Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! A thousand apologies for taking such a very long time to update. Updates should now be swifter.
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Chapter Eight: The Labyrinth
Nigel half-successfully stifled a cry as Marietta gently wiped a wad of cotton wool soaked with antiseptic over his healing wound.
The bullet's point of entry had been cauterised three days ago by El Pueblo de la Piedra's doctor, Henry Santino, after he had "fished out", as the doctor cheerily put it, the 6mm metal slug from D'orage's gun. Luckily for Nigel, he could remember nothing of the agonising pain that had brought him to semi-consciousness with screams, which had echoed around the villa and scared little Nicole into tears, and sent him back down into the dark escape of unconsciousness throughout the procedure.
Marietta dabbed the wound dry and then applied a cream, which was one of the remarkable herbal substances that Nigel owed a great deal of thanks to for the speediness of his recovery, along with the miraculous route of the bullet that had avoided his organs and caused minimal internal bleeding. The Frenchwoman wrapped fresh dressings around Nigel's torso and then strapped around an extra bandage to give the support he would no doubt need while undertaking the jarring movements involved with relic hunting.
Nigel thanked her and had just finished buttoning his shirt when Francesco arrived, a rifle slung over his shoulder and a pistol and holster in his hand.
"Here, put this on," the Frenchman instructed, handing Nigel the holstered gun.
The historian hesitated for a moment, before accepting the weapon and standing up to strap it around his waist.
"Good. Now it's time we set off," Francesco said, and he led the way from Nigel's room down and out into the early morning light of the courtyard.
Half a dozen men dressed completely in black waited on the backs of their horses, amongst whom were Armand and Jacques, and two stable-hands held empty-saddled mounts.
Francesco turned to his wife and kissed her affectionately. "Au revoir, my dear."
"Be careful, Francesco," Marietta said, softly and earnestly, pulling him into an embrace.
"I will," he assured her, drawing back to brush his lips over her forehead. "I promise."
Nicole came running out of the building and Francesco caught her in a hug. After being assured by her father that he would return soon, the young girl stepped over to Nigel. She stuck out her hand and shook Nigel's with a silly stern expression, then grinned wildly and flung herself into his arms.
"Enjoy your adventure, Nigel," she said, excitedly. Then she turned so her lips were close to his ear and whispered, "Please, find the Stone and end this horrible search that brings trouble to my father and the village."
"I'll do my best," Nigel whispered back.
Nicole planted a small kiss on his cheek and Nigel set her back down.
Francesco swung himself up onto his steed, while Nigel was assisted by the stable lad onto the other horse.
"Take care, all of you," Marietta said to assembled riders.
Francesco tipped his head in acknowledgement, then wheeled his nibble horse around and led the group out of the villa's gates at an active walk.
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Sydney set the cafetiere and cups, which Le Hôtel Fluvial's room service had delivered, on the low table that Karen was sat cross-legged on the floor in front of.
"That's odd…" Karen muttered to herself, frowning at the laptop screen before her.
Sipping her steaming coffee, Sydney came around to look over her secretary's shoulder.
"What's up?"
"You've got an email from an address I don't recognise," Karen explained. "Subject: 'The Labyrinth'."
"Open it up," Sydney instructed, her voice tense, as she crouched down to see better.
Karen quickly obliged and started to read the message aloud.
"'Dear Syd, This is Nigel' - "
Karen gasped and the mug almost slipped from Sydney's hand. Putting the coffee safely on the table, Sydney pulled the laptop towards her and read aloud from where Karen had cut off.
"'I am safe and, if all goes well, we shall be reunited tomorrow. I was unable to contact you before now because of the need for security, however, that danger is now overridden by the dangers of the labyrinth where the Stone is hidden. I know the location of the entrance (see attached map) and have details of the layout of the maze and the traps within'…"
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The sweeping of the early sunlight over the valley was a spectacular sight. The greens of the grassland and woods were suddenly made more vibrant and the distant lake and streams glistened like silver-blue crystal. The rays caught the windows and rooftops of Pueblo de la Piedra and drew the chill, left by the night, out of the air.
Francesco led the group along overgrown trails up the hillside behind the village and around the brim of the valley, instead of using the much wider and well-worn track that led from the main gate to the nearest tarmac road. It was a route that made the equine choice for transportation essential, as the few cars and trucks owned by the village would never be able to make it up the narrow inclining paths.
When they arrived at a spur that overlooked the track through the valley below, Nigel saw the reason Francesco had given him for this more arduous route. From his vantage point, he could see many mercenaries hired by D'orage waiting in ambush alongside the road.
They got away from the valley without mishap and, upon reaching open ground, Francesco sped up the pace. The strong horses stretched out and all but flew over the grass. Despite slowing to pass over steep or wooded areas, the group maintained the speed until they pulled up at the Southern mountains.
