“Denaris.” Kerian shot back.
“Mr Denaris we only do things one way here. My way… Otherwise, you end up in the town jail. Kerian slid his hand into his saddlebags and felt for a few small gems then dropped them onto the open page of the harbourmaster’s ledger, silencing the man in mid- conversation.
“…That will do nicely.” The harbourmaster squeaked.
“I’ll leave her care in your good hands then.” Kerian nodded; confident his business with the man was over. He walked away, pushing his way through the guards with all intentions of heading for the nearest inn and having the largest drink offered. Then he looked up at the town before him, the sprawling mass of housing crammed tightly together, brickwork rust coloured in the light and paused, turning to one of the guards, clearly the more junior of the two, to size the youth up with his cool gaze.
“Where is the nearest decent inn?” he asked. The guard looked perturbed at being asked a direct question, more used to simply enforcing the harbourmaster’s will.
“That will be the Lusty Mermaid sir.” He spluttered. “Up Mill Street, then second left into Tanners Lane. You cannot miss it. There’s a carved wooden mermaid nailed to the outside wall with large… err... umm.”
“I think that I understand.” Kerian smiled in reply, dropping a small gem into the man’s hand to express his gratitude before walking on. He knew what he had just given the man was probably more than the guard earned in a year. In hindsight, it was probably a stupid thing to do and could lead to unnecessary questions and attention. However, Kerian already knew he would be the talk of the town and it was not as if he intended to hang around. He would be far away from here before any trouble would follow. He just needed time to get his boat repaired and he would be on his way.
He looked up at the rusty town of Wellruff that was going to be his home for the next few days and sighed inwardly. No matter what port he visited, they always looked the same, run down, shabby, smelling of fish and rotting produce. The main cobbled street led from the harbour up into ramshackle rows of houses that were dirty, stained and leaning so close to each other that if he were able to pick the middle one up all the others would fall over. Smoke rose from numerous crumbling chimneys leaving a haze that hung over the buildings like a suffocating shroud. Seagulls spiralled through the air, shrieking noisily as they searched for food, their cries competing with the calls of street sellers, curses of cart drivers and the gossip of housewives leaning on flaking cream coloured windowsills on both sides of the street.
This town was just another obstacle in a long line of such, its presence riling but ultimately something he could overcome. He settled his saddlebag more firmly on his shoulder and headed up the road. The Lusty Mermaid was waiting and Kerian was eager to meet her acquaintance.
* * * * * *
“I just don’t get it!” Ashe Wolfsdale frowned. “What am I doing wrong? All your birds are flying beautifully. They look sleek, majestic, dangerous… But Sinders just looks like a swollen puff-puff fish, all roundish and well, kind of dumpy.”
Austen gently hooded the sea falcon gripping his gloved hand and moved it safely onto a perch before turning towards his unhappy shipmate. He took in Ashe’s exasperated posture, one hand on his hip, bottom lip sticking out in a pout and tried not to laugh. It was hard. Somehow, the four-foot high crewman before him tugged at the heart strings just as much as you wanted to throttle him sometimes. He sighed and sat down on the deck so that Ashe did not have to crane his neck up to see him.
“Maybe Cinders simply isn’t ready to fly yet.” Austen replied, his aged face gently showing the concern he felt for the little man before him, whilst trying not to smile at the joke everyone on board apart from Ashe seemed to get. “Give him some more time and maybe he will surprise you.”
“Yes but look!” Ashe gestured, lifting his cage with the scruffy looking avian inside. “He doesn’t even look like one of your birds. I’m starting to think he was adopted.”
Austen found he had to agree, as he looked through the bars of the cage at the ball shaped creature within. Black and white plumage stuck out in no discernible order, making the bird appear anything but bird shaped, as if preening was something it felt only others of its ilk should do; an action far below its notice. A single beady eye watched the proceedings going on around it with some suspicion and as Austen looked on, one eye closed and another opened to complete the tour around the inside of the cage.
