tthhee oddiissee, Chapter 3

It had been weeks since Ro first stepped foot into the labyrinth.

The first few days were exhausting, but it got easier the more he ground he covered. Sure, by the end of every day (or what Ro had considered a day, there was no way of telling what time it was) he was exhausted, but it never stopped him from making progress after waking up. More frustrating than anything else was the fact that he had no idea how much progress he had made.

Ro knew the most basic the trick to defeating any maze was simply stick to either the left or right wall, but that hadn’t helped Ro on this journey. Not only did he not find the exit, he kept finding different staircases and ladders that led down to secret passages and deposited him out through trap doors scattered throughout the maze, making it difficult to tell where he had been and where he was actually headed.

There were very few distinguishing features of the labyrinth; all the stone walls looked the exact same, and there wasn’t any difference to any of the gas lamps that Ro could tell. The only real way to gauge where he might be was how close or far away the Minotaur statue was. That was the only thing he ended up using as his navigation for a while, but it didn’t seem to help much. He could swear he had crawled over every part of the maze (or at least the surface passages), but he still couldn’t find anything resembling an exit.

What really bugged Ro more than anything else was just how featureless the place seemed to be. It’s not that he wanted to have to tangle with booby traps, arrows, or whatever else, but he was hoping to see some sort of variety. The real challenge of the labyrinth, he thought, was not being driven mad by the repetitive nothingness therein. The only thing that Ro found was the occasional sound of footsteps that were not his own, but he never saw another person, and figured that it must be his mind playing tricks on him in some way.

Ro, being completely bored by his surroundings started to speak to himself most days. Early into a given day he would start by muttering whatever different sort of phrases and odd things that would pop into his head, but by the end of the day he would usually end up having full-fledged conversations (and occasional screaming arguments) entirely with himself. Every now and then, he would even belt out the entirety of a song he remembered. Unfortunately, his memory when it came to lyrics wasn’t great so he’d usually just sing out a bunch on nonsense instead. It sounded close most of the time, anyway.

It was another day spent rambling to himself that Ro started to hear the footsteps once again, but this time it sounded off in a way Ro couldn’t’ identify at first. The footsteps were much louder, as if they were bigger feet, and they didn’t go away as quickly as usual. Ro shut up pretty quickly, realizing that he definitely wasn’t hallucinating these. They were slow, steady, and while they weren’t always coming from a consistent direction, Ro could hear them keep getting closer. Ro turned a corner, and saw, for the first time, passing one of the junctions in the distance, the Minotaur.

It was an imposing creature, around one-and-half times Ro’s height, with large, powerful muscles, bulging with veins. The head was, of course, of a great bull, with gigantic, imposing horns pointing directly forward, and in it’s hands was a gigantic battle ax: and old and rusted thing that had clearly seen more than it’s fair share of use. The ax itself was almost the same size as Ro. The quick glimpse that Ro got sent shivers down his spine, in awe that such a thing could possibly exist. Then he could see the Minotaur’s horns start to come back through the same junction.

Ro knew it had seen him and was no doubt hot on his trail. Ro, in his panicked state, ran as quick as he could in a random direction, what ever was the closest to the opposite way the Minotaur was coming from. Ro made an effort to make his footsteps as quiet as possible, but knew that it would grant him very little cover as he could hear the footsteps get closer and closer to his direction.

Ro’s heart was beating fast, loud enough to drown out almost everything other than the sound of the gargantuan Minotaur’s feet. Ro could only follow his animal instinct going whatever direction seemed the most fruitful, not that he had any real idea where he was heading. Those same instincts lead him directly to a dead end.

Ro didn’t know what to do, and was almost on the brink of tears. He was trapped with a monster coming to chop him in half. He looked around, trying to see if he could somehow scale the wall and cheat the maze entirely, but he knew better having tried that the very first day. He had no hope, but to accept his fate, he backed against the wall, and slowly slid down to the ground. It was then that he noticed a small crack on the floor.

