The Labyrinth

In one of the ancient American cultures, one of the most unknown, there was a ritual where young boys and girls decided whether or not they wished to serve their king as warriors for the small empire. There were no remains left of their cities or how their people lived except for some oral traditions that were passed on from grandparent to grandchild over and over again through more than three thousand years.  Some considered the empire as fact, others as a myth but it was true.

They were a culture with a lot of enemies so they had to create a force to defend their people and their land. So, every year those fifteen-year-olds who wished to be considered were led before the king to swear their allegiance to him and the empire. The children stood before the king for several hours without food, water or rest. The only exception was a five minute break every three hours for the kids to rid themselves of waste. After a full twenty four hours those who remained were taken from the plaza to a large stone wall outside of town. One year there was only one boy named T’rupta left at the end of the trial period.

T’rupta was escorted from the village and taken to a large stone wall. As he looked at the wall he noticed that it was so high it nearly blocked out the sun. The stones were aged and showed the patina of at least a thousand years. The stones were placed perfectly together and it was covered with a moss that, in the summer sun, looked a bright shade of emerald green with touches of brown and black salted through it. Ferns with fronds that he thought were larger that he was. In the wall was a large wooden door with the heads of gods that were carved long before T’rupta’s people settled the in the area. Despite the temperature hovering around eighty degrees the closer they moved toward the door the colder the air felt until it was barely comfortable to endure.

The high priest stood before the door staring in T’rupta’s eyes. “Boy,” he started with a complete lack of emotion in his voice. “You have been chosen to defend the empire. There is one final test you must pass before the king will allow you to defend his empire. Do you wish to take this test?”

“I do,” T’rupta said. He was standing as proud and brave as he could. He was facing the unknown and he was scared but he didn’t dare show it otherwise he would be cast aside as the others were.

“Enter the labyrinth,” he said as he opened the door. “I will pray for you and your soul that you will reach the other side safely. But beware; there are creatures and beings within who will try to destroy you. You must use your mind, your body and your spirit to survive them. I wish you all the luck the gods can grant you young T’rupta. Believe me…you will need it.” It was only then that the priest smiled as he patted the young man on the shoulder. “I know you’ll make it,” he whispered. “You have the fire of the king inside you.”

“How many have made it,” the young man asked.

“In the last twenty years five had made it,” he replied with that straight look once again moving across his face. T’rupta asked how many tried the test. “Well over one hundred have tried but the gods did not look favorably on those who died on their quest. They were unworthy of their dreams.”

T’rupta got a look on his face that combined fear and pride. “I will make it,” he said. “I swear that to you, the king and the gods.” He grabbed the door from the priest’s hand and stepped through. The door closed behind him and he heard the priest lock it behind him. His first look at the labyrinth was nothing but a wall that looked as if it went on for miles. No doors or anything else. All he could see were stones, moss, ferns and spider webs. The clouds above were nearly black. There was lightening coming from the north and he could hear the thunder in the distance. It was cold, so cold that he could see his breath. He stood straight. It was almost as if he were a wild animal sensing danger or searching for prey. Despite his fears and doubts, and thought about what his first move was going to be he stood there for God knows how long when he heard a voice.

“Don’t go either way,” it said. He couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from until he looked down. Standing there was what could only be called a troll. He was barely a foot and half tall with a long nose, long hair and a long red beard. His clothes were metal armor with tarnished bronze spikes and some kind of crest on the chest. T’rupta didn’t recognize the crest but for some reason that didn’t matter. “Don’t go either way,” the troll said again.

“Why not,” T’rupta asked but as he waited for an answer he thought of another question. “What is your name little one,” T’rupta asked as he crouched down on one knee.

“My name is Desdrew,” he replied. “Do you think you are the first to try and cross the labyrinth,” he said answering a question with a question. T’rupta answered that he knew of the many journeys which had taken place before his. “There have been many more than you have been told of. They have come and gone for many seasons. With each one a storm follows and those who didn’t make it lost their soul and were sacrificed to the spirits who created this labyrinth. I have known the many and the few since the spirits placed me here. I can judge those how will try and whether they will make it out alive.”

