10. The Gate of Kings

	Ryan peered out of the van’s window and watched the white 
scenery flow by, illuminated by the bright moonlight.  After 
sixteen hours straight in this van with five others (Jack had 
come along as a driver), Ryan was ready to anything else, even 
risk his life in a trap ridden (and possibly monster ridden as 
well) labyrinth, just to break the intense boredom.  Spider and 
Sean sat together the whole time, talking or sleeping against 
each other when one of them wasn’t taking their turn at the 
wheel.  Ryan was the only one not asked to drive, since he had 
never learned, having been chauffeured all his life.  At this 
point of the ride, he was ready to risk taking the wheel.
	Right now Scott was driving.  Ryan could hear the heavy 
breathing of Dierdre, Sean and Spider, all in peaceful slumber.  
He would have loved to join them, but Jack’s snoring not only 
annoyed him, but kept him awake.  The five of them were on the 
floor in the back of the large van, but Ryan was the only one 
sitting.  Ryan could only see their silhouettes in the moonlight 
that was filtered through the skylight and windows.  Any 
peacefulness this scene would have had for Ryan was ruined by the 
virtual chainsaw in Jack’s nose.  He decided to go up to the 
front and sit with Scott for a while.
	“Mind if I keep you company for a while?” Ryan said quietly 
as he sat in the passenger seat.
	“Please do,” Scott said.  “I hate driving at night, 
especially with no one around or awake.”
	“I couldn’t sleep.”
	“I guess Jack’s snoring would bother someone used to sleeping 
alone in a room him whole life,” Scott said.  “I always had Sean 
there, so I learned very early how to sleep through anything.”
	“My brother had his own rooms,” Ryan said.  “I never did see 
very much of him.  We were brothers and living under the same 
roof, and yet we were merely acquaintances.  We even had separate 
schooling: the professor would work with me only when my brother 
had important business to attend to.  I learned much on my own.”
	“I always dreamed of living in the palace,” Scott said, “but 
you make it sound so lonely.”
	“It is.  When people think of palace life, they think of the 
old stories, from a time when the world was full and there was 
much royalty.  Since the ice, there have been so few of us, only 
a handful really.”
	“What about the courtesans?”
	“Few and far between,” Ryan told him.  “Most people have work 
to do.  The world does not have many extra people who can do 
nothing all day but look pretty any more.  The palace life is 
more business than show and it keeps getting more so.”
	“Why is that, do you think?”
	“Personally?” Ryan said.  “I think that the population is on 
a decline.  Not in spirit or morals of course, but in numbers.  
The climate is too rough to sustain people without the measures 
we have taken to force it.  We have hydroponics to grow the food 
we need and have bred animals that can survive the cold and 
provide us with meat, but how long will it last?  I do not mean 
to sound like a pessimist, but in fifty to a hundred years, I see 
famine.  The power cannot last very long the way it is being 
consumed now, which will reduce what we can get out of the 
hydroponics, not to mention what it takes to heat all of the 
buildings.  There are coal and nuclear reserves, which the royal 
family have been secretly using to supplement the excessive power 
consumption sine the ice, but those are running out.  When they 
are gone, the blackouts and brownouts will start.  All of the non 
essential energy consumption will overpower the machines 
necessary for our survival, and that is when the disasters will 
begin.”
	“Disasters?”
	“Medical equipment shutting down, traffic signals turning 
off, hydroponic food growth declining, you name it.  If it relies 
on electricity, it will fail.  The energy we get from the sun and 
wind is just not enough to compensate.”
	“So you’re saying we’re using more energy than we’re 
producing?” Scott summarized.
	“Exactly,” Ryan said.
	“Can it be stopped?”
	“I think that the people would cut back if they knew what was 
going on.”
	“So why haven’t we heard from the King?” Scott asked.
	“I trust my father,” Ryan said.  “If he does not want people 
to know, then he must have a good reason.  I wish I knew what it 
was, though.”
	There was a long silence after that.  The green glow of the 
digital clock showed through the quiet darkness inside the van 
that it was two in the morning.  Ryan watched the moonlit 
countryside slide by, the untouched snow sparkling as it 
reflected the moonbeams.  The world really was beautiful, even in 
its frozen state.  Maybe, Ryan thought, just maybe he was just 
overthinking a simple problem.  Maybe this beautiful and 
nurturing mother would make sure her children got through their 
problems safely and grow prosperous.  Ryan allowed himself to be 
content for the first time in years.
	The sound of Jack’s slumber, reduced to a low purr at Ryan’s 
distance from it, combined with the hum of the engine to form a 
rhythmic tide, lulling Ryan to sleep.

