Mark Canter found himself utterly perplexed, and exhausted from hunger and thirst. After almost four long days of wandering aimlessly in the long corridors and passageways, with no water left and nothing to eat, he had to admit the one thing he feared.
He was lost.
This isn’t a labyrinth! He said to himself in exasperation. Labyrinths don’t have dead ends! This is a bloody maze!
The effort to even think was too much for his present condition, and he collapsed on the floor. His reckless folly would literally be the death of him. This is one design I won’t be able to get out from.
Mark thought of the team of explorers sent to accompany him, waiting outside as he had instructed. They had returned to the surface – and the sunlight and fresh air – after only a few hours into the labyrinth spent for archaeological cataloguing, while he had stubbornly remained in the maze, going further in, exploring new passages, and dead-ending several times.
As he contemplated the consequences of his failure to find the exit, Mark recalled his first and only (and probably last) time he met the man who funded the Labyrinth Mark Two expedition, a man whose face he didn’t even see …
“Tell me more of this ... labyrinth, Mr Canter,” the mysterious man, who was partly hidden in a dark corner of his Spartan, dimly-lit office, spoke in a deep voice. “You mentioned that this – second design contains a hidden secret?”
“Yes, sir, my research proves it,” Mark said, eager to interest the potential sponsor. “The recent discovery of genuine records of Ancient Cretan history clearly details the search Minos, King of Crete himself conducted in Daedalus’ tower prison, shortly after the brilliant inventor escaped with his son Icarus. Indeed, he found a more extensive and complicated design of the labyrinth he had commissioned, probably discarded by Daedalus after he found that he himself couldn’t solve it, clever as he was.”
“And despite that Minos had it built?”
“Close,” Mark countered. “He made a few alterations to the design so that he and he alone could solve it, and had overseen the reconstruction of the old labyrinth according to the new design himself, which was unusual in his
time.”
“And what is this hidden secret?”
“Well sir, the historical records documented Minos’s possession of ‘knowledge and wisdom far more advanced than all of Athens’, which is a bold claim in those days since Athens was the centre of Ancient Greek culture and knowledge. Because of this, Minos had been revered as the offspring of Zeus, king of the gods and lord of the skies, and a mortal woman.
“Before leaving his kingdom for his fruitless and fatal search for Daedalus, obsessed with revenge for the loss of Athens as a vassal state, he transferred all the scrolls in his personal library, among them I believe are records of the knowledge he possessed, to the central chamber of the newly-completed labyrinth. To ensure the secrets these scrolls and the security of the labyrinth, he executed all of his scribes and builders by burying them alive in the sealed labyrinth.”
As he finished his oration, Mark could see the man’s silhouette crossing his arms, deep in thought.
After a long while, the man spoke again, this time with a tone of great finality. “I believe that you have great confidence in your research, Mr Canter, more so than many people before you who entered this room asking for my help in all-too-often ludicrous schemes. I will fund your expedition to this labyrinth, but on three conditions: you will take a team with you comprising of esteemed individuals of my choice; I must examine these scrolls myself before anyone else lay eyes on them; and I reserve the right to determine if they may be revealed to the general public. I am advanced in years, and if Minos did indeed possess some profound knowledge, I wish to discover what that is before I join him in the afterlife.”
Mark decided against saying anything at the man’s off-handed, macabre comment.
The old man strode to his desk and sat down on the chair facing Mark, his face still obscured by the darkness. “I suggest you look carefully and speedily for the scrolls that old Minos kept in this new labyrinth, Mr Canter. I am an impatient man, and one who expects generous returns from his investments.”
There was nothing left to say, and so the meeting ended.
They say that in death, everything would be revealed. As he sat up abruptly, Mark knew it was true.
The recollection of his encounter with the expedition’s mysterious sponsor gave Mark a startling revelation, and he searched his backpack for the small, beautiful bronze casket, decorated with images of Minos, King of Crete, as well as fine Ancient Greek letters, he found resting on an altar of stone in the central chamber. For fear of exposing what lay in it to corrosive gases in the air, he fought the urge to break its seal and open it.
As he lifted the ancient artefact out of the bag, he also pulled out the single item he thought was insignificant, but now he realised was more valuable than the bronze box itself – his digital camcorder, containing the images he recorded of the walls of the central chamber.
He had finally found the central chamber only the day before. Mark remembered that while his attention was completely on the casket – and what could lay inside it – he, by instinct formed by countless expeditions, lit the chamber up with smokeless blowtorches and began recording anything and everything of archaeological significance.
He remembered his own speech on the hidden secret he gave to the man shrouded by the shadows of his office: To ensure the secrets these scrolls and the security of the labyrinth, he executed all of his scribes and builders by burying them alive in the sealed labyrinth.
And now he knew that the mass execution was more than a just a precaution against intruders seeking to conquer the labyrinth. Minos buried them alive because they actually saw the secrets! He had commanded them to inscribe parts of the secrets on the walls of the central chamber. That’s why whatever that was left could be contained in such a small box!
But with the realisation came a great weariness over his entire body. As his vision began to diminish, his head spinning from the lack of oxygen, and only moments left in him, a greater revelation came to him. I will not survive this labyrinth. Fatigue is going to kill me.
With shaking hands he turned the camcorder on, and with his dying breath he recorded his final message, his last words...
It had been nearly a hundred hours since the senior archaeologist in the Labyrinth II expedition had seen Mark Solaris before he disappeared into the darkness of the massive labyrinth underneath the ruins of the palace of Ancient Crete. He had ordered the search to recover Mark, with eleven others beside himself holding on to nylon threads leading back to the entrance.