“What do you see in me,” the boy asked.

“That is not for me to say,” Desdrew said with a slight smile. “All I can say is do not go either way as you enter. The rest is up to you.” Desdrew reached into pocket, pulled out a pipe and handed it to T’rupta. “Boy, smoke this and the smoke you exhale with show you the path to your fate.” The boy took the pipe, took and big drag on it but while he did he looked down and Desdrew was gone. He exhaled and the smoke swirled around for a second and faded into nothingness.

“Desdrew,” he yelled but there was no reply. “How is this supposed to help me?” Again he stood in silence. Then he inhaled a chest full of smoke and again he exhaled being careful to watch the smoke as it flowed around. It drifted around his head and down the front of his body. As it hit the ground it spread out covering several of the black stones he was standing on. “What am I supposed to see,” asked out loud. Just them he noticed that the smoke had all moved to a corner of one of the stones and was moving down into the small gap.

It took him a second to realize what was going on and as soon as he did he walked over to the rock, pulled his knife and, with much effort, he lifted the stone. Under the stone were a hole, slightly bigger than he was, and a wooden ladder. He looked at the ladder before starting down. It was old and nearly rotted away, tied with hemp ropes and it even had some branches with leaves growing from some of the rungs. Even though he was sure it wasn’t safe he stepped onto the ladder and climbed down into total darkness.

He stepped off of the ladder and the minute he did he felt a warm wind coming from directly in front of him. Reaching out he touched the walls on either side of where he was standing. They were cool to the touch and wet. He could hear water dripping all around him and he could feel streams of water flowing around his feet.

“Hello,” he yelled. The only sound that came to him was an echo from directly in front of him. Using that sound he knew which way to go.

It was a long walk but he walked slow, listening as he proceeded. By the time he reached the end of the tunnel his eyes had adjusted to the lack of light and he saw the smooth carved edges of the walls. Surprisingly, other than the branches on the ladder, there was no vegetation anywhere to be found. He did see a few spiders nesting on the ceiling but they took no notice of him as he walked by so he didn’t bother them.

Finally he made it to the end. Before him was a stone door. There were a gold handle on the left hand side. It looked at it at that moment thinking whether or not he should open but he turned and looked behind him. The hallway he had just walked down was gone. Instead he faced a stone wall that matched the rest of the tunnel. “Well, I guess I have only one way to go,” he said under his breath. With that he grabbed the door and, although it was large, it swung open with just a little effort.

He stepped through the door and looked around. There were two doors and ladder. Looking up he saw that the ladder seemed as if it went on forever. There was what looked like a pin prick of light. It was so small it was hard to judge distance. The doors looked tempting but he thought that it might be better to be on the surface rather than scurrying around underground like some rat looking for food. The ladder he had climbed down was fifteen rungs. How much more could this one be he thought. He hadn’t gone down any since he entered the tunnel but then again he hadn’t gone up any either so, with that thought in his mind he started climbing.

“Is there anyone up there,” he yelled. There was no answer but there breeze he had felt earlier became warmer and more humid making it hard for him to breathe. It took almost a half an hour for him to climb the twenty four rungs to the surface only to be met by a metal grate. It wasn’t hard to lift it and climb out.

“Where the hell am I,” he asked. That was an impossible question. There were four paths leading off in different directions. All were sandy and dry, lined with brick walls covered with dark green ivy that he had never seen before. On the wall to his right there was a wooden plaque that warned, “Those who come to choose must pick the right path. The others will lead to misery and suffering. So pick carefully and proceed with the haste necessary to complete your task.”

T’rupta looked around, thinking what to do. If he chose wrong what would happen? If he walked the wrong path would he be alive to tell others? He wasn’t sure. Then he glanced down and saw footprints. There were hundreds of sets leading off in different directions but he noticed that the path off to his right only had a few sets of footprints leading away from him.

He thought back to what the priest had said before he entered the labyrinth. “In the last twenty years five had made it. Well over one hundred have tried but the gods did not look favorably on those who died on their quest. They were unworthy of their dreams.” The words were as clear as if the priest was standing before him talking to him. He turned and started walking down the path that was to his right.

