Umberland Page 10

  Even though my boots lessen the blow, my shoulder smacks into the wall, sending shooting pain throughout my left side. My teeth clack as I bite back a howl. When the ache dissipates, I flip another switch. The gears within my belt grind as they coils the rope, lifting me to the edge of the crevice. Finally, with every ounce of strength in me, I pull myself up and roll onto the soft dirt, barely able to catch my breath.

  Someone grunts above me, and my eyes fly open. Panic grips me as a Zwerg’s ax drives toward my face. I roll to my left, renewing the agony in my shoulder. Reaching for the trigger on my belt, I twist back over. Bullets fly, hitting no particular target. Struggling to my feet, I stumble as the ax swings again, this time nicking my hand as I regain my balance. The pain sends me stumbling backward, and I find myself sprawled out on the ground again. The Zwerg roars and advances toward me. I crab-walk back until there is nowhere else to go: a tree trunk behind me and the Zwerg in front of me.

  “Death to the queen,” the Zwerg says, towering over me, ax raised, ready to split me in half. My pulse skips a couple of beats as I realize they recognize that Hook and I are of the royal family.

  As I prepare to dodge to the right, there’s an explosion of sound. Despite that, I still hear the Zwerg’s gasp as warm liquid splatters over my face. I wipe it away, and my fingers come back slick with fresh blood. Peering up, I shout, overcome by the gore. Riddled with bullet holes, he is no longer recognizable. His ax drops and he falls forward. Panting, I scurry away as his body hits the ground with a thud.

  “Hey, enough lying around. Get up and help me!” Hook growls. At first I can’t find him, but when he shifts, he is wedged between two trees, taking shelter from throwing knives as they stick into the trunks. He switches out the ammunition belt to the Gatling gun strapped to his arm, letting the empty one drop to the ground. Soon bullets are ricocheting off the trees, sending bark splintering in every direction. One bullet makes its mark, striking a Zwerg in the gut. He collapses, his body plummeting into another well-placed inky crevice in the forest floor.

  Hook sprints from the trees, ducking into a partially standing cottage.

  Snatching the mini-grenades from my weapons belt, I race through an enormous hollowed-out tree trunk, feeling as though I’m traveling through a tunnel. When I reach the end, I peer out. Hook leans from an empty window of the cottage and takes aim, ready to incapacitate a Zwerg. Another Zwerg peeks around the corner of the cottage, his double-bladed ax in hand.

  “Hook, your left!” I shout.

  The Zwerg swings. Hook ducks as the weapon nearly decapitates him. The Zwerg loses his balance, and before he is able to steady himself, Hook puts several bullets in the man’s chest.

  Leaping to my feet, I rush through a series of decayed, fallen trees, taking out two more Zwergs as I toss the grenades. On impact they explode, leaving no trace of the person who once stood in the projectile’s way. I have no idea where I’m going, but I hope that wherever I end up will be near the exit. I count off the dead men both Hook and I have managed to stop: five down, two to go.

  Turning a corner, I careen into something solid. I stumble back and find myself sprawled out on the ground. A Zwerg stands over me, grinning wildly. Despite his small stature, he is nothing but pure muscle. He kicks me in the kidney with the metal toe of his boot. I grunt in pain, feeling as though I’ve been hit with a sledgehammer.

  “You’ll never get out of here alive,” the Zwerg says, lifting his pickax over his head. “I shall enjoy dispensing of you.”

  I roll as the ax comes down hard. Snatching my knife, I stumble to my feet and aim it at the Zwerg. “We didn’t come here to fight. Just let me pass.”

  “It’s unfortunate that your mother is the Bloodred Queen,” he says, raising his ax. “With her and her kin, it’s always a fight.”

  “Stepmother,” I protest, backing up. I pull another grenade from my weapons belt. “Look, I don’t have to hurt you. You could come with us. You could leave this place.”

  “Leave this place? Do you honestly believe we hadn’t thought of that idea?” he says with a snort. Not waiting for a response, he swings his ax and misses. Frustrated, he grips the shaft of his ax tighter, his knuckles paling. “Danger lies beyond every door. We’ve gone from a thriving city to just seven of us trying to escape this godforsaken prison. That evil queen, she’s decimated our village, captured and imprisoned our people! And now her sons shall pay the price.”