God, I hope he’s still alive...
Then he heard an electronic beeping. It was a sound he immediately recognised. The low battery warning of the camcorder he gave to Mark!
He made towards the beeping, following the labyrinth’s corridors and passageways. Finally the torch in his hands shone on the small machine, still switched on, still recording. He lifted his torch and let the light fall on an ornate bronze casket, and slowly, beyond it...
He gasped, unable to believe what he was seeing. “Oh, no...”
*
Reclusive millionaire investor S.E. Anderson switched the camcorder on and set it on the polished mahogany desk, next to the bronze box. Mark Canter’ voice, though now filled with exhaustion and laboured breaths, once again filled the office – the very same office Anderson had last seen Mark alive, now well–lit by the yellow flames burning away the logs in the fireplace.
“The images of the walls of the central chamber... reveal startling discoveries of knowledge gathered from... every era of the history of Ancient Crete predating Minos’ reign, knowledge that is... advanced for mankind of the ancient times. Most definitely, the old kings of Crete decided that such knowledge... is far too powerful for any civilization of the world they knew, and kept it... hidden from everyone, within and without their kingdom.
“But there is more. One wall, containing philosophical theories... that match the discoveries made in the late twentieth century... also held references to a ‘wisdom that can make a man a god.” I have reason to believe... that the contents of the remarkably preserved casket found in the central chamber... are the ‘wisdom’ the writing on the wall mentioned... scrolls of secrets so profound that it... would alleviate the status of its bearer... from a mere mortal... to a god.
“If the contents of this casket are... what I think they must be, then... we have a sworn duty... to continue the... legacy Minos had left behind. We must...”
Mark breathed his last, and there was only static. Anderson stopped the tape. He had heard it once before, and knew that there was nothing left of importance on the tape, except for the senior archaeologist’s voice half an hour later, indicating that he discovered Mark’s lifeless body.
Anderson let out a silent sigh. He could not help thinking that, if only the senior member of the expedition team had found him half an hour earlier, young Mark Canter would still be here, sharing the secrets with him, and the other occupant of the room sitting across the desk.
At length, the other man, of slight built and about Anderson’s age, spoke with some restraint in his delicate voice. “Well? If I know you as I do, you would have had the casket opened and its contents studied intimately, perhaps even documented or scanned. Why then am I here?”
Once again Anderson sank into his own chair, studying the underlying emotions of his one and only friend. “Mark agreed to my terms. I alone decide what is to be done with these finds.”
“So what is it you wish to do with them?”
“They will have to be destroyed.”
“What!”
Anderson spoke quickly now. “The expedition team have sworn to keep the casket a secret that they will never reveal, ever. This casket – and its contents – will be as though it never existed. The references found on the wall could only point to a legend, an artefact lost to time. And Mark –”
“– died for nothing!” The man was on his feet now.
“His death was an accident!” Anderson countered. “The team can bear witness that he somehow strayed from the first group that went in, which isn’t so far from the truth.”
“He continued the search because you told him to look carefully!” The man spat out. Exhausted, he sat down again, this time burying his face in his hands, to hide the tears of grief already streaming from his eyes. “My son... Oh, my son...”
Anderson left Mark’s father to his sorrow, partly because his friend was right. Mark’s dogma for results was probably due to Anderson’s final words to him before they ended their meeting.
However, Anderson knew that even if he did not encourage him, Mark Canter would still have spent every last breath searching for Minos’ wisdom, in or out of the underground labyrinth. And the only reason I agreed to fund the expedition was because you persuaded me to, my friend, he thought, but you don’t need to be reminded of that now.
Aloud, Anderson said, “Edgar, I cannot publish the contents of the case, because it is, as Mark had believed, a secret so powerful that even the kings of Crete feared exposing it. Even Mark himself said that we have to continue Minos’ legacy – to keep this secret hidden from the world, even the world of today.”
He paused. Edgar’s tears have subsided, but he remained silent. Anderson saw this as permission to continue.
“At first I thought that the scrolls in the casket should be published, but after studying them myself I realised that it would be folly to do so. What Mark had found was an answer to an age-old question man has had since the dawn of his existence. Edgar, your son had discovered the meaning of life!”
“Then shouldn’t you publish the find?” Edgar had raised his head and looked at Anderson in the eyes. “Shouldn’t you at least make it known to the public, so that everyone could benefit from this? So that my son’s last efforts can be recognised, that he didn’t die in vain?”
Anderson sighed. Edgar’s reasoning has been clouded by grief... But whose wouldn’t be, in the face of the death of one’s only son?
“Edgar, listen to me, please. Life is like the maze Mark explored. There are many twists and turns, and even more dead ends. Some of us may eventually reach the central chamber, and find the purpose of living this life. Mark conquered the maze, literally and metaphorically, and in doing so he left us the answer. But each of us have our personal maze to solve, and we need to solve it on our own. To learn the meaning of life ahead of one’s time is like taking a shortcut to the central chamber of life’s maze. In doing so, life would not be appreciated. Life would be meaningless.”
Anderson could see that Edgar had retreated into himself, deep in thought. He left him and knelt before the fireplace, stoking the smouldering remains of the logs, watching the flames grow.
After a long while, Edgar let go a sigh of his own. “Fine. Do what you will with them.” He stood and left. As his hand reached the doorknob, he turned around. “I appreciate you calling me here. Thank you.”
Anderson smiled to himself, still staring at the fire. “It has been my pleasure, old friend.”
The End
by Chin Keat Meng
