His gaze followed the cliffs down, both to the left and the right of the thundering waterfall, looking for breaks in the sheer natural walls and finding none. Dense jungles, thick with vines, creepers and no doubt, lots of wild animals, butted right up to the cliff edge helping to enhance the daunting appearance of this natural barrier. He turned, tracing the jungle, taking in small islands and outcroppings, caves and sheltered bays, as his visual journey tracked down the port side of the ship and out over the heads of his crew, all gathered on deck for the first glimpse of this new world.
On the starboard side of the ship, a similar picture presented itself; overhanging trees, long basking reptiles, splashing into the water from small inlets, their early morning lounge disturbed by the El Defensor’s swift passing. Thomas reached into his waistcoat and pulled out his telescope to scan the coast, sweeping it around to the prow of the galleon, where he finally discovered what he had been searching for.
An island lay ahead of them, accessible from the coast by high, delicate arched walkways and bridges, under which flowed the deep blue waters they sailed upon. It was a walled city, with guard posts set at intervals along the dark stone barricade encircling a high mount covered in white and cream buildings featuring pillars and colonnades, topped with terracotta tiled roofs. Smoke spiralled to the heavens from numerous fires, confirming the city was inhabited and at the pinnacle of the mount there appeared to be a large state building, similar in style to the ancient Greek necropolis that Thomas had once studied in history books at school.
Such civilisation meant wealth. Wealth meant gemstones. Thomas felt a small weight lift from his shoulders. There was a thin glimmer of hope here. Maybe the fates were looking after them after all.
He continued his scan of the coastline, determined to come back to the island and noticed a strange sight in the jungle beyond the island. He swung the telescope back, squinting to gain better focus. There appeared to be a massive ziggurat sitting there, cresting from the jungle canopy, its cap stone gleaming golden in the morning sunlight, the pale stone steps of the pyramid dropping off into the dense undergrowth beneath. The structure had to be massive, for it to be seen from this far away.
Thomas filed this information away and continued his sweep with the lens, before realising something he should have noticed earlier. The coast continued back down the port side of the ship in an unbreakable barrier, out past his position then back over to the waterfall. The water they sailed upon was completely enclosed on all sides.
They were not sailing on the ocean anymore. The El Defensor was currently traversing a huge lake.
His mind recalled the numerous log entries back in his cabin, penned by the previous captain Rik Kavaliare. In all the hours Thomas had spent pouring over those old ledgers, reading of locations both fantastic and terrifying, he had never come across a lake being the final destination. The El Defensor had apparently never travelled to this world. He wondered what surprises lay in wait for them here and felt that familiar thrill of excitement rush through him.
Turning towards the helm, Thomas noted the eight-foot-tall shaggy figure of Rauph looking somewhat pensive and surprisingly insecure. The Minotaur appeared to be looking around him and licking his lips nervously. Thomas moved closer, then realised the possible cause. The Halfling Ashe Wolfsdale ran around the navigator’s feet, throwing questions up at his huge companion and waving his birdcage around in the air. No wonder the Minotaur looked pensive. Having Ashe around your legs at the best of times made the heart beat faster and hands constantly pat pockets to check items remained where they should be. Thomas took a deep breath then decided to save his bovine friend from a fate worse than death and set off on an intercept course.
“So you see Rauph,” Ashe shouted enthusiastically, “Sinders simply won’t fly. No matter what I try to do, he won’t come out of his cage. I mean how am I expected to get him to fly when he won’t step outside. I have tried shaking the cage…” He shook the small cage for good measure rattling the bird around inside and causing Rauph to snort in shock at the rough treatment being shown.
“I’ve even tried to spin him out really fast.” Ashe spun on the spot, cage outstretched, whizzing around on the open deck and flattening Sinders against the bottom of the cage with a protesting squawk. “…but it makes me feel really sick after… a… while.” The Halfling confessed, stopping and staggering about, moving his head around and around in an exaggerated comic effect that had Rauph snorting with mirth.