Nigel slid weakly from the saddle of his blowing horse and leant against its sweat-soaked neck to keep himself upright. His face was ashen and taut with pain, and nausea and vertigo were having a raving party within his trembling body.
A firm hand took hold of his shoulder and moved him away from the horse, only to quickly become a steadying arm around his waist that practically carried him over to sit against a fallen tree trunk.
With his back against the tree and his head in his hands, Nigel waited for his stomach to settle and the blood to stop pounding in his head before looking up. When he finally did, he found Francesco staring down at him worriedly.
"Are you ok?" the Frenchman asked, gently.
"I will be in a minute," Nigel murmured, taking a couple of deep breaths.
"Your wound…you're not bleeding, are you?"
"I don't think so…" Nigel pulled up his shirt to examine the bandages around his side, still blessedly spotless white. "No."
Francesco offered a bottle of water to Nigel, who accepted it and took a few tentative sips.
"Maybe you shouldn't have come…" the Frenchman muttered. "I was wrong to let you…I shouldn't - "
"No," Nigel objected, firmly. "I'll be fine."
Francesco looked down at the determined Englishman and relaxed as he realised the colour was returning to his face, he was no longer shaking and was taking thirsty gulps of the water.
"Alright. Let me know when you're ready to move on."
"I'm ready now," Nigel said, screwing the cap back on the bottle and stiffly standing up.
Nigel followed Francesco over to where the rest of the group had gathered, having tethered the horses. Moving made his wounded side scream at him to start with, but by the time they had located the eye carved into the mountain, it had numbed to a persistent ache and he barely even limped.
In the dark recess in the mountain base, the golden flames of their torches lit up the tiger's eye. Francesco ran his fingers over the Fourth Eye of the Tiger, closing his eyes briefly to savour the moment. They had finally reached the entrance to the labyrinth that contained the Guardian Stone, which had been wrongly kept from his family and village for more than a hundred years. This day he would reclaim the Stone.
Nigel led the way through a narrow gap in the rock and into the entrance tunnel to the labyrinth. The light from his burning torch illuminated a natural passageway that would have appeared nondescript were it not for the telltale carving outside. As he expected, after about ten minutes walking the tunnel forked. Without hesitation he took the left passage.
However, they soon came to another fork and not the crossroads Nigel had been expecting. He stopped, put on his glasses and pulled a small notebook out of his pocket. Flicking through the pages, he anxiously wondered what he had missed. Francesco came up to stand beside him, while the other men hung back nervously looking to each other and muttering quietly.
"What's the problem?" Francesco whispered, leaning close to Nigel's ear and looking back at his men.
"There should be a crossroads here," Nigel answered, quietly.
Francesco struggled not to look crestfallen. "Eeny-meeny-miney-mo?" he suggested, flippantly.
Nigel sighed with the heaviness of the weight on his shoulders. "Left."
.
.
Water flooded in through the holes in the otherwise blank, four walls that trapped them. They were submerged up to their waists in a few minutes. The water level continued to rapidly rise.
Nigel tried to wring out his notebook to no avail, while the others pushed through the water to search the walls, ceiling and floor for a means of escape.
"I guess it wasn't left after all," Francesco yelled above the sound of the rushing water, as he appeared at Nigel's side.
"Apparently not," Nigel deadpanned. He threw his ruined notebook away in disgust.
With alarming speed the water level rose and rose. Soon it was lapping against Nigel's neck. His limbs were being slowly chilled into numbness. Desperately, he ran the palms of his hands over the smooth stone walls, searching for something, anything, whatever would enable them to escape.
But he could find nothing.
Nigel looked down into the rising depths, which would soon be high enough to envelop his head, smothering him and filling his lungs until he was drowned. The torch he held above the water was damp, its flame slowly dying. Some of the other torches had already gone out. Gloom was taking over the fatal room they were trapped in, hidden beneath tons of rock.
The other men stilled, tilting their heads back to keep their faces above the water. They prayed with each panicked gasp of air that it would not be their last breath.
However, Nigel didn't move, his eyes transfixed by the water that wanted to kill him.
Something caught his attention. There was a flaring orange light deep down, as the water quenched a dropped torch. The fading fire weakly illuminated a small shape that appeared to be connected to the floor. Leaning back to take a gulp of air, Nigel shut his eyes and then plunged downwards.
The water swirled around him, as he opened his eyes and reached for the floor, his arms laden with his sodden shirtsleeves. His finger brushed metal and he seized hold of the little lever. Using his weight as leverage, he hauled the ancient handle. The scrapping sound was extraordinarily loud underwater and he clearly heard a click, before realising that the floor had opened up beneath his feet and he was falling.
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Preston and Sydney pulled Karen up over the edge of the gapping hole that had opened under her.
