Slithering Maze 28: The Slithering Maze

Medilus 1, 1278: Hidden chamber behind the Ancient Order catacombs. Sometimes translations are never that straightforward…

Author’s Note: Kingdom of the Slithering Maze is a serialized fiction story that is a part of a collection called the Windtracer Tales. It follows the adventures of Tela Kioni and her crew dealing with expeditions in and around the world of Awldor. There they hunt down lost, and possibly lethal, relics of the Ancient Order, a near-mythical kingdom lost to the centuries old cataclysm, the Great Collapse.

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Previously: Armored with a desperate idea, Tela and her crew set out on a clever, if desperate, plan. With a decoy campfire to distract the guards, they slip inside the Herd Tolvana campsite and the ancient outpost ruins. Two doors later, they find what they were hoping to—Ancient Order catacombs and a hidden entrance to the ancient viprin complex.

But the Herd Tovlana camp and the hidden entrance is only the start of their worries, as things take a decided unexpected turn…

Medilus 1, 1278: Hidden chamber behind the Ancient Order catacombs. Sometimes translations are never that straightforward…

It’s one thing to stare a thousand-year-old death trap in the face. But it’s another to hear its heartbeat, then find out it’s lying.

Dust whispered beneath our boots—every step a calculated effort—as we eased along the wall. A narrow gap ran between the pressure-plate tiles and the wall beside the door; we clung to it like mud on boots.

Blue-glazed tiles layered almost every surface—floor, walls, and ceiling. The latter two formed a majestic landscape in mosaic, like an artist’s half-remembered morning daydream. I couldn’t come close to saying that about the former.

“It’s like a demented chessboard,” I grumbled, kneeling down by the floor tiles. “Every tile has a different Sunfate Sister face.”

Kiyosi knelt beside me. At the door, Skarri and Mikasi eased along the wall in the other direction. Atha wisely stayed in the doorway—pressure-plate traps and two-hundred-kilogram minotaurs don’t mix.

“There has to be a way through,” Kiyosi murmured. Gently, he brushed his fingers over the nearest tile. The blue glaze was almost the same shade as his skin. “Only the penitent and reflective will pass,” he mused, echoing the engraving at the foot of the door.

I put a hand on my shoulder bag for comfort, raising my Sun Orb higher to see better. Yellow-gold light glimmered off the tiles like a wave of sunrise.

“Already found ‘penitent’,” I snorted. “That’s ‘duck or get stabbed.’ Reflective has to come from ancient viprin beliefs. Remember that reflection pool inside the Mandami Hills hidden temple?”

Stone rattled stone. Mikasi yelped as Skarri hissed. I snapped to my feet and turned left, hand on my whip. On the other side of the door, Skarri had Mikasi in a close, protective hug against the wall. Wide-eyed, the inventor tapped a hand-length dart that had speared his vest, but thankfully missed him as he hugged her back. A finger’s width away, the nearest floor tile grated into place.

Atha nodded sagely. “In my expert opinion, room say ‘go away’.”

I shot him a flat look; he simply smiled.

“Tela, wait. You’re right.” Kiyosi touched the nearest floor tile. “East to west. This was meant for the Sunfate faithful.”

I narrowed my eyes at the floor, nodding. A zigzag pattern trailed out over the tiles, marking the path of the sun from sunrise to sunset—the way of the Sunfate Sisters. Then my vision blurred, as ghostly silver threads of uninvited mind magic snaked over the tiles. Pressure throbbed behind my eyes. I rubbed my temples, willing the mind magic to leave me alone.

“Walk the sun’s path,” I told the others. “Sunbound to Storm-shed to Hungered Sister. It zigzags…” I glanced at Skarri, more pieces snapping into place “…like a viprin slithering along.”

“What about the ‘reflective’ warning?” Mikasi asked nervously.

I shrugged, stepping onto the first tile. “Think about your life choices? No idea. I’ll go first. Wait there.”

“Tela…” Kiyosi said sharply.

I scowled at him. “Wait. There. Mikasi and I are the lightest—and with his tool vest, I’m probably lighter than him.”

Kiyosi snapped his mouth shut, eyes hard with concern.

Each glazed tile was wide enough for heavy armor—even Atha’s muscular shoulders—but not by much.

