After much discussion about the significance of Mariala’s discovery, and what their next course of action should be, the Hand of Fortune decided this opportunity was too great to pass up. It was decided they would infiltrate the Kalosian holy site of Nah-henu before the scheduled meeting, in the hopes of spying out some of the important Vortex members as they arrived. Devrik pointed out that walking into the middle of a meeting of what had to be some pretty friggin’ powerful members of this mysterious organization was perhaps not the best plan, but when the others insisted it was simply a reconnaissance mission to gather intelligence, not an ambush, he shrugged and agreed.
After setting the now-abandoned cabin to rights, out of respect for the old hermit so ruthlessly murdered, the companions headed back to Dor Areson to prepare for the journey. Being a stop on the Pilgrim’s Road to Nah-henu, there was no trouble in finding vendors to sell them the accoutrement they needed – bits of yellow clothing for some, yellow armbands for others, and various amulets carried by the devout worshipper of Kalos. Vulk doffed all signs of his own religious affiliation, packing his vestments at the bottom of his saddle bags – and sending up a brief prayer to Kasira asking understanding and forgiveness.
Thankfully, the decentralized, even fractured, nature of the Cult of Kalos made impersonating pilgrims a relatively easy and safe gambit. Vulk, drawing on his comparative theology studies, schooled his companions on the broad outlines of Kalosian philosophy and worship, and more specifically on what he knew of the Order of the Ochre Hand, the monastic brotherhood who oversaw the shrine at Nah-henu and catered to the pilgrims who came to see, and sometimes enter, the holy place. Everyone, of course, was familiar with the ochre-glazed pottery, with it’s black interlocking geometric and serpentine motifs, that the monastery was famous for, if somewhat less knowledgeable about its theology.
They also knew that the Mad God’s creations, the often-monsterous kalovai, were said to enter the world from Nah-henu. But really disturbing to the group was the news that, while most pilgrims contented themselves with viewing the fabled tower and praying at the cave-shrine, the pilgrims who elected to enter the Triple Labyrinth did so in the hope that their souls would be taken up by the deity and used in his creations, reincarnating them as kalovai. And about two-thirds of those entering the mazes never returned, presumably because their prayers were answered.
“Those don’t seem like great odds,” Mariala said nervously, as they rode down the trail into the wilderness south of Areson. “And we’re going in there?”
“If the Vortexians are using the place as a cover for their meetings, then it can’t be all that dangerous,” Korwin assured her loftily. “Most Kalosians are simple peasants… if the Labyrinth is merely dangerous due to traps or kalovai, it’s hardly surprising they would have a difficult time of it; but we are made of nobler stuff, eh? And if they vanish, instead, because they truly are considered worthy by their god, that’s even better – I doubt such as we are in any danger of qualifying, in the eyes of the Mad God, to be reborn as kalovai.”
Vulk thought there was a flaw in this argument, somewhere. But the decision had been made, so he said nothing, and they rode on in silence…
♦ ♦ ♦
The sun was setting in a brilliant display of reds and golds when the party crested the last hill and began their decent into the valley of the Yellow River. They crossed the broad ford of the river just as the last of the sun dipped below the western hills, leaving them in a rich gloaming shadow, with only the ice covered peaks of Mt. Bowin to the south still bathed in a supernally beautiful glow of rose and gold. They rode up the west bank and soon found themselves in the large courtyard of the Monastery of the Ochre Hand, where a black-robed monk and several orange-clad acolytes met them.
After the ritual greeting (and the gifting of the customary tithe), the horses were led off to the large stables, and the companions were guided to one of the guest houses the monks maintained for pilgrims.
“You have arrived in good time,” the elderly, balding monk said as he escorted them to the large room they would be sharing. “We are beginning to fill up, as the faithful arrive for the High Holy Day… both moons full, on the night of the Höl Kopia! A rare and auspicious event, and we expect to be overflowing with pilgrims by tomorrow evening!”
Once settled into their clean but spartan room the group quietly discussed the plan for the next day until the bell rang for the evening meal. In the Guest Refectory they ate with over a score of other (presumably more sincere) pilgrims, and pursued a campaign of subtle questioning and misdirection. The latter was primarily supplied by Devrik, who dropped hints that might be construed as his scouting out new kalovai for the Taruthani Games in the Republic, on the theory that this might provide an explanation if their non-Kalosian status was discovered. Their fellow guests all seemed to be what they purported to be, with no sign of possible Vortex infiltrators.
The group decided to retire back to their room, once the Kalos’ Crook was bought out, thinking it best to avoid the festival atmosphere that began to pervade the refectory as the drinking began. They were all quite certain that they’d need all their strength and wits for the morning, when they would enter the Triple Labyrinth…
♦ ♦ ♦
The next morning dawned gray and misty. After an austere breakfast in the refectory the group began the eight kilometer walk to Nah-henu. Several other groups of pilgrims were ahead of and behind them, all quiet and respectful as they wound their way along the well-worn path up into the western hills of the river valley, toward the tongue of headland that jutted out into Lake Everbrite. The vegetation grew more sparse as the hills rose, until they were walking through a rugged heathland of pale violet heather and black stones. Eventually they came around a small shoulder of higher land and saw before them at last the famed Ebon Tower of Nah-henu.
Less than a kilometer ahead of them rose a sheer cliff of gray stone, stretching from one side of the peninsula to the other, with more rugged heath running on north from the cliff top. It was as if some massive upheaval had lifted the northern part of the peninsula more than 100 meters up, shearing it from the rest of the land in one clean stroke. Their path led down to the foot of the cliff, and a tall but narrow opening into wall, with great pillars of basalt carved on either side of it, and a massive black lintel carved above. But what drew the eye and caused everyone to stop and stare, was the great black tower that rose atop the cliff, soaring high into the sky.
