Fowlhunter [GL]

Immediately, the moment Ying’s paws crossed the border of the labryinth, a sense of overwhelming claustrophobia overtook both rider and mount.

It was as if the walls were closing in on all sides of them, growing narrower and narrower as they went, leaning down to trap them in. Ying got the sense that she wouldn’t be able to fly upward and out if she wanted to; some kind of force kept her pinned low to the ground. Soon, the walls got so narrow that they pressed her wings tight against her sides, forcing her to switch to running.

By now just five Beasts out of forty were still chasing them: two harpies, two hippogriffs, and one pixiu. These five were incredibly pestilent to have followed them this far. Ying gnashed her teeth as she bounded down the halls. Her night-vision did not seem to be working at all. She had to stay calm enough to keep count of the turns, too, ensuring they didn’t go past the fiftieth turn—even then, she didn’t know if even Asha’s capacity for recall was a match for the Labyrinth. The walls continued to press on her, as if to suffocate the thoughts out of her. She reached within herself for a burst of Lunaki, and was delighted to find that the silver magic still leapt to her command. The pixiu made her body glow with enhancement, casting a slight illumination ahead of them.

At the twentieth mark, she heard two of the Beasts drop off. From the sounds, it sounded like the two harpies. As they were only creatures of flight, they couldn’t handle the walls once they squashed their wings by their sides. The hippogriffs and pixiu continued the dogged chase, springing along on foot. They had apparently also reached for the aid of Lunaki, intensifying the silver glow ahead of Ying whenever they drew closer.

“You have to turn off your Lunaki if we want to lose them,” Asha murmured into her fur.

Ying really, really didn’t want to—plunge herself back into the darkness without even the Moon to guide her. But she knew that the makara was right. So, she cut it off again, forced to rely purely upon the hug of the walls against her flank to tell where the turns were. Focusing on Asha’s breathing against her back, Ying calmed herself enough to concentrate on the count.

At the thirty mark, one hippogriff dropped out. At thirty-five, the other followed. At forty, the pixiu was still chasing them. Ying needed an idea to ward the other pixiu off with only ten turns left to go. So she did the only thing she could. She stalled in place, her paws screeching to a halt. Breathing hard and fast, she tried to turn around, but the walls wouldn’t let her. So, with a hunch of her body to let Asha know what was coming, Ying let her pixiu form melt away and took on anthropine form once more. She turned to face her would-be attacker.

This Beast was a pixiu just like her. Likely, they had similar physical abilities to Ying, and she wouldn’t be able to throw them off just by moving faster. In a confrontation, Ying might be able to win against the other by having Asha on her side, but… she didn’t feel like reaching for fighting as the first option. The other was a Beast just like them. Maybe there was an easier way of doing this.

As the air gave a tell-tale whistle, Ying whispered to Asha, “Let’s try talking it out.” Asha nodded back.

With a sweep of glowing hands, they erected a silver barrier ahead of them. Moments later, the other pixiu rounded the corner and crashed headlong into the barrier.

Letting out a ferocious roar, they lurched backward, shaking off a spray of sparkles. Their eyes blinked at the wall of Lunaki in their path, before resting on the two Beasts standing behind it. They watched the pixiu for a while, but they merely made a few grunts, flicking their tail. They didn’t seem to be throwing themselves against the barrier or showing other signs of aggression. Perhaps negotiation would be possible after all.

Ying held up her hands and allowed the barrier to dissolve. By her side, Asha summoned a ball of light to prevent the chasm from resinking into pitch-blackness.

“Hey,” Ying said to the pixiu. “You’ve chased us this far now. You can’t get out of this maze on your own, but we can. If we agree to not attack each other, we can both escape here together. How does that sound?”

Under the flickering moonlight, the pixiu continued to stare at them.

“Um,” Ying said carefully, assessing their sapiency. “Do you know why… Why are you chasing us?”

The pixiu made another longer grunt. Ying wondered if they spoke. Then they growled again, “THE OTHERS… WERE FOLLOWING YOU?” Their ears flapped, head tilting to the side.

So this Beast wasn’t really hostile; they had just been going along with the herd. Both Ying and Asha breathed out a relieved sigh. Neither were in the mood for throwing hands in such an oppressive environment, and not when all their limbs felt like jelly from the sheer distance they’d just crossed.

“Alright. Well, my friend here knows the way out,” Ying glanced at Asha, who gave her a thumbs-up in response—internally, Ying thanked Medusa and all the lucky stars above. She continued, “Let’s turn around and start heading back. Asha, you take the lead. I’ll go behind.” Ying would keep an eye on the other pixiu to make sure they didn’t act out.

Like this, in a single file, makara-girl, pixiu and other pixiu in woman form, marched back the way they came. Asha held up her beam of Lunaki, a shaft of silver light that fought valiantly against the carnivorous darkness of the labyrinth. The grey-haired girl took a turn left, left, right, left, right right right… Ying backcounted the turns from forty. The walking seemed to go on forever; and yet Ying remembered that this must only be a fraction of a fraction of the true extent of the Cretan Labryinth.