I stepped onto the first tile and ducked. Nothing happened. No telltale dust or deadly wall darts. Sweat traced a line down my cheek. Slowly, I stood and continued along the pattern. Then I reached the third tile.

My boot touched the stone, and the room hissed. Tiles rattled, and dust blossomed along the walls—every Sunfate Sister wall-carving spat darts into the air. I froze, swallowing a curse.

Large darts stabbed everywhere except right where I stood, and every third tile in the path ahead. I slowly blinked, letting out a long breath. Dust blurred the air, a dry shroud thick enough I could taste the history. Somewhere behind me, I heard gasps. Stone met stone with a gritty kiss under my feet.

“I’m fine,” I breathed. “Darts went around me.”

Then I looked down.

The tiles—and pattern—had changed.

Every stone tile other than the three I’d walked over had flipped in place while I was distracted by the darts. I bit my lower lip, scrubbing the sweat off my face with a hand.

“Aile Shavat!”

“They flipped,” Mikasi said from near the door. “When you stepped on the third tile, all the others turned, showing different faces.”

I glanced back to see Mikasi squatting down at the edge of the tiles, eyes narrowed in thought. Skarri hovered next to him, practically quivering to hug him to safety again. I nodded, lifting my glowing Sun Orb over my head.

“That’s the ‘reflective’ part.” A wry grin tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Clever. On the third tile, don’t advance—just stand still and… reflect.”

Atha grunted from the door behind me.

“Hyu call this studying history?” he asked, astounded.

“Ever hear of ‘field study’?” I quipped dryly, staring intensely at the surrounding tiles.

“More like, ‘oh look, this is how I get stabbed today’,” he groused.

“Not helping,” Kiyosi murmured.

“Healer? I am fountain of pure wisdom,” Atha retorted.

I glanced around, then saw Kiyosi standing at the edge of the tiles, tail lashing nervously. He gave me a clear-eyed nod. I nodded back, then squatted down to study the floor tiles. Not only had the order changed, but the faces were blurry.

“Right. Now I can’t tell the faces apart.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Fine. Everything so far has a meaning related to Sunfate shamanistic beliefs,” I murmured. “So what would this mean?”

I stared at my Sun Orb, then glanced at the tiles I’d walked over. “It’s all aspects of the sun.”

I stood and raised my Sun Orb over my head. The tiles at my feet remained blurry, as I realized the pattern I needed was on the ceiling. I shook my head slightly.

“The sun passing over the horizon. Is it that easy?”

Then the ground trembled. Tiles shivered, and darts spat again out of the walls. I froze, holding my breath, then patted my head, chest, and stomach for fun new holes to bleed through. There weren’t any.

“No, not easy. But that’s it.” I looked over the floor and ceiling again, then turned toward the others, gesturing to the tiles. “It’s all about the sun passing through the sky, marking time. So we’ll need to do this together. I step, the next person steps, and so on. Do what I did. At the third tile, look up or down for the next three safe tiles. Ready?”

I stepped onto the first tile of the next set, while Kiyosi started on the ones I’d left behind. It was a slow stroll with death, but he let us go with a smile and a promise to catch up.

On the other side of the room was a bare, plain corridor. It was dusty, wonderfully boring, and ancient. A single archway stood barely ten Ancient Order meters away, with a soothing blue glow seeping out from whatever was beyond.

Kiyosi patted me on the shoulder with a smile, then escorted Mikasi and Skarri to the archway. Atha remained at the doorway, facing the tiled room we’d just left. The minotaur looked pensive, holding his tiny lantern up over his head. I reached over and touched his furry forearm.

“What?”

Atha glanced at me, then back at the room. There wasn’t any hint of dry commentary in his expression.

“Tela.” The way he filled my name with worry shot ice along my spine. He gestured to the tiled room we’d survived. “This… not right. That room eats stupid thieves. Smart ones getz through too easily.” The minotaur shook his head, as if he didn’t want to say his next few words.

He didn’t need to.

I stood beside him, looking back the way we’d walked. Finally, I broke the silence first.

“It wasn’t meant to stop anyone from getting in,” I said, feeling a cold uncertainty settle into my bones. “This was meant to keep something from getting out…”

Atha sighed heavily, meeting my eyes.

“Maybe.”

“Tela!” Kiyosi barked from the archway. “You’d better see this.”