	The morning sun, reflected from the ice, was blinding even 
through the large bay windows of the hotel lobby.  They had had 
to drive from Italy to Greece over land through the snow, and now 
it was time to leave the van and take dog sleds across the ice to 
Crete.  This was also where Jack would wait for them with the van 
when they had retrieved the treasures.
	Scott went to the counter and rented three dog sleds, which 
would be plenty for the five of them if they doubled up.  Sean 
and Spider, of course, would be riding together.  Ryan had driven 
a sled before, so he would take the reins of the second sled, the 
one behind Dierdre, who had to lead.  Scott gave a wink to Ryan 
as he chose to ride behind the beautiful archaeologist.  After a 
short breakfast and baggage loading, the five treasure hunters 
set off toward the ice.
	Dierdre’s sled took to the ice first and slid along with all 
the grace the woman herself carried.  Following them at an 
intense pace, Sean and Spider hit the ice.  Ryan stopped short.  
He had thought he heard the sound of ice cracking, a low, 
humanlike groan filling the air.
	“What is it?” Scott asked as he and Dierdre pulled up along 
side him, having circled back.
	“Didn’t you hear the ice cracking?”
	“You’re hearing things,” Spider growled, Sean pulling their 
sled to the other side of Ryan.
	“You mat be right,” Ryan said.  “I had a bad experience out 
on the ice a few months ago.  I was almost killed when the ice 
broke under me.  Luckily my sister was there to save my life.”
	“A few months ago,” Scott said.  “Wasn’t that when...”  Ryan 
shot him a glance that stopped his tongue instantly.  “Oh wait, 
no it wasn’t,” Scott amended.  “Sean, did you snag the Peizo Ruby 
three or four months ago?”
	“That was over six months ago, Scott, and what does it have 
to do with Ryan falling through the ice?” Sean replied.
	“Nothing,” Scott said.  “I’m just trying to place things in 
their proper dates on my mental calendar.”
	“You said he was weird,” Ryan heard Spider whisper to Sean, 
“but you never said he was this far gone.”
	“Let’s go,” Ryan said, lightly shaking his reins to get him 
going.  He knew all he had to do was to ride out there and he 
would be fine.  As he approached the ice, he felt a calmness come 
over him he hadn’t felt in a long time.

