5 The Menacing Maze of Madalune Husher

The raven-haired beauty with madness in her eyes glided across the moonlit garden, the hem of her filmy white gown billowing in the chill breeze, her hair swirling Medusa-like around the pale oval of her face. “So kind of you to come, Lady Eldelaide,” Madalune Husher said. She stuck out her hand and I briefly grasped her slim fingers. She turned to my companion and treated him to a dazzling smile. “And this is your redoubtable assistant Gremmings, whom I have heard so much about.” She extended her hand again. He took it. Her fingers tightened. “This is such a pleasure,” she said in a sultry voice as she regarded him with the intense gaze of some jungle predator. “Likewise, ma’am,” he said, cheeks coloring. She continued to hold his hand for a scandalous seven seconds before finally releasing it. And I decided I disliked her intensely, although I normally try to reserve judgment of people I’ve just met. She turned back to me, smirking. She could tell I was irritated by her uncouth familiarity toward Gremmings and this seemed to amuse her. “Would you care for some refreshments?” She waved a hand at a table covered with a red silk cloth, sitting next to a row of rhododendrons. “We have cucumber sandwiches and honey cakes and absinthe and brandy.” [[“Yes, please”]] [[“No, thank you”]]

I took a bite of the cucumber sandwich and found the bread dry, the cucumber soggy. I washed it down with a sip of absinthe and noticed an aftertaste like turpentine. Within ten seconds pain seized my stomach like a red hot poker thrusting into my innards. I clutched my midsection and fell to my knees, gasping for breath, with Gremmings kneeling by my side, grabbing my arms and crying out in alarm. But I could barely hear him over the insane cackles of Madalune Husher. She had lured me there to play a far different game than the one she’d promised. A game of murder. Her motive? Perhaps her dabblings with dark magic had brought her into contact with my enemies, who had enlisted her aide in arranging my demise. But I would never know for sure. ----- Try again [[“No, thank you”]]

“Very well,” Madalune said. “Let us proceed. I trust you understand the nature of the game, Lady Eldelaide?” She had sent me a letter a few days ago, written with magenta ink on pale blue paper and bearing a heliotrope scent, inviting me to the Husher estate in Pricklethorne in northern Yorkshire to engage in her garden-maze game. For some time I had heard disturbing rumors about Madalune Husher and her dark dabblings, and the sinister entertainments she devised for her guests. I was determined to get to the bottom of it all. “Yes,” I said. “Puzzles and portals. A treacherous treasure hunt where failure is fatal.” She chuckled. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration. No one has ever died playing one of my games.” “Oh? I’ve heard rumors that anyone who enters your garden maze is never seen again.” She shrugged. “My guests always leave here in perfect health. What happens to them afterward I really couldn’t say. I imagine they’re lying low because they don’t want to face their friends and associates and admit that their great intellects were unequal to the tasks I set for them. After all, I lack their degrees and honors and accomplishments. When they realize they’ve been outwitted by someone as unlettered as myself, it must be utterly humiliating. But I’m sure they’ll all turn up eventually, safe and sound -- unless it’s possible to die from embarrassment.” “I see.” She smiled. “I assumed you were made of sterner stuff, Lady Eldelaide, but if you’ve gotten cold feet and wish to withdraw, you’re perfectly free to do so.” I shook my head adamantly. “I accepted your challenge, Mrs. Husher, and I never go back on my word.” She beamed. “Excellent!” She waved a hand at the ten-foot-high hedges looming behind her. “Let the game begin!” I nodded and started toward the mouth of the maze. Gremmings followed. “One moment, Lady Eldelaide,” Madalune said. “The game is a solo effort. Your assistant will have to stay behind.” She gave him a salacious smile. “I’m sure I can keep him entertained.” Gremmings’ cheeks reddened even more. I started to argue but I knew it was useless, so I headed into the hedges, determined to beat Madalune Husher at her own game and wipe that smirk off her pasty face. [[Chapter 2]]

After turning several corners in the maze I encountered a round, glowing object lying in the grass. It resembled a pool of water, about six feet in diameter, and as I gazed into its depths I saw blue sky and a few fluffy clouds drifting past a bright sun -- which was odd, because it was nearly midnight. This was no reflecting pool, but a magical portal. The light it gave off was bright enough that I could read the letter Madalune had sent me, which listed her riddles and the possible answers to each. I had already read the letter numerous times before leaving home and was convinced I had solved all the riddles, but now I perused it yet again, unwilling to trust my memory when the stakes were this high. The first riddle was: *See the street rat who does not eat / Cross the water with soggy feet / Lose at Pharsalus and try to run / Cook up a clue that is overdone* [[first riddle<-continue]]

Here are the possible answers: [[buoy]] [[yardstick]] [[huckleberry]] [[urchin]] [[string quartet]]