It was an eight-sided spire of black basalt, appearing to be as smooth and seamless as if it had been carved from a single block, and it rose more than 200 meters above the top of the cliff. It narrowed as it leapt upward, and this morning the five unevenly layered pinnacles that gave its top a jagged, broken look were wreathed in the white mists of the lowering clouds. No door, nor any window, could be seen in all that expanse of shiny black stone, and a sense of foreboding settled over the group as they began to move down the path again.
The subtle feeling of gloom and oppression increased as they approached the cave mouth, the entrance to the Shrine of Nah-henu, and it didn’t seem to be limited to the Hand of Fortune… the other pilgrims appeared also to be overcome with a sense of disquiet… or perhaps it was religious awe.
“It’s the nature of this place,” Vulk assured his friends quietly, shaking off the feeling. “It’s well known that Kalos has sealed the Nitaran vortex here, and that certain magics will not work within sight of the tower – flying, for instance. No doubt this feeling of disquiet is a result of these suppressions, nothing more.”
With that encouragement they entered the dark portal of the shrine, which was much wider than it had appeared from a distance – 10 meters wide, and some 30 meters high. They stepped past two silent, stone-faced guards with tall spears, into a vast and impressive space. The Shrine may have begun as a natural cavern, but over the centuries the priests of the God had shaped it and expanded it, and now it was a rectangle, 45 meters wide and 30 meters deep; the ceiling was an intricate series of arches, carved in basalt and looking like the ribs of some leviathan, and soared 40 meters above them, into impenetrable shadows.
The floor of the Shrine was covered in ochre tiles in which appeared to be imbedded the bones and skulls of a thousand different creatures – some human, some very clearly not – and no two tiles appeared to be the same. Along the walls jutted out of a series of triangular piers, maybe 1.5 meters deep and spaced two meters apart, lined, as were the walls between, with panels of basalt, inlaid with intricate Kalosian patterns in obsidian, onyx and jet. Each pier rose into the shadows above, but from the floor to a height of three meters the two sides of each pier were faced with panels of what appeared to be amber, within which were encased the skeletal remains of a myriad of creatures. The only light in the Shrine, aside from the gray daylight the entrance allowed in, was an amber glow from deep within these panels. In the center of the space a massive column of basalt and bone-riddled amber, like a 16-pointed star, rose into the darkness above, giving the impression that it might actually reach the base of the great tower above.
At the four corners of the Shrine were alcoves where yellow-robed priests counseled supplicants who wished guidance in their prayers, and along the back wall, beyond the central pillar, were five archways. Two were small, intimate spaces for private prayer, apparently, but three were large and intricately carved, and over these were symbols, the only colors other than black, ochre and amber in the place. The first, on their right, was the Aranda Gate, over which was an image of the blue moon, set against a field of silver stars; in the center was the Zira Gate, and a golden image of the sun on a field of brilliant blue; and lastly, on the left, was the Osal Gate, with an image of the rose moon set in flat black.
As they stood gazing at the Gates something moved in the dimness beyond the Osal Gate, and suddenly a hulking Northern Hill Troll lumbered out of it and into the Shrine. The score or more of pilgrims scattered about the chamber froze in a mixture of fear and religious awe, and the priests quietly began to shepherd them out of the path of the confused-seeming kalovai as it moved toward the daylight beyond the great entrance.
But one of the orange-clad acolytes, perhaps too new to his calling and not yet fully trained, stood gaping at his god’s creation. As the creature moved past him he cried out in apparent religious ecstasy, his arms stretched toward the stone-skinned behemoth. The beast barely turned it’s head toward the man, but it lashed out suddenly with one massive arm. The acolyte sailed through the air and slammed into the wall with a sickening thump and a sharp crack. His body slid to the floor and lay with head and both legs twisted at angles impossible for a living human to achieve.
As the troll passed out of the Shrine’s entrance and into its first morning, several priests rushed forward to take up the body of the fallen acolyte, while others gathered the now-murmuring pilgrims into small groups and began reciting passages of scripture, explaining the nature of the God’s creations and why they may not be molested by anyone while within sight of the Ebon Tower.
“Such is the fate we accept who guard the Gates of the Triple Labyrinth,” a dolorous voice behind the group intoned, startling them out of their shocked contemplation of sudden death.
They turned to see one of the priests of Kalos, a tall, thin man with a long, cadaverous face in which deep set eyes reflected the amber light. His long black hair was pulled back and bound with a golden ring, and his hands were tucked serenely into the sleeves of his yellow robe. He stood silently, and after a moment Vulk realized he was waiting for a ritual response. Vulk had made sure to confirm his memory of the correct phrasing the night before, with one of the monks, and now he cleared his throat before speaking it.
“We seek our own fates, brother – to pass these Gates, that we might test our mettle in the God’s crucible, and be reborn as one of His favored Children.”
If the priest seemed surprised that five people wished to enter the Labyrinth as a group, he didn’t show it; perhaps it wasn’t that uncommon of a request. He simply bowed slightly and then looked each of them in the eye for a long moment, as if reading their thoughts. Mariala tensed, but sensed no mental probe… if he was trying to read them, it wasn’t by magical means. At last he turned back to Vulk.
“Which path to the God do you choose, pilgrim?”
“We choose the path of the Blue Moon, the Aranda Gate, holy one,” Vulk replied, bowing respectfully in turn.
Without another word the priest moved past them toward the back wall, and after a moment they followed him. When they reached the Aranda Gate he stood to one side and again bowed toward them, this time a deeper bow, longer held. He watched with a stoic expression as the group filed past him, under the arch, passing into amber dimness. As Vulk passed the priest the man leaned forward and spoke sotto voce.
“Do try to stay together, brother,” was all he said, and Vulk thought he caught just a flicker of a smile on that haughty face. But perhaps it was just the dim light…
♦ ♦ ♦
The passage beyond the carved gate was lined with inlaid basalt, like the Shine itself, and was perhaps three meters wide; but it seemed narrower due to the triangular piers of amber-covered panels that jutted from the walls on either side – like the teeth of opposing saw blades, with us between them, Mariala thought uncomfortably. The ceiling was vaulted in arching ribs of black basalt, some five meters high.
