For some reason, since the strange feeling of being watched had ceased, she had felt more despondent, more alone, despite how irrational this feeling was. With her ghostly mentor being equally distant, she had just wanted some companionship. She stared down at the long sword in her hand and wondered why she was even bringing this weapon along with her. Maybe by keeping it at her side she could still feel a connection with the man who sacrificed his life to save her. She rubbed her eyes to ease the prickling she suddenly felt there. Colette found a comfortable place on the foredeck, away from the busy sections of the ship frequented by the crew and drew the gleaming weapon from its sheath.
Kerian’s sword was beautiful, if such a word was appropriate for a weapon that had taken so many lives since its initial forging. Excluding the hilt, the actual blade was a little over four feet in length, the metal dulled, apart from the sharpened edges, central ridge and engraved runes running the length of the blood groove, that reflected the afternoon sunshine and painted rune shaped shadows across the mage’s soft features.
The pommel was the size of her palm, carved in the shape of a roaring dragon, the deep-set emerald eyes emphasised using silver-plating set within the recesses below thickly scaled brows. The silvered teeth of the dragon helped to emphasis the artistry of the weapon; however, inside of the dragon’s mouth was a solid piece of metal used to balance the weight of the sword. The grip consisted of a long strip of leather hide, spiralling down from the pommel to the cross guard, worn smooth from years of use, its length intertwined with black and gold wire. The cross guard had further roaring dragons at each end, the eyes beset with small emeralds.
Examining the blade closely, Colette noticed the signs of wear collected over the years, nicks along the sharpened edges, some peeling of the silver plate and dark stains on the leather grip testified that the owner of this sword had faced inherent dangers that always seemed to occur when men bore arms.
A rune beneath the rain guard caught Colette’s eye. The mage thought she vaguely recognised the symbol, her mind trying to identify the hidden meaning of it but like the sword’s absent owner, the connection with Colette was a fleeting one at best. It was possible that if she traced the runes out and returned to the reference books in Rauph’s cabin she could understand exactly what this weapon’s powers were. Maybe solving this mystery would help her to clear her mind and then leave her fresh to deal with the other problems that seemed to be building up around her.
Colette grasped the sword in two hands, feeling the weight of the blade and marvelling how anyone could ever use such weapons in a lengthy battle. The strain on a fighter’s arms and shoulders must be immense. She stood legs apart and faced off against an imaginary foe. The weapon started to radiate a muted glow along the edges at the mage’s touch however, in the afternoon light the colour was difficult to identify. Colette lifted the sword high, trying to swing it about her head, only for the weight of the weapon to bring the point of the sword crashing down to the deck where it scored heavily across two planks and stopped just short of Aradol’s boot.
“Oh I’m so sorry.” Colette blushed. “The sword is much heavier than it looks and I over balanced.”
“Well I can only pity the foe who dares to cross such a proficient swordswoman.” Aradol replied, with a deep sigh and wiped his brow to emphasise how close the weapon had come to wounding him. “I shall count my toes carefully when I remove my boots tonight.”
“Oh don’t make fun.” Colette replied. “I am trying to better myself here. Instead of standing laughing why don’t you come and show me what to do.” Aradol moved in closer, putting his arms protectively around Colette’s shoulders and helped her grip the sword again.
“I am afraid this weapon is too heavy for you.” Aradol opened. “Have you ever considered a lighter blade?”
“It’s this sword or nothing.” Colette replied firmly, surprising herself with her assertive reply.
“As you wish.” Aradol replied, moving in close behind her. “Just remember that if you gouge any more of the deck, I’m going to tell Thomas it was your own doing.”
Colette bit her lip gently, trying to focus on holding the blade steadily out in front of her and realised it had a noticeable wobble.
“Spread your legs wider, set yourself a good base so you balance and then…”
“Shut up and help me steady the sword.” Colette smiled.
