, and yes, beyond was a hastily-buried fire, along with rudimentary bedding, where some manner of man or beast had chosen to nest after reaching land. He took his bow in hand, and followed the tracks until they entered a lush portion of forest. He peered through the murk and noise of the rising jungle morning racket, and followed the set of tracks. What sort of tracks were these, these hoofprints, roughly the size of his own foot? What beast threatened his kingdom, his people? His irritation grew to a sort of silent rage.

The forest grew thinner as he approached the lands that he knew to contain a volcano. The monster was not far ahead, now. Prince Mboto Lightfoot ran onward, eyes seething. A worry struck him, and just as he realized that he was in fact fearing the worst, his worst fears were realized... abrubtly he came to a full stop, outside of the ancient totem to the god of dismay, Hubris. Its entrance had been locked, sealed in ages past. Now, however, the door seemed to have been cast aside, in a way that only a chosen warrior, described in prophecy, would be able to do. Prince Mboto's rage was laid aside, and he knew that his people must be told.

As it is recorded by the scribes of the Menti, in the twelfth year of the reign of Prince Mboto Lightfoot, son of Mbatti, son of Jajato, son of Mboto Silvertooth:

And Prince Mboto returned to the peoples after their prayers, and, hurrying to the street, proclaimed: "The days of our fathers are ended! The days of the Exorcism of the Great Dismay have come! As it hast been revealed to me by mine dream, and as mine eyes have seen, there hast come a warrior from the sea! He is surely a beast of immensity, and he hast cast aside the old totem; surely he will enter the underworld and free us all! Hear me! I am your reigning king and judge! You know my son B'tosso to be a just ruler, a fair dealer, a strong warrior, a steady commander, and kindhearted and wise father to you. He will now be your king. I myself will go and offer the sacrifice of fealty on the Mount of Fire, and seek to serve in the courts of the Warrior of the Sea. Huzzah! Huzzah!"

So did it happen that the prince, after offering fealty to his gods, descended into the twisted passages of the volcano to seek out the Warrior of the Sea.

Chapter 10

written by Jackie Nicklas

            Robert and Pati plunged toward the center of the island.  As far as they could tell, the terrain seemed rather tame and unexciting.  However, upon reaching what seemed to be the very heart of the island, they found themselves in a large clearing with a crumbling stone statue in the center.  The statue appeared to be a pagan god once worshipped by a people that had since abandoned it, and even after closer inspection of the idol, Robert, in all his great knowledge, was not able to determine the name of it or even what kind of people may have lived there.  Puzzled, he leaned against the statue to rest.  Immediately, a door swung open on the side of it, and with an exchange of glances as only adventurers can muster, he and Pati descended the spiral staircase that had been revealed.

            The bottom of the staircase was hidden in the depths of a cave.  Moving slowly downward, it grew more difficult to see each step.  It was not very long before they found themselves in total darkness except for a small glint of light from above.  As they descended in the pitch darkness, they noticed a tiny light, much like a floating piece of dust.  It descended slowly with them for what seemed like flights of stairs.  Then at the same time, without saying a single word to each other, they both reached out to embrace the mystical glint.  Their hands came together with the light in between their grasp.  Suddenly the area was bright with entrancing splendor.  Both were standing on the floor of an immense chamber still holding hands as if hanging on to their life line.  Gazing around, they saw a patch of red in a room without boundaries.  The red strip stretched up endlessly into an unreachable ceiling.

                Needless to say, Robert and Pati were somewhat disoriented.  Slowly releasing each other’s hand, the two turned cautiously around to view their situation from all sides.  They found nothing but gray vastness in every direction, except for the red patch, which they could now see was actually a pillar of light projecting from the floor several yards ahead of them.  Pati glanced down at her open hand.  To her surprise, the little ball of light sprang up from it and danced rapidly before her eyes before shooting off in the direction of the red light.  Spellbound, she followed the light to where it hovered close by the hazy red pillar. 