Boy, were you wrong about this one! [[first riddle<-try again]]

Correct. If you take “street rat” and remove “eet” you get “strat.” When you cross a stream on foot you “ford.” This gives us “Stratford,” as in Stratford-Upon-Avon, home of William Shakespeare. Pompey was a Roman general and statesman who lost the Battle of Pharsalus and fled to Egypt, where he was assassinated. And as any fan of the bard knows, Pompey Bum and Mistress Overdone are characters in the play “Measure for Measure.” Thus, the password is “yardstick,” a device used for measuring. ----- “The password is ‘yardstick,’” I said, and the pool rippled, the blue sky breaking up into jagged little blocks of color that swirled around and reformed into a new image, a place I recognized instantly -- the daub-and-wattle domicile in Henley Street, Stratford-Upon-Avon, where William Shakespeare was born. Gingerly I dipped a toe into the pool and the light within it rose up, assuming a cylindrical shape. I walked into it and found myself standing in front of the Shakespeare house -- and was surprised to see there was nothing surrounding it. The street ended a few yards away, in both directions, and beyond that point there were no buildings, no trees, no grass, not even sky, just a massive, curved surface composed of tens of thousands of triangles in various shades of gray, softly twinkling. I felt like I was inside a massive gemstone. That’s when I realized the house was a magical replica, like a stage set for some elaborate theatrical production. And I sighed with relief. Madalune’s magic wasn’t quite as powerful as I’d feared. She hadn’t constructed a full-fledged portal capable of transporting people to far-off locations; she could only simulate those locations. But this was still impressive sorcery. A thin beam of emerald light sprang up behind the house, reflecting off the top of the sphere far above. I walked around the side of the house and went into the garden, and there, nestled amidst the eglantine, honeysuckle, gillyflowers and pansies, was the source of the beam -- a gnomestone head, a little larger than my fist, carved with intriguing features: a round face with a broad forehead, chubby cheeks, flat nose, downturned mouth and slightly crossed eyes, and wearing bowl-shaped headgear. According to Madalune’s letter, the head was one of six her grandfather, Varnock Husher, had plundered from an ancient temple on a remote island near Antikythera nearly a century ago. For many decades the heads sat silently in a display case in the study of the Husher home -- until one night, during a lunar eclipse, when they began to speak to Madalune, revealing their secrets. They claimed to be over ten thousand years old and had been carved by sorcerers in Atlantis, where they were a primary source of vril energy. There were dozens of such heads in Atlantis, but these six had been stolen by a priest who took them to the surface world nearly a thousand years ago before mysteriously disappearing. When I first read Madalune’s letter I dismissed her tale as a lot of piffle, but after witnessing her magic I wondered if the story might be true, at least in part. But why was Madalune willing to give up such valuable artifacts by making them prizes in this game of hers? Perhaps they were merely bait to lure people into playing a contest she assumed no one could win. As I reached down and grabbed the head, the emerald beam vanished. I rose slowly, turning the head at various angles, admiring the craftsmanship, running my fingers over the cool, glistening surface. I could sense the magical vibrations inside the crystal, an ancient and alien energy unlike anything I’d encountered before. I placed the head in my bag, stepped back into the cylinder of light and returned to the Husher estate, feeling quite pleased with myself, and wondering if any of the other players had gotten this far. I was eager to proceed deeper into the maze and try to solve riddle number two. [[on to riddle 2<-continue]]

A berry good try. But wrong. [[first riddle<-try again]]

You’re lurchin’ toward the wrong answer [[first riddle<-try again]]

No. Quit fiddling around [[first riddle<-try again]]

*Arrived at the span / where the water ran / The first one ever / and very clever* [[second riddle<-continue]]

[[mathematics]] [[Sir Joseph Bazalgette]] [[Plymouth rock]] [[sluice]] [[Archimedes]]

Correct. If you arrived you came, and a span is part of a bridge. Combine them and you get “Cambridge.” And who was the first woman to earn the top score in the Cambridge mathematical exams? Philippa Fawcett, in 1890. ----- “The password is ‘mathematics,’ ” I said, and moments later I was standing in front of a replica of the King’s College Founder’s Fountain at Cambridge University. One of the fountain’s bronze statues depicted a woman reading a scroll, and sitting on that scroll was gnomestone head number two. I had to get my feet wet to grab it, but they were completely dry a few seconds later as I returned to the garden maze. [[On to riddle 3]]

Sir Joseph Bazalgette designed the Tower Bridge -- which some people wrongly refer to as “London Bridge”. And some people wrongly choose Bazalgette as the answer to riddle two. [[second riddle<-try again]]

You’re off to a rocky start. [[second riddle<-try again]]