Once into the corridor Korwin took the lead, with Vulk following him, Mariala in the middle, Devrik behind and Erol bringing up the rear. The passage slopped gently downward for perhaps 15 meters, then ended in a wall of old gray stone, pierced by a wide doorway. Beyond the doorway stretched a new corridor, three meters wide and tall, made of great blocks of weathered gray stone, and flagged in yellowish, well-worn stone. This continued on into darkness as the amber light faded behind them, but just as it seemed they must light a torch to go on, a faint blue light could be seen ahead.
As they advanced the blue light grew until they stood before a carved gateway, a replica in miniature of the Aranda Gate in the shrine above, save that there was no image etched above it. The illumination came from a shimmering curtain of light that filled the doorway, rippling like the play of the Greater Moon on a wind-touched pool of water. Beyond the translucent, shifting barrier could be seen either a narrow chamber or the continuation of the corridor.
“Why do I suddenly feel quite certain that the other side of this doorway is not really just three strides from this side?” Korwin mused quietly.
“Some do say that the Triple Labyrinth is actually in another dimension,” Vulk agreed. “But true or not, it’s where we need to go. I suggest, however, that we go in pairs, ahead and behind, with Mariala in the middle, and keep a hand on one another – I don’t want to risk getting separated.”
The others agreed with this plan, and so it was that the Hand of Fortune enter the Labyrinth of the Mad God for the first time. As they each passed through the shimmering curtain of moonlight there was a brief tingle, but no more, and then they stood in a corridor much like the one they had left, if not quite identical. The stonework of the walls appeared far more ancient, narrow slabs of rock fitted so tightly together that they needed no mortar, and the floor was of slate, blurred by drifts of dust and dirt.
Everything was illuminated by a blue light, exactly like the light of the full Greater Moon, except that this light seems to come from everywhere or from nowhere. No one cast a shadow on either floor nor walls, although they could see for perhaps six meters. The air was cool, yet somehow stuffy and oppressive, and the silence was thick – any sound they made seemed to be absorbed by the very air before it could echo off the walls.
After brief discussion, Korwin led the way down the wider corridor they stood in, rather than take the narrower one to the left. But after only ten meters the passage bent left, then left again, and they were headed back in the direction from which they had come. It wasn’t long before they had all lost any sense of direction, and even Kowin’s vaunted eidetic memory seemed muddled and confused by the oppressive atmosphere.
The way twisted and turned, sometimes in sharp, 90° turns, other times in sweeping arcs, and occasionally would open into larger rooms or narrow into passages so tight that one person could barely squeeze by. Often they met with dead ends, and were forced to retrace their steps. It was during one of these detours that Erol noticed that their footprints on the dusty floors seemed to vanish after they passed. Devrik began to wish he’d brought bread crumbs, although he suspected they, too, would have vanished behind them.
It was hard to keep any sense of time, and Mariala was uncertain how long they had been navigating the maze, when they finally came upon something other than blue-lit stone and dust. They had previously passed a couple of half-moon shaped alcoves recessed into various walls, each one about half-a-meter wide, a meter tall, and a meter-and-a-half off the floor. In the base of each alcove had been a shallow concave indentation, but nothing else. This time was different.
This alcove contained a crystal sphere, the size of a small melon, that glowed with the the brilliant golden light on the noon-day sun. After some discussion and a close examination of the globe and its alcove, Mariala reached out to take it. Despite its warm glow the sphere was cool to the touch, and perfectly smooth. When nothing happened, she placed the sphere into her scrip, and the group continued it’s way through the maze.
It wasn’t too long after, as far as any of them could tell in the confusing, timeless atmosphere through which they moved, that they found another sphere, in another alcove. This globe, however, glowed with a soft rose-tinted light, as if from the full Lesser Moon. Korwin took up this orb, and again the procession continued winding through the blue-tinted corridors.
Some time later they turned a corner and found themselves in a short passage that lead into a circular room perhaps seven meters in diameter. Korwin was in the lead, and had taken only three strides into the domed chamber, when he simply vanished. With a startled huff of warning to Mariala behind him, Vulk pulled up short just as he himself crossed the threshold. Devrik and Erol quickly crowed close, and the four friends stared into the empty room.
“Great,” muttered Devrik. “Either he’s been disintegrated or he’s been teleported, and whichever it is, we’re in trouble.”
“I’m sure he wasn’t disintegrated,” Vulk absently assured his friends. “I was looking right at him, and he just vanished, like a soap bubble… no residue, no flash of energy… no, I think he’s been teleported. The question is, to where?”
“And should we try to follow him?” Mariala added.
“That odd Kalosian priest did tell me that we should try to stay together,” Vulk admitted. “I wonder if this is what he meant…?”
Erol snorted at the description of the priest. “An odd Kalosian – that’s redundant if ever I’ve heard it.”
The group quickly decided that it was best to try and follow Korwin, and hope they were taken to where he was and not some other random location. Bunching closely together, they stepped into the center of the room… and nothing seemed to happen. They were staring at the same arc of blue-lit stone as before, apparently, and had felt nothing like the gut-wrenching vertigo of stepping through a Nitarin vortex.
“Ah, there you are,” said a voice behind them, and they whirled as one, weapons coming out before they quite realized it was Korwin standing behind them. He was in the short corridor from which they had entered the room, and for a moment they all thought he’d simply been teleported behind them. But then the details began to sink in, and they realized it was not the same corridor at all – clearly the two ends of the teleport circuit were identical rooms.
After exiting the room and re-entering it, to no effect, they decided they had no choice but to continue on from where they were. But as they moved down the corridor toward the narrow exit, they found themselves slowing down, as if an invisible hand pushed back at them, sapping their will. A statue to the left of the archway seemed to be the source of the mental wall, a statue of a tall figure in a hooded robe from which two yellow eyes seemed to glow.