By this time, Robert was again growing nervous.  Being a warrior, he feared nothing that he could understand.  But he had a hard time trusting this little ball of light, considering he had no idea what it was, where it had come from, or how it had brought them there.  He let out a distressed “Pati!”  Immediately, the ball of light darted over to Robert, flying wildly around his face.  It seemed to be yelling at him.  However, before Robert could respond in a foolish manner, the spell had worked on him as well, and he soon found himself gliding dreamily toward Pati and the pillar of light.

While entranced by the small ball of light, Robert and Pati approached the pillar.  Pati was the first to step into the hazy red light.  It instantly engulfed her and she shot straight up, her eyes still on the ball of light above her now.  Robert also stepped into the red pillar also still looking up toward the ball of light.  He went vertical as well and finally caught up with Pati.  He glanced over at her.  Her eyes were glazed over, looking almost as if they were giving off a hint of purple coloring as she kept focused on the ball of light.  Little did Robert know in his own entranced state that his eyes had also glazed over and were almost yellow.  His head jerked back and looked upwards to the wildly moving ball of light ahead of them.  Pati did not acknowledge Robert's presence next to her, nor did he acknowledge hers after that initial glance.  Suddenly there was a great crash and the red pillar of light began to fade.  Robert and Pati were being shaken and bumped around, though no matter how close they came to the outermost edges of the red beam, they never were pushed out of it.  It seemed to protect them in this sense.  As the red light continued to fade, the small ball of light became brighter and brighter.

Both Robert and Pati shielded their eyes as much as they could with out letting it out of their sight.  All at once the red light surrounding them disappeared.  Robert and Pati fell to the ground, their eyes burning from being caught up inside it.  Pati first slowly began to open her eyes and in front of her face was the small ball of light, floating calmly in front of her.  As she looked around her and took in her surroundings, she saw Robert and called out his name.  At first he did not respond, but eventually regained his composure and saw her.  They stared at each other and then glanced over at the small ball of light, which seemed to be pleading they follow.  Once again, they each slowly turned around looking at where they had somehow been transported.  There were paths every which way.  And there were walls separating the paths.  Such high walls.  Robert looked back at Pati, his eyes wide, "What the?  How is it...possible?"  "Robert," Pati said, "It's a labyrinth.  We've somehow been dropped in the middle of a labyrinth."  Robert said nothing.  "So, where do you think we should start?", Pati said, with a sense of excitement in her voice as she thought of the adventure that lay before them.  

chapter 9

Foxwood the Prequel
- by Aaron and Thomas Schiffer

an excerpt from the olden books that the olden people wrote (thomas and i)

Foxwood is a young squire to the White Warrior, in this folk tale. He is earning his keep, many leagues to the east of and seventeen years prior to the purging of dragons of Wesailles Harbor.

"Well DONE, Foxwood! Thou hast slain the Beast of East Martin's Dale, that contemptible contrivance of the foul mind of the dark Lord of the Craven Hills. And with but one arrow thou hast slain him, verily mine eyes have seen it. All honors shall be awarded thee, Foxwood, noblest of mine servants. But come! Let us ride posthaste, for mine adversary follows close behind!"

And so the Great White Warrior, accompanied by his page Foxwood, pursued the very winds eastward, crossing the empty tundra of the Crucierras Continent. These southern wastes were perilous--

"Indeed, Foxwood, these wastes are perilous, yea, even unto death do we ride, if we do not heed the subtle hints that swiftly ride the air, nay, even unto peril and despair do we ride, if we are caught un-awares by such as a Dragon or a Were-hare. For no man can stand against such might, without the valor or courage of the mighty ancient kings. Come, ride swiftly, do not tarry!"

--And Foxwood quickened his pace a little, anxiously scanning the landscape for signs of trouble; a fleeting shadow, a change in the look of the small and sturdy trees of the tundra, which could in reality have just as easily been Trolls or something like them, swift and bloodthirsty.

For hours, Foxwood followed his master, on his trusty horse Champion, rolling his insides in misery and fright, and said at last,

"What is that over yonder in the Northern Sky?"

"It is but a cloud, do not fear, there are many"

"It went behind thither cloud! Dost thou not seest it?"

