“We should figure the best marching order,” I decide. “If for the foreseeable future, we’re…”

  “That’s an Oracle skill,” Sadie corrects. “Pretty removed from your skill set, so it will take two skill ups and will progress slowly.”

  “What?”

  “Foresight,” Sadie explains, like I’m a toddler. “You said you wanted to foresee the future. It’s a tough skill. Very useful, but you lose a couple of other skills to take it.”

  Some arguments aren’t worth fighting. I thank her for her knowledge and continue. “Single file, harder for the enemy to see what they’re up against, and we won’t have to reconfigure if we go up narrow passages. I believe Sadie is best at the TAIL end. Tail. Get it? Because she has a tail?”

  Sadie looks to Jes, pouting. “I’m sorry, Jes. It truly doesn’t get any better than this.”

  “He’s making it tough to choose between him and the minotaur,” Jes mutters. “I had the chance to just give up to it.”

  “Any clues how to beat it?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “Haven’t even considered it, he’s huge. First time he was far. He filled the damn tunnel and had to duck his head.”

  “Interesting,” I note. “Because usually it’s a bull head.”

  Jes looks at Sadie. “Nope. I’m done. He doesn’t get the story.”

  “Wait for the Kraken joke,” Sadie warns.

  “Wow, tough audience,” I mumble. “Fine, I’ll be quiet. Tell me what you know about the minotaur.”

  “Second time,” Jes continues, heading over to a passage and peering in, getting ready to move on. “Was one of those huge siren caves.”

  “A nest,” I clarify.

  “Yeah, that’s a good word for it. In a nest. And I see way across out the far side, a pair of glowing eyes. I swear, like he stepped out of some cartoon.”

  “Cartoon?” Sadie asks.

  “Magic storybook with moving pictures,” I say.

  Sadie nods, impressed. Jes is heading towards a square passage off the side of the tunnel we’re in, with a hard polished floor that reminds me of a high school hallway.

  “Pigadier, up here,” she says, pointing to Baco. Pigadier. Wish I thought of that. “Anyway, I’m at this siren nest, and our boy comes in the other side. He’s huge. I mean he is F-ing huge. Like he hits the gym daily. Got a labrys like mine, but twice the size. And there’s this smell, this choking, petting zoo smell. He steps in, all the sirens start their songs and nothing. Doesn’t affect him one tiny bit. They start doing this dive bomb thing, whipping in the air and shooting down at him.”

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  “We’ve seen it,” I say.

  She motions for me to move behind her and Baco. Sadie takes up the tail position. The TAIL position.

  “He’s swinging and swiping,” Jes continues. “Stomping those big feet. Not sure if it was hooves or feet, but I could feel it in the floor like fifty feet away. They start getting the best of him, right? Claws and biting, and I can see they’re landing these fast hits. Pow, pow, pow. He gets fed up. I’m watching because I have to know who wins.”

  She stops her story for a moment as we scramble over a pile of rocks from some ancient cave in that brought a piece of the ceiling down across the entire passageway. I have to help a scrambling Baco at a particularly high chunk, grabbing his armor and hefting him up. Once we climb over, she continues her recollection.

  “If he clears those sirens out, I’m going in looking for gear when he leaves. If he loses, well, then I’m down one huge bad guy I don’t want to try my luck against. Then he does this thing. I don’t know how to explain it. Like a vacuum. He sucks in all of the air and dust, all these pebbles go rushing into him.”

  “Into him?” I ask. The tunnel is angling down. It’s not a sharp descent, but I can feel it in my calves. It’s not a pleasant march at all.

  “Into him,” she repeats. “And he grows. Like he’s adding bits to himself. Three seconds later and he’s gone nuclear. Maybe fifteen feet tall. These sirens that were whipping by over his head, he grabs one by the tail, other hand on the neck and pops it like a party snapper where the confetti comes out. Grabbed another out of the air, squeeze it and dead. I’m wondering how long he’s got, so I’m counting one, one thousand, two, one thousand. In the end, I’m not sure it mattered. He took out six sirens without even swinging his axe. After thirty seconds, he does this howl and he’s standing there, stinking like a farm and surrounded by dead sirens.”

  “I can’t say this is an encouraging story,” I say.

  “We ain’t keeping our lunch money if he finds us,” she agrees.

  “You came with lunch money?” Sadie asks.

  “It gets worse,” Jes ignores her and continues up the seemingly endless hallway. “Also, there haven’t been any major passages off the main path. I’ll head down a side corridor, go three or four big caves, then I find myself where I’ve been.”

  I nod. “We’ve encountered that. The labyrinth funnels you a certain direction. It’s not you, somehow it actually moves or teleports you or something.”

  She sighs. “Makes sense. I’ve just been trying to put distance between me and the minotaur. It hasn’t worked. I keep ending up on that path. Then I found you.”

  We walk the square corridor. This one has bowls of glowing coal hung from the middle of the ceiling to provide light. It’s hot and grimy, the smell of last season’s sweat socks. The Brigadier is snorfling along, slurping any bug he finds. Jes is ready, axe at her side, bow drawn, arrow held between the bare fingers of her cestus hand. I’m right behind, scanning the distance. There seem to be no turn offs, just a long semi-polished hallway.

  “This is wrong,” I say.

  Jes stops. “Danger sense?”

  “No, I mean our marching order. I should lead. If it’s long distance, I can clear your line and you can fire. If something shows up tight to us, you’re stuck with a bow out. If they’re closing in, the spear will hold them back, then you maneuver and switch weapons. What’s your Perception?”

  “You have a perception score?” she asks.

  “I lead,” I say, stepping to the front of the group.

  “Hold on,” Jes says. “What if they’re invisible or pop out of the ground?”

  “We deal with that when it happens. I lead.”

  “Because you’re the big tough guy, you’re the man, you get to lead? Sexist much?” She hisses.

  I pause to listen. As soon as I’m sure, I brace myself and send my javelin down the hall we were marching down. Low, straight and long, my weapon arcs just below the firepots.

  The satyr I hit gurgles and falls to his knees. Baco scrambles to him up the hall. We hear a last scream as the satyr is flung to the wall with a wet marrow splitting crunch. What slides to the ground looks more like creamed spinach than satyr.

  A blood-spattered Brigadier Baco returns, javelin in his mouth like a prize bone. He drops it in front of our feet and wags his paintbrush tail. I pick up the spear, spin it, retract it to stake and tuck it in my belt loop.

  Jes screws her mouth sideways and sighs in defeat. “Okay. You lead.”