“Aradol moved in closer, his arms encircling her own, his two hands gently cupping hers. She felt his breath on her shoulder, his firm muscles holding her safely. It had been a long time since anyone had shown her any tenderness in this way. She found her heart beating faster and discovered she was feeling giddy at his attentions, whilst her conscience questioned if it was wrong to feel this way?
The blade started to glow a bright white nimbus as Aradol’s fingers touched the rain guard on the hilt, flaring brightly despite the bright afternoon sunshine.
“Why is it doing that?” Colette questioned under her breath, leaning back into Aradol’s arms further and relishing the comfort it gave her. She found herself mentally pushing her protests aside. It no longer mattered what she did. She had no romantic ties to anyone. Kerian was gone and it was time to live again. The mage scolded herself to enjoy the moment and closed her eyes, finally giving in to the sensations washing through her body.
A loud tramping march broke through her reverie. The blade suddenly became heavy in her arms and before she realised it Aradol was lowering the tip to the floor.
“I’m sorry but I need to find out what that is.” Aradol excused himself. “Thomas left me in charge of the ship so it is my duty to make sure all is well.” He flashed a disarming smile.
“Maybe we can continue this at another time?”
“Another time then.” Colette replied breathlessly, feeling like an embarrassed school girl all over again. She looked down at the blade in her hand and suddenly felt a surge of overwhelming guilt at betraying Kerian’s memory in this way. Then she stopped herself, angrily holding back hot tears that had suddenly sprung to her eyes.
Kerian had died for her, this was true, there had been no way he could have escaped the hidden temple on Stratholme. Thinking fondly of him this way was fine but she was still a woman, still needed comfort, warmth, things this cold steel could never supply. She needed to take back control of her life and that would mean ultimately starting new relationships, no matter how hard and painful it would be to expose her heart again. If that was what she needed, then so be it. She would be strong, not only for herself but to ensure Kerian’s sacrifice meant something.
Colette slid the sword back into its scabbard, sealing away the guilt as skilfully as she homed the blade and headed off after Aradol to see what all the noise was about.
It did not take long to find out.
A line of Minotaur troops had come down onto the jetty and were now standing to attention sunlight gleaming off their armour and weapons. What was going on now? Colette’s mind focused as sharply as the tips of the spears the creatures carried. She swung the sword over her shoulder and placed her hands into the pockets of her robes, grabbing hold of a few key items she needed in case the situation became difficult, then moved over to the rail to see who Aradol was speaking to.
* * * * * *
Mathius ran down the cobbled street as if his boots and cape were on fire behind him. His heart pounded in his chest as if it would burst, making him regret the pipes he had smoked over the last few days. If he did not get to the dock soon, he was either going to pass out or cough up a lung! He skidded to a stop in front of a small crowd of people staring down towards the majestic silhouette of the El Defensor and froze.
The onlookers found themselves suddenly torn between the scene below where the Taurean guard were almost certainly about to storm the foreign ship in the harbour or the wild-eyed man with the psychotic look on his face, who’s clothes looked torn to rags and who sported several impressive bleeding wounds
on his hands and knees including a bite mark on his right shin. Several people shuffled nervously away, whilst others needed to be tapped on the shoulder to be made aware of what was happening right alongside them instead of down below.
“Damn it!” Mathius gasped, putting his head down and placing his bleeding hands on his knees. “What does an assassin need to do to get a break around here?” He took in a deep lungful of air, trying to calm the tremors in his arms and legs, then moved to the side of the thoroughfare, making several onlookers dart away, thinking he was about to have a heart attack or similar.
The assassin steadied himself against the warm masonry and took in the scene below. There were about twenty-five heavily armoured troops and a senior Minotaur who appeared to be in discussion with Aradol. Surprisingly the youth seemed to be standing his ground on the gangway refusing entry to the troops, despite the fact the grey-haired creature towered above him.
