The Trials of the Minotaur

Part One: The Blind Minotaur (Chapter Seven)

They threw him into the streets, blood still streaming from his eyes. One of his horns ached as well, and he assumed it had been broken during the beatings. Movement was agony, so he simply lay where he was, listening to the ebb and flow of the street around him. He heard the shuffling of feet, the groaning of cart wheels, and the grunting of animals. There was a low murmur of consternation, so he knew there were onlookers. They must recognize him, he thought, yet no one did anything.

He lay there for what seemed hours, his mind stained with the apathetic, smirking face of the judge. Every so often he would see the dagger approaching and then the blackness would explode upon him anew and he would be unable to think at all.

When arms grasped him he did not resist, stumbling to his feet. He was dragged to a palanquin, which began to move as soon as he was within. Every footstep of the carriers was a small agony, set atop the overwhelming hurt and ache until the weight was unbearable. He longed for his other senses to go dark as his eyes, but he was allowed no such mercy.

It was only when the woman spoke that he realized he was not alone.

“I know people who will get you to the borders. From there…” she said.

“Who are you?” His voice did not sound his own.

There was a long pause. “Your mother.”

She continued to speak, explaining how the transport she had arranged would work. “The sibyls have people in every town between here and the barbarian lands, so you can hide with them as you go. I’ve arranged for guides to take you along the way.”

He barely listened, trying to imagine how she looked. How long had she been in Colosi, he wondered, and how had she known this would befall him?

“You must be careful,” she said. “My father doesn’t intend you to make it into exile.”

He could think of nothing to say in reply, all the questions he had once wanted to give voice to evaporated from his mind. How strange, he thought, that she should be the one to save him now, when in his childhood he had raged against her for abandoning him to Guthril’s cruel existence. She was too late, he thought, and began to weep.

“I’m sorry I cannot do more,” she said after some time. “If my father knew I was in Colosi again it would mean both our deaths. The sibyls will get you out of Rheadd, then you will have to find your own way in the world.”

Those were her final words to him. Some time later the palanquin halted and her skirt brushed against his leg as she exited.

As they continued on whatever path she had set the carriers, he lost himself in a reverie where he stood at the centre of a massive pantheon, so large its upper reaches disappeared into clouds that swirled overhead. A Centaur pranced at the opposite end of the arena. The horn sounded and he went to move toward his adversary, but instead he fell into the sand, thrashing madly. The clouds, the stadium and its hordes disappeared, leaving only blackness and the sound of the Centaur’s footsteps approaching.

The palanquin reached its destination in the midst of this nightmare and he was seized again and carried into a building, where he was left him sprawled on the floor. He tried to stand, wanting to ask the carriers what was to happen next, as he was unable to remember his mother’s plan. It was a cramped hovel, though, and he cracked his head on the ceiling as he rose, falling back to the floor.

He called out but no one answered. Few sounds from the outside world reached him, beyond the chatter of some birds just outside the hovel. Wherever he was, he decided it must be outside the city walls, though he could not remember the palanquin passing through one of the gates. For all he knew they could have gone in circles, ending up back at the prison where he was to languish for what remained of his days.

He was left alone through the heat of the afternoon, with only some rancid fruit that did little more than attract flies. He slept fitfully, terrified that the stinking dirt floor would be where he met his end. In the evening, the girl with the bird came.

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This is the seventh chapter of the Trials of the Minotaur. I will post a chapter a week (there are over 30), but if you enjoy what you're reading and don't want to wait, you can buy this book at Amazon, Kobo, and Smashwords. Thanks for reading.