It was a trap door. One of the many that littered the maze. Not only that, it had a little indent where it could easily be lifted up. Ro was still nervous and sweaty, making even the stonework hard to hold on to as he tried to pry it open. Ro didn’t even get it all the way open before he slipped down in, scraping his back along the way down. He made sure to catch the door so he could slowly, carefully, and quietly bring it down.

He was in, and nearly felt relieved, but couldn’t be sure if it was enough. The Minotaur had human hands, after all, and likely knew this place much better than Ro ever could. At the very least the tunnel wasn’t tall enough for the Minotaur to ever fit through. As he sat in the tunnel underneath he wished he could stop his heart from beating so loud and hoped that the Minotaur couldn’t sniff him out.

The Minotaur stopped right near the trap door Ro was under. He knows I’m here. Ro covered his mouth, stifling any sort of breathing, and wishing that he could stop himself from sweating. He didn’t know much about the way a bull’s head was oriented, but he had a feeling they had a better sense of smell than Ro did.

The Minotaur made a heavy stomp on the ground, shaking the tunnel. There was nothing stopping the Minotaur from reaching down and ending Ro’s life. A few more minutes passed, in total silence. Ro had never sweat this much in his life. Then, for whatever reason, the footsteps started up again. And they started getting further and further away, until they were totally inaudible. Ro spent around another an hour sitting in the tunnel, still not sure if he could hear if the Minotaur was coming or if he was still just in a panic and hallucinating. Either way, Ro decided that his journey was over for the day and that he would be spending the night underground. Well, further underground (if indeed he was underground to begin with).

Ro’s sleep became much less restful, constantly finding himself jerking awake, trying to make sure the Minotaur wouldn’t catch him. Ro’s conversations only happened in his head anymore, and even they were rather quiet. Ro had dreaded every subsequent day in the maze, waiting for the day that the Minotaur would finally end his life. He tried to find the shadows where he could and got much more familiar with the network of tunnels underneath the labyrinth. These tended to be far less complicated than the network above; almost all of the tunnels were a straight line with only a few forks every now and again. It was almost a nice change of pace. Ro never really felt safe while in the tunnels, always suspecting some different monster would be waiting for him at some point, but it felt safer than above.

It was another day in the tunnels that Ro heard a voice call out to him. It was down a hallway with no gas lamps to illuminate that Ro had never noticed before. It was strange, he had sworn he had been through this place a few times, and would’ve noticed something like this.

Ro stood at the edge of the hallway, constantly on his guard. Maybe this would be the first real trap in the labyrinth.

“Who’s there?”

The voice beckoned Ro to come down the hall, but Ro remained unmoved.

The voice complimented Ro, and the figure of an old man, concealed almost entirely in a cloak came to the edge of the hall. Ro couldn’t make any solid details out; the old man nearly blended entirely into the dark, but he seemed harmless enough.

“I don’t remember seeing this down here,” Ro told the man.

The man told Ro that he had to wait to make sure that Ro wanted to survive.

“What do you mean by that?” Ro asked.

The man sidestepped the question entirely, instead asking who he was speaking to.

“Oh, I’m Ro.”

The man found Ro’s name strange.

“It’s short for Roland. My parent’s really love drum machines.”

The man didn’t understand what Ro meant.

“It’s just a dumb joke. I always tell it. No one really thinks it’s funny. Truth be told, I’m not exactly sure where my parent’s even got the name from to begin with.”

The man asserted it was one that befit a hero.

“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself. I’m hardly anything. I’m just doing my best to not get killed in… wherever this is. I’d ask, but I get the feeling you’re not going to give me a straight answer, or whatever you do give will be so bereft of context that it becomes useless to me anyway.”

The man wondered what Ro was, if not a hero.

“I… well, at one point I considered myself an artist, but… that sort of went away. I don’t really know how to answer that question anymore. I mean, I’ve worked in retail and I’ve worked in a manufacturing context for a printing company, but I’m hesitant to just define myself by my job, you know? That feels so hollow.