Each member of the party strove to push forward through the invisible resistance, focusing on reaching that doorway… and one by one each felt the pop, as of a bubble bursting, as they stepped past the statue. It took some longer than others, and several tries, but eventually the entire party was beyond the barrier, and they were able to resume their wandering through the pale blue-lit halls of the maze.
It was only a short time later, after just a few dead ends, that the party found itself in a square chamber, some seven meters across. The far wall of the room contained two alcoves, side-by-side, and in one of the alcoves was another yellow sun-orb. The other alcove was empty.
After some discussion and debate, it was decided they would try placing the rose-orb they carried into the empty alcove, which Mariala promptly did. Both orbs flashed briefly, and there was a distant rumble as of stone against stone. It faded away after a few seconds, and in the strangely muted atmosphere of the labyrinth it was hard to tell exactly where it had come from.
When no visible manifestation became apparent, Mariala reached out and lifted out the rose orb from its niche. Again the muted rumble of stone-on-stone, its origin still indeterminate.
“I feel like it was coming from behind us,” Mariala said, frowning. “And to the left, out that doorway. I think someone should step out in that direction while I try this again, to see if we can get a better idea of what’s happening…”
Devrik had already wandered in that direction, so Erol nodded to Mariala and followed after him. The two warriors stood in the dusty hallway, next to another empty alcove, and waited. A moment later they saw a brief flash of intense yellow light, and the silence of the maze suddenly seemed more profound.
“Mariala?” Devrik called out as he rushed back into the chamber, Erol on his heels. They both stopped short at the sight of the empty room. Of their friends there was no sign, and only one alcove held a sphere, apparently the golden one that they had found there originally. A quick search out the other doors of the room found no trace of their missing comrades.
“Well shit,” said Devrik, sheathing his sword. “What now?”
♦ ♦ ♦
While Erol and Devrik pondered their next move, Mariala, Vulk and Korwin were doing the same… elsewhere.
Once the fighters had stepped out of the room, Mariala had been preparing to place the Osal-orb back in the empty alcove when Vulk suggested they try the other sun-orb, instead. When no one objected, Korwin took out the golden sphere he had been carrying and set it into the waiting indentation of the empty alcove – and a flash of brilliant yellow light momentarily blinded the three. When they could see again, they were most certainly not where they had been.
The room they now occupied was not dissimilar to the one they had left – somewhat longer and with different exits, but with two alcoves, one of which contained a sun-orb, presumably the one Korwin had placed. But if the architecture appeared the same, the light most certainly was not. Instead of the pale blue light of a full Greater Moon, this area was suffused with a rich golden light, like that of a late summer afternoon, although it, too, seemed to come from nowhere in particular, or perhaps everywhere at once.
It took only a moment, once the initial shock wore off, to determine that their companions who had been outside the room had not been transported with them.
“Damn,” Vulk muttered as he paced the length of the room. “This is just what we were trying to avoid!”
“Where do you think we are?” Mariala asked, looking worried herself.
“I’d guess we’re still in the Triple Labrynth,” Korwin replied, his usual cool demeanor apparently unshaken by this separation. “But we’ve been taken to the section that lies beyond the Zira Gate, it seems most likely to me…”
“So,” Mariala said thoughtfully, “using orbs of two different colors does – well, we still don’t know what. And using two of the same color transports those in the room to the corresponding section of the maze.”
The others could find no fault with this reasoning, nor with her further conclusion that placing two blue spheres in the dual alcoves should return them to the Aranda maze, if not to the precise point of their departure.
“That seems logical,” Korwin agreed. “But we haven’t actually seen any blue spheres… their existence is purely hypothetical at this point.”
“But they can be logically inferred,” Vulk countered. “Although I admit logic isn’t necessarily a given when dealing with the Mad – er, with Kalos.”
There followed a brief discussion about the advisability of searching this area of the Labyrinth for blue orbs, or waiting for their lost companions to find a second sun-orb and hopefully join them. With a sudden exclamation of equal parts annoyance and inspiration, Marial began digging in her scrip.
“My parchment,” she explained to the men. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it immediately. We may be able to contact the others, assuming my magic works in this place!”
“And assuming they think to look at their paper,” Vulk added, although he looked suddenly hopeful.
Mariala quickly took out a slip of her enchanted parchment, the one entangled with a slip Devrik carried, as well as a pen and small bottle of ink. She concentrated on conveying as much information on what they had deduced in as few words as possible. Then they could only wait, staring at the blank section of the paper, hoping for a reply…
♦ ♦ ♦
Back in the Aranda maze, Erol & Devrik had emptied out their own packs to inventory the resources available to them, and it was because of this that Devrik noticed the sudden appearance of Mariala’s handwriting on the slip of parchment he carried in his belt pouch.
“Of course,” he rumbled, with as much of a smile as he ever got, “should’ve thought of that myself!”
Once they understood what had happened, Erol suggested they use the rope they had to navigate as much of the maze as they could, looking for another Zira-orb; Devrik then conveyed their plan to Mariala using his own pen and ink.
With only 20 meters of rope, they had to move carefully, but they soon retraced their steps to the teleport chamber, and this time when they entered the room they found themselves transported back to the original room. From there it took some time and effort, but they eventually found another alcove containing a sun-sphere, and were able to make their way back to the circular teleport room.
This time, when they had been transported to the second room, they found it somewhat easier to force their way past the invisible barrier of the guardian statue. In a few minutes that had returned to the dual-alcove chamber, and were prepared to test their theory of how things worked in the mazes of Kalos. Devrik gently placed the second golden orb into the empty niche…
♦ ♦ ♦
There was no brilliant flash of yellow light on the other end of the “circuit” – to Mariala, Vulk and Korwin it seemed that their missing companions were simply there, standing before the alcoves, one of which now contained a Zira-orb. It was with great relief that the friends greeted one another, and compared notes. They all agreed they needed to be more careful with the potential pitfalls of sudden teleportation…
Their complement of crystal orbs now consisted of two golden Zira-orbs and one rose-tineted Osal-orb. It was agreed that they should be on the lookout for blue orbs, as this might very well play into the mysterious ‘Tripartite Light” they were looking for. They once agin ordered themselves into their exploration line, with Korwin in the lead, and began to puzzle out the Zira maze.