	Ryan woke with a sharp pain across his stomach and a queasy 
sense of vertigo.  His groan brought the face of Scott looking at 
him in front of an orange sky.  Ryan assumed that the pressure he 
felt on his back was the ground or a board or something, so he 
must be looking up at Scott.  He decided to trust that set of 
directions since they were logical, even though nothing inside of 
him corroborated the story.
	“How are you feeling?” Scott asked.  “You’ve been out for a 
while.  We’re in Crete now.”
	“Already?” Ryan slurred.  “We just left the mainland a second 
ago.”
	“You passed out the moment you reached the ice,” Scott told 
him.  “You slumped over the handlebar with your dogs running at 
full speed.  It took Sean five minutes to catch up to your sled 
and get close enough for Spider to jump over.  She landed on you 
and forced your stomach to get smashed a bit on the bar - the 
bruise is kind of nasty.  Anyway, Dierdre and I caught up after 
Spider stopped the sled and we decided to just strap a blanket 
over you and put you on top of the luggage.  I must say, Spider 
and Sean really saved your life back there.  Why didn’t you just 
tell us you were afraid of the ice?”
	“I did not know it myself,” Ryan answered.  “Where are Spider 
and Sean?  I want to thank them.”
	“They went on ahead,” Scott said.  “Dierdre led them to the 
door so Sean could find the secret to opening it.  They won’t go 
in without you though.”
	“Spider must think even more highly of me now,” Ryan mused.
	“Does it matter how she sees you?” Scott asked.  “You’re her 
backup and might not even be necessary.  Besides, after this job, 
you probably won’t see each other again.”
	“I might run into her sometime.  Maybe at Jack’s.”
	“Even if you did,” Scott said, “she knows why you’re with us, 
and it’s not for your bravery, it’s for your power.  It doesn’t 
take a lot of guts to pull the trigger of a super powerful weapon 
if it’s the only thing standing between you and death.  It’s 
probably the most cowardly course of action to take in those 
circumstances, and Spider is counting on that.  If anyone knows 
the power a gun can have over a person, it’s her.”
	“Why?  What happened to her?”
	“She was seven, maybe eight years old when it happened.  She 
was living with her mother and two brothers, just a few weeks 
after her parents went through a messy divorce and was awarded 
full custody of her and her brothers.  Her father hadn’t taken 
the verdict well and threatened to kill Spider’s mother to get 
his kids back, which caused the judge to immediately slap a 
restraining order on him.  
	“The police had been on surveillance around their house day 
and night since the threat.  The first night after they stopped, 
guess who showed up, shotgun in hand?  Spider didn’t have to 
think about it either.  She heard the familiar yelling of her 
parents downstairs: something she had hoped she would never hear 
again.  Soon, the door slammed and she heard her oldest brother’s 
voice join in the fight, telling her father to leave before he 
called the cops.  There was a gunshot.  Spider’s mother screamed 
and her father yelled that it was her fault that this had 
happened.
	“Spider ran into her mother’s room and pulled out the small 
energy pistol from inside the nightstand, meant to stun its 
victims - no larger than a pellet gun.  She went to the top of 
the stairs and saw her father with his gun pointed at her mother, 
who was on her knees cradling Spider’s brother’s head.  There was 
a growing pool of blood under them.  Spider stopped thinking.  
She raised the pistol and fired.”
	“So she saved her mother’s life and her father got sent to 
prison, right?” Ryan asked.
	“Not exactly,” Scott said.  “One shot will only temporarily 
daze a large man, which her father was.  Two shots will knock one 
down, and the third will knock him out.  Any more than three 
shots will cause damage to the victim.”
	“How many shots did she fire?”
	“To this day, she doesn’t know.  She went into a blind fury 
and kept pulling the trigger.  The cops finally arrived and found 
her yelling and firing the pistol.  When they finally brought her 
to her senses, they had her tied down and three cops were out 
cold.  The coroner reported that Spider’s father’s heart had 
stopped after about ten shots, which only takes about fifteen 
seconds with one of those stunners.  In the time it took the cops 
to get there, they estimate that she had fired at least a 
thousand shots into him.”
	“Was she jailed?”
	“After her mother told the cops what had happened, they 
labeled it justifiable homicide under unbearable stress and let 
her go.  The newspapers called her a hero for saving her mother’s 
life.”
	“But she went nuts doing it.  How did they explain that?”
	“The police didn’t mention that she could have stopped and 
had him imprisoned.  They said the weapon was the same kind of 
old fashioned revolver her father had used.  It was all very neat 
and tidy.  The story of the heroic young girl ended as quickly as 