“I mean what is a Halfling to do?” Ashe stood hand on hip, cage upside down, Sinders hanging resolutely to the bars at the back of the cage. “Look, even when I open the cage, he won’t come out. I don’t think he will ever do as he is told.” He flipped open the door to show how true these words were and put the cage on the floor waving his arms wide.
“Much like someone we all know.” Thomas added, arriving like the cavalry to save the day.
“Who’s that then?” Ashe asked, open eyed, his innocent face like that of an angel. “Oh Thomas, I’ve been meaning to ask. Why is everyone so excited and up on deck? I mean we have seen places like this before, it’s just a walled city, with a possible palace, likely unguarded precious jewels and a scary building in the deep, dark, jungle nearby.” He battered his eyelashes sweetly, failing to notice how Thomas and Rauph were slowly stepping away from him and checking their pockets.
“Okay, not every place we go has a huge statue of a bronze minotaur guard but then…”
“What did you say?” Thomas asked.
“Scary building in a deep, dark jungle?” Ashe replied.
“No, the other bit…”
“Oh,” Ashe shook his head remembering. “Palace and jewels maybe?”
“The Minotaur bit.” Thomas pointed out. “What do you mean a statue of a Minotaur.”
“Well it is, isn’t it?” Ashe asked incredulously. “I mean from my vantage point that’s what a Minotaur always looks.” He walked closer to Rauph and stared up under the navigator’s shaggy chin. “Yup, just like a Minotaur, see.”
Thomas turned back towards the statue and looked again. He had automatically assumed the horns were part of a war helmet, not attached to the head underneath but now he thought about it, there was an uncanny likeness to Rauph’s physique. Could it really be a Minotaur?
Thomas turned to Rauph, a questioning look across his features.
“Do you recognise her?” he asked. Rauph shrugged his huge shoulders.
“Why should I?” he replied. “I mean if I pointed out a human and asked if you recognised them, how would you answer? Just because I’m a Minotaur doesn’t mean I know everyone. I mean do you know him?” Rauph pointed a finger over to the rail where two priests leant admiring the view, pale faded blue robes flapping in the breeze.
“Well that’s Marcus and Brother Richard.” Thomas answered without dropping a beat. “You know that as well as I do.” Rauph looked over, squinted and then brushed the long chestnut hair from his eyes.
“Oh… so it is.” He agreed, looking surprised as he recognised the two men. “Anyhow you know I cannot remember anything about where I come from.” He lowered his head solemnly. “I don’t even know if Rauph is my real name.”
“I’m sure it is.” Thomas replied, a lump in his throat. He knew full well where Rauph’s name came from. It was the name of the stray cat the precinct had adopted after it was run over by a squad car. They had sent a rookie to get a collar and tag made for the mangy ginger tom and told him to label it ‘Ralph’ after the Karate Kid actor Ralph Macchio from the 1980’s movies, because like the cat, Ralph managed to get up and keep swinging after being knocked down. Also, Thomas had to be honest, that knockout kick at the end of the film was simply awesome.
Thomas smiled at the thought, the rookie had only gone and spelt it wrong and the name Rauph, pronounced ‘Rawlf’ became the one that had stuck, christening the spitting, hissing, fur ball and unofficial mascot of the precinct. That was
in better days, before the serial killer case, before the child’s death, before the shotgun blast. Thomas shook his head angrily and tried to focus back on the lumbering giant before him.
The captain keenly remembered when they had found Rauph. The Minotaur had been floating, far out at sea, lying unconscious on the remains of a piece of wooden deck as sharks gently circled, nudging the wood at each pass to see if anything would fall into their predatory jaws. The crew had initially been terrified of considering dragging the Minotaur on board, worried about his immense size and scary appearance. Thomas had helped the crew hoist the gentle giant from the water and had noticed the huge haematoma and gash behind the creature’s ear, the bruising and assorted wounds all over his body.
Someone had tried to kill Rauph and instead, by dumb luck or fate, he had ended up crossing paths with Thomas Adams and the El Defensor and they were now firm friends. It had taken some time for the crew to get used to the lumbering giant and to try and reassure him that they meant no harm. Rauph’s mind, like his origins had remained a mysterious blank ever since.