With the adrenaline from the chase wearing off, the silence of the maze began to seep into her ears, as if to drown her in an absence. She couldn’t hear her own footsteps, even though she was wearing heavy boots; couldn’t hear the sound of her beating heart or her panting breaths. She started to feel dizzy.

“-Yo,” Asha’s voice echoed from ahead. “Ying, talk about something.”

Ying gulped. “I don’t wanna distract you from navigating.”

“I can’t think in this silence,” Asha replied as she took another turn. The pixiu followed her, their tail swishing. “Just say whatever comes to mind.”

“...Okay,” Ying rounded the corner. Another endless hallway stretched in front of them. “I wonder if anyone else has been down here before. ”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Asha said. “There are countless humans who’ve gone to challenge the Cretan Labryinth.”

“Really? Just what kind of grand treasure lies in the middle of this hellish labyrinth, that a human would go through it just to get their hands on it?”

“Humans don’t need treasure to be lured into the depths of hell,” Asha said. “Just the fact that a task is deemed ‘impossible’ is enough for thousands to flock to it. Just look at the number of humans who have tried to climb Mount Casca. And for what? As if they can use the sun if they reach the top? No—they want to prove to themselves that they can conquer the unconquerable. A sense of fatal danger… that alone is allure enough.”

“That’s insane,” Ying gruffed. “Even if they’re humans, they’re still animals… our biological purpose, beyond all else, is to survive, isn’t it? Leaving a comfortable life to risk death voluntarily—it just doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s often a great deal more complicated,” Asha commented. “To some, comfort is a death in itself—adventure is what makes them feel alive. But, personally…” Yellow eyes blinked up at the looming, dark walls around them. “What wouldn’t I give to have a life free of worry, sometimes.”

They forged on.

“Then again, according to the myth, what lies in the centre of the Cretan Labryinth isn’t treasure,” the makara continued. “It’s-” Suddenly, her voice cut off. She stopped in her tracks, causing the pixiu to crash behind her. Growling, they stumbled back and shook their fur agitatedly. Ying stepped out of the way of the Beast’s lashing tail, but craned her head to get a look.

“What’s wrong?” Then her ears pricked. In the cavernous silence, like it was echoing through the narrow walls, was the sound of something skittering. It seemed to be coming from above, and it was getting closer every second.

Asha’s next words were a low hiss. “Keep very quiet, and don’t move,” she whispered, and extinguished her silver light, engulfing them in darkness. Ying’s senses were running on overdrive, trying to figure out what it was that was coming, but she obeyed without question, doing the same. The pixiu, however, was less receptive, continuing to swish about and grunt. The air began to tingle. Ying’s eyes glanced toward Asha—she realised that her friend was trying to weave Lunaki misting over the pixiu. So she joined in, but also keeping her body still. They weren’t as skilled at misting as Lochlan, but it would have to do.

The first thing they saw was eyes. Red, glowing eyes… and four pairs of them in total. On eight spindly legs, the spider scuttled down the wall on their right side. When it was about twenty centimetres from their scalp level, it paused, clicking its pedipalps together. Click. Ying understood why Asha had told them to keep quiet: spiders had poor vision, and sensed the movement of their prey via vibrations. They had no idea how dangerous this particular spider was, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

But then the pixiu glanced up at the spider. Instantly, the pixiu started roaring, rearing back in alarm. Ying was shoved back, while Asha flailed forward, smacking her head on the wall.

The spider clicked, red eyes swivelling on the pixiu. In an almost graceful leap, it sprang off the wall and dropped onto the Beast’s back. Clickclickclick.

ZING!— Asha shot a bolt of Lunaki at the spider, but the creature jumped to avoid it. The pixiu was rocking its body, lashing their tail against their own back trying to get it off, but it was futile. Scuttling up the length of the pixiu, the spider hissed—then plunged its stingers through layers of fur, into the Beast’s neck.

Abruptly, the pixiu stopped moving—their entire body freezing up. Then they began to thrash wildly, great knees buckling as they convulsed on the dark floor. Asha and Ying, standing on either side, could only watch horrified as the pixiu moaned and howled. All of sudden, the pixiu jerked, eyelids flying open. Their tail lashed, then wound swiftly around their own neck. Eyes bulged as they strangled themselves, cries growing more and more laboriously, until finally it collapsed to the ground.

The other two Beasts did not dare move. The spider continued to click, swivelling its red eyes here and there. Eventually, it scuttled upward again, disappearing into the gloom.

Asha gasped for breath. Ying steadied herself against the wall. They both looked at the dead pixiu on the floor between them, and exchanged a glance. They gulped.

Trembling, Ying stepped over the carcass. Asha rubbed her hands in her hair, as if to calm herself, and resummoned her light. She glanced at Ying by her side, and gave her another thumbs-up, saffron eyes glimmering bravely. Even after all that chaos, she still remembered the route. They had approximately five turns left to go. If they could just get out of the maze…

But then, as they turned around the corner, a familiar sound reached their ears again.

Lots and lots and lots of it.

An ocean of spiders crouched between them and the entrance. Crackling, spindly joints, clinging across the ground and the sides of the walls, as densely as black leaves. Together, thousands of pairs of red eyes swivelled on the two Beasts.

Clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick.

And they surged forward.