“It is a unique creature.” Austen replied choosing his words carefully. “Are you handling him every day and letting him out of his cage in your cabin?”
“Well I try to handle him.” Ashe replied solemnly. “But it’s hard with this.” Ashe held out his other hand exposing four normal fingers and the red stub for a thumb that was magically growing to replace the one Ashe had lost after his terrible torture.
“Marcus and Richard are working with me every day to try and get the thumb moving but it is really painful. What is worse, Sinders thinks it’s a worm and keeps trying to snap at it with his beak.” Austen nodded his head trying to show empathy, whilst secretly wishing someone, anyone, would call him away.
“And that’s not all. I mean look what I’m dealing with.” Ashe continued, pushing open the cage door and tilting it to see if he could tip his bird out onto the deck. “He…won’t…come…out…of the cage.” He shook the cage hard, but Sinders remained firmly wedged inside, using curved black talons to hold onto the bars. “See what I mean?”
He placed the cage back onto the deck and scowled down at the ball of feathers within, clearly disappointed at his charge. Realising that the cage was now free of danger, Sinders tentatively let go of the bars and stared up at the Halfling with a beady eye, then he hopped over to the open cage door, reached out his black and white feathered head, gripped the door and slammed it shut sealing himself safely inside.
“I think you just need to treat Cinders as a baby and be the mother it hasn’t got.” Austen stated carefully. “Love it, feed it, talk to it and show it by example what needs to be done.”
Ashe stared down at his bird, hand on chin and tried to imagine what this information meant. Caring for a bird was not as easy or as glamorous as Ashe had first thought. He picked up the cage and wandered off across the foredeck towards the cabins at the stern of the galleon, his mind whirling with all the new information Austen had given him. The lack of attention shown by the Halfling towards the flying cars zipping around the glittering skyscrapers standing tall on the horizon behind him was a clear indication of how much his concern for Sinders was playing on his little mind.
When the idea of Sinders was first suggested, Ashe had dreamed of flying on the back of the bird and soaring through the heavens. The chances of that ever happening were about as real as his imaginary daydreams. He sighed heavily and trudged on, leaving Austen silently counting his blessings in his wake, not yet aware the little thief had pocketed the man’s watch as they had spoken. Ashe intended to give the pocket watch back later, as Sticks, or as he seemed to be known now, Kerian, had told him it was bad to steal from his friends but practice was important if he was to keep his skills honed.
* * * * * *
The four sailors leaning against the starboard rail watched Ashe despondently shuffle off towards his cabin. The first of them adjusted the bow case across his back and turned to his colleagues, his quiver of black and gold arrows resting against his leg.
“That one has the weight of the world upon his shoulders.” He observed.
“Is it any wonder Weyn Valdeze?” the young warrior known as Aradol responded. “If you had been subjected to the torture that one had, I do not believe you would be in any better mood. It was a wonder Rauph managed to find and rescue him in time.” The young man, with short brown hair, wearing a white billowing shirt and tan trousers turned to follow Weyn’s gaze and looked on with sorrow etched across his youthful face.
“That is true Aradol.” The larger one of th
e four interrupted, his plump figure and patterned robes marking the man’s calling as a salesman of exotic wares, rugs and a lover of fine foods. “But have you noticed his concern is never for himself but always others. He loves his bird so dearly and yearns to see it fly. It is a heart of gold I see in that one. Despite all of his pains and troubles he still tries to make light of his situation and shares his happiness and smiles to lighten the hearts of those around him.”
“And their pockets.” Voiced the last member of the group, gesturing with a thin pipe that sent aromatic smoke into the air. “That is probably why the two of you get on so well Ives. However, you take the money in a more open way, whilst Ashe has now deprived Austen of his pocket watch and no doubt several other crewmembers of whatever they had upon them.” The brooding man swept back his long black hair, parted centrally and let his intense gaze scan the skyline and the specks of flying vehicles moving between the buildings. Then he gently lowered one hand and ensured the daggers he wore about his person, were all where they should be. You could never be too careful with regards to Ashe Wolfsdale.
