The Labyris Knight

by Adam Derbyshire

  Justina stepped away, placing urgently needed space between herself and the Elf and felt something warm trickling down her face. Her tongue flicked out, tasting warm salt with a hint of copper. The mage wiped her hand across her nose noting the crimson trail upon her finger. The Elf had drawn blood when he had struck.

  This was not what she had planned.

  Scrave moved in again, his threatening manner making Justina adapt her magic for a more defensive approach. She gestured with her hands, sending a wall of golden coins up into the air, momentarily obscuring her assailant as the small golden circles spun up towards the ceiling in a dazzling wave. She slammed her hands back down, sending the treasure crashing down upon him, burying Scrave in a glittering deluge.

  She wanted to run, wanted to teleport away but the Elf had the serpent dagger and she could not leave the weapon behind, knowing full well what the cursed blade could do. She took a deep breath, then cast another spell from her depleting wand as the coins continued to rain down around her.

  Scrave screamed out his anger as the coins crashed over him, hundreds of individual hits that his magical shield could not hope to deflect. He felt every collision against his raw flesh and exposed muscle, wincing as each projectile impacted. Coins bounced and clattered against each other slipping and sliding across the floor until silence finally descended on the room.

  The Elf looked around, blinking rapidly, only to realise that his foe had disappeared and worse that he had somehow managed to drop his sword underneath the mound of coins at his feet. The sorceress should have been directly in front of him however, yet the area held nothing but gold coins and shadows. He whirled on the spot, taking in the entire room and noted the little demon crouched behind his chair, hiding from the battle. That was one foe located.

  Scrave entertained detonating a spell to see if he could make the mage reveal herself then smiled. There was something else he could do instead. He stood in place, then let his Elven heritage take hold before shrieking as if hurt and staggered towards the chair, moving closer to the spindly creature crouched in the shadows. He risked a quick look around, smiling at the tell-tale chink of coins behind him as something unseen but not unheard moved across the floor. The Elf continued feigning injury as he moved towards the chair, then threw himself at the creature hiding there. Hamnet shrieked and attempted to scarper across the coins and jewels as Scrave’s hand clamped tightly on the familiar’s tail.

  “You don’t get away that easily.” Scrave snapped, whipping Hamnet’s tail and causing the animal to bounce painfully on the floor before the Elf viciously smashed it sideways up against the chair. The demon shrieked then went unresponsive in his hand.

  “I’ve got you.” He hissed, then he swiftly turned, dropping the demon and reached out into thin air to tightly grab the throat of the woman who was stalking him.

  “…and I’ve got you too.!” He smiled. The air shimmered to reveal Justina’s struggling form, her arms ridged down by her sides, her feet kicking in thin air.

  “How did you…?” she wheezed from her strangled throat.

  “Find you? Oh that was easy.” Scrave replied. “Elves can see body heat, or in the case of this room and your magical shield, a lack of it. Now let’s stop fooling around and get serious.” He held up the serpent dagger the twin points of the blades flashing in the light as the snake coiled about eager to thrust into her soft flesh.

  “Can you see how my snake wants to bite you?” Scrave teased, pulling his wrist away as the snake aimed a strike at her cheek. “I could let my pet have its way…,” he continued, staring deep into Justina’s terrified eyes and noting the reflection of the glittering death awaiting her. “I think you have realised by now that I will have no problems killing you if you leave me no choice. However, there is something I need you to do.”

  Justina continued to squirm and struggle for air within his grasp, her feet straining to touch the floor. The sorceress’s face flushed crimson with the effort to remain on tiptoes and ease the crushing grip on her throat and her eyelids fluttered rapidly as she fought to remain conscious.

  “What do you want?” she wheezed.

  Scrave took in the woman he held; her slight form, long hair and defiant blazing eyes. The way her breasts strained tightly against her silken robes as she struggled for breath. He undressed her with his eyes and had to admit that on some base level he found her to be quite attractive. He leaned in close and whispered into her ear.

