IF, OUT OF EVERYTHING else, and by any measure, there was such lostness from feeble oblivion, then for a man whose life was buried in the depths of his name, it was to the extent by which lostness was farther still.
"See that man? His life is like a labyrinth."
That was the common refrain among the villagers of the lower valley whenever they saw the tall and lean hired individual passing through with a crook in his hand. They would watch from their porch steps as he guided the bleating flock toward the high ridges.
"You mean a wanderer? A bit lost in the head?"
"No, I mean a labyrinth like his name . . . somehow. Maze. Or so they say."
"Maze? Indeed like a labyrinth! What kind of mother names a boy after a place you get lost in?"
"Look at him — tending those sheep for seven seasons, but no one has ever known how he got here."
"Truly, no one knew how he obtained the life of a shepherd in that manor."
It was like this.
Mizmaze of Welfanshelm's Fifth District. A youth of five-and-twenty years. Shepherd for seven years. His life was meek and silent, a bit unfriendly and isolated. During those years, he remained private and had never told anything about himself to those at the manor, as the workers themselves would say the same: none knew how he became a shepherd.
For the others, Maze was indeed a maze, if it were not a labyrinth with only one way out. But his was filled with plenty of confusing paths, which would then be the absolute lostness that was himself. Verily, what he loved most was herding, and such a task transformed his life anew. That which was dark had then become the light. It was the only truth he could live for, for there was darkness that once consumed the darker ends of his buried past.
The herd of sheep was spread on the pasture, eating their fill of what nature had given them. On top of a large rock stood Maze in his white tunic and draped cloak, a perfect fit for his milky-white complexion, as he looked over the sheep that were not his own. At this time, the sunlight was gentle to the skin and the wind carried a brumal gust from the morning dew, with his treacle-black hair swaying wherever the wind blew.
"At this rate, you will turn into stone on this hillside."
It was an overseer who was bald and bearded, whose height was only to Maze's shoulder.
The shepherd bowed politely. "Mr. Ivory, what service can I do for you?"
The overseer placed both hands behind his back and observed Maze. "No need to tend to me. There is no task at hand to give."
"Then, may I ask what is it that brought you here?" Maze gazed at the blue sky with wandering, thin clouds. "I presumed there was something else, if not tasks."
Mr. Ivory drew an exasperated sigh and sat on the same rock where Maze stood. "The workers in the manor are given a day off. Maze, they are being sent home. You are more than aware that this is the last day of the year. What we call the Day of the Eclipse." He paused. "As one of the workers, you also have the privilege to take rest and go home. If you want to, you could."
Maze noticed one sheep that was wandering farther from the flock. He whistled with a raised crook, and the sheep galloped near him before consuming the grass on the pasture.
"Your decision, Maze?" Mr. Ivory asked gently, trying to look at the back of the shepherd.
Maze chuckled. "You know my answer, Mr. Ivory, and it would never change."
"This marks your seventh year in this manor, young one. If I were to be honest, I hope to send you home. But home seems to be something that is not of your interest."
"I might say for sure it is true."
"Truly, you love the flock and are always loyal to the master."
"Also true."
"You also told me once that you do not wish to go home."
"For how many times do I have to tell you again, dear old man, that I have no home to return to?"
It was silent for a while.
For the overseer who knew Maze well, Mr. Ivory, it was a moment to savor what the morning had to offer. However, for Maze, it was simply another day he got to take care of the flock. This was what had become of him, and he could not wish for anything else.
Home was where the herd was.
At least, for him.
"Home," Mr. Ivory emphasized. "When you were eighteen, it was your first time entering the manor. During your early months, it was I who taught you how to shepherd."
"It has been . . . that long." The morning wind brushed against Maze's cheeks. "In the blink of an eye, what seems to be yesterday becomes a distant past."
"Such a sentimental young man you are." Mr. Ivory dusted off his black tunic and stomped his feet. "Anyway, it has been a while since we last talked. Like you said, it is almost a distant past, indeed."
He began walking sluggishly, with his hands clasped behind him.