You luice [[second riddle<-try again]]

Eureka! You’re wrong-a! [[second riddle<-try again]]

*With impudence they found their path / and mocked a general for his wrath* [[11]] [[7]] [[69]] [[13]] [[14]]

Wrong. [[On to riddle 3<-try again]]

Correct. Another word for impudence is gall, and a path is a way, which gives us “Galway.” When England conquered Ireland, Oliver Cromwell made a derogatory reference to the 14 most prominent families in Galway, calling them “the tribes,” but they adopted the term as a badge of honor. ----- At first I thought I was standing in front of a giant topiary, until I realized it was a stone structure almost totally covered with vines -- Menlo Castle, home of the Blakes, one of the fourteen tribes of Galway. I walked around to the northern side of the castle where the walls formed a V, and in the center of that V sat head number three. [[On to riddle 4]]

*Actors need one / The stars above all / A royal guest saw the show and was quite enthralled* [[astrology]] [[mirror]] [[golf ball]] [[limelight]] [[Marquis de Queensberry]]

The riddle concerns an observatory, but observatories are used for astronomy, not astrology [[On to riddle 4<-try again]]

Reflect a little further [[On to riddle 4<-try again]]

Correct. Actors wait for their cue, and Kew Observatory in Richmond, London, is where George III observed the transit of Venus on June 3, 1769. The observatory is located on the grounds of the Royal Mid-Surrey Golf Club. ----- I recovered the fourth head from the sand trap on the 18th green at the golf course. Only two more to go. [[on to riddle 5]]

Not a bright guess [[On to riddle 4<-try again]]

A Wilde guess. And wrong. [[On to riddle 4<-try again]]

*A wet wound I see / but no sign of a bee / In the temple we store / there’s room for much more* [[hive]] [[theology]] [[comb]] [[cross]] [[flax]]

Scratch this answer [[on to riddle 5<-try again]]

Oh God, you’re wrong again [[on to riddle 5<-try again]]

Brush up on your puzzle-solving skills [[on to riddle 5<-try again]]

Cross this off the list [[on to riddle 5<-try again]]

Correct. When a wound bleeds, it’s wet, and without the “B” we get “Leeds,” where the Temple Works flax mill was located. At the time it was built, in 1836, it contained the largest single room in the world, covering two acres. ----- The facade of the Temple Works was inspired by the Temple of Horus at Edfu in Egypt and featured nine emblems of the deity Horus Behdety – a winged sun with rearing cobras on either side. As I passed through the gate and started up the walk toward the building entrance, the emblem at the top of the facade burst apart and a gnomestone head floated out and glided down toward me, settling into my cupped hands. Almost done! [[on to the final riddle]]

*A brigand accosts the male heir / Hands must mend the rips and tears* [[stole]] [[hull]] [[Alfred Noyes]] [[dagger]] [[botany]]

A wrong answer robs you of victory [[on to the final riddle<-try again]]

Correct. A brigand goes around robbin’ people. A male heir is a son. So the first part of the answer is robbin’ son. (Hey, don’t groan at me. I just solve them, I don’t write them.) And the hands on a ship (the crew) must mend the storm-tattered sails (by sewing). So the second word is Crusoe. And where did Robinson Crusoe first set sail from? Kingston Upon Hull. ----- I found the final Husher head sitting next to the Wilberforce monument in Queen’s Gardens, and as I prepared to step back into the cylinder of light I heard a whispering sound inside my bag. I opened it. All six heads were pressed against each other, temple to temple, and giving off a soft green glow. I could’ve sworn I saw their lips moving, and one head even winked at me. Or perhaps it was a trick of the light. Then the glow faded and the heads settled into silence and I shut my bag and returned to the house of Husher. [[Chapter 3]]

Shhh. [[on to the final riddle<-try again]]

You took a stab at it. You were wrong. [[on to the final riddle<-try again]]

I’m not sold on this answer [[on to the final riddle<-try again]]