  “I want you to take me the hell out of here…”

  * * * * * *

  “Look it could have happened to anyone.” Mathius confessed, trying to reassure the hulking Minotaur towering over him.

  “I’m sure all it will need is a fresh lick of paint and no one will be the wiser.” Ives added helpfully, staring up at the underside of the bridge above them, its pale soffit heavily scored and showing areas where some masonry had been knocked loose.

  “And Weyn never holds a grudge for long.” Aradol confessed. “Remember the incident when he mistook the… Or the time…” He shook his head and looked back down at Weyn’s unconscious body lying on the deck and the huge purple egg-shaped lump protruding from his right temple. “Come to think of it, he’s going to be mad for a while.”

  Thomas leaned over his injured lookout and sighed. Then he looked up at the top of the main mast and noted the splintered stays and the conspicuously absent crow’s nest. He turned to Rauph and put his hand to his head, shading his eyes from the glare of the sun rising directly behind the huge navigator.

  “I told you to sail through the left archway.” He sighed. “The left… you know this side.” He held up his left hand and waggled it in the Minotaur’s direction. Rauph initially refused to look up from his feet and shuffled nervously in place, before his eye caught the movement of Thomas’s hand.

  “That’s what I did.” He rumbled. “I went through the archway on that side.” He lifted his hand in a mirror of the captain’s actions and instantly revealed the problem. His right hand was up, not his left.

  “I meant my left.” Thomas groaned. Why was everything so hard? This would never have happened if they had a low bridge clearance sign. Rauph remained looking confused, clearly not understanding what had happened. Thomas shook his head and declined to describe the yellow and black diamond signage of New York’s road system. It was a waste of breath and he was simply too tired.

  “Look at it this way.” Mathius tried to keep his face from cracking a smile. “At least Weyn will never fall asleep in the crow’s nest again!”

  “We seem to have gained quite a crowd of admirers.” Ives gestured towards the jetty and the assembled men in uniform bristling with assorted weapons, then to the upturned felucca-like wooden sailing boat and its floundering crew struggling to pull themselves and their sodden sails from the water after the Spanish galleon had crashed through them. “I hope everyone realises this was a genuine accident.”

  “Well why don’t you explain it to them.” Thomas snapped, walking to the rail and wincing at the damage the El Defensor had caused due to Rauph’s mistake. “You keep telling me you are the only merchant among us who can… how did you put it? Sell snow to the huntsmen of the Tundra Wastes.”

  “I know I may have mentioned that in the past.” Ives paled, looking aft. “However, I am sure that I had not just crashed my ship into one of their monuments and mown down their fishing fleet before I opened negotiations.”

  “So, it will be more of a challenge.” Thomas shot back, watching as one man tried to balance on the upturned hull of his boat before crashing back into the water. “We all know how much you love a challenge.” The captain turned back to Rauph and gestured with a curt hand signal grabbing the Minotaur’s attention.

  “Take us in gently.” Thomas ordered. Then he paused for a second and held his finger up to stop the navigator from turning to his task. “Just for all our sakes, please don’t crash into the pier!” Rauph lumbered off across the dec
k, eager to show his captain that he could be relied upon and took up his position at the ship’s wheel. Thomas looked around the deck trying to calm his thoughts. The whole crew felt on edge. Or was it him? Everything was so confusing. He looked over at the less than friendly reception awaiting them on the jetty and meekly waved in their direction as the galleon cut across the water, churning up rich dark silt in her wake.

  Red-headed gulls swooped down into the water, folding their wings and transforming their bodies into living arrows that plunged beneath the surface to retrieve bottom feeding fish disturbed by the El Defensor’s passing. The wake from the ship rolled out lazily behind her, causing large swells that tore fishing nets from their hooks and lifted lobster pots from the floor, snapping the cane structures and allowing the suddenly liberated crustaceans a chance to live another day.