It was hard to be certain how long they had been moving (time, thought and memory seemed as fuzzy here as in the Aranda maze), but they eventually rounded a corner, only to be confronted by a hulking Northern Hill Troll several yards ahead, this one armed with a great mallet of wood and iron. Like the one they had seen in the Shrine, this troll seemed uninterested in them, even as they backed away from it.
It strode along, it’s loping gait long and easy, and they retreated before it, warily. They soon found themselves at a gate, much like the one they had entered the Aranda maze through – but this portal was covered in a shimmering curtain of yellow sunlight. The hill troll continued toward them, and the group was forced down a side passage, only to see the kalovai turn at the gate and, without hesitation, plunge through it. It’s bulk was quickly lost beyond the wall of golden light.
At this point there was some discussion of exiting the maze, as the troll had done, and reentering the Aranda Gate again. But they soon realized that it was likely they would not be allowed to do so by the priests – if they exited the Triple Labyrinth by any gate they would be seen has having failed the God’s test…
As they continued to wend their way through the Zira maze, they did indeed discover alcoves containing blue Aranda-orbs, as well as ones with the rosy Osal-orbs; but none containing Zira-orbs.
“Each maze must contain spheres of the other two mazes’ colors,” Korwin concluded, “but none of its own.”
No one disagreed, and now they had two of each orb color, enough to travel to whichever section of the Labyrinth they wished, once they found another dual-alcove chamber. But before they could do so, they stumbled across another of the Mad God’s creations, this one like nothing any of them had seen or even heard of.
It was a great, pulsating mass of reddish-brown hide, two meters tall and almost as wide, covered in scores of human-like mouths and large, bovine-like eyes of a deep, liquid brown. Pseudo-pods of flesh extruded in every direction, and it shambled forward with surprising speed for something without apparent legs.
Fairly certain that any kalovai they encountered within the maze would not attack them, assuming they didn’t attack first, the group was nonetheless reluctant to get near this grotesque and disturbing monstrosity. As they backed quickly away from the beast they suddenly found themselves in a largish room, at the opposite end of which they could see a flight of stairs going down into the golden haze.
Taking the stairs, they soon found themselves descending perhaps another 10 meters, into a short corridor that immediately turned right. Following this new passage for perhaps 20 meters, they came to a T-intersection, and with little debate, turned right. After 50 meters or so the golden light began to fade, and a blue glow appeared ahead of the group.
The glow came from another flight of stairs at the corridor’s end, down which flooded the light of the Greater Moon. They quickly ascended the stairs and soon found themselves once again in the Aranda maze, and began again the seemingly endless trudge down twisting corridors. Each member of the Hand soon began to feel that they had been in this maze forever, that they would continue on forever… until suddenly they stepped through another teleport spot, and ended up in a large, oddly shaped area of curved and straight walls, with no apparent way out.
The only thing to break the monotony of blue-lit stone was a small circular nook, three meters wide, in which stood a large anvil of black iron. Etched onto the surface of the anvil was a row of seven strange symbols, inlaid with bronze that shone brightly in the pseudo-moonlight. At the square end of the anvil, where the symbols ended, was a shallow stone bowl, filled with ochre-colored sand.
They pondered this conundrum for several minutes, debating what it meant, and what they were meant to do. Vulk experimentally drew a squiqqle in the sand, and for a moment nothing happened. Then, though there was no movement of the stultifying air around them, it seemed as if a breeze blew across the face of the sand, erasing Vulk’s mark and leaving the surface smooth once again.
“It’s obviously a sequence of some kind,” Devrik opined, “although I don’t recognize the symbol set… maybe it’s some Kalosian secret language?”
“Are we supposed to complete the sequence then?” Erol asked, studying the symbols intently. “Hey, doesn’t that one look like…”
“Yes,” Mariala agreed, suddenly animated, “and that one looks like…!”
From that point one it was quickly clear what the final symbol should be, and Vulk shook his head in amusement as he sketched it into the sand. As soon as he did there was a deep rumbling of stone-on-stone, and a section of wall behind them slowly sank into the floor, revealing a curving passage beyond.
Following this new path, the group soon found itself back at the first dual-alcove room they had encountered, where the group had been split. They groaned at the idea of doing it all over agin, but trudged onward, ever onward… and in time found themselves near the stairs via which they had reentered the blue maze. But now they found the way blocked by a savage looking gargoyle, one that showed little inclination to let them pass.
Not wanting to provoke a conflict, the party chose to back off, heading off into a part of the maze they had not yet explored. After an indeterminate time, at the end of another curving corridor, they once again experienced the shock of seeing Korwin vanish as he reached toward the wall that blocked their progress. With a sigh, the rest of the party stepped up and vanished one by one…
And once again found themselves in a room with no apparent way out, a room filled with the pale rose light of the full Lesser Moon. They were now clearly in the third of the Triple Labyrinth’s three mazes, the Osal Maze.
This time there was no anvil, no indication of any kind as to how they could exit this prison. They walked every inch of the floor, but found no hidden teleport areas. Then they began to examine the walls closely, looking for hidden doors, and it wasn’t long before they found one. It was really more concealed than hidden, once you knew what to look for, but with no obvious way to open it.
“There seems to be something about this stone,” Korwin said, examining a nearby patch of wall.
He pushed on the stone in question, and with a click it swung down, revealing itself to be a hinged cover over a recessed area in the wall. Within the recess was a panel of ochre sandstone, etched into a grid of squares, 5 x 5. In the center of each square was a hole, and along the right side and bottom of the grid, carved into the gray stone of the wall, were several numbers. In a deeper recess below the grid were five carved snakes of ivory, each one tinted a different shade and possessing three pegs protruding from its back. On the head of each snake was carved a number, from 1 to 5.
