The Doctor was in fact the first to suffer the delirium brought on by the poisoned honey. His dreams were filled with fantastic and tormented images that he could scarcely make sense of, nightmares where he died a thousand deaths. The terror of these dreams became so great that at last he was started awake. The night was cool and silent, the fire nearly down to coals. His stomach lashed about violently, a ship tossed about in a storm. Worried that he was about to vomit, he raised himself up to a sitting position, only to find the world spinning in a gyre round his head.
When he had managed to steady himself, he looked around. The bandits slept untroubled by the dimming fire; he could hear their breathing over the dying crackle of the flames. But the man who had been tasked with keeping watch on the two prisoners was gone, he realized, which meant this was the moment the Minotaur had spoken of earlier. The Doctor struggled to his feet and turned to the beast to let him know that the time to flee was now, only to find that the Minotaur had disappeared. As he struggled to comprehend how this could have happened, he saw the chains that had bound both of them together lying on the ground at his feet.
Cursing the beast for abandoning him, he lurched forward, trying to flee, his legs seemingly unable to respond to his commands. The darkness seemed to swim with color, shadows and ghosts he assumed, some of them threatening, and he fought to avoid them as he went. He was so focused on avoiding these pitfalls, while trying to move as quietly as possible, his every step sounding like thunderclap to his ears, that he did not notice that he had turned himself around and was now moving directly toward the fire and the sleeping bandits. It was only when he stepped on one of their prone forms, eliciting a shout and a curse from the sleeping man, that he realized his mistake. Compounding his error, he tried to run away, but instead came crashing through the fire and the rest of the slumbering bandits, stumbling and tripping and sending half a dozen men awake.
The Doctor ended up flat on the ground, his face pressed into one of the athahea shrubs. Behind him he could hear shouts as the bandits roused themselves and realized that their prisoners had escaped. He forced himself to turn over and sit up and was in time to see one of the men, lurching about just as he had, fall into the fire, his clothes catching alight. The bandit screamed terribly and the smell of burnt flesh filled the air as the man thrashed about on the ground trying to douse the flames, succeeding only in keeping them alight as he rolled back into the fire again and again.
None of the other bandits came to their fellow's aid; instead his screams and the flames seemed to send them into a state of uncontrolled panic. They ran with the same contorted gait as he, stumbling and falling as they went, off into the darkness. Two of them came near where the Doctor lay and he shouted in surprise, for they had been utterly transformed. They were horned beasts, just like the Minotaur, except their eyes shone like fire in the darkness and their breath smelled of smoke. He scurried away from them, weeping as he went, begging the creatures to grant him mercy for ever imprisoning their brother.
After crawling for what seemed like hours, he collapsed in exhaustion and fell asleep, the night quiet around him. When he awoke the darkness still held sway, and he rolled onto his back and saw the stars and moon still bright above. Looking about him, he realized he could see no sign of the bandits' fire, nor could he hear any of them. No doubt they felt as he did, exhausted and racked by agonizing pain in their stomachs. Every moment brought a fresh assault, like a tremor rippling across his body, that would subside and offer some scant relief, only to be replaced by the next a second later.
Was he fated to die in this place, he wondered, so near to his home and his people? It seemed a fitting end, he thought miserably, for one who had driven himself into exile in a mad search for glory, only to be thwarted in that desire just as it seemed within his grasp. A fitting end for a fool, which he undoubtedly was – no better than the barbarians he had lived with all these long years.
Around him the forest stirred and he had visions of panthers and bears stalking him through the forest. A creature emerged from the brush and loomed above him, its form blotting out the sky above. The Doctor held his breath and closed his eyes, bracing himself for the death blow that he felt certain was moments away from arriving.
“Come,” the Minotaur whispered, kneeling beside him, his head so near that the Doctor could feel his warm breath. “We must be far from here if we are to assure ourselves of escape.”
“Do with me as you wish,” the Doctor said. “I am deserving.”
“I have need of you,” the Minotaur said, picking him up. “If I am to go to Huiam I shall need someone to be my voice, for you never did finish your lessons.”
The Doctor smiled, unable to stop himself from weeping. “Thank you, my good friend,” he said. The beast offered no reply. Already he had begun to make his way out of the valley.
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This is the twenty eighth 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.