Read Online The Flame in the Maze by Caitlin Sweet - Free Book Online Page B

tentacles and tall, scarlet, winding flame.
The wall rose into the darkness high above, where the mountain door must be.
    Move!
she told herself.
There are still some more up there!
—but before she could summon the strength to roll over again, one of them fell. Theodosia. She fell silently, her body spread wide and still; Zenais, who came after her, shrieked and flailed. They landed together, their limbs tangled, cracking, popping. Polymnia raised herself up on her elbow, still whimpering, not sure if she were steeling herself to crawl the short distance to the other girls, or preparing to throw herself over the lip of the ledge she now realized they were all lying on. It didn’t matter—because just then, there was a screeching of metal so shrill that she cried out. The portion of the ledge where Theodosia and Zenais lay shuddered. The wall began to move—except that it wasn’t the stone itself: it was cables, strung taut among all the carvings. Three rows of them, shining like bronze as they slunk downward. A portion of the ledge detached from the rest and plunged. Polymnia scrambled to her hands and knees and leaned over; she saw the girls’ faces—pale, open-mouthed, plummeting away from her and into a bank of thick, firelit steam.
    She wanted to scream, but her throat was too tight and dry. Her muscles and bones, though, had turned to water; she flopped back onto the ledge, panting. Her eyes leapt again to the wall. The three cables continued to move; somewhere very deep, gears kept grinding. The cables strung by
her
piece of ledge were motionless.
Good
, she thought,
good, good yes—stay here; stay quiet—
but then another figure came hurtling down toward her. This one didn’t scream; it roared. Its misshapen limbs trailed fire, and the horns on its great furred head shone so brightly that she almost had to look away. But she didn’t—she didn’t move at all.
Too late. This is how my god has decided that I’ll end.
    She hadn’t been truly afraid of the bull-boy when they’d been outside the mountain’s door, because she’d been halfway inside already, and she was sure he’d stay behind, under the sky. But now he was here, a writhing, bellowing mess of blistered flesh and spreading fur, and his huge, round eyes were on her, and she could hardly breathe.
Sing
, she thought.
Quickly. Your godmarked voice will calm him as it’s calmed so many other beasts; maybe this
won’t
be the end.
    â€œAsterion.” She’d heard the Cretan queen call out this name; Polymnia remembered this, and was surprised that she remembered, even as she sang it. “Asterion, be still, be safe, be calm.”
    Usually, after these many words, the slaughterhouse beasts would be sagging to the ground, their gazes fixed and far away. This one shook his head and roared again, and her voice faltered. Silver puffed from her lips and vanished.
His godmark’s too strong;
so much stronger than mine.
    â€œBack!” someone shouted, and she watched the beast’s eyes and body swivel toward the sound. She turned too, and saw Kosmas clinging to one of the cables, well up the wall. Blue-eyed, unmarked Kosmas, whom the Cretan princess had fed with her own fingers. Now he let himself slowly down—because he hadn’t fallen as the rest had. Somehow he hadn’t fallen.
    â€œGet away from her!” he yelled, in his deep, ringing voice—and the creature backed up a step. It snorted, and a gout of bloody mucus sprayed Polymnia’s face and robe. She retched at the feel of it, and its iron stench. She would have whirled and run, if there’d been anywhere to go—but as she stood in place, throbbing with fear and the shame of her failure, Kosmas cried out more words, and the beast’s fur smoothed back into flesh, and its hooves into fingers. Asterion dropped to his knees, panting, just as Kosmas landed on the ledge.
    â€œI’m . .