squatted on the ground. How would she get through this thing?
If Kessel had actually chosen the same door she had and had forced his way through, there would be obvious marks or signs of what he’d done. But there was nothing.
Annja got up and checked where the wall joined the sides of the tunnel. Was there a hidden spring that had caused the wall to block it? But all Annja could make out was a line of mortar. It looked like the wall had been deliberately positioned here a very long time ago.
What about the ceiling? Could this section of wall have dropped down?
But again, the mortar work suggested otherwise. The door wasn’t an illusion, nor did it appear to be something that she could release using some hidden switch.
Which meant there had to be another way past it.
Annja backtracked.
Aside from the flickering torches, she couldn’t make anything out. And again, she had to fight an overwhelming sense of déjà vu which threatened to disrupt her perception of place and time.
Annja glanced back at the blocked corridor. No way past it. And turning the corner was the logical decision to make since there was a corner to turn.
But what if she should have simply stayed on a straight line?
Annja backtracked into the other corridor. This time, instead of turning at the corner, she kept going forward. As she got closer to the wall, the bricks loomed closer and closer.
And then she walked right through it.
She nearly fell over on the other side, amazed that she had managed to walk through a wall.
“Wow.”
It had to be an illusion. Or some holographic generator. Annja wanted to check it out, but as she approached the fake wall, a giant sheet of steel dropped from the ceiling and cut her off. The message was clear: she could always go forward, but never back.
“All right,” Annja said quietly. “I’ll do it your way.”
She turned and kept walking down the new corridor, which again was a perfect replica of the previous ones. Annja shook her head. The level of disorientation was difficult to combat. How much longer would this go on? Was she any closer to the center of the maze? Or Kessel? Or the dogs?
She had no clue as to her whereabouts. Fairclough hadn’t been kind enough to provide a map. Or maybe there wasn’t one. Maybe Fairclough didn’t even know what lay ahead of Annja.
But somehow, she doubted it. The longer she stayed down here, the more she believed that Fairclough had designed this maze to be exactly what he wanted.
Which, as far as Annja could tell, was a complete and utter nightmare.
The dogs came at her so fast that she barely registered their sudden appearance as they rounded the corner.
In the blink of an eye, Annja’s sword was out and a whir of flashing steel swung and hacked amid the yowls and cries of the dogs she was forced to cut down. The scent of blood hung in the air and Annja let the sword droop as she fought back her revulsion at the death she had caused and the adrenaline dump she’d been forced to deal with.
“What a waste of life,” she said quietly. She didn’t blame the dogs. To them, attacking her had meant survival.
Just as Annja had been forced to defend herself in the name of survival.
That didn’t make their deaths any easier to stomach, however. And Annja found herself choking back the reflex to retch.
She’d need to have a few words with Fairclough when she got out of here. Stocking a maze with dogs wasn’t humane. And she didn’t think the animal rights activists would be too pleased with him.
She bent and wiped her blade on the fur of one of the dead dogs. She’d cut his throat and the stone floor ran slick with blood and effluence. Annja blanched. She’d been around death many times before, but this made her ill.
She rose quickly, put the sword away and then stalked down the corridor, aware of the sticky crimson footprints she was leaving in her wake.
I need to find Kessel, she thought. I don’t like being alone in this madness. She came to appreciate the plan behind
If Kessel had actually chosen the same door she had and had forced his way through, there would be obvious marks or signs of what he’d done. But there was nothing.
Annja got up and checked where the wall joined the sides of the tunnel. Was there a hidden spring that had caused the wall to block it? But all Annja could make out was a line of mortar. It looked like the wall had been deliberately positioned here a very long time ago.
What about the ceiling? Could this section of wall have dropped down?
But again, the mortar work suggested otherwise. The door wasn’t an illusion, nor did it appear to be something that she could release using some hidden switch.
Which meant there had to be another way past it.
Annja backtracked.
Aside from the flickering torches, she couldn’t make anything out. And again, she had to fight an overwhelming sense of déjà vu which threatened to disrupt her perception of place and time.
Annja glanced back at the blocked corridor. No way past it. And turning the corner was the logical decision to make since there was a corner to turn.
But what if she should have simply stayed on a straight line?
Annja backtracked into the other corridor. This time, instead of turning at the corner, she kept going forward. As she got closer to the wall, the bricks loomed closer and closer.
And then she walked right through it.
She nearly fell over on the other side, amazed that she had managed to walk through a wall.
“Wow.”
It had to be an illusion. Or some holographic generator. Annja wanted to check it out, but as she approached the fake wall, a giant sheet of steel dropped from the ceiling and cut her off. The message was clear: she could always go forward, but never back.
“All right,” Annja said quietly. “I’ll do it your way.”
She turned and kept walking down the new corridor, which again was a perfect replica of the previous ones. Annja shook her head. The level of disorientation was difficult to combat. How much longer would this go on? Was she any closer to the center of the maze? Or Kessel? Or the dogs?
She had no clue as to her whereabouts. Fairclough hadn’t been kind enough to provide a map. Or maybe there wasn’t one. Maybe Fairclough didn’t even know what lay ahead of Annja.
But somehow, she doubted it. The longer she stayed down here, the more she believed that Fairclough had designed this maze to be exactly what he wanted.
Which, as far as Annja could tell, was a complete and utter nightmare.
The dogs came at her so fast that she barely registered their sudden appearance as they rounded the corner.
In the blink of an eye, Annja’s sword was out and a whir of flashing steel swung and hacked amid the yowls and cries of the dogs she was forced to cut down. The scent of blood hung in the air and Annja let the sword droop as she fought back her revulsion at the death she had caused and the adrenaline dump she’d been forced to deal with.
“What a waste of life,” she said quietly. She didn’t blame the dogs. To them, attacking her had meant survival.
Just as Annja had been forced to defend herself in the name of survival.
That didn’t make their deaths any easier to stomach, however. And Annja found herself choking back the reflex to retch.
She’d need to have a few words with Fairclough when she got out of here. Stocking a maze with dogs wasn’t humane. And she didn’t think the animal rights activists would be too pleased with him.
She bent and wiped her blade on the fur of one of the dead dogs. She’d cut his throat and the stone floor ran slick with blood and effluence. Annja blanched. She’d been around death many times before, but this made her ill.
She rose quickly, put the sword away and then stalked down the corridor, aware of the sticky crimson footprints she was leaving in her wake.
I need to find Kessel, she thought. I don’t like being alone in this madness. She came to appreciate the plan behind
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