Slaying the Minotaur

Ocean has been selected to rescue the enigmatic and nomadic princess of a foreign tribe from an elusive structure known only in legends. Armed only with a ceremonial staff and the cloak and pelts per tradition of his own tribe, he fearlessly ventures forth to rescue her. But the structure is not totally abandoned and there lies a dark creature with an even darker heart at its epicenter. And it's hungry so very ravenously hungry ...


2. The Girl


Ocean surveyed his surroundings-the high walls made of stone and cradled by green earth-creeping vines and foliage and moss. His eyes were peeled for the anxious shifting of movement. He heard the pattering and footfalls of overzealous creatures, felt the sharpness of their foreign instruments of wickedness poking and prodding into his side with a morbid fascination.

“Reveal yourselves,” his voice was hoarse with thirst. He licked his dry lips and struggled against the rope cutting into his wrists. He was consequentially being roasted alive. A blast of white light blinded him then. The creature, more pig like than human grunted and retreated from the light.

A young girl of small stature and flaxen hair shorn to her scalp approached him with light feet. She didn’t make a sound as she wordlessly examined him, turning his face this way and that. Then her fingers unbelted his sword, an inornate hilted weapon with a clean metal blade. She cut the binds that bound him to the spit of kindling and firewood. There was a flask full of odd smelling water; it smelled of sulfur and iodine and was oddly antiseptic in nature. She poured this into her cupped hands and drizzled it over his head.

He withdrew from her delicate touch and Ocean looked at this nameless girl-this unearthly human creature in wonderment. Why had she saved him? He heard the dirge of shrieks and grunts dissipating, the sound of footfalls falling away as the creatures scuttled into the darkness. A lone torch burned brightly in the middle of the room and a door with odd inscriptions lay to the far north of the two oddly quietened children.

“Why did you save me?”

“Atla eos sa,” (I had to) she mumbled in a language alien to him and her fingertips reached to his scarred cheek, lightly feathered over his sharp nose and the softness of his face. He closed his eyes as the fingers trailed over the puckering of his lips and when he opened his eyes he saw the milky whiteness of her eyes. She was blind.

“Did you feel like you had to save me?” He questioned her. She nodded and smiled. She was donning a white dress that seemed to glisten over her small frame. She was so fragile.

“Erwa san-da ist namyos,” (Erwa is my name) she told him then and she took his scarred hands, marred from many battles and sparring sessions. She led him to the northernmost door and placed her hand on the inscription until her body was aflame and warm to the touch and a glowing white light enveloped her and the massive stone door. It opened and grated against stone. They were at the mouth of the temple. 

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