This puzzle took a little longer to solve, but in the end it was Korwin who came up with the correct placement of the snakes on the board. When the last snake had been pushed firmly into place there was a click and the door began to sink into the floor, revealing a chamber beyond, also bathed in pale rose light.
The working of the third maze was as tedious as the other two had been, as bereft of a sense of time, and as disheartening… until the moment they rounded a corner to see before them a small room, one meter by three, the far wall of which was lined with three empty alcoves. They hurried forward with a renewed sense of hope and purpose, and began pulling glowing orbs from scrip and pack.
There was no doubt amongst the companions that this had to be what they were looking for… Mariala, Vulk and Korwin each placed a crystal sphere of different color into the indentations of each alcove, in the sequence of the Gates in the Shrine above (or wherever) – blue on the right, yellow in the middle, rose on the left.
For a moment nothing happened. Then, slowly, the glow from the three orbs began to increase, and as it did tendrils of light began to rise from each one. Blue, yellow and rose, they flicked outward, twisting, questing, until they found one another and began to intertwine. They quickly formed a rope of three-colored light that hovered in the air briefly before stretching away down a narrow passage, still anchored in the three orbs.
Following the floating ribbon of light, the party jogged quickly along the corridors of the Osal maze, no longer worried about which turns to take, or trying to keep track of where they’d been. The Tripartite Light stretched before them and behind, and they had only to follow it now to the secret meeting place of the Vortex inquisitors…
After perhaps twenty minutes of twists and turns, the ribbon of tri-colored light brought the group to a narrow doorway beside which stood another statue of a a robed, hooded figure with glowing yellow snake eyes. The light continued on up the corridor beyond, before turning right and disappearing from view, but the companions were again stopped by an invisible wall of mental force. This time it seemed harder to push through, but in the end they all succeeded.
Jogging around the corner with the guiding light they found themselves facing a blank wall, against which the twined strands of light splashed and spread out, forming the shape of a doorway in a rippling wash of gold, blue and rose. With a glance at one another, they all shrugged and stepped up to the wall, and through it –
– to find themselves in a three meter by three nook, beyond which was a large chamber, lit not with the golden light of sunset, or the pale light of either moon, but with the gray, clear light of an overcast day. The chamber was square, 22 meters on a side, with a domed ceiling of pearl gray 15 meters above the floor. Four free-standing pillars of intricately carved stone dominated the center of the room, rising up 10 meters or so, ands the walls were well-fitted gray stone, ancient and weathered-looking.
For want of any sense of real direction, Korwin decided that the corner of the room with their nook was in the northwest… it was four meters above the floor and two flights of stairs, one along the “north” wall and one along the “west” lead down into the room. In the northeast corner of the room a single flight of stairs along the “north” wall lead up to another landing and an arched doorway in the same wall. To the southeast a larger nook/platform could be seen, like their own four meters up, but larger and with no stairs to reach it. The southwest corner of the chamber possessed two flights of stairs, but these met at a simple landing, with no attached nook. A metal sewer grate in the floor in this corner was the only such break in the stone surface he could see.
A faded red pattern of interlocking chains was painted on the floor at each corner of the room, each enclosing an uneven area of perhaps three square meters, and Korwin headed down the north stairs to get a closer look, and to examine the pillars. Erol went down the western stairs, also interested in the pillars, while the others stood irresolute on the platform above.
As Korwin was moving around to the east side of the pillars, and Erol examined the southwestern one, there was a sudden shimmering in the air within the four corners enclosed by the floor markings – and then there were suddenly four more beings in the room.
In the corner beneath the nook where the party had appeared was a hulking shape, a muscular human body with the shoulders and head of an enormous bull, wielding a great battle axe – a recognizable type of kalovai, a Kulbar’kath. It snorted once, then sighted Erol and moved toward hi m with surprising speed and grace. Erol took one look and dashed for the high ground of the stairs in the SW corner, despite the appearance there of a large cube of bluish-green, translucent gelatin. At least it looked immobile…
Vulk, already at the foot of the stairs, and much closer to the Kulbar’kath, also decided the higher ground was a good idea, but realized he couldn’t lead it back up to where Mariala stood. With a muttered curse, he leapt down the last few steps and dashed after Erol, hot on his heels, praying to Kasira. But all his rituals seemed ineffective in what was, after all, the home of another deity…
Meanwhile, Korwin was confronted with a bizarre creature such as he’d never seen before – it’s segmented body, more than two meters in length, appeared to be made of a thick but flexible tree-like bark. It looked like nothing so much as a giant wooden earthworm, except that what should have been an innocuous head was actually a circular maw, filled with rows of sharp teeth, surrounded by four massive tentacles of the segmented, bark-like skin. He backed away from it in a stumbling rush, even as he drew his cutlass.
Unfortunately, he backed up into the range of the monstrous toad-like creature that had appeared in the SE corner of what now seemed to be some sort of arena. A mottled bluish-purple, it was perhaps two meters tall, with massive webbed hind legs, and two rubbery tentacles where its forelegs should have been. Two other tentacles grew from its hips, and all four appendages shaded into a brilliant magenta before ending in mouth-like suckers. But most disturbing was the fleshy stalk that rose from the thing’s forehead, out of which grew a cluster of five eyes.
Even as Korwin swung his cutlass at the woodworm, striking a blow that seemed to have no effect, the toad-thing leaped at him, tentacles slashing. The beleaguered mage whirled to meet this new threat, his back now to the east wall. Even as he slashed at the toad Devrik raced down the stairs to engage the woodworm.
The Kulbar’kath had by then reached the stairs at the top of which Erol, with Vulk behind him, stood, trident poised. With a roar, the massive creature lunged up the stairs, swinging its battle axe, and the conflict was joined. Erol jabbed with his trident, Vulk reached around him to stab with his sword, and the Kulbar’kath hacked with the axe.