"Before I forget, you are to meet with our master at dusk. Perhaps, an hour before the eclipse. It seems that he wants to meet you after all these years."
"Did he say anything else?"
"He said he would like to give you rewards for taking care of his sheep."
"Are they bread and milk?"
Mr. Ivory grunted. "Have you not had enough of those, Maze?" He glanced at the stupefied shepherd. "It is different this time, something that not even wealth could offer . . . but I do wish your life will take you somewhere else with that," he sighed in relief, "not concerning your shepherding, but," Mr. Ivory genuinely smiled, "a life of your own."
Maze tightly gripped his crook. Somewhere in his chest, there grew heavy thumps as he began to yearn for a certain something: finally meeting the master who saved him in his darkest days.
When dusk began to settle, Maze guided the flock into the estate and to the sheep-cote, then searched for Mr. Ivory to ask where to meet his master. However, he stumbled upon someone else near the garden who had sweat trickling over her forehead, wearing a black tunic indicative of her being an overseer like Mr. Ivory.
"Maze, I have been looking for you everywhere!" She ran until she was breathless and held Maze by his shoulder. "Mr. Ivory left earlier, and he said he forgot to tell you where you are to meet our master."
That is what I was about to ask him anyway. Maze began to worry, but he felt a flicker of relief, and it sufficed to purify such worry. He might still have a chance.
"Then, where is our master?"
"That is the problem!" The overseer lady exhaled loudly. "He just left. Apparently, something urgent came up, and he rushed off in a frantic hurry."
"But I thought he was going to meet me . . . "
"Now, now, you have to be quick!" She patted his shoulder. "The ride only happened as I was looking for you . . . Do not worry, he will stop at the border, so you can catch up from there!"
Which was what drove Maze to run, and run, and run. With steps uncountable. Even when he grew tired. When he left the manor and wandered along the crooked path down the ridges toward the lower valley, he did not cease.
What unfortunate luck there had to be, to somehow cut short the moment in which he was supposed to see his savior. As the sun was setting and the dark was about to blanket the sky, the ground was already dimming, devouring what was left of daylight.
It was certain that the manor was near the border, but the border was ghostly and emptied of people. Fog was everywhere, and a carriage had lost a wheel, tilted against a barricade. At first glance, it appeared that there had been an accident.
Without thinking further, he became weary with the fact that something terrible had led to such a predicament. When he went as quickly as possible to search inside the carriage, he thought he would find someone wounded. It was merely born out of his anxiety, but he also hoped that nobody had been wounded at all.
Gladly, there was no one, indeed.
Other than an envelope . . . and a chest the size of his fist.
Maze did not want to care about them, as he was eager to find his master, or anyone else who had seen such an ominous scene.
However, he noticed it.
So, he could not ignore it.
For what was more ominous was the fact that the note had a recipient.
「FOR MAZE」
Why was it addressed to him? He was not hallucinating nor had he become delirious. The recipient of such missive was him, as if both the envelope and the chest were to be given to him.
Must he take it?
Was it . . . from his master?
Maze went in the carriage. Picking up the envelope, he felt a cold shiver. The flap was held shut by a black wax seal, with a horizontal crescent moon cradling a wide, central eye — which was the same mark branded into the lid of the fist-sized chest.
Then he went to a bench nearby and placed them beside him, before opening the envelope to read the letter within.
「As you are reading this, your reality might not be the same for you anymore. You might think I am in danger and would try to find me instead. Fret not, young man, for your life has just begun. Simply do not look for me. Never dare to go back to the manor, as you are to fulfill your days ahead.」
「For seven seasons, you have tended my herd of sheep without asking for anything in return. So shall there be a sevenfold reap for you alone as a token of my gratitude. I bestow upon you my blessing, but beware, for there is a flaw.」
「My blessing is inside the chest. I assume you have it with you right now. You must hurry and open it before the eclipse takes over the land once more.」
「I wish for your well-being.」
「May a path be open before you, Maze.」
「With sincerity,
Your Master」