“Now Mathius,” Ives Mantuso replied, his face flustered at the warrior’s suggestion of his merchant dishonesty. “In all my days I have never sold a defective item. What you see is what you get. I always charge a fair price and only add the smallest overhead for the shipping, storage, handling, security, heating, lighting and my personal upkeep and maintenance.”
Mathius Blackraven tried not to laugh aloud as he noticed from the corner of his eye that Ives was also checking his pockets and belongings. Instead, he turned his attention back towards the view on the horizon. It was quite hypnotic and astounding at the same time. To think people could construct such enormous towers and live in them so high above the ground, the fact they had chariots that could magically fly like birds. The sights he had seen since joining this ship were incredible. The friends he had made priceless. For a man who once worked alone with only the shadows of night and the spectre of death as company, Mathius recognised how being aboard the El Defensor had transformed him for the better.
Aradol fidgeted uncomfortably, his youthful face looking at first one crewmate and then the other. Then he looked back at the small dingy skipping backwards and forwards across the waves about one hundred yards away, the boat turning in circles as if looking for something.
“I’m not really comfortable just sitting here doing nothing.” He blurted out. “It’s not right. We should let them know where we are.”
Ives arched an eyebrow and ‘tutted’ sarcastically.
“And spoil the show?” He remarked. “You know as well as I that once he is back on board it will be do this, do that, fetch this…”
“…Go high!” Weyn muttered. “It’s always ‘Go High!’ Just because I have eagle like vision doesn’t mean I want to live in the crow’s nest all the time.”
“How long do you think it will be before they find us then?” Aradol asked, clearly still uncomfortable at watching their captain rushing backwards and forwards across the waves as Rauph pulled heartily on the oars. “How long does Colette’s invisibility shield spell work for anyhow?”
“Well hopefully long enough for me to finish my pipe.” Mathius replied, making smoke rings and sending them out one after the other into the air to make it look like the minotaur was rowing through hoops. “After all it is a beautiful day and my physician did say I needed to relax more.”
* * * * * *
Kerian frowned as he stared at the large church standing before him. He could have sworn the guard had said go down Mill Lane and turn up Tanners Street. He had found a Mill Lane but this was definitely not Tanner’s Street and there was no mermaid, lusty or otherwise, to be seen.
The imposing rust brick building towering before him consisted of a high bell tower reaching for the heavens, set upon a much wider, thick, squat, circular base that had stained glass windows at regular intervals around the circumference. Kerian’s first thought was this could be a religious bastion of the St Fraiser monasteries all around the world, until he saw the freshly erected religious symbol raised high upon its walls. The flaming cross was there for all to see, but the sinister shape of a coiled serpent wrapping its sinuous length around the religious icon placed a disturbing image on this place of learning and worship. It appeared that the faith had undergone a change in senior management since Kerian had last encountered them.
He wondered what his friend Marcus would think of this. Maybe the monk was on a world where the teachings of St Fraiser were unknown. He could even be preaching to the newly converted right now, wherever he was. Kerian smiled to himself. He missed the worldly innocence of his travelling companion and his bouts of self-righteousness, even when the monk was clearly in the wrong. It was at times like these that Kerian realised how much he missed the company of others.
A loud hacking cough destroyed the warrior’s sense of nostalgia, drawing his attention to a group of beggars huddled in a group up against a buttress at the base of the church wall. They were passing around smoke pipes and drinking from smeared bottles, swearing loudly and leering threateningly at passers-by before laughing together at their obvious discomfort. Others lounged on cover stones and leant against tombstones, some senseless, others hopefully just sleeping, although Kerian could not really tell for sure.
