His tufted grey ears twitched as frantic banging noises arose from the stern of the ship. With a few practiced hand motions, Aelius selected six of his troops to follow him towards the sound as the remaining Minotaur troops split up and started to systematically search the ship from the prow. Something about this plan did not sit right with the grizzled veteran. He knew that he had to follow his orders but the behaviour of Prince Regent Drummon with his bullying attitude and Matriarch Mora’s cold hatred of this strange crew had the captain asking himself questions he would never normally consider. The crew of the El Defensor appeared to co-exist peacefully with a Minotaur and there was no slavery or threats of punishment to keep them in line. They appeared almost as friends, working alongside each other for the greater good of the whole ship rather than an individual ruling class, a viewpoint so alien to Taurean that such behaviour could only be considered as a threat to society.
He stalked up the starboard companionway, hand on his sword, three guards moving stealthily up behind him, whilst the other three took the companionway on the port side of the ship. The Captain of the Guard took in the large open area before him and was initially confused for there seemed no signs of life here. The deck before him was patched up with mismatched timbers, recently by the looks of it. Clearly, this area of the ship had sustained considerable damage, possibly from a bad storm or maybe battle damage against unknown foes. He stared first one way then the other, his nose flaring, trying to locate a scent before noting the ship’s helm shaking violently at every loud thump.
The Minotaur unit moved away from the companionway, advancing slowly over to the mahogany helm until they all noticed an opening in the deck, just below the ship’s wheel, where a hatch had been removed to get into the steerage and rudder assembly. The loud noise appeared to be coming from there. Assorted tools lay scattered about the hatchway, vibrating across the deck in time with the blows from below.
Aelius knelt down and tapped loudly on the deck, then repeated his noise, until a balding head popped up from below, thick wire rim glasses over his eyes, white beard stuck up everywhere, sweat dripping from his forehead and behind his ears.
“Oh for the love of Maris, what do you want?” Commagin snapped, pushing his glasses up and taking in the seven armed Minotaur surrounding him, as if their very appearance was yet another annoying distraction to put him off his repairs. “Thomas needs this fixed urgently. I do not have time to talk. If you want the Captain, he’s at a banquet, obviously I’m not such an important member of the crew or I would be there too. Pass me that wrench, will you?”
Aelius looked down at the scattering of tools and went to pick up a likely candidate.
“Nope not that one. That one.” The Dwarven engineer gestured impatiently.
“I need you to come out of there and leave the ship.” Aelius stated calmly passing the wrench over to Commagin’s grubby hand.
“Oh I’d love to leave the ship.” Commagin replied, dropping back down the hatchway and bashing away at the looped tiller chain that ran up to the helm and down into the depths of the ship, frantically trying to pull one of the links away to render the helm useless. “Yes good old Commagin can just go off and leave the ship when it’s in this sorry state. Can’t you see the steering is shot to hell? It is totally seized up!” Commagin started cursing and yelling at the chain but the links were sound. He threw the wrench back up out of the hole then grabbed the tiller chain in his bare hands and tried to physically rip the links apart, his muscles straining and his face turning crimson.
“Do you mean to say the ship has no means to steer?” Aelius frowned, carefully pushing his head down through the hatch, now the threat of low flying tools seemed to have passed.
“Come on you bastard, pop loose!” Commagin cursed under his breath, tugging and yanking for all he was worth, before gripping the chain in his teeth and giving it a good shake just for good measure.
“Maybe my troops can help you?” Aelius suggested, staring about the small space with interest. “What in the world are you doing?” Commagin stopped chewing on the chain and turned slightly embarrassed towards the aged Minotaur, one greasy hand reaching out to grab the chain and steady himself as his foot shot forwards to slide something on the floor further into the shadows leaving him teetering off balance. The chain link popped free with a sickening snap followed by a terminal ‘clunk’. The tiller chain shot up towards the helm whipped several times over the spindle mechanism and then dropped back down past the engineer to clatter loudly into the bowels of the ship. The ship’s helm immediately spun around, dropping the king spoke to the deck with a crack that made the assembled troops jump.