Maybe Rauph knew of this place. That would be amazing… Then Thomas thought back to those horrific injuries and changed his mind. He shook his head and re-examined the statue. Maybe this was simply a mythological statue created in a semblance of a Minotaur?
The horns could be part of the figure’s helmet after all and they could be making huge assumptions with no basis in fact whatsoever.
“Let’s keep the sails trimmed.” Thomas shouted to the brothers in the rigging. “Make the most of the wind we have.” He turned back to Rauph and smiled warmly. “Keep her steady my friend. Let’s do a sail once around the island, find the docks and ease into port. Just remember if they have no large ships the port may be shallow, so take it real slow.” Thomas looked around at the crew lining the rails, their excited voices, faces brightened by glimpsing this apparent paradise, then turned back to Rauph smiling.
“Let’s go around twice,” he whispered. “We should fit under the bridges if you steer her straight. I want everyone in that city to see us coming.” There would be no surprises this time, no sneaking under cover of night. Every time they tried to do that something went wrong. It was time to be open and honest. The change would be refreshing and who knew… it may just make things go their way for once.
* * * * * *
“Where has Thomas taken us now?” Brother Richard asked, his dark hair swept back from a face worn deep with worry lines. The monk turned to his colleague, a much younger acolyte called Marcus, who wore matching traditional blue robes of the Order of St Fraiser and the same flaming cross religious icon around his neck.
“It is quite incredible.” Marcus replied. “Who would believe such beauty could even exist. I mean it was only a few months ago that I first left the cloisters in Catterick. Now…” he swept his arms wide at the sweeping vista before them. “…just look at the wonders we behold.”
Brother Richard had to agree with the novice’s wide-eyed assessment. The things they had seen since they had joined the crew were indeed inspiring. How could there not be a higher power when such places of exotic beauty existed especially alongside places of horror and decay such as the ships graveyard? It showed there was equilibrium in all things, just as the order promoted within its doctrine. If there was sky, there would be ground. If there was pain, there would be pleasure. Good always followed bad and everything had an opposite that balanced out in the end. Brother Richard had always believed things happen for a reason, no matter how terrible they were at the time.
At least he did, until he found Stratholme. Until he had found what he believed to be his own personal paradise before it was snatched away. Despite the beauty all around him Richard felt betrayed inside. Why had his heart’s desire been so cruelly taken from him? He had no one to ask? His god appeared to have deserted him, had left him educating a novice who had ironically been sent to destroy him. The world was suddenly chaotic, balance non-existent. He stroked the chin of the only creature on board that understood him and it purred back loudly, before sliding its smoky fur along his arm leaving his robes covered in a coating of loose fur.
* * * * * *
Socks was Brother Richard’s cat from Stratholme. At least it let Brother Richard think it was. The cat had become quite accustomed to life aboard ship, catching rats in the cargo holds and the bilges of the huge ship and growing quite content on a diet of fish that made its coat gleam. Pale green eyes blinked happily as Richard scratched diligently between the cat’s ears making it stretch out with pleasure along the rail, claws digging into the paintwork as the cat received the affection it desired. Socks listened without understanding to the discussion held above it, then smelt something interesting and turned one lazy eye towards the helm and a certain cage left unattended on the floor.
There was a bird in that cage and Socks wanted to eat it.
* * * * * *
“I mean…” Marcus continued, “how could the creator have been so diverse in his imaginings? Everything here is so wondrous.”
“Have you opened the book yet?” Richard asked, killing Marcus’s enthusiasm with his carefully chosen words. Marcus reached down to pat a satchel hanging at his side, as if his hand would keep the book safe from prying eyes and fingers.
“Not yet.” He confessed quietly. “I’m scared to do so after what happened. What if the knights get free again and I can’t control them?” Richard looked over at the book and frowned at his young acolyte.