With the young secretary safely on solid ground again, Preston used a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his forehead. His hands shook and he could do nothing to still them. He wasn't sure that it would be a very good idea to let him near the Guardian Stone, assuming, of course, that he lived long enough to get to the centre of the trap-laden labyrinth. Preston was developing an immense hatred for the relic that had caused him, Sydney, Karen and his brother such suffering. Absently rubbing his shoulder that had narrowly missed being skewered earlier, he was certain that he was going to have nightmares about spikes for months.
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It took a while for the ringing in Nigel's head to quieten enough for him to hear the groans and movements of the others around him. Francesco had to shake him three times before he meekly responded.
Slowly sitting up, Nigel realised that they had landed on the floor of one of the labyrinth's sandier tunnels and the water had drained through holes cut into the stone.
They dosed the torches with more oil from a container that Armand carried in his pack and lit them again. Rubbing his aching side, Nigel limped to the head of the group and led them on in the direction his compass claimed would take them to the centre of the labyrinth.
As they cautiously made their way through the treacherous tunnels, Francesco de la Piedra thought about Nigel's American friend and colleague, Professor Sydney Fox. He wondered if she had found her way into the labyrinth yet. Francesco was looking forward to meeting this woman that Nigel obviously liked and respected very much. From what the Englishman had told him, it seemed the two historians had been through a lot together while hunting relics across the globe. He knew from his own experiences while seeking the Guardian Stone that their 'profession' was a dangerous one. Yet, it reaped many rewards. He only hoped this quest would be as successful.
A sharp intake of breath snapped Francesco out of his reverie.
Nigel had come to a sudden stop in front of him. "Good Lord…" the Englishman muttered, his voice filled with awe.
Francesco's gaze followed Nigel's wide-eyed stare. What he saw made him gasp as well. The blank rock-walled tunnel they had followed for the last mile or so had ended and they stood on the threshold of a large chamber that was coated in some kind of writing. Each word was etched into the smoothed stone and filled with gold, silver leaf formed borders around the passages of text, and red and green gems appeared to be punctuation marks. The reflected light from the torches was dazzling.
"What is it?" Francesco asked, awe-struck, as he stepped after Nigel into the room.
"Some form of ancient Spanish…I can't translate much of it… Though, if I were to make a guess, I'd say it was the monks' sacred text, their 'bible'."
Francesco ran his fingers over the cool metallic lettering, attempting to read some of it himself. "Yes, I think you're right."
"Is it another booby trap?" Jacques asked, moving to de la Piedra's side.
Alarm flashed in Francesco's eyes, he snapped his hand from the wall and turned to Nigel for an answer.
"I don't think so…" Nigel told them, hesitantly. "We may be close to the centre of the labyrinth."
"And the Stone…" Francesco murmured.
The group walked through the chamber and out into the tunnel on the other side, almost regretting that they were leaving the beautiful and fascinating room behind. Like all the rest, the tunnel consisted of dull bare rock. However, it twisted a lot more and Nigel's compass seemed to be telling him that they had turned in a complete circle at least twice. It was about twenty minutes later when they reached a junction and stopped. There were two tunnels they could take, but a gold star was painted above one of them.
"The centre of the labyrinth," Nigel announced, smiling.
His eyes on the star, Nigel walked forward and the others followed close behind.
Suddenly there was a collection of high-pitched whooshing sounds. Nigel felt something sharp stab into his thigh.
"Is everyone alright?" Francesco asked, worriedly.
There were some affirmative noises from the men, as they looked at the darts that had harmlessly hit the rock behind them and now lay on the sandy floor.
Nigel wordlessly looked down at the red feather-tipped dart in his leg, a hand reaching out to steady himself against the wall. A burning sensation travelled up his thigh, leaving a numbness in its wake.
Slowly, he looked up and his lips moved to call for help. But then his eyes widened, he straightened and cried out something different.
"Sydney!"
"Nigel!" she responded, stepping out of the third tunnel with Preston and Karen.
Sydney Fox felt a jolt of joy and beamed with pleasure. Finally, after days of worry and uncertainty, Nigel stood before her, alive. He was looking a little worse for wear with a scrape on his chin, brown hair dishevelled, clothes soaked through and a dart sticking out of his thigh. As she looked closer, she released that he was pale beneath the grime on his face and he had lost a little weight from his already slender frame since she had seen him last. However, a broad grin was spread across his face, his hazel eyes bright with happiness.
Nigel look a step towards her, but without warning his leg gave way and he went crashing to the ground.
Sydney was instantly at his side, taut with fear, and tried to help him up. However, he couldn't seem to get his legs under him and he slumped against her. Sweat broke out in beads on his forehead and she could feel his heart racing under her hand.
"Nigel, what's wrong?" she asked, desperately.
"Syd…" he gasped, clutching her arm tightly. "I can't see…everything's blurred…"
She could do nothing as Nigel's eyes slid closed and his hand lost its grip.
.
To be continued…