As I reached the end of the garden maze I saw Madalune with a big grin on her face, standing next to one last pool. “Congratulations, Lady Eldelaide. You have won my game! I knew if anyone could solve my riddles, you could!” Surprised by her graciousness, I smiled back. “Thank you. Where is Gremmings?” She gestured at the pool. Inside its depths, tall grass rippled in a sunlit meadow and poppies bowed their heads, as if in greeting. Atop a gentle rise, a figure sat on a dark blue blanket beneath a chestnut tree with a picnic basket and a jug of wine beside him, his face turned away from us, gazing down at the far side of the hillock. “I thought we’d have a picnic to celebrate your victory,” Madalune said. “I hope you approve of the scenery.” *Did she mean the meadow or Gremmings? I thought it best not to ask.* “It’s lovely,” I said. “Thank you. Shall we go in and join your friend?” “By all means.” I didn’t trust her and I was filled with unease, but I couldn’t be rude and refuse her hospitality – and more important, I wanted to be reunited with Gremmings as soon as possible. But as Madalune and I emerged from the cylinder of light I found no meadow, but a cavern full of narrow obsidian ridges as high as castle walls, and bubbling pools of molten lava, about ten feet in diameter. A round cage made of crisscrossing iron bands hung above the nearest lava pool, attached to a long chain with fist-sized links stretching up to a cracked, domed ceiling of igneous rock. Gremmings stood inside the cage, stark naked, his entire body beet red and dripping with perspiration. I was standing near the end of the ridge closest to the cage, and when Gremmings saw me his face filled with alarm and he began tugging furiously at the iron bands, desperate to free himself. Even if he managed to do so it would be quite difficult to leap from the cage to the ridge, but I knew if anyone could do it, Gremmings could. Madalune regarded his efforts with a smirk, then turned to me, grabbed my bag and jerked it off my arm. She yanked it open and the six heads floated out, giving off a pulsating emerald glow as they hovered above her like a halo. “Did you honestly think these glorious creations from the greatest civilization in the history of the world would wish to belong to anyone but me?” she said. “I alone am worthy to be their mistress. You are merely a sacrifice to appease their hunger for intellectual stimulation. One of many. And once they’ve absorbed your mental energy I shall tap into their power, a power greater than any the world has never known! All humankind shall quake before me, Queen Madalune The Greatest! The Empress of All Existence!” “And what of Gremmings?” I said. “He shall be my consort.” “Never!” he roared. She cackled. “Then you shall follow your mistress into hell!” With a growl of frustration Gremmings redoubled his efforts to escape the cage, his muscles bulging, his private part swaying as he put every ounce of strength into his exertions. That brought a smile to my face. *At least I’ll die with a pleasant image in my mind.* Madalune thrust her arms into the air and spat out a spell and a silvery cord materialized, wrapping itself around me and squeezing tight, the icy cold of its coils sending shivers through my body. Madalune gestured with her fingers and I rose into the air and floated over the bubbling pool of deadly orange glop, only a foot away from Gremmings’ cage. The heat hit me with blast-furnace intensity and my hairdo instantly wilted. Gremmings tried to reach out to me, but the space between the bars was too narrow and all he succeeded in doing was scraping his wrists. Letting out another insane cackle, Madalune clicked her fingers and the coils melted away and I plunged downward. Six bolts of energy shot out of the gnomestone heads and formed a giant translucent green hand, as big as a maze pool. I landed in its palm and the hand floated sideways and tilted slightly, gently depositing me back onto the ridge. Madalune stared up at the heads slowly circling above her. “What are you doing? Why have you stopped my sacrifice?” And the heads responded, speaking in a single, resonant voice: “We wish no sacrifice, Madalune Husher. We never did.” “But you commanded me! I heard you!” “You heard your own desires, not ours. And you have abused the powers we bestowed upon you. We possess great patience, but you have exhausted it. We shall serve you no more.” “No!” Madalune screeched. “Imposters! Liars! You’re not the true heads of Atlantis! You’re fakes, substituted by Lady Eldelaide! The true heads tell me so! Listen! They expose you!” She cupped a hand to her ear, her bulging eyes darting every which way. “Hear them? ... Hear them? ... They command you to end your interference and allow the sacrifice to continue! They command you!” “Your mind has forsaken sanity, Madalune Husher,” the heads replied. “Cease and desist these evil acts and obey our true wishes.” “Pah!” She twisted toward me, arms outstretched, a murderous fury possessing her features. “I lost my heads!” she shrieked. “You turned them against me! For that you shall die!” She took one menacing step toward me before the gigantic hand seized her. The fingers curled, clenched. “Aaachh!” Madalune’s body burst apart and the hand slowly opened, allowing her gooey remains to ooze out and drop into the lava, to be instantly cremated with a loud “foof!” The heads and hand faded away. The cavern walls dissolved, replaced by a moonlit sky filled with bright stars. The lava pools darkened and dried up. Grass sprouted. The rocky ridges broke into shards that swirled around and around like a swarm of flies, changing into leaves that coalesced into hedges. I was back in the garden maze. Gremmings’ iron cage transformed into a basket of branches. He tore it apart with ease and jumped out, sheepishly covering his private area with his hands. I ripped off some fabric from the hem of my gown and handed it to him to wrap around his loins. And then, to my surprise, people began emerging from the hedges, people I recognized who had disappeared after playing Madalune Husher’s insane game. They gathered around me, thanking me profusely for rescuing them, and then we all walked up the garden path, glancing briefly at the brooding facade of the house of Husher before turning away and heading toward the front gate. THE END