  Obviously, this man has never met my stepmother. Our deaths won’t mean anything to her, other than being an annoyance for the loss of time and the apple. But before I can say anything more, he swings the ax again, nearly clipping my legs as I dodge the blade. I race into the open forest. The Zwerg is only seconds behind me. As he throws himself at me, his weight hits me like a battering ram, forcing me back to the ground. His plated armor knocks the wind out of me, and I lose my grip on the grenade. It tumbles to the ground.

  His knees pin my arms to the dirt, and he holds the shaft of the ax against my throat, cutting off my air. Adrenaline courses through me, and I’m desperate for a breath. I wrestle, trying to wriggle free from beneath the Zwerg. Hook’s shouts draw the Zwerg’s attention, and I’m able to free my hands. Gripping the worn wood of the ax’s handle, I lift it just enough to take the pressure off my neck.

  Hook’s shouts come again from a distance, but I can’t see him.

  The Zwerg above me chortles. “What now, boy?” he asks, shoving the shaft of the ax back into my throat, making me gasp for air. But I keep both hands gripped on the weapon.

  Hook screams again, and I shove the ax off me, throwing the Zwerg off-balance. He stumbles, and before he’s able to attack, I rip off his goggles and gouge at his eyes. He shrieks in horror, releasing his weapon with a loud clatter. I bolt to my feet, grab the ax, and smash the wooden handle into his pudgy nose. The sound of cartilage and bones cracking, as disgusting as it is, brings relief. I pull a mini-pistol from my weapons belt, aim, and fire, hitting the Zwerg in the chest. Sure that I’ve disabled him, I snatch my throwing star from my belt and launch it at Hook’s attacker.

  The star strikes the other Zwerg in the neck. His knees buckle and he falls to the ground, dead. Hook, clearly shaken, stands from his position. Not acknowledging me, he retrieves his Gatling gun, which he lost during the attack.

  I turn back to my assailant, now incapacitated on the ground. He bleeds profusely from his eyes and nose, staining his snow-white beard scarlet red. The bones of his skull are distorted and sunken in, no longer holding the form of what should be his face. When he coughs, bloodstained spittle dribbles from his mouth. He suddenly looks twenty years older as his face droops, the ache of surrender etching lines into his forehead and the corners of his eyes. He reaches for something in the pocket of his vest.

  “I beg you, before you end my time on this earth, grant me one wish. Find my daughter. Give this to her,” he says, his words gurgling with each breath. In his hand is an old key on a long chain.

  “Daughter?” I say as a lump forms in my throat.

  “Ginger. The Bloodred Queen took her and many others captive the night she built the Labyrinth,” he says, his voice only a whisper now. He struggles for breath.

  “Where can I find her?” I ask, guilt eating at my gut.

  The Zwerg tries to speak, but his words are inaudible.

  Placing the key around my neck, I turn away. A tidal wave of thoughts and emotions floods me, and I feel as if I’m treading water, lost in the middle of a deep and vast ocean. I squeeze my eyes, shutting out the image of the Zwerg’s bloodied body. Covering my ears, I drown out his gurgling breaths.

  Those who have died by my hand, it was purely out of self-defense. It was either me or them; only one of us would come out alive. I’m not a murderer, a cold-blooded monster like my brother. After all, this man is only injured, not dead. Perhaps I should’ve stopped sooner, but the animal instinct to fight to the death is a knee-jerk reaction instilled in me as a means of survival.


  Shots ring out, startling me. Whirling around, I see Hook standing over the Zwerg, his Gatling gun aimed at the man’s head. The Zwerg lies lifeless.

  “Why did you do that?” I shout in disbelief.

  Hook stares at the body. “He was suffering.”

  “Well, you didn’t have to shoot him,” I say.

  Hook gives me a disgusted look. “It was the merciful thing to do. He was in pain, couldn’t breathe. You were just letting him drown in his own blood. Who’s the evil brother now?” he says, stepping over the dead man.

  Gripping his coat, I spin him around. “Don’t dare compare us! I’ve killed no one unless my life has depended on it,” I say, waving toward the bodies of Zwergs surrounding us. “Yet wherever you go, you leave behind a sea of corpses without an ounce of remorse.”