Mathius observed the Minotaur splitting into four groups of six, one set of six took up position at the stern of the ship, spear hafts slamming to the ground as they stood at attention, observing everything around them, whilst another six similarly positioned themselves for’ard of the Spanish galleon. The remaining twelve stood either side of the main gangway, their weapons presented to state their strength and power.
There was no way he was going to be able to approach the ship with these guards in place. That was, unless he approached from the water. If he could just lower himself into the lake and swim around to the anchor… The thought died in a second as the two perimeter sets of guards turned with parade ground precision, one guard from each group now looked out across the bay for that very same reason.
Think! Think! Mathius scolded himself. He needed a distraction. Some way of making the guards look away. He scanned the deck for inspiration. There had to be something that could get him past those guards.
* * * * * *
“Austen would you mind holding this?”
The crewman paused in amazement, his bucket and mop momentarily forgotten, as what could only be described as a child sized chicken handed him a gilded cage. He looked down at the shoes this creature was wearing and noticed they appeared to be a pair of stained work boots from Commagin’s cabin. However, now they had been painted bright yellow and the paint was still wet and dripping across the deck. The trousers and tunic of this feathered creature were covered in what could only be described as fistfuls of feathers stuck in random clumps of gooey glue. This was not an aerodynamic creature, because in one clump of glue and feathers there also appeared to be a paintbrush, in another, a couple of spoons and a pencil that had somehow become caught up in this frenzy of feather and glue.
“Now when I say… I want you to open the cage door okay.”
Austen nodded his head, momentarily lost for words as he stared down into the mouth of the soggy over-sized beak made from a piece of leather that still dripped yellow paint. The beaming eyes of Ashe shone out from within the contraption, wild with enthusiasm.
“Ashe what are you doing?” the crewman enquired as calmly as he could, looking down at the cage he was now holding and then back at the feathered Halfling once more, clearly pondering if this was some crazy dream.
“I’m going to teach Sinders to fly.” Ashe replied breathlessly, wound up in the excitement of the moment. “Just remember release him when I say.” Ashe stood back, stomped his boots, leaving a set of bright yellow footprints on the worn wooden surface, then set off running along the deck of the ship stopping every few feet to blow into a mangled trumpet and issue a loud ‘Parp’. Movement on the ship froze as the feathered Halfling set off, squawking and stomping along in the yellow boots that were clearly several sizes too big for him.
The cartoon chicken charged around, completing a circuit of the area where the huge wind elemental used to be magically contained, then veered off to hit the companionway where the aft deck dropped down to the main. Ashe flung his arms wide, allowing a bed sheet, liberally covered in sticky feathers to suddenly spring open from a bundle on his back. The far ends of the stained sheet were cunningly attached to Ashe’s wrists, making him appear to have a set of rather limp but nevertheless functioning wings.
“Tah Dah!” Ashe yelled, flapping his make-shift wings wide and jumping off the top of the ladder. His flight was short lived, dropping down to the main deck with a thump, barely missing crewmen who dodged away, hands reaching protectively for their pockets. The Halfling landed lightly, springing up with gusto, his wings billowing out behind him, several feathers whipping off and flying about as he ran breathlessly towards the foredeck and the climb that awaited him there. Ashe bounced enthusiastically up the ladder, then turned with his trumpet held high.
“Parp!”
Before anyone could stop him, he was off again, leaving another cloud of feathers fluttering in his wake. He charged around the foredeck, down the companionway on the far side, then back across the main to where Colette stood open-mouthed. Aradol turned on the gangway to observe the commotion, only to find himself pressed from behind and jostled back onto the ship by the grey minotaur who had seen the opportunity and was now taking it.
Ashe skidded to a stop before the astonished trio and held out his little hand to the ancient Minotaur halting the creature’s planned invasion just before he gained a foothold. Down on the quay the other Minotaur troops moved closer to get a better view, not sure if this was livestock loose aboard the ship, or a threat to their captain.
“Hi, I’m Ashe!” the Halfling gasped. “Can’t stop, I’ve got to learn to fly.”