“You see.” Commagin moaned, pointing despairingly towards the slots in the deck where the tiller chain had disappeared. “It is completely knackered. I’m not going anywhere. I’m afraid you will just have to leave me to get on with things.” He wiped a hand across his face smearing it with the residue oil from the now missing chain.
Aelius pulled his head from the hatch and gestured to his troops to back away as loud sobs started coming out from the opening. One thing was for sure, the ship was going nowhere. He was surprised just how dedicated this engineer was. Clearly, he felt for this ship, although from the nose blowing and wailing that the Minotaur could overhear, this empathy seemed to be taking it a little far.
“Let us see how the others are doing.” He ordered, gesturing for the troops to follow him below decks. The plan to steal away with the El Defensor had died, she was not going anywhere. They needed to round up everyone left on the ship so this was not a complete waste of time. The Dwarf could stay where he was until they had finished their sweep of the ship.
Commagin heard the Minotaur stomping away and sank down onto the floor in the hatch staring down into the hole and wishing he could slip down the small hole after the tiller chain and hide somewhere in the darkness. The engineer realised that Thomas was going to kill him for grounding the El Defensor. It was going to take weeks to fix this. Time the dwarf knew they no longer had. He reached into the darkness and lifted a gleaming crossbow from out of the shadows. The stock of the crossbow was polished silver, engraved with the scenes of a hunt taking place complete with a forest of warped and twisted trees, stags in flight and huntsmen with hounds. The arms of the crossbow were a deep matt black metal shaped by Dwarven hands to complete a weapon the like of which Commagin would never craft again.
The engineer had come prepared for a fight and fortunately for the Minotaur they had walked away from it, not realising how close they had come to death by way of a deadly crossbow. Commagin looked down at his weapon and patted it lovingly. This mess was not over yet and he had a feeling in his gouty toe that the Lady Janet would come into play before it was.
* * * * * *
“Don’t those trees look funny?” Ashe pointed towards the orchard on the hillside where row upon row of olive-green trees appeared like giant mushrooms. “How come they all grow to exactly the same height from the ground?” The Halfling turned towards the harbour master assistant expecting his answer from the local man but he seemed to be preoccupied with something.
“Well?” Ashe asked, chewing a mouthful of grapes and soft white cheese.
“I’m sorry.” the man replied, lifting up his plate and checking under his napkin. “I seem to have lost my knife.”
“I can handle this.” Ives replied, slipping up alongside Ashe and retrieving the missing knife from the Halfling’s pocket and sliding it back across the table. “The trees are all that height because they are magic trees. We have something similar where I come from. The seeds float in the air and then when they have germinated, they slowly grow the trunks down to the ground, that’s why they are always the same height from the floor.”
“I too have seen these trees.” Weyn winked, easing up on the other side of Ashe and removing a saltcellar from the Halfling’s shirt pocket. “I think I know a friend who has a nursery maybe I can ask him to let you
in and see them. You have to be very careful not to bump into any of the little floating seeds, or leave a door or window open otherwise they all blow away on the breeze.”
“You would do that for me? Really? You are the best friends ever.” Ashe threw his arms around Weyn deftly taking the archer’s hunting knife from its sheath. Ives intercepted the snatched weapon and passed it back to Weyn, his face looking over at the trees and smiling innocently, as Ashe suddenly realised that he had lost yet another treasure. The merchant soon spotted what he was looking for, his keen eye noticing the real reason the trees appeared so meticulously pruned. Wild goats stretched up high on their back legs, reaching for the trees to bite the succulent leaves within reach, resulting in a straight line that any artist would have been proud to achieve.