"Nay, mine eyes are sharp beyond the reckoning of mortal men, yet mine eyes catch no glimpse of, what was it you saw?"

"I know not what, but stay alert i pray thee, my master."

And slowly they travelled, watching the skies for that danger, and soon they came to the Brook of Chereth, where once great prophets had taken refuge. The waters babbled, and they drank deeply, soon forgetting their troubles. But a faint rustling in the bushes put the Great White Warrior on keen alert--

"Verily, mine ears are on keen alert, for a rustling of the bushes yonder do mine ears hear! Stand guard, Foxwood, for this could be an ambush!"

And as he predicted, they were ambushed, on all sides, outnumbered, thirty to one by the Moblins of the Company of the Guard of the Dark Lord of the Craven Hills. Foxwood cried out,

"Terrible is their bite! Worse still is their bark! And woe is me, for my pack has spilt the Map, and it is being trampled by the Moblins! O White Warrior, swift and keen, do you know how we shall overcome this great peril?"

"I do not, good sir Foxwood, for their armor is of an alloy not easily pierced, and they are accoutered in the rainments of the Gryffonlord, whose might is still mightier than thine imaginings! Gardyloo, good sir Foxwood, thine mail hast been snippeted at!"

And truly the warriors did not see their escape, which lay to the west across the puttering creek, but soon Foxwood did lift his mighty sword, and he did slay nine or ten of them, with strokes and swings containing rage and power untold. This surprised the Great White Warrior, and said he:

"Aye! For thou art possessor of arts unimaginable, both skill of sword outmatching ten of theirs, and burliness of arm able to cleave even the hide of nine, nay, even unto ten of our dark foe! Verily, Aye! For one of the foe behind me nearly hast taken a snippet off my ear! Die foul demon!"

And so they fought, and in his rage, Foxwood stumbled upon the paragraph a few lines ago, and so did he look to his right, and cried out,

"The west is to my left!" So to the left they went, escaping the confused mob of Moblins, who amidst the bloody bray had not noticed the absence of their victims. Across the quietly murmuring creek, sat the Great White Warrior, and Foxwood, who then took off further west, distancing themselves from their utter peril.

"Canst not thou run any faster, good Foxwood?" demanded the Great White Warrior, "We have not paced yet twenty leagues and already you are slowing your canter. Behold, thither sits the Golden Range of Mountains! Beyond holds the Sea of Agua-Mar! Suredly none have beheld it but the noblest of men! Come sir Foxwood, tarry not in these sullen wastes!"

"Have we not forgotten the Map, O highness? And what of the danger of the pursuant, thine adversary, the name of whom no mortal man is permitted to speak? And forsooth, it is plain unto mine eyes, we are travelling according to the setting of the sun, and not its rising! Permit me to wonder at this, and do not slay such a fool who may ask, why?"

But the Great White Warrior sternly cast his gaze eastward, over the sullen hills of the more dangerous parts.. "Foxwood, hast thou not caught word through the very airs, nay, even the earth itself shudders at the rising of every sun over the eastern lands. For mine adversary pursueth, and we ride to meet the cur, vengeance is my mission."

At length they came to the sharp, broken dales at the foot of the Golden Range of Mountains, where Foxwood took his hat from his head, and covering his eyes, he rested a moment in the shade of a Willow.

The eyes of the Great White Warrior darted to a subtle figure just to the west, saying "Aye, the darkness of ancient days, the bane of ancient kings, who other canst it be, who rideth and slinketh in shadow, among rock and root, prithee, forsooth, call out thine name!"

And at a sigh, the shape was gone..

Chapter 8

written by Jackie Nicklas

Robert and Pati were filled with surprising energy, considering they had both been dead only moments earlier.  Both of them had seen the mystical old man and watched him vanish into the hazy waters.  But neither dared speak of him to the other.  Perhaps part of them believed that it had been a dream.  But there was no escaping the reality of the pain of death they had experienced.  For the rest of her life, Pati would shudder to remember the feeling of her oh too mortal body being crushed like a tin can into itself.  Ribs snapped one by one like toothpicks until the only thing holding her together was the beast’s claw itself.  She did not know how or why she survived.  Even as they journeyed on slowly toward the elusive North, she found herself frequently putting her hands to her torso, just to be sure it was real. 