“I wanted to be an artist: a great one that made people think. I like painting, I love drawing, and I wanted to put out big things into the world. My ambition was too much, I think. Sometimes I think I should’ve shot for being s storyboard artist on a popular cartoon like so many other people in art school. It always frustrated me, you know? Like, I guess there’s nothing wrong with that, but I can’t understand anyone who didn’t want to do more. Don’t you want to something even better than the stuff on tv? I never understood it.

“I’m not one to talk, really. It’s not like I’ve gone on to do anything much with my life. I’ve done nothing with my skills and I haven’t been able to get anyone to take my work seriously. I guess it just must be that bad. Maybe I was never much of an artist to begin with. I’d like to think I was born in the wrong place and wrong time, but I think it might just be an excuse.

“As for right now, I don’t know what I am. I don’t know if my old life is out there waiting for me, but I sort of hope not. I wouldn’t say wandering around a maze for months on end is a good thing, but at least I don’t have to pay rent.”

The man responded saying it was an interesting answer.

“Hey, enough about me. Who are you anyway, just creeping out of nowhere like that?”

The man identified himself as a shopkeeper.

“Really? You don’t seem to have much of a shop.”

The shopkeeper said it might not be the right term. That Ro should think of him as more of a guide.

“You know the way out of here? Tell me! Wait, I need to pay you, don’t I? Sorry, but I left my wallet at home. I don’t think I even had any cash in it to begin with.”

The guide let out a laugh and explained that it was alright and he was no stranger to bartering. He singled out Ro’s hoodie and shoes.

“Huh. Okay, I guess I can give you these,” Ro said, almost relieved. The hoodie had gotten considerably grosser and sweatier as time went on and his shoes provided very little in the way of relief. He couldn’t imagine what the guide would want with them, but Ro wasn’t upset to see them go. He wasted no time in stripping off said articles of clothing, and handing them over.

The guide accepted gently cradled the clothing and remarked how nice Ro’s shirt was as well, hinting how it would be nice to add to his collection.

“This?” Ro looked down. “No, I…” Ro paused, pulling his shirt out to look at the simple design on it once again. “I can’t give this to you.”

The guide asked if Ro was sure.

“It means too much. I know it seems silly, but… that’s the way it is. I’m sorry if I can’t meet your price.”

The guide told Ro that it was perfectly fine, and that he admired Ro’s determination.

The guide secreted Ro’s old clothing beneath his cloak, but it seemed more as if they disappeared entirely. The guide then pulled out an object, about a meter in length, and shining silver. It was an elegant piece of metal and clearly some sort of weapon. The handle resembled tree branches twisted together in a spiral pattern, which eventually thinned out into the much longer shaft that had a distinct helix pattern ending at head of a hammer, with a square striking surface of about three inches on either side, and the back of which tapered into a curved spike: all of it a beautiful, shining silver. The guide handed it to Ro.

Ro held it in his hands, confused.

“A hammer?”

The guide corrected him. It was a war hammer. The guide made a joke, apologizing that he couldn’t get a more appropriate weapon.

“Durandal? What is that?”

The guide laughed it off, and told Ro what he had in his hands. Ro held it aloft and gazed at the war hammer.

“‘Silver Star’, huh? Simple, but I like it.”

Ro then brought it down horizontally again, staring at it.

“But how is this supposed to get me out? Am I supposed to break the wall or something?” Ro joked.

The guide looked at Ro, gravely, making Ro start to lose his composure.

“N-no, seriously. What am I supposed to do with this, huh? What am I supposed with a-a… a fucking war hammer.!?”

The guide told Ro he that Ro knew exactly what that was for. That it was the key to his freedom.

Ro looked down to the hammer, shaking his head. His hairs stood on end.

“You can’t be serious-”

The guide and the hallway disappeared, leaving Ro with the Silver Star in his hands. He only knew that the Guide was right in his assessment.

Ro knew exactly what he had to do.