They seemed able to inflict only minor wounds on the great beast for quite awhile, until its whirling axe finally struck a solid blow to Erol’s left leg – as the blood spurted from the wound, Vulk lunged forward and stabbed into the right thigh of the Kulbar’kath. With a roar of pain and fury, the creature’s leg buckled under it, and it toppled from the stairs. Fortunately for the beast the gelatinous cube was not actually immobile – it had been slowly moving toward the center of the arena, leaving a bubbling trail of greenish slime behind it – and so the bull-man didn’t land on top of it.
As the the behemoth struggled to it’s feet, shaking it’s great head groggily, Erol snorted in disgust.
‘Well, that would’ve been convenient,” he muttered to Vulk. “I’ve seen what those jellies can do in the arena – dissolve a man in a matter of seconds! Would’ve been nice to kill two kalovai with one stone…”
“Yes,” agreed the cantor. “And you know, I’m beginning to think this isn’t the meeting chamber of any Vortex inquisition…”
Before Erol could reply, the Kulbar’kath was back on it’s feet, and moving to the attack once more. Erol hurled his trident at the monster before it could reach the steps, but it ducked the blow with surprising agility for such a massive creature. But that momentary hesitation had given the former gladiator enough time to free his net from his belt, and whispering the trigger word, hurl it in it’s turn. This time the brute was unable to dodge, and it took the net full in the face and upper torso. A shower of blue sparks sizzled off the net, and without a sound the beast’s eyes rolled up in its head and it collapsed to the ground.
While this had been going on Devrik and Kowrin had not been having notable success with their own opponents, and had in fact both taken several hits. The woodworm’s tentacles seemed lined with small, but sharp, hooks that tore at exposed flesh, caught in clothes, and attempted to ensnare it’s opponent, to be drawn into the pulsating maw of teeth.
The toad-thing’s tentacles, however, seemed to ooze some sort of acid from the sucker tips, and Korwin had taken one good hit. He quickly realized it wasn’t just acid, however, as the world around him seemed to take on a dream-like quality of surreal dimensions. His blows became slower and his mind began to wander…
Fortunately Erol arrived about then, having retrieved his trident and net, and was able to put a quick end to the dream-toad, as Korwin had come to think of it. Devrik finally got in a couple of good blows on the woodworm, which retreated to it’s corner seemingly dazed and oozing clear, sap-like blood from it’s “head.” Mariala, whose attempts at spell-casting had been annoyingly ineffectual, came down from the nook where she had watched the combat to join her friends. With Vulk luring the gelatinous cube back toward the body of the Kulbar’kath, where it would be distracted consuming a hefty meal, the battle seemed finished.
There was no sudden movement, no dramatic entrance, no fanfare, but each of the five friends was suddenly aware of a Presence in the chamber with them. Turning as one, they all stared at the being who was simply there, between the four pillars – rising up as a living fifth pillar was a massive yellow-brown snake, it’s coiled lower body it’s pedestal, it’s large, flat head it’s capital, towering five meters above them. Golden, black slitted eyes glowed with a mesmerizing fire, and a red tongue darted out of the fixed grin of the serpent’s mouth.
There was not an instant of doubt in anyone’s mind that this was one of the 20 Immortals; was, in fact, Kalos, the Mad God Himself.
“Did you enjoy your playtime with My Children?” Kalos asked, his voice, deep, rich, and resonate, yet slightly sibilant.
No one said anything.
“You are not the usual sort My priests send Me… indeed, is that the whiff of one of My cousins I detect?” The head bent swiftly down toward Vulk, and the darting tongue played lightly across his face. He didn’t move, but neither did he look away from those great golden eyes, each the size of a plate, with the weight of 5,000 years behind them. “Yessss, Kasira has left her mark on you, little brother… it seems to Me that She chose well.”
With that the great body twisted and the serpent head moved to each of the companions in turn, the forked tongue darting over each face.
“You are indeed no followers of Mine,” the god said at last. “I can’t tell you what a relief that isss… I have little interest these days in the concerns of mortals, though some continue to think I should… they keep sending Me pilgrims, and since they will do so, I long ago decided to make use of them, if they prove worthy… you have certainly proved worthy… tell Me, do you desire to be taken up and changed, to become one of My true Children.”
It seemed to the companions that there was a hint of laughter in His voice as Kalos posed this question. It was Mariala who answered first.
“Meaning no disrespect, Immortal Kalos, but we have no desire whatsoever to become one of your… projects…”
Now the laughter was plain in His voice. “Wise as well as beautiful. Indeed, I do not use the clay of mortals so, to make My Children, despite what many think.
“But I see in your minds what really brings you to My home,” the deity continued, the laughter suddenly gone from His voice. “You believe My abode to be the refuge of some mortal conspiracy; indeed, you wonder if I am Myself behind this ‘Vortex’ that has caused you such trouble…
“As I have said, I have no interest in, or patience for, the games of mortals; and I have even less patience for being made a tool of mortals. It is clear to me that you were lured here, in the hopes that you would either die at the hands of my Children or, surviving them, that I would slay you Myself for bearing weapons into My Labyrinth.”
‘But we didn’t know weapons were forbidden,” Korwin burst out. “The priest who let us in didn’t say anything –”
“Indeed,” Kalos continued coldly, “it would seem this Vortex has penetrated my priesthood, for no true priest of Mine would permit weapons in the Shrine, much less the Triple Labyrinth. Perhaps it is time I paid more attention to what my mortal followers are up to… yesss, perhaps a Manifestation is in order…
“In any case, I decline to be made a party to whatever this ‘Vortex’ is up to… and while they have not irritated Me enough to trouble Myself with telling them so personally, I feel you deserve something to level the playing field.
“And now, before I go, I offer you a choice… while I do not use mortal clay whole for my… projects, as the lady calls them… I do take the essence of those I find… mmmm… interesting. And I find each of you very interesting, each in your own way. Will you give me a drop of your blood?”