it appeared though, when the press dug too deep and found out the 
truth.  Children snapping into a murderous frenzy was not 
something that would have boosted their ratings at the time, so 
they let it slip away.”
	Ryan stood and helped Scott disassemble the bright orange 
tent they had been in and load it onto the remaining sled while 
he tried to digest what Scott had told him.  “If she was a hero,” 
Ryan asked, “why did she become a thief?”
	“You’ll have to ask her that one yourself,” Scott answered.  
“I’ve tried, but she won’t tell me.  I have a feeling my brother 
knows, but he won’t tell anyone.”  Scott laughed.  “I still have 
no idea how or why those two are together.  Every time I ask 
them, they just grin or laugh.”
	The sled was packed and they were off.  Ryan drove, while 
Scott sat on the load right in front of him, with the map Dierdre 
had made, navigating.  “So how did your brother get involved in 
burglary?” Ryan asked, more to relieve the boredom of the silent 
and almost completely white landscape - Crete was undeveloped due 
to its island status - than to learn anything new.
	“That was partly my fault,” Scott told him.  “Growing up, I 
was always getting into trouble, and the little freak idolized 
me.  He started following me and learning the things I was doing.  
I caught him and sent him home a lot at first, but he learned how 
to follow me without me noticing - he says it’s called shadowing 
- and would tell me exactly what I had done that day when we shut 
off the lights to go to bed at night.  Pretty soon, he wasn’t 
only telling me what I did, but how he could do it better.  Who 
knew he had an aptitude for being a crook?  
	“Anyway, when I saw what he had become, I stopped being a 
punk altogether, hoping that he would follow my lead again, but 
he liked being a thief too much.  He developed a pride in what he 
did, something I never had, which he still carries to this day.  
He knows he is the best at what he does, and has developed a 
Robin Hood code for himself.  He wants the professional 
challenge, not the money, and he usually gives the money to those 
who need it.  If the victim is a good person, they might 
mysteriously find their valuables back in their vaults the next 
night, but that’s only happened a few times.  Of course, he left 
a note for the people telling them who he was and what he did, 
along with a list of things they could install to boost their 
security systems.
	“He has a few friends on the police force who know what he 
does and why he does it.  They believe in his methods and code 
and like his spirit.  Because of them, the evidence of who he is 
or what he has done tends to turn up missing.”
	“Do both of them live by the same code?” Ryan asked.
	“Not at all,” Scott answered.  “Spider keeps what she steals 
in what we call ‘The Web’, a place none but her has ever seen.”
	“Then how do you know it exists?”
	“She shows us the pictures all the time.  It’s her baby.”
	“Has Sean ever shadowed her there?”
	“Not likely,” Scott said.  “She told him not to.”
	“I guess he would listen to her.  He is her boyfriend.”
	Scott laughed.  “He listens to her because she’s Spider, the 
same reason anyone does.  She almost never asks anyone for 
anything, but when she does...well...just do what she wants, ok?”
	“That bad?”
	“Worse.”
	“I shall keep that information at the forefront of my mind 
when she and I next speak.”
	“Ryan, you’re slipping into prince mode again.”
	“Oh, sorry, and thanks,” Ryan said hastily.  He had been 
trying as of late to abandon his old manner of speech in order to 
blend in with everybody around him.  Sandy had been doing the 
same.  They had both been having a hard time, and this most 
recent slip of his was common.
	“There’s their signal up ahead,” Scott said, pointing to a 
small fire next to a bright orange tent, identical to the one 
Ryan had awakened in.  Ryan drove the dogs over toward the tent 
and stopped.
	“We are here,” Ryan yelled, just as Scott was saying, “Ryan 
wait.”
	“What is it?” Ryan asked.
	“This isn’t the right camp,” Scott said.  “There’s only one 
sled and no big door.”
	As if meant to confirm what Scott had just said, three men 
stepped out of the tent.  “I’m sorry,” said the scraggly one in 
the middle with the goatee, “I think there’s been a mistake.  I 
asked the agency for two enforcers and here they are.  You should 
go back and tell them they processed my request twice.”
	“Actually,” Ryan said, “we are the ones who should be 
apologizing.  We were supposed to meet up with a few friends of 
ours and it seems you have the same kind of tent they do.”
	“Your friend wouldn’t happen to be a beautiful archaeologist 
would she?” the man asked.
	“Yes,” Ryan said, “have you seen her?”
	“Yes, she came through here a while ago and told me two men 
would be trying to find her.  She asked me to tell you to meet 
her at the site.”
	“Thank you.  You have been most gracious,” Ryan said as he 
snapped the reins and drove the dogs away.