  Shoving me, Hook scowls. “At least I end their misery; meanwhile, you destroy lives and then turn a blind eye, leaving your victims to suffer in your wake.”

  Rage boils my blood. “I have done nothing of the sort. I’ve only done what I felt was right, what was the best for everyone.”

  “Yeah, little stepbrother, and let’s count the hundreds you’ve betrayed: the Bloodred Queen, the Marauders, the Lost Boys, me. And if it wasn’t for me, this man would have lived another ten minutes suffering from his wounds,” Hook says with a disgusted expression. “You’re pathetic, Jack.”

  “His blood is not on my hands,” I snarl.

  Hook gives me one of his white, toothy smiles and tugs on the key hanging around my neck. “Tell that to his little girl,” he says, letting go of it and heading toward the exit.

  I look down at the key and see Hook’s bloody fingerprints on it. I rub at the blood and tuck the key under my shirt, wondering how I’ll ever find the Zwerg’s daughter. When I do, what will I tell her about her father? Turning, I follow Hook, leaving behind the corpses of seven bodies.

  I’m sure I’ve dreamed up the stranger. Other than the Professor, he is the first adult I’ve seen in a long time.

  “Wait! Come back here!” Maddox shouts, stopping just short of the entrance.

  Deciding to join Maddox, I step away from the geared wall. I turn back to the elaborate series of cogs when I hear the faintest ticking sound. The lever flinches slightly but holds.

  “Did you see that?” Maddox asks, wide-eyed.

  “Do you suppose he’s the one who left the gears I found?” I ask.

  Maddox shrugs. “He must have been watching us. As soon as you solved that puzzle, he shot out of those trees like a hound chasing a rabbit. He must have known about the puzzle.”

  “Well, he’s long gone now. We should start moving,” I say, looking back over my shoulder at the geared wall. Again, I think I see the lever shift slightly, but after watching it for several long seconds, I chalk it up to my imagination.

  The towering, leafy hedges give way to metal walls, which cast gloomy shadows on the pathway beneath the moonlight. I step inside the fortress with Maddox following behind. Loud clangs of mechanical noises echo throughout the passageway, although nothing appears to move. As I pass by the blades, my heart stutters hard against my ribs. The knives are larger than I originally realized, each one at least three stories taller than me. A crash of what sounds like metal doors startles me, and I jump, but still see nothing out of place. We move slowly toward the other side of the corridor in spite of the noises that reverberate off the vine-covered metal walls. Like ethereal phantoms, the sounds of our footsteps chase us.

  Chains rattle ahead of us, but there is nothing that could produce that sound.

  An icy chill races up my spine. “I have a really bad feeling about this,” I say.

  “Now you have a bad feeling about this,” Maddox says, sweat beading on his brow.

  Halfway through the dark passage, a deafening bang behind us draws my attention. My long, blond hair blows in front of my face, obscuring my vision as a gust of wind whips through the corridor. Whirling toward the sound, my heart stops as the first bladed wheel releases from the wall, only this time it spins faster than it did when we first arrived. The second and third follow. I recall the ticking sound that came from the geared wall, and my blood turns cold as I realize what it was for: a timer … and time’s up.

  “Run!” I scream. Spinning, I dash in the opposite direction. By the sound of huffing, I know Maddox is close behind. Metal blades slash against one another, scraping like sharpening knives. The terrifying noise draws closer, each blade releasing from its cradle with a loud clank.

  The dead end of the passageway draws nearer. As each wheel releases, the screech of metal builds so the shrieking pierces my ears. I’m sure that the slightest hesitation will guarantee my last breath.

  “Jump!” Maddox says, giving me one last shove.

  With the blades whirring at my back, I wonder if this is indeed my last moment. We slide across the stone floor, tumbling from the passage just as the final blades clash against each other, interlocking and blocking the entrance. My head hits the far wall, sending pain shooting down my spine and limbs.

  My pulse beats rapidly in my ears, and I can’t catch my breath. Maddox lands next to me, his wide eyes fixed on the deadly-looking blades. He collapses back, knocking his top hat from his head as he gasps for air.

  “We made it!” I say, breathless.