Before Ashe could ask anything more about the magical plants, there was a loud noise from the head table. The Matriarch was getting to her feet. The noise in the hall died down to a low murmur. Servants ran over to the main table refilling goblets of wine for each guest, whilst the main course of assorted roasted game bird stuffed with nuts and accompanied by tureens of steaming vegetables started to arrive before the delighted diners. Thomas reached for his goblet and found a suspiciously empty spot on the table. He frowned in exasperation and immediately looked over towards Ashe, his annoyance plain for anyone watching. However, the Halfling was too busy struggling to get higher on his chair so that his view was not obscured and he was unaware of the mute accusation sent in his direction.
A flush of embarrassment rushed through Thomas as he realised that he would be expected to respond to a toast, yet he had no goblet with which to do so. A breech in etiquette was something he did not intend to do, especially whilst the prevailing atmosphere remained so hostile.
“Allow me sir.” Thomas turned to see the senior servant offering him a polite smile and a filled goblet balanced on a silver tray. “We wouldn’t want to miss the toast and risk upsetting the matriarch now, would we?” Thomas picked up the goblet and went to thank the servant, but the man was already backing away, lost in the hustle and bustle of the service around him. The captain turned back towards the head table just as another servant rang a small silver bell to bring respectful silence to the room.
The chatter of the crowd stilled as they awaited Mora’s expectant speech, Thomas suddenly found himself irrationally on edge. The hairs on the back of his neck started prickling and alarm bells rang ominously in his mind. His instinct that had served him so well as a New York City cop kicked in. Something was about to happen, he could feel it as if the very air had been charged with electricity. The sort of feeling he used to get as a detective when he knew a criminal would reach for a gun, or when you knew someone was about to run for the door in an effort to escape the law. Thomas reached down with his open hand and gripped the hilt of his cutlass with two fingers, gently lifting the blade so that a centimetre of polished metal gleamed where the weapon stood slightly proud of its scabbard, ensuring a fast draw without the risk of the blade sticking.
“My honoured guests,” Mora began. “It brings me great pleasure to offer this meal in thanks for the safe return of my missing son Kristoph, cruelly lost to me these five years past. Words cannot express my gratitude that he is safe at home amongst his family once more. Taurean would like to extend our arms in friendship to his saviours and offer you all a place in our hearts and homes forever.”
“Here, here!” Drummon shouted, slamming his goblet on the table and causing wine to slop over the side.
“I propose a toast to the most valiant captain, Thomas Adams and his courageous crew who risked so much to bring our son home.” Mora continued. She lifted her goblet high, the guests around her copying the gesture, much to Rauph’s obvious embarrassment.
“To the El Defensor!” She toasted. The responding cry resonated throughout the room and everyone drank deeply from their goblet. Thomas found himself quite surprised at the tart gritty texture of the drink, like a claret wine that had not been filtered properly and heavy on sediment. He looked down into his goblet, licking his lips and not finding the aftertaste to his liking. This was nothing like the vintage he had been drinking earlier!
“To Thomas Adams!” Mora toasted. The cry was returned from the guests and further wine consumed. Thomas shook his head and went to take another swallow; secretly hoping this was a wine that improved, the more you drank. The captain paused with the crimson liquid lapping at his lips. The matriarch was staring right at him, a sly smile on her face.
Thomas froze, finding himself wondering about why the matriarch was acting so smug, then he lowered the goblet, nervously licking his lips, re-sampling the tart residue of the claret with a horrifying suspicion. Surely, the Matriarch would not be as bold as to…
“To Kristoph’s little pets!” Drummon roared, interrupting the toasts and causing Mora’s expression to darken. “I shall enjoy house training the ones he does not keep.” The Prince Regent’s two burly Minotaur lackeys seemed to find this comment amusing and burst out laughing, one of them slopping his wine over a servant and then cuffing her around the ear for making him waste it. The servant ran away, dodging the pawing of the other drunkard and ran out of the hallway crying, much to the further merriment of the jet-black Minotaur and his cronies.
