A small extract from the fantasy book ‘The Rovessian’. A story following a man sent to retrieve an artifact from one of the races of sorcerers in the world.
“No matter how hard I tried, I barely slept, even less than I did in the forest. Not a single dream or whisper came, I was completely alone. I tried at times to climb the walls, my back to one side and legs to the other. I made it half way to the ceiling at one point, but my body could go no further. I had no idea how long I was there, or how much further in the walls could come before they would fall upon me. Every second and with each step, the paths seemed to grow narrower as I left a trail of coins behind me to ensure I did not walk in circles. Each time the course rocks brushed my shoulder and every time I would react, but nothing more than perception it seemed, this place would kill me simply for entering its depths.
Every few hours I would try to sleep, and every time it was the same, perhaps it was the silence which held my constant attention, demanding me to hear and feel and not at all to escape, the crushing sound of nothing and the weight of leaning walls all forced the dreams to stay away. The only thing I knew by now was that I had no hunger or thirst, as though this place was keeping me alive as the Cursed God did the faeries. To live by arcane means without a need for food and drink, simply to add to some sort of punishment until enough is decided, though at least if I was also cursed, I only received half what the faeries did. Still, I tried to sleep.
At one point I sang a song of heroes to occupy my mind, but the silence and the walls struck back, again forcing me to hold my ears in a vain attempt to protect my senses from the echo which then came. As though thunder rumbled about me, from all directions fighting back, as no sound greater than my steps would be allowed inside this place. No matter what was tried by me, whether a line made in what little dust remained from one point to where I was, or line of coins I had left behind and stopped then at my feet, whenever I went to see around the corners from which I had come, they would always vanish and never again emerge to meet my eyes.
The madness brewed inside me, so tired in body and mind, I whispered a song which I had always held so close and dear to me, a song of the nine from ages past, the glory of the Serén. But even in this whisper the walls would not allow my song. As it thundered back toward me, the purest rage built deep inside my heart and mind. I took hold my Machten dagger, raised it high, and stabbed deep at the walls.
The thunderous echoes of song withdrew, replaced by distant screaming. I took my dagger out of the wall and moved toward the sound. Naturally the walls would shift and soon I lost the sound I had heard. Again I stabbed the labyrinth walls and heard the scream once more. This time, I did not remove the dagger completely, instead I dragged it upon the wall, and it left inside the deepest gash in the course rock, and the sound would continue to reverberate about me. I had turned a couple of corners by then, and as the cries kept coming from the distance, I stopped dead in my tracks then and removed my dagger from the stone.
I turned around to see the marks now carved along the walls, and walked back around the corner where to my amazement, the cuts still remained. I took a coin from the enchanted pouch and scratched a little symbol, moving around the corner and back again, I saw that it was gone, though the marks the dagger had made in the labyrinth were still visible. I cheered and walked while holding fast that dagger of Machten rock, I sang at the top of my lungs about the honor of the nine. And each time then as the silence would fight my song, shooting those thunderous echoes toward me; I would stab the labyrinth itself and sing even louder until my voice broke. And even as it broke I sung, such tears of joy swelled in my eyes, as a fire built inside my heart and I marched then ever onward.
Though the corners still changed before me, the ones behind would still remain, as I investigated every corner, now at ease with my surroundings. ‘My kind was born to shadows and to live outside unknown, but I am Sedrés of Hevoniér, labyrinth, you will fear what I can do!’ I yelled at the corners and the darkness. Coming to a dead end passage, I felt the rage again inside me grow and I began stabbing the walls again in a frenzy, plunging my dagger as deep as it could go. Again and again I struck at it, feeling pleasure with each thrust. Although I was stuck still inside these walls, at least my frustrations were eased.
But as I stabbed that wall and just as I removed the dagger, my eyes happened upon a tiny glimmer, a speck of light emerged, something I had not seen for far too long. I plunged my dagger again into the wall, taking a piece now here and there, chipping away with rubble emerging from this thick, course wall. Soon I had carved a space large enough that I could fit myself through. The screams within the labyrinth had stopped, by then, but I stabbed it again for my own joy. As I made my way through the gap, I saw a door before me, different to the one which I had entered, as though it were hidden on the other side. I dusted myself off and prepared to make my way to this new place, but before I did I uttered profanities, and relieved myself upon the walls to ensure my disdain for the labyrinth was known and that I had been the victor.”