He walked about twenty feet when he turned and saw that the other three paths had disappeared…swallowed into the surrounding walls. T’rupta looked ahead and continued walking. It wasn’t a long path or anything but it was tight. He could barely fit between the walls. His clothes were stained and torn from rubbing against the vines but he didn’t slow down.

Then T’rupta looked up and saw that the sky was crystal clear and the morning sun that he saw when he entered through the main door was gone. The sky was full of stars and they were brighter than he had ever seen but there was something strange. The constellations he learned about as a boy were gone and different ones took their place.

“Nice work young master,” a voice said as he reached one of the doors at the end of the path. Looking around T’rupta saw Desdrew sitting on the top of the wall looking down and smiling at him. “Honestly, I didn’t think you were going to make it this far but you have a wisdom about you. I am sure of that but do not get cocky. You may be smart but the creator is older and wiser than any other being. Keep your eyes, ears and mind working and you will do fine. Just think about why you are doing this and why others didn’t make it though the labyrinth. “Because they turned the wrong way,” T’rupta said with a sense of not pride but arrogance. “I saw the clue and figured it out. They were stupid enough not to know what it meant.”

Desdrew looked at him with a touch of distain.  “You believe that you are better than the others, and I warn you…your going will not be an easy one.” With that he stood up and went running down the wall laughing as he left the young man standing there confused but all alone. Although he had left Desdrew’s voice came through one last time. “One last warning before I go, do not eat or drink while you are on your quest. What is healthy for you may be poison and what is poison may be healthy. Do not trust any food or drink”

T’rupta opened the door and stepped through.  The ground was soft and moss covered. Puddles covered nearly every inch and there were times when he was walking in mud that covered his ankles. Despite the condition of the path, as he walked he could feel something was different. Somehow the labyrinth had changed again. Although it was night he could see clearly. On each side of the path were trees placed about twenty feet apart with a path going off into the distance between each one. “What is this,” he asked. The trees were very, very large and their canopy nearly blocked out the sky. On the horizon were a pair of, what looked like, moons. “My land has only one moon,” he said. “Where am I and how did I get here.”

He was tired. It wasn’t that he had been travelling a long time, just a couple of hours, but the darkness and the sound of the breeze was tranquilizing to such a level that he began to think that sleep was more important than finishing his quest. Then through the breezes a faint music started to be noticed. It was the lyre. T’rupta knew the instrument since both his mother and grandmother forced him to learn how to play when he was five-years-old. That had the effect of adding to the weariness he was experiencing.

“What if the others fell asleep on the path,” he asked. “Maybe that was what led them astray and did not allow them to complete their quest?” He looked around trying to make sense out of what was happening. He wondered if this was all real, an illusion or was he losing his mind after just a couple of hours. Maybe he wasn’t suited to protect the king or anyone else. The doubts continued to increase the more his mind had time to work. He was such a cock sure boy and now everything he thought about himself disappeared into some dark recesses that he didn’t want to know existed.

He dropped to his knees sobbing just as he did when he was a child of three or four when he saw something familiar. There was a white moth flying around his head looking at him as it did. Still crying he raised his hand and held it still in front of him. The moth circled a couple more times and landed on his hand but just as quickly as it landed it flew into the air and down the trail.

The moth stayed just out of T’rupta’s grasp as he stood, still crying, and chased it down the path. It was clear that this insect was leading him somewhere but he didn’t know where. Was it the right way or was it leading him off of the right path. It went pass door after door until it finally stopped and settled on a bright red flower.

“What are you trying to tell me,” T’rupta asked as he looked around. There was a door next to the flower but it was covered with spider webs and dirt but there was still more of the path in front of him so, once again T’rupta was confused. “Am I supposed to go through the door,” he asked as he moved closer to the moth. It just sat on the flower looking at him and then suddenly it launched into the air, circled the boy and flew back down the way it came. T’rupta looked confused and angry as the moth flew away. “Thanks for the help,” he yelled as he looked at the door and then down the path.