“If you do not take charge of the book you will never wield it with the power a bearer should control. I thought I explained that to you. Your fear is stopping you from becoming powerful, you should not fear power, you should embrace it before someone more deserving takes it away from you.” Marcus hung his head, clearly unsure. Abbot Brialin, Marcus’s previous mentor, had offered similar velvet coated persuasions but had been lying all along about the book and its contents, using them with devastating effect in Stratholme and nearly killing everyone.
“I’m just not sure I can control them.” The young man swallowed hard, staring out over the water towards nothing, his eyes now glazed and unfocused. “I do not believe I am worthy.” Brother Richard gritted his teeth as the words spilled from the acolyte’s mouth. If only Marcus could hear himself! Here was a young man with the power to level mountains in his hands, yet he was afraid to use it. Why was he, of all people, cursed with such a responsibility? Maybe it was a test of faith. It had to be. Richard bit back the bile in his throat and forced a smile across his face.
“Let us discover your worth together.” He smiled, turning back to stroke his cat only to find the animal had left its perch at some time during their conversation. “Power needs to be controlled if it is to be used effectively. I am sure we will find a way together.”
* * * * * *
Socks skirted the legs of one sailor and slinked between the feet of another, almost sending the man falling onto his back. The cat’s meandering course purposeful, almost reassuring, showing it was harmless and not a threat to be considered by the prey that this wandering path angled the cat closer and closer to. One pale green eye always kept the bird cage in view as Socks slipped behind a barrel and then under a tarpaulin. Claws dug into the ships deck as the cat crawled beneath the waterproof sheeting and wiggled itself nearer and nearer its unsuspecting meal.
The feral feline had been aware of Sinders for some time. It was the only bird kept separate from the aviary on the ship. Socks had tried his luck at the aviary but the birds always made such a ruckus and that human who nurtured the animals always shooed him away making any stalking in this area a waste of time and energy.
The cat licked its lips, exposing bright fangs to the air as its long pink tongue rasped across its button nose. Sure, life on board was good. Rats, fish and tit bits from the galley all supplemented its mealtimes but a fresh bird to eat. This was the meal it craved, to feel hot blood jet into its mouth, to hear light britt
le bones crack. This bird was the ultimate treat and Socks had stalked the animal constantly always being foiled at the last minute.
The tarpaulin lifted slowly from Socks’s head as he slithered across the deck, keeping a low profile and moving carefully, inch by inch, towards the bird who was still unaware of his presence. The cat stopped in mid stalk. The cage door was open. This was better and better. Socks wiggled closer, his green eyes taking in the shivering black and white bird in the far corner of the cage. The bird was clearly afraid of him and Socks liked his prey to be afraid. A prey’s heart beat faster when the death blow came making the meal all that sweeter. Socks licked its lips again and slid closer still.
Socks had attempted to claim the life of Ashe’s pet five times now, always watching and waiting for the moment that Sinders stepped out from the cage. Each time the bird had gained the confidence to step from its home Socks had been waiting but the bird had learnt that outside the cage meant danger and so it had stubbornly decided to remain safely in its home despite all the efforts of its owner to turf it out.
A leading white paw touched the open door of the cage and the cat changed tactic. There was no need to stalk now, the bird had nowhere to run. The cat slid its head into the bird’s home and started to gather up its back legs to pounce inside and grab the trembling feast within. Muscles tensed, claws extended. Socks prepared for the meal to come and closed its eyes in a moment of sheer anticipation.
Sinders reacted instantly. Its sharp beak flashing out and pecking the cat squarely on the nose making it spit and moan, falling back through the door, just as a hand swept up the cage and swung off across the deck with it.
“No Socks!” Ashe scolded. “He is not allowed out to play with you. He has been a very bad bird and he is going back to his room. He is grounded!” Socks watched his gourmet delicacy swing off across the deck and sneezed in disappointment. He licked a white paw and dragged it across his bruised nose, watching carefully as the little Halfling headed off towards the cabins below decks. Dignity bruised, Socks turned and walked haughtily off across the deck looking for a sailor to trip or an unsuspecting crewman to sharpen his claws on. The bird may have escaped this time but it could not stay in that cage forever and when it came out Socks would be waiting.
The Labyris Knight Page 12