There was a moment of hesitation, and it was Erol who shrugged and spoke first. “There’s enough of my blood on Your floors already, what’s another drop?” He stepped forward, holding out his arm.
The great serpentine head lowered itself toward him, the smiling mouth opening wide. It closed on the arm and a single fang pierced Erol’s skin, though he felt no more than a pin-prick. One by one the others stepped forward and offered their arm, and the procedure was repeated.
Only Vulk stood back at last, and as the great, lambent eyes turned to him he bowed deeply. “I mean no offense, Immortal Shaper, but I do not think I can offer this to you, vowed as I am to the Lady of Luck, my patron and guide.”
“I take no offense where none was intended. Each being’s essence is its own, even a mortals, and I do not take what is not freely offered. Perhaps you will think on it, and another time decide differently.”
With that the hugh snake began to undulate across the floor, rising up to mount the platform that stood above the SE corner of the arena. Once it had coiled itself into the space, it turned to look once more at the group still frozen on the floor below.
“I remind you that no magics save My own work in this place, unless I should allow it. And as I show you the way out, consider this – I despise cleaning house…”
With that Kalos turned and slithered silently through the archway behind Him, disappearing down the corridor beyond.
It took several minutes for the group to realize that the bodies of the kalovai that they had defeated were gone, vanished as unnoticed as the Immortal had appeared. And Erol was the first to notice that Kalos had left them a gift – the nasty gash in his leg was gone, as if it had never been. When he pointed this out to the others they realized they had all been healed of their wounds, indeed had never felt better. Only Devrik was silent about his own wounds, and seemed more inward than usual.
After a brief discussion it was agreed that the Immortal had intended them to exit by the same way He had, and they quickly rigged a way up to the stairless platform. As they began to walk down the corridor the hyper-real quality that had pervaded their senses began to fade back to their normal perception of the mundane world.
In what seemed to be less than 20 meters the group found themselves in a bone-basalt-and-amber passage much like the one they had entered the maze through. Indeed, it shortly revealed itself to be exactly the same passage, as they stepped out from the Aranda Gate, back into the vast open space of the Shrine. But now the Shrine was silent and empty, the glow from the amber panels dimmer, and beyond the tall entrance way lay the full darkness of night.
“We entered the Labyrinth just a few hours past dawn,” Mariala said, frowning. “I swear we weren’t in there more than… five, six hours?”
“No, it was longer than that… wasn’t it?” Vulk shook his head uncertainly.
None of the others could quite agree on how long they had traversed the mazes of Nah-henu, but they were all certain that it should not now be full night. Before they could ponder the question any further, however, they were interrupted by a yellow-robed priest coming toward them from one of the meditation chambers near the entrance.
“What is this disturbance? The Shrine is closed for –” the man stopped short as he recognized the group before him, at the same instant they recognized him – it was the cadaverous-looking priest who had guided them into the maze, the one they were quite certain was an agent of the Vortex organization.
The man’s eyes grew wide and his cool, smug demeanor slipped in shock. “You – I was certain – how can you be –” The surprise quickly gave way to a snarl of rage, and he raised his hands in in a gesture of power. The surprise that came over his face when nothing happened was, Devrik thought as he strode forward and punched him hard in the face, almost comical.
Looking around apprehensively for more priests, and wondering exactly how to explain this to them, the group soon realized that the Shrine was in fact empty. Devrik and Erol securely bound their prisoner, looking for the tell-tale tattoo on his wrist as they did so. Sure enough, the full mark of red and black was visible, indicating that the man stood higher in the secret organization than just minion or tool.
While they were doing this Mariala went to the entrance and peered out into the night, only to let out a startled gasp. Vulk and Korwin were quickly at her side, and stood shocked in turn. Low in the eastern sky, perhaps an hour risen above the distant mountains, were both the Greater and the Lesser moons – and they were both full. Their mingled blue and rose light illuminated the landscape around them with surprising clarity, and to the south an orange glow, as from many bonfires, silhouetted the hills that lay between them and the monastery.
“It’s the night of Höl Kopia,” Vulk said after a moment, eyes still fixed on the moons in amazement.
“There is no way we were in that maze for three days,” Korwin denied, but his voice lacked conviction.
“Perhaps time runs differently there,” Mariala offered. “Or perhaps it is the doing of the Shaper. The Immortals are… quite powerful. In any case, it explains why the Shrine is empty tonight, everyone is at the monastery, celebrating the High Holy Day…”
“But what are the odds that the one priest we wanted happens to be the one on duty here tonight?” Korwin asked.
“It seems we are blessed by the Lady of Luck,” Vulk replied, smiling. “Although I won’t deny that I suspect the hand of Kalos played a more proximate role in this particular case…”
“The question now,” said Devrik, who had caught the end of the conversation as he and Erol dragged the false priest over, “is how we get this one out of here, to someplace where we can question him. Thoroughly.” His smile at the now conscious, if dazed, prisoner was not reassuring.
“You will never question me, you meddlesome gnats,” the man snarled. He stood taller, trying to regain his dignity and composure despite his bonds and bleeding nose. “The Vortex is everywhere, and you will die in agony, though you have bested me here! I now pay willingly the price of my failure!”
He raised his bound arms, the sleeves of his robe falling back to reveal his tattoo, and closed his eyes, his face almost rapturous as he accepted his death.
Nothing happened.
This time the look of utter shock on his face was without a doubt comical, and Devrik laughed out loud. The others were soon grinning as well, as the red and black tattoo began to smoke, seeming to effervesce into wisps of dark light that coiled like a snake, before being blown away on the night breeze. In seconds the mark had faded away to nothing, and the would-be suicide stared dumbfounded at his now unblemished wrist.
“Well, the big problem has been taken care of,” Korwin chuckled. “And I have an idea or two about how to solve the more mundane ones that remain…”