The door wasn’t as ornate as the others he had seen on his journey. Out in the real world he wouldn’t have paid any attention to it but he decided that the moth must have been telling him something and by going through the door at least he might be a little closer but that was hard to tell since he didn’t know what direction he was going or what direction he was supposed to be going in the first place.

By now the darkness had gotten so bad so the first thing he did was make a make-shift torch so he could see the rest of the way. He got it made and used friction to get it smoking at first and, after a few tries, it burst into flame.

Slowly, he moved the rocks and dirt from in front of the door. He swept away the spider webs and gently he yanked on the handle but it wouldn’t budge. Time and time again he pulled on the door until it fell off of its rotten hinges. It landed with a thud spraying the area, and T’rupta, with a layer of thick black mud and rancid smelling water. He wasn’t hurt just a little surprised so he picked the torch off of the door, gathered his senses and walked through the door.

As he stepped through the door slammed behind him and he heard the tumblers of a lock. Once again there was no turning back. It was darker than it was before he entered so dark that even the torch wasn’t helping. It was as if all of the light was being absorbed by the air itself.

He walked a few steps when he noticed a strange sound. It was sound of wood breaking with each step he took or maybe it wasn’t wood but for all the world he couldn’t guess what he was walking on but he did stumble once and he fell onto the floor. He crawled for about twenty feet feeling ahead as he went. The floor was dry and whatever he touched crumbled into powder as soon as he put any weight on it.

“What the hell is that,” he asked.

His hands, knees, feet and face were covered with the strange white powder. It was strangely musky smelling and yet sweet. He continued crawling until he found a place where he could safely stand up. When he did he reached over to one of the walls and touched something he never expected…a human skull. He jumped back with shock more than fright slamming into the other wall sending down a flood of broken skulls, jaw bones and teeth that knocked him down to the ground under a heap of shrapnel.  He was shaken and bleeding from being cut by the sharp edges of centuries old bones. As he stood he pulled up a part of the floor. It was then he found that what he had been walking on, what he had been turning to powder were the arm and ankle bones from thousands of people who had died wandering through the labyrinth.

His eyes quickly became accustomed to the lack of light “By the gods,” he said as he looked around. For as far as he could see there were skulls and bones. “How many people tried this and failed,” he asked in a voice that echoed for nearly ten minutes. It was easy to see that it was not the hundred that the priest had told him. T’rupta could see thousands of skulls lining the walls. It was scary but he fought the feelings and continued on.

It took a while for him to make it to the end but he made it. The last fifty feet or so he had a strange feeling, stranger than he had ever felt before. It was as if someone was watching him…making sure of his movements…maybe seeing how his mind was holding up. He was tired, hungry and thirsty. He had no idea how long he had been walking or how much further he had to go. Most would have given up, lay down, and left the gods to decide their fate but T’rupta wasn’t going to do any of that. He was going to make it and he wasn’t afraid to let the gods know how he was feeling. “You aren’t going to beat me,” he screamed. “I know what you are doing and it is not going to happen. I am not going to go crazy or kill myself just for your amusement. You have enough sacrifices already. I am not going to be another one.”

Even with that he had a feeling that someone was watching so he slowly, very slowly looked around. He touched every skull. Maybe one of them opened a door or something. There had to be something. Yes, there was a door at the end of the path but he knew there had to be more. The longer he was there the stronger the feeling was. There was someone watching him but he had no idea where they were. Then he got a look at something in the corner of his eye. One of the skulls had eyes. They were lifeless and white but they were still there. Looking around he saw more and more skulls with eyes still resting in their sockets.

How long had they been here, he thought.  His mind was racing, thinking of all the possibilities when he felt something on his leg. It was cold, deathly cold, and it was moving. He thought that it must have been a weed brushing against him. There were a lot of them around so he thought that had to be the answer. Yes, he thought, it must be a weed so he didn’t pay attention. Again and again he felt something brushing his legs and it was becoming painful. He was close to the door so he opened and stepped through but before he closed the door behind him he looked back. There on the floor there were no weeds, at none that could have caused him any pain rather he saw movement all over the floor. There were dozens of hands crawling all over the floor. They looked as if they were hunting for something and he thought that he might have been their prey if he had not stepped through the door. “Better luck next time,” he yelled back as he closed the door behind him.

