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by Beth Wodzinski
Dark Fantasy, 5 pages.
Originally Published in Quantum Muse, 2005
(1) Rate this Story I went into the labyrinth to get away from Daedalus. He built the labyrinth, but it would take him days to find me, and the Minotaur might find him first.
And if the Minotaur found me? That would be better than Daedelus finding me again.
It was dark inside, utterly black. The silence roared in my ears so loudly that I couldn’t hear my heart beat. I walked deeper into the labyrinth, trailing a hand against the wall. I came to the first stairs and walked up, then walked down more stairs, twisting and turning until I was completely disoriented.
After a while I stopped walking. One place in the labyrinth was as good as the next, so I sat down and leaned my back against the wall. I ate a little bread, and then closed my eyes.
When I woke up, the Minotaur was there. He’d found me already. I could tell by the smell, instantly - a warm animal smell. Despite the stories, he didn’t smell like a monster. I could hear his breath, snuffling in his bovine nostrils.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said. His tongue wasn’t built to speak human languages; the words sounded strange and slurred, but I could understand him if I listened carefully.
“I’m not,” I lied, but then I didn’t know what else to say. I wanted to run away from him but knew it was pointless. We sat together in the dark for a long time, and if he could smell my fear, he didn’t mention it.
Finally he asked me who I was.
“Icarus,” I said.
Again, the silence stretched out between us. “Daedalus’s son,” he said, finally.
I nodded, and then realized he couldn’t see me in the dark. “Yes. You know Daedalus?”
“He comes to visit me sometimes,” the Minotaur said, and I could tell from his voice that his visits with Daedalus were not so different from mine. I knew that the Minotaur had smelled the wine on Daedalus’s breath, listened to his insinuating whispers, felt his hands along his legs. I knew that Daedalus hadn’t stopped, no matter how much the Minotaur begged him.
We were brothers, born in darkness.
* * *
The Minotaur and I lived well enough. He shared his food with me - fruit and grains, mostly - the stories about how he only ate human flesh were not true. The King’s soldiers brought him a large plate of food every day.
We explored the labyrinth together, he and I. Or, rather, he showed me his world, quietly leading me through its twists and turns, until I knew them well enough to move around on my own. I learned to feel the subtle differences in the stone walls, and I memorized the pattern of the labyrinth.
I told him about my life outside the labyrinth. He told me about his life inside. Sometimes I whispered about the adventures I wanted to have. Sometimes he whispered about how he longed to meet his mother and his brothers and sisters.
We didn’t talk about Daedalus.
One day, the Minotaur said, “I’m bigger than he is now.” I didn’t ask what he meant; I knew, and I was both glad and afraid. The next time Daedelus called the Minotaur to him, I begged him not to go, I begged him to hide deeper in the labyrinth with me, but he wouldn’t. He went to Daedelus, as he always did. “It’s worse when I hide,” he told me.
The Minotau -- [End of Preview.]