***

	Carlos watched the two boys intently as they began to drive 
off.  “Quickly,” he hissed to the taller and leaner of his two 
thugs, “pack up and get on the sled.  Those two are going to take 
us to the doors of the treasure vault.  We can’t lose sight.”
	The man, David or Daniel or whatever his name was, sprang 
into action and the slightly shorter and more muscular one, his 
name started with a B Carlos thought, followed suit.  In seconds, 
they were following the sled to the legendary treasure he had 
always dreamed about.  Those two fools were going to lead him to 
riches beyond their wildest dreams - and to their own slaughter.  
Once the treasure was unearthed, his much stronger men would kill 
them and the frail little archaeologist.

***

	The second tent Ryan and Scott came across was the right one.  
Two sleds sat warming a bit by the fire, the dogs being tended by 
Spider and Dierdre.  Ryan could just make out Sean’s figure by 
the colossal stone double doors before them.  The tent was at the 
top of a steep slope recently dug into the snow, ice, dirt, and 
rock, ending at the foot of the doors about thirty feet below.  
The top of the doors were almost twenty feet above him, and more 
rock and sediment continued for another forty or fifty feet above 
that.  All over the door, he could see as they drew near, were 
strange symbols, along with some Greek letters which Ryan 
recognized, though he couldn’t read the words.  Dierdre and 
Spider finished with the dogs and joined them.
	“Have you found a way in yet?” Scott asked.
	“I found the main method of entry, but we can’t get in that 
way, according to Dierdre’s translation,” Sean replied.
	“Show us,” Ryan said.
	Sean took them a few paces toward the direct center of the 
door and pointed to a small panel.  On it was a hand print, like 
a person would make in a fresh sidewalk, and some more writing.
	“The person who opened the Labyrinth would place his hand on 
this print and push it in to release the latch,” Dierdre said.  
She picked up a stick and pushed the hand, which slid back 
easily, all except two long thin blades in the palm area.  “The 
blades are poisoned,” she added.
	“I am no expert by any means, Dierdre,” Ryan said, “but 
wouldn’t any poison have evaporated or disintegrated by now?”
	“On a normal lock and door,” she replied with a bit of 
aggravation in her voice at being second guessed, “and in a 
normal place, but there is magic here.  It is all around, keeping 
everything in the same working order it was in three thousand 
years ago.”
	“You’re an archaeologist,” Spider said.  “That doesn’t sound 
very scientific.”
	“And that Senshi Saggitarius out there: is he scientifically 
explainable?” Dierdre retorted.  “Look, with the current events 
the way they are, I’ve learned to accept the existence of many 
things that I shouldn’t believe in.  This lock shouldn’t work.  
The inside of the Labyrinth shouldn’t be warm.  We should be able 
to break the door down with machinery; but it does, it is, and we 
can’t, and that’s how things are, whether they can be explained 
or not.  Now can we proceed or does someone else want to question 
my credentials as a scientist?”
	There was a long silence, then Dierdre began again.  “The 
words on the lock say that only royalty could open this door.  I 
think that part of the magic on this door is to read the person 
who puts their hand on that print to find out their status.  In 
the ancient days, that would keep anyone but Minos or his family 
from opening the door.  If I’m not wrong, that poison can kill a 
man in a few seconds.  Now, I don’t feel like dying, and I don’t 
think any of you want to either.  And, since we don’t have a king 
with us, we need to find another way in.”
	With those words, Dierdre turned pointedly and walked back to 
the tent.  Scott followed quickly and ducked in after her, and 
Sean did the same a little more slowly.  Spider leaned back 
against the wall with her arms crossed and a brief fraction of a 
laugh escaped her mouth
	“I’m going to have to break him of this caring-for-other-
people’s-feelings thing.  It’s a disgusting habit.”
	Ryan looked at her with a wry grin.  “Be careful,” he said, 
“it may end up working the other way around.  He could teach you 
how to care.”
	Spider stood quickly stormed away.  Ryan chuckled quietly and 
shook his head, watching her climb the rise to the tents.  Once 
she was in and he was alone, he turned to the hand print.”
	“Dierdre, you better be right about this,” he muttered, 
putting his hand to the door.  Surprisingly, the fit was perfect.  
Pushing in slightly, he felt the points of the two blades, but 
they weren’t pressing him.  In fact, they slid back just as 
easily as the stone.  He pushed it all the way to the end and 
heard a deep click in the inner workings of the door.  
	As the other half of the door swung slowly inward a few 
inches, Ryan walked back up to the tent.  He had no desire to 
venture in alone and unarmed, or to reveal how the door opened.  
It would be a surprise to him as well when they found the door 
ajar later.  He looked back and it still seemed closed, only 
having opened slightly.  He began setting up the other tent.

***

	Carlos took off the headphones and placed them, along with 
the binoculars and the listening device, into his pack.  He could 
barely see the bright orange tent from this distance without the 
binoculars.  
	“So that one is royalty and the others don’t know about it,” 
he mused.   “Ok boys, change of plans,” he said to his thugs, who 
were putting similar equipment away, “that one lives.  I don’t 
know what family he belongs to, but ransom is ransom.  If we can 
get him alive and unharmed, we can rake in a lot of money.  The 
other four I don’t care about.  Kill them if they’re in your way 
or try to stop you or look at you in the wrong way.”
	“What about the treasure, boss?” asked the taller one.
	“We’re going to sneak in after it gets dark and take the 
treasure out from under them.  When we get everything packed up, 
we take our little prince and go home.”

TO BE CONTINUED

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