The path ahead of his was clear and T’rupta made quick time through a number of twists and turns. On the way the path was lined by trees, shrubs and stone walls. The sky was still filled with millions of stars and somehow he managed to orient himself to where the end of the labyrinth might be. Of course, he couldn’t be sure but he had a feeling that he was travelling the right direction to complete his quest.

He had been walking several hours, although he thought and felt that he had been travelling for days, maybe weeks. He had not had any water, food or sleep in a long time and his body was starting to show it. He was dehydrated, hungry and barely able to stay awake when he reached the last doors.

T’rupta literally crawled to the doors. They were made of gold with pearl and diamond inlays. They were marked in letters seven feet tall. The one on the left was marked “right” and the one on the right was marked “wrong”.  He sat on the ground and just stared at the door. Right or wrong, left or right... all meanings were gone. Up was down, left was right, life was death and day was night. How could he make such a decision especially in the condition he was in.

He looked behind him as he had so many times he changed directions or had a choice he had to make. Desdrew was nowhere to be seen but where he had expected to see his guide he saw a pomegranate tree. It was huge and full of fruit. It was not there a few minutes before but it was now. Beneath the tree a young woman was sitting and eating one of the juicy fruits.

“Darling T’rupta,” she started. “I know that you are hungry, tired and thirsty. Here take this and enjoy then you may choose a door and fulfill your destiny.” She reached up and pulled a ripe fruit from the tree, placed it in her hand and held it out before the young boy.

T’rupta looked at her and then at the doors. Yes, he was hungry and thirsty but he had heard so many things about the labyrinth he did know what do to, He knew he wasn’t far from the end. It was staring him in the face but he remembered all the bones and skulls he had seen. He remembered the pain he had when they sliced into his flesh. He remembered Desdrew and everything he told him so long ago. He also remembered the king and the priest and that he was the only one out of dozens to be chosen for this quest. He was the one chosen to protect the king. All he had to do was choose the right door.

He stood up and stepped toward the woman. “I am not that hungry,” he said as he turned and walked over to the doors. He looked at both wondering silently what he should do. Should he choose right or left, right or wrong? He wasn’t sure as he reached for the door marked wrong and opened it. Was it his fate or was it just another path that led to nowhere? Inside was a golden gate that swung open and welcomed him. Also, the king, the priest and Desdrew were standing there.

“You have chosen the right path even when you knew it was wrong,” the priest said as the boy bowed before them.

“That is the sign of a true protector,” the king said with a smile as he walked up to T’rupta and held out a gold and silver amulet. “Bow before me.” The boy did as he was told. “”With this amulet I grant you the honor of being the protector or the king and the empire. Henceforth you will be known as T’rupta, Guardian of the Empire.”

T’rupta stood and said what neither he nor anyone else there expected. “Your highness, I am honored to be offered this position but I have to decline,” he said. “I have seen and learned too much to accept. There have been many, many who have given their lives to be able to protect you Your Highness. That is not right.” The king was getting angry but T’rupta continued. “I am going to train others in such a way that this deadly test will no longer be necessary because so many will pass it as I did.”

The king, the priest and Desdrew spoke with each other for a time before they turned to T’rupta.

“You are a brave boy,” the king said. “You are right that the test is badly flawed however it is the way we have done it for centuries and it is how we will do it in the future.” With that he took a crystal dagger from its sheath and plunged it deep into the boy’s chest. When the boy took his last gasping breath the king opened the door and tossed the body inside to be included in the wall.

During the following years dozens of young men and woman died in the labyrinth. A few survived and of those few none ever spoke out against the labyrinth. The word of T’rupta had spread and each that passed his skull bent to show tribute to a young hero but nothing changed. Young people died for no reason and they were willing to do so.

In the end, centuries after T’rupta, the royalty of the empire were killed by, ironically, being locked in the labyrinth. After that day not another young man or woman died to serve the empire and T’rupta…his story was told and retold, he became a hero throughout the empire and his name never died and it still lives on for the few who remember the empire and what it meant.