  “Well, mostly.” Maddox sits up, straightens his lapels, and stands. “I may have left my dignity and my manhood back there.” He bends down and picks up his hat, settling it back on his head.

  Offering me a hand, Maddox helps me to my feet. I brush the dust from my tunic and leggings. The light of the full moon glitters over the tops of the metal-and-ivy walls. I take in the corridor, looking both left and right. The road seems to go on forever.

  I sigh heavily. “Which way?”

  Maddox nods and gestures for me to go ahead. “Pick a way. All ways are the right ways and eventually lead to the center, or at least I hope that is the case.”

  Reluctantly, I choose the left path and limp ahead, wondering which of the dozens of corridors before us is the next we should take.

  Maddox’s gaze darts throughout the passageway as we walk. Appearing nervous, he rambles on about nonsensical things such as mousetraps and the moon and memory and muchness. His nervousness mirrors the butterflies in my own stomach. Clangs ring out in the distance, sounding like metal doors locking shut. We choose another pathway that heads east just as the gears along the top of the fortress rattle and spin. I cover my ears when the mechanisms shriek. The ground vibrates beneath our feet. Wheels spin as sections of the walls shift, turning ninety degrees and blocking the way we’ve just come from. Other sections open, creating new passages and shutting off others. The wall in front of us shudders and slides closed.

  Maddox stares at me, his dark-lined eyes wide with fear. “Chop-chop, Alyssa!”

  We race down the corridor, sprinting toward the opening to the east. The metal wall creaks as it seals off the hallway ahead. We are nearly at the passageway’s exit, but clearly are not going to make it. The wall bangs shut. I try to push it open, but it doesn’t budge. Furious, I slap the wall. “Now what?” I say, looking back at Maddox.

  He takes in the barriers that surround us. A clank of metal to my right draws my attention as another section of wall slides open, exposing a new passage.

  Maddox places a hand out. “Looks like we’ve just one choice.”

  I step through the opening, my stomach fluttering. “How are we going to find our way through the Labyrinth with all of these walls shifting?”

  “I don’t suppose you brought a map and compass?” Maddox asks in all seriousness. “That would’ve been the most sensible thing to do.”

  “A map? I hardly know where we are, much less own a map of this place,” I say.

  “Well, that was terribly irresponsible of you. Why would you go somewhere you’ve never been without a map?” he asks.

  “Seriously?” I say, throwing my hands up.


  “No? Well then, it looks like we’re going this way.” He points to the opening next to us. “After you, Your Grace.”

  With a huff I say, “You could really drive a girl mad, you know?”

  I’m rewarded with the sound of a deep belly laugh as I head into the next passageway.

  More walls shift around us, and we find ourselves changing course every few minutes. After a while, I get used to the unpredictable shifts in direction. “So really, what’s up with the walls changing? It hardly seems fair. If we’re supposed to find this apple in the center of the Labyrinth, we’ll never get there if we keep getting redirected.”

  Maddox chuckles. “Life isn’t meant to be fair, my dear. A fair is where you go to buy cotton candy, enjoy carnival rides, and pet smelly goats. Life, on the other hand, is often filled with the unexpected. Sometimes the cards we are dealt cause us to have to shift our own anticipated direction. And other times fate deals us a hand that we are pleasantly thankful for,” Maddox says meaningfully as he looks at me.

  Blushing, I drop my gaze, unsure how to respond. Is he talking about me? Having no words to convey the brewing affection in my chest, I just nod and keep moving.

  Soon enough, we come to a dead end. “Nonsense. Complete and utter nonsense. First the garden, then blades, and now moving walls. What’s next? A maze of guillotines?” I ask, frustrated.

  This wall before us is different from any of the others we have come across so far. Instead of large expanses of green hedges and metal corridors, this one is a checkerboard of iron and chrome plates, each one the length of a cannon.

  With a loud crash, the expanse behind us shrinks shut, boxing us into a narrow square space. Searching for any way out of this prison, I find none. My breath quickens, and I’m on the verge of hyperventilation as I feel along the wall, hoping to find a concealed button or switch, but I have no luck. “What now?” I ask as I turn my gaze toward the top of the metal walls that tower above our heads. There is no way we can scale them.