Kerian tried not to let his sorrow show at these unfortunate members of society, but he still frowned at the sight. It seemed ironic that these people had elected to gather around the church and the graves, as if subconsciously they had already given up on their lives and wanted to draw comfort from those who had gone before them. He debated placing a small donation onto a ragged blanket laid out to accept offerings from the charitable public, then reconsidered as he noticed one individual open a fresh bottle and start passing it around amongst his peer group. The money would only be used to drink and smoke themselves into further temporary stupor.
He went to move on and then noticed other headstones set along the base of the wall of the church, marking the resting places of several of the faithful interred into the foundations. Kerian found it unnerving to contemplate, the thought of having the weight of a church crushing down on your body, for all eternity. He shuddered and hunched his shoulders, moving on, whilst dreading the fact that at some point he would have to do the unthinkable.
Admit he was lost and ask for directions.
* * * * * *
The screams and wails of horror echoed the length of the dark dank corridor, some cursing those at work before them, others struggling against their bonds trying vainly to free themselves, whilst others pleaded and begged to be spared the grisly end that awaited them. The high priestess Justina stood silently attentive as she oversaw the masons at work, the horrified cries falling upon her slowly diminishing as the final stones were mortared into place to seal in, alive, those favoured members of the church elite that had supported her predecessor Abbot Brialin.
Tall, sultry, with long flowing black hair and skin as white as porcelain, the High Priestess’s features were like those of a beautiful woman captured in a classic historical masterpiece. Her eyes were the iciest blue, promising depths to her person that could snare the unwary and destroy her enemies in an instant. At present, her cold gaze appeared immune to the suffering before her. This was just a task that had to be done and she intended to see it through.
The High Priestess was terrifying in her intensity and ruthless to the end. She was the new switch sweeping the religious sects clean. Brialin had ruled the cathedral at Catterick with an iron fist, using his position of power to manipulate people like implements, to be discarded once their usefulness was at an end. Justina bristled as she pondered this fact, recognising that her own manipulation, to overthrow the leader of the rival Serpent Cult in the town had been a similar successful ploy.
The serpent high priest, Pelune, was now dead, his power reliant on a cursed sacrificial dagger that bestowed health and vitality on its wielder.
The dagger had been stolen in a bungled robbery and Justina had been witness to the slow lingering wasting the man had endured as his power had ebbed away. Abbot Brialin was also deceased, his end tied in to the same crew who had spirited the dagger away. This had left a power vacuum in Catterick that Justina had been all too willing to fill. She was now the high priestess of both the cult and the monastery and she was making very sure everyone knew who was in control.
Justina turned to the monk standing alongside her and gestured to the freshly completed mortar and bricks behind her.
“Is that everyone Brother Kalvin?” she asked, looking at the curly haired man beside her. “Is this all of those who supported Brialin?”
“Yes.” Kalvin nodded enthusiastically. “…Everyone but Brother Anthony. He has disappeared and no one can find him. There are rumours he has fled to the Northern territories but his trail is cold.” He turned to the last remaining opening in the wall and pointed towards it. “I presume this is for when you eventually catch him?”
“Not at all.” Justina smiled cruelly. “It’s for you.” She gestured and the guards leapt forward to pin the struggling monk’s arms at his sides.
“What? But you can’t do this.” Kalvin screamed. “I have helped you, given you advice. I have even shared your bed. I’ve shown nothing but loyalty towards you.”
“Much like the loyalty you showed to Brialin’s leadership?” Justina queried. “I don’t think it would be wise to have someone so blatantly two-faced as a member of my staff. I mean you might even take it into your mind to betray me.” She signalled to the guards to push Brother Kalvin into his tomb.
“I shall miss our nights together.” She lowered her head, cutting off their eye-to-eye contact and ending their conversation coldly. “Brick him up.”
Justina turned with a swirl of black cloak and headed back along the corridor. She had to give Brother Kalvin credit. He had an excellent set of lungs on him. The screams were clearly audible for the entire length of the corridor and only faded as she started to ascend the roughly hewn stone spiral staircase at the far end of the passage.
The Labyris Knight Page 3