“Parp!”
The moulting chicken figure shot off again, feathers swirling about him, one boot flopping heavily to the side as his foot started to come free. The Halfling staggered to the base of the next companionway, a little less enthusiastic than his last time here and pulled himself to the top, just as one of his boots finally flew off to hit Abeline on the back of the head as the sailor was sitting patching one of the smaller sails.
“Oops, sorry!” Ashe grinned, in the infectious way only the diminutive thief could. “Can’t stop I’m on a mission of great importance.”
“Parp!”
Running hard, he snatched the boot back, leaving Abeline rubbing his head as he hopped around the corner where Austen was waiting with the cage.
“Open the door…” Ashe shouted panting, trying to cram his foot back into the yellow boot. “Open it now and tip Sinders out. Come on Sinders, it is time to fly…” The Halfling ran past, leaving Austen shaking the cage, desperately trying to tip the fuzzy white and black bird that was the centre of Ashe’s attention out onto the deck. There was a soft flump and the ugly bird ended up dumped out, onto its posterior.
“Go.” Austen shooed at the creature. “Follow your mad owner.”
Sinders had no such intention of doing so and extended a thin neck from the mish-mash of plumage that was its body, stretching high, before quickly scanning the area for its feline nemesis and reaching out with its sharp beak to grab the cage that Austen held high out of reach.
“No!” Austen scolded, lifting the cage higher and placing it on a barrel. “After a show like this you will stay out of your cage.”
Sinders stared with a blood shot eye that made Austen shiver. The bird was so strange; it went against everything the crewman knew of these birds. Its siblings all looked sleek like normal sea eagles. This thing looked like a cross between an ostrich and, well, one of those mythical Roc birds that terrorised sailors in the faded book of adventure stories Thomas had lent him. Even as Austen watched, the bird regarded the trail of yellow boot prints leading away and then attempted to pull itself into the tightest ball of plumage it could.
Ashe, meanwhile, was intent on continuing his laps of the ship. He had crashed down onto the main and was even now flapping his way back towards the foredeck. When he reached the ladder to climb up, he had to take a moment to lean on the bottom rung and wave his hand in front of his f
ace to try to cool himself down. Sweat was soaking into the bill of his costume making it flap dangerously about and obscure parts of his vision. Who would have known that learning to fly was such hard work? He took another deep breath and continued on, staggering to climb ladders that now felt like small mountains.
Colette and Aradol found themselves feeling quite dizzy as the white and yellow feathered blob clumped noisily around the foredeck before reaching the top of the ladder leading back down to the main. From the look of things, Ashe’s battle against gravity was not going well. The Halfling stood for a moment, taking the opportunity to gaze back down the length of the ship, shading his eyes looking for a sign of Sinders and not seeing him there. His enthusiasm clearly began to ebb as he realised his feathered friend was not following him.
“Parp!”
Never had a ‘parp’ been sounded with less enthusiasm. Ashe secured the trumpet at his waist and threw himself off the companionway, his boot catching on the top rung, tripping him on the ladder and sending him crashing face down onto the deck to land in a cloud of exploding feathers.
“Ow! Curly cashews!” Ashe cursed loudly, resorting to one of his nut similes he used in times of great exasperation. The feathered chicken shook his head and pulled himself to his feet, straightening his now seriously bent beak, before setting off with a determined scowl on his face, limping past the gangway and the party of astonished onlookers standing there. He reached the bottom of the next companionway, looked up at the steps reaching above him and felt his enthusiasm waning further. He paused and turned back towards the gangway and the tall grey Minotaur standing there.
“Excuse me…” Ashe gasped. “I… need a hand… to get up the ladder. This flying lark is… much harder than it looks. Can you give me a boost?” He beckoned at the grey-haired Minotaur, leading the creature out across the main deck from the gangway, much to Aradol’s concern.
The Labyris Knight Page 29