“They are not my pets.” Rauph said quietly. Several of the female Minotaur started to titter amongst themselves as Mora, her face furious at the interruption, walked slowly over towards Drummon and grabbed him firmly by the ear.
“I do not need your help in this matter.” She snarled, cuffing him sharply on the back of the head and jolting him forward with the strength of the blow. “Know your place, or I shall delight in putting you in it.” Drummon looked up wounded, his pride hurting more than the blow delivered, clearly aware of the other guests staring at him and laughing at his treatment.
Mora looked up at the people assembled before her and offered a curt nod as her mind raced. Aelius should be scuttling the El Defensor by now. When these disgusting creatures headed back to the ship there would be no sanctuary for them, her troops would be waiting at the quayside and then they could spend the rest of their days working in the mines, unless they were fit enough to be included in the Labyris celebrations. She thought on this long and hard, her smile growing wider. Certain people in the crew would need to be dispatched however, as they posed too much of a threat.
She looked over at Thomas Adams and her aloof features melted into a malicious smirk as she watched the captain sink slowly into his chair and struggle to place his goblet on the table with his shaking hand.
“To my son Kristoph!” she toasted. Nodding in satisfaction as goblets raised around the room for a third time. “It is so good to have him home.”
* * * * * *
The sweep of the El Defensor was almost complete. Troops came over to report they had thoroughly searched the ship below decks and had found no other crew members. One Minotaur, exploring a disorganised workshop, was seriously injured when a tower of debris had fallen on him in a freak accident. The fighter was carried from the ship, groaning in pain, taken away for medical care and leaving the Minotaur captain’s force reduced by three. He was not concerned, there could only be a handful of further cabins to explore on a ship this size and the remaining nine Minotaur would be sufficient to deal with any resistance.
He turned his attention topside to the opening into the cabins above decks and started walking down the corridor, gesturing that a fighter advance ahead of him and stand in front of the cabin doors to each room. Aelius was always systematic in his actions. He walked to the furthest door and opened it to take in the captain’s cabin beyond.
The room contained a large desk with heavy gilt chairs set around the edge. A globe stood in the corner amid shelves of books and models of scaled ships similar in design if not shape presented in glass cabinets. The aged Minotaur took in the attention to detail and the intricate rigging at such a small scale and could no
t help but admire the craftsmanship and patience required in such an undertaking.
He walked around the desk, noting the battered tankard on its polished surface in which stood several worn quills, before turning his attention to the drawers. Aelius opened them one at a time, finding ink supplies, paper a ledger and then a drawer lined with a green felt sheet filled with small items that made no sense, much like a small child’s collection of knick-knacks. The treasures included a wooden smoking pipe, golden buttons from a waistcoat, dice, a double-headed coin, a large sapphire that vibrated gently beneath his searching fingers. A small silver locket, a tankard, a senseless box with little silver balls that ran everywhere disappearing into little holes inside, a piece of slate with a drawing of a mouse on it, a petrified egg and a golden ring with writing on the inside.
Aelius moved to pick up the ring then paused when he noticed the golden badge sitting in the back of the drawer and lifted it out to sniff at it. The golden badge looked like a shield with numbers and letters engraved upon the surface. The pitted surface showed many small holes as if exposed to an explosion of some kind. NYPD and the numbers 3042 meant nothing to the Minotaur, so he sniffed the shield again, noting the unmistakable odour of old blood, before replacing the item back in the drawer once more.
A small door to one side led into the Captain’s sleeping quarters and it was in here that Aelius noticed the distinct feminine touches that informed him this man had a mate. Cushions, throw rugs, potted plants in little cradles suspended beneath the portholes to ensure nothing spilled out in high seas. The Minotaur laughed to himself. This male would have a weakness if his mate was identified. He filed the information away and decided he would inform the Matriarch of his findings when he returned. He moved to leave the room and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror made from an old ships wheel that hung alongside the door, causing him to start in surprise.
The Labyris Knight Page 33