I trotted down the hall with Atha close behind me. Once I got to the others, Kiyosi simply gestured at the arch, then at what lay beyond.

The stone archway was a ‘wave’ design, like the kind Azure and I had found before. Beyond it was a round platform, like the top of a tower, with what looked like a lime-encrusted railing. The entire space had to be at least five Ancient Order meters across, or more. I stepped through the arch to see a massive underground chamber, and nearly swallowed my tongue.

A gentle blue light was everywhere. It filled the air with a quiet, glowing certainty that paired well with the soft rush of water below—and the damp mineral chill rising off it. The platform was a rough, mottled brick, shot through with marble veins. It was carved with just enough roughness to keep a person from slipping off damp stone. I eased my Sun Orb into my shoulder bag, walking to the railing.

On either side of the round landing, there were stairs heading down a modest incline. They met at the top of an impossibly ancient stone dam. It connected our side of the underground chasm to the other. A wide underground river—the source of the soft blue glow—churned right down the middle and through gaps in the dam.

My best guess put the dam at one hundred Ancient Order meters across, maybe more. The dam also looked five times taller than it was wide. It almost made my head hurt to imagine.

Mikasi joined me, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Tela! Those… those are waterwheels!” he exclaimed, pointing at building-sized waterwheels in the stone dam. “Five? No, six. I’ve never seen any so large. They’re like giant water pumps.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Neither have I. That river? It’s glowing like a Deepland Hollow pool.” I gestured to a soft carpet of moss vines along the ceiling. Blue-glowing firefly motes danced in and out of the fronds. “It’s like one enormous Hollow.”

The others joined us at the railing.

Skarri stared wide-eyed, as if having a religious experience.

“Those stonemasons who were working with my people—how did they do this without the Ancient Order knowing about it?” Her words were hushed and underscored with a soft hiss. “Someone would have known.”

I glanced at the lime-coated railing under my hands. Thoughts collided with memories like ingredients in a stew. Slowly, I narrowed my eyes, remembering Rathalla Vasam’s journal, and a paper I wrote about my near-fatal expedition last year to the Great Chasm.

“Not if it was already here,” I murmured.

Even though my words were low and thoughtful, it got everyone’s attention. I glanced around at them, then gestured out at the ancient dam.

“It’s a groundwater lift, but Skarri’s people didn’t build it.” I cast a meaningful look at Mikasi and Kiyosi before I continued. “Last year, Ki, Mikasi, and I were dealing with a problem in the Great Chasm. We found a ruin. A city carved out of a massive cavern ceiling. It had similar architecture for a lost underground culture that traded with the Ancient Order.” I focused on the glowing river. “Skarri? Your people found this. Kept it hidden from the Ancient Order when the armies marched through, folding it into what the shamans were doing down here. I’m sure of it.”

Skarri looked between me and the underground river.

“That’s the Bromcour River, isn’t it?” Her voice was small, like a child who’d just discovered a butterfly for the first time.

“Yes,” I replied quietly. “I’m pretty sure it used to be before it was diverted down here.”

Mikasi, who leaned on the railing so far I thought he’d fall, squinted at something on the far side of the dam.

“Another arch? No, a door.” He pointed.

I looked hard at where he indicated. It was a small, heavy door, bound in metal. Given the way the river light glimmered off it, it seemed lime-crusted as well. I jabbed a finger toward the far door.

“So that…”

The ground interrupted me with another quake. Rocks cracked, and the river rippled while moss vines shuddered overhead. I glanced around in alarm as I heard Kiyosi’s gasp.

“By the Mending Brother…” he breathed, staring across the dam.

I turned in time to watch the stones, even the small door, shudder. Then, right before my eyes, I watched it move. Not just a brick, but the whole section of stonework. Stones and door rose, then slid sideways out of sight. Another door—similar, but not quite—slid into view and stopped.

“It… moved?” Atha asked warily.

“No,” I sighed. “It slithered. That’s what the movable rooms on the model meant, and why people haven’t gotten in there. The old temple? That maze? It slithers, shifting doors around.”

As the ground settled, there was an eerie silence. In that moment, a dim echo brushed our ears over the gentle rush of the underground river.

Hoofbeats—slow, methodical, even wary.

“Centaurs,” Atha growled, jaw tight. “They’re in the catacombs. What do we do?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. It was a great question. I just wish I had an answer.

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Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

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