The Labyris Knight

by Adam Derbyshire

  The mummy finally managed to turn its heavy body, pulling itself to its knees, the last bandages falling away from its gleaming torso, religious icons and tributes dropping to the sand as the bindings keeping them in place succumbed to the ravages of the flames. Thick scented smoke rolled up from the monster as it started to moan aloud, calling out into the darkness, requesting aid from long dead servants buried in the crypts around it.

  “Hello down there!” Octavian shouted, stopping the creature’s ghostly oration as it turned to stare up towards the gypsy’s call. “And now!” Octavian gestured and Kerian heaved with him, sending a crate of wares over the side to crash down heavily onto the monster’s head, slamming the creature back to the ground. The discarded crate split open like an over ripe egg, spilling an assortment of golden statues and sacred offerings across the floor. Kerian stared in dis-belief as a slender sword still sheathed in its scabbard spilled from the debris and slid to the floor, just willing the knight to go and pick it up.

  “A sword. Octavian, look. It’s a real sword!” Kerian gasped. “I need that weapon.” Octavian looked at the sword lying on the sand, the hilt gleaming as it reflected the flames from Kerian’s burning brand.

  “And your point.” The gypsy replied, not sure what Kerian was getting at.

  “Go down there and get it for me.” His charge ordered.

  “What? Are you serious?” Octavian shouted in disbelief.

  “You owe me remember. If we are to get out of here, I need a sword. I am sick and tired of running all the time.” Kerian replied seriously. “Retrieve the sword and that is one less thing you need to do for me. You will be one step closer to fulfilling our agreement.”

  “Can’t I find you another one?” Octavian asked, as the contents of the crate suddenly moved. It appeared their gleaming monster was stirring despite the weight upon him. “Can’t I get you a sword somewhere else, preferably one without a fearsome monster near it?” Kerian pulled himself up to his full height and stared at Octavian like a headmaster staring at a tardy child.

  “No.” he replied shaking his head firmly. “I want that one.” Octavian moved to fire back another sarcastic reply then stopped himself. The look on the old man’s face showed that this was an argument he could not win. The gypsy looked back at the little golden statues, bracelets and brooches in the pile then swiftly reconsidered. There was a small fortune down there. He shrugged his shoulders and moved to the skittish horses, laying a hand on Dorian’s neck, settling the donkey back into a state where it no longer moved to escape but instead just stood there trembling, then reached into a pack on the donkey’s back and drew out a cloth bag.

  “I only need the sword.” Kerian remarked, knowing full well what Octavian was going to do. “Let’s get a move on shall we.”

  “I’ll get your stupid sword Kerian, but I am not your lackey.” Octavian replied. “You need to bring the mounts down from the ship so that we can move on before our friend manages to extricate himself from beneath that crate. I do not fancy facing him again and would prefer to be far from this place before he realises that we have escaped. Help me with the gangway please.” The two men hauled the ramp back into place, dropping it down with a crash, before Octavian threw a mock salute in Kerian’s direction.

  “Permission to disembark.” He mocked.

  “Just get me the sword.” Kerian reiterated, shaking his head and moving to gather the horses as Octavian quickly slipped over the side.

  The gypsy hit the ground running, sack flapping in his hand as he headed towards the stern of the ship. The flickering torches on the ship’s deck cast dancing shadows across the sand making the surface appear to ripple like water. Octavian charged around to the other side of the vessel and noted the shifting pile of treasure on the floor. He just hoped Kerian was as good with a sword as he implied, because spending time with this man was like moving from one unmitigated disaster scenario to another! Life was so much simpler when he had just been concentrating on getting the ransom.

  Octavian slid to a graceful stop, then bent down and retrieved the blade and scabbard from the floor, easing the belt over his head and settling it on his shoulder even as his gaze took in the gold and jade covered items littering the floor. Glittering bracelets, sparkling brooches, golden clothes pins, small ornamental gilded statues and toys lay scattered across the sand. He opened the sack and started to throw items in, his mind aware of the monster struggling to rise from the floor mere inches from him.

  A loud clatter indicated that Kerian was getting their mounts down from the vessel, whilst the groans from the struggling mummy seemed to indicate the creature was becoming more agitated at its attempts to free itself from beneath the heavy crate.

  “Are you coming any time soon?” Kerian shouted. “I can hear things moving around over here!” Octavian shook his head, wishing the man would stop complaining, for just one second, before reaching for a cloth bag made of lots of diamond shaped pieces of cream, red and black fabric that shimmered as if highly polished. There was a shoulder strap to the bag, so the gypsy scooped it up over his head and started shoving precious items into it as well; a short dagger, several necklaces, a facemask, a handful of rings, a bronze goblet and some small golden statues followed after but a brief glance.

  Now this was a nice piece! Octavian held up the blue and green scarab beetle and whistled as he felt the weight of it. A golden circular brooch with tiny rows of sapphire and diamond rising up like a fountain of water on the front caught his eye as he scooped up yet more loot. This was a blessing in disguise! Maybe accompanying Kerian was a good idea after all.

  The broken crate suddenly jumped up from the floor, rising several feet before tumbling down again, creating a cascade of artefacts and sand that made the gypsy start. He leapt to his feet, suddenly all too aware of the monster he had been foraging alongside. Octavian realised his concern as the debris settled, finding the creature now standing beside him, joints clicking and popping back into place. It turned towards him, mouth agape, its staring eyes even more terrifying to behold.

  It was time to go!

  Octavian snatched up the sack and ran, the weight dragging him down on the right side leaving him off balance, his gait awkward. The shoulder bag bounced up and down on his left hip and Kerian’s sword smacked him soundly between the shoulder blades, like a jockey using a whip on a steed to gain every inch of speed that could be mustered. He stole a glance over his shoulder and noticed the mummy giving chase, the long golden legs of the creature swiftly eating up the distance between them. The gypsy faced forwards, then realised with a curse, that he was running in the wrong direction, as the prow of the ship came up alongside him.

  The gypsy skidded to a halt, ducking just as the mummy’s golden fingers closed where his head had been. The monster shot past, feet thumping into the ground as it tried to reduce the momentum it had just obtained. Octavian did not stop to check the creature’s progress and immediately set off back down the hull of the ship, heading towards the stern as fast as his laden body could move.