            As for Robert, he trudged on with all the silence of a mighty warrior.  From time to time, Pati would catch him surreptitiously examining the areas where his battle wounds should have been.  She would also catch the repeated look of wild-eyed wonder when all he found was the rough sandy color of his sun-stained skin.  Unbelieving, he would rub the skin with his fingers, searching for some vague sign of a wound, but it was no use.  There was not a scratch to be found on the two siblings. 

            The journey passed silently and in many ways uneventfully.  The explanation for this is of course that the enormous crash of the pirate ship to the bottom of the sea awakened all the magical beings that inhabited the enchanted waters and sent them scurrying about to wreak havoc upon those who disturbed their slumber.  But after that final battle and reuniting of brother and sister, the perturbed creatures began to be lulled back into their deep sleep by the warm tingling of the water.  It almost seemed as if the enchanted crystal that Robert had used to penetrate the impenetrable door had also sent a delicious sleepy current throughout the entire sea, beckoning all magical creatures to settle down into the sand and dream away a year or so.  In fact, if Robert and Pati had gotten the chance to speak with the old man (who Pati decided must be a wizard), they may have found that that was indeed what had happened.  But since the wizard had disappeared along with all the creatures to which he was master, such an opportunity was lost. 

            Months passed until finally the weary travelers began to catch sight of a pale yellow light somewhere far above them.  In a few days, the light began to take the shape of a lovely golden orb whose rays waved about and sparkled in the salty water.  And still a few days later, the shore was so close that they could nearly feel the sun warming their aching bones.  Finally, they surfaced.  It was a joy insurmountable to once again feel rushing air on their faces.  And setting foot on the sun-baked beach could not have been more glorious had the sand been made of gold. 

            It was only after the two companions had plopped down in the soft sand that they realized they were not where they intended to be at all.  Instead of the vast northern lands filled with bustling cities and soldiers everywhere, they found themselves on what appeared to be a deserted island somewhere in the middle of the Shamrock Sea.  There was not another piece of land in sight.  Neither Robert nor Pati had to re-test the waters to know that the spell had already been broken.  They would no longer be able to breathe underwater. 

            Utterly dismayed, Robert groaned at his miscalculation.  He had long yearned to be back in his homeland.  And now, so close to achieving his goal, he had no idea where he even was.  To say that Pati shared the same amount of frustration as her brother would be untrue.  Having stolen her way through countless cities and towns for years, she was tired of that dismal scenery and truly wished to return to her sweet Bickerish Woods.  However, with every memory of that serene place came the remembrance that it existed no more.  The soldiers had doubtless continued on with their plans to destroy the beautiful forest and replace it with one of the cities she so despised. 

            As always, Pati shrugged off the painful memories that had haunted her for so long and upon getting a good look around her, she found that the island was a lovely place, filled with greenery and exotic flowers.  As she gazed into the sun setting on the horizon, she felt that after a good night’s sleep on land, her now sulking brother would be more optimistic and consider this adventure as good a one as any, as she did.  So Pati set about gathering large banana leaves to use as blankets (for even one medium-sized tropical banana leaf would easily cover two or three average humans).  Then the two settled in and blissfully fell asleep to the sound of the waves lapping up on the shore.

            The next morning, Robert woke to a smell he never thought he would be able to appreciate: smoke.  After months of living in depths where fire cannot be, that smoke smelled just as good as the food that was cooking.  Sitting up groggily, his eyes took in the sight of Pati joyfully stoking a fire above which several fish were roasting.  She had apparently spent the morning gathering not only wood for the fire, but also tropical fruits of every shape, color, and size.  The meal spread before them was truly a spectacle and without a doubt mouth-watering. 

            After partaking in these island delicacies, Robert was indeed in fairer spirits and readily approved of Pati’s suggestion that they explore the island.  So off they set, plunging toward the heart of the small island, with no inkling as to what they may encounter there.