  Thomas had to give Rauph credit as the Minotaur managed to skilfully steer the ship closer to the jetty, causing the assembled onlookers to step back in fear as the huge galleon relentlessly advanced. Lines were thrown from the ship to hands waiting ashore as the El Defensor nudged the side, causing the waiting people to stagger as several shudders and groans ran through the structure. The captain held his breath as the galleon settled beneath him and her motion ceased, signalling that the complicated docking manoeuvre was complete.

  “The audience is all yours.” Thomas gestured to Ives, noting how most of the onlookers had thunderous faces as they waited to see who would disembarked from the mysterious ship that had crashed into their bridge. “They look a little tense. May I suggest an ice breaker first?”

  “An ice breaker?” Ives turned to the captain with a furrowed brow. “Whatever would I need an icebreaker for? There is no snow or ice for miles. The sun is high in the sky and there is barely a cloud in sight to mar the cornflower blue above. Sometimes Thomas I just don’t understand you at all.” He straightened his collar, pulled up the sleeves of his tunic, shrugged his shoulders and clicked his fingers before he walked to the gangway.

  “I’ll show you what a real salesman can do.” Ives muttered, before setting off down the companionway towards the crowd of onlookers below.

  * * * * * *

  Kerian stood in the doorway of his room and took in the upturned bed, his ledger on the floor, his hand mirror smashed, clothes thrown about, his saddlebags flung to the side, the flaps up and the pockets now clearly empty.

  Thoughts of peeling the smile from Octavian’s face and then rubbing the raw flesh in sea salt, or impaling the man slowly on a very sharp stick whilst he begged and told Kerian the answers to everything he ever wanted to know faded from his mind as the reality sunk in.

  He had been robbed!

  Whilst he had been in jail his room had been ransacked. He walked slowly into the bedroom, lifting the saddlebags with the toe of his boot, confirming his worst fears. His jewels were gone. All of them.

  What was he going to do? Without funds, paying for the repairs to the Tulip would be a struggle. Yes, he knew he had paid a considerable sum in advance but he also knew the likes of the men working on his vessel. The chances were that they would find something else wrong and the repair costs would continue to mount. It was a universal constant to anyone who had to have work carried out on something they did not have the skill to do themselves.

  Without the Tulip he could not sail out into the storms looking for Colette. Colette… Oh no the pendant! How was he to set off after the pendant if he had no funds for transport and supplies? How was he to know where to go when Octavian wanted money for the information? How did everything spiral out of control so fast? How…

  A sound behind him made Kerian spin, coming face to face with a serving maid who was nothing like the young girl he had seen before. Her uniform was ill fitting and her eyes were brown, not blue.

  “Where’s my normal maid?” he asked, as the young girl looked past him and saw the state of the room before sighing as she realised her workload had increased dramatically. She looked up at him with a frustrated look on her face, her bottom lip sticking out in disgust.

  “She quit earlier today. Just took off and left. Said she was leaving town. Do you always leave your room in this state? If so, I am going to complain to my manager.” Kerian sighed heavily, matching another sigh from the young maid as she bent to retrieve a pillow.

  “Do you want me to fold your clothes or leave them as they are?” she asked. “If you do it will cost extra.”

  “Just leave them where they are.” Kerian replied quietly. “Leave everything where it is.”

  “Oh, I forgot.” The maid jumped as if poked by a sharp stick. “I haven’t met you before. So on behalf of the Lusty Mermaid welcome to Wellruff.” Kerian turned from the ruin of the room, pausing only to grab his empty saddlebags. He moved as if in a daze, shoulders slumped as he headed back towards the stairs and the drink that waited below.

  Welcome to Wellruff indeed…

  Chapter Eight

  “I don’t think they believe it was an accident.” Aradol commented as the angry voices from the dock appeared to rise in volume. “They seem to be getting rather irate.”

  “Things do appear to be heating up down there.” Mathius suggested, watching one member of the crowd yelling at Ives and waving his arms in animated motions whilst gesturing at the El Defensor and screaming his anger at their docking. “I think he wants us to move.”

  “What makes you say that?” Thomas asked moving closer to the side and peering over Mathius shoulder.

  “Well he keeps pushing Ives away and making shooing motions with his hands.” Mathius replied. “Oh… now he appears to have slapped Ives around the face.”

  “Maybe that’s how they say hello around here.” Aradol suggested. He cupped his hand to his face and shouted down at his colleague. “Hit him back!” Ives looked up at the ship, his face flush with anger and his eyes frowning at the instruction, just as the spokesman slapped him again, rocking Ives back on his heels.

  “You really are not helping.” Thomas turned to the younger sailor, his eyes suggesting it would be better if Aradol shut up. “Don’t you have something better to do?” The captain studied the scene and the rising tension then reached out to touch Mathius on the arm.

  “Put your daggers away.” He stated calmly. “Just go and get Rauph over here. We may need him if things turn nasty. After all I don’t think you could take the whole mob on with just two daggers.” Mathius turned towards Thomas, his eyebrow raised as if insulted at the comment. Then he looked back and theatrically waggled a finger, counting the men before turning back and nodding slowly.

  “The first nineteen should be no problem,” he replied with a cold certainty. Then he smiled and nodded towards the back of the group. “It’s the last guy I might have a problem with.”

  “That would be the old guy waving his walking stick at the back.” Thomas grinned, realising the assassin was trying to lighten the oppressive mood.

  “Of course.” Mathius replied. “It’s always the old ones you have to watch out for. After all, how do you think they got to be old?” Thomas nudged Mathius to remind him about Rauph and the sailor stepped away, flipping his daggers through his fingers as he went, leaving Thomas to consider the display of rampant male aggression below.

  Another slap landed and the captain winced as Ives finally reacted and punched the representative firmly on the nose, drawing blood and several cries of protest from the assembled group. Spears rattled on the dock and swords were slid from scabbards. Thomas realised he could stand by and observe no longer. It was time to act before a full-scale riot developed. The last thing he wanted in a new world was to start a brawl before they had even made land. The captain loosened the cutlass at his side and stepped onto the gangway, raising concerned cries from the vocal mob as he descended from the El Defensor.

  He held his hands at his sides and smiled to show he was not a threat, before marching down toward the jetty. The wooden beam gave beneath each foots
tep making Thomas feel as if he were bouncing down towards the ruckus, rather than calmly approaching it.

  “Excuse me!” Thomas interrupted, drawing the wrath of everyone and leaving Ives valuable time to straighten his robes and repair his shattered self-confidence following his failed diplomatic sortie. “What seems to be the problem here?”

  “You cannot dock here.” The spokesperson spluttered, his cheeks as red as the blood streaming from his nose. “It is forbidden. I insist you move your vessel at once.”

  “Is there somewhere else you would like us to moor?” Thomas tried to reassure the flustered man by offering him an opening for diplomacy. “If you would like to point us to another location that would accommodate the El Defensor’s deep draft, I am sure we can come to an amicable agreement.” He fished into his pocket and withdrew some doubloons, clinking them loudly in his hands.

  “You mean to bribe an official!” the man screamed. “I have never been so insulted!” Thomas stood mouth agape. Colour flushing his cheeks as the mob ranted and beckoned in his direction, pulling at their robes and rattling their spears against their shields in warning of imminent violence.

  “I am sorry if we have offended you, we meant no harm.” Thomas offered, trying to defuse the situation. “We are new here and are unaware of your customs. Surely, you can see we just need a place to repair our ship, purchase some supplies and then we shall be on our way.”

  A glob of spittle hit the quay near the captain’s boot. Thomas responded with a glare that could melt steel plate before taking a breath and donning a fake smile. “Let’s see if we can all calm down and sort this out like the gentlemen we are.”

  “You cannot dock here,” came the stubborn reply. “If you do not remove your ship, I shall have it blown out of the water.”

  “With your mouth that should not be a problem.” Ives butted in, earning another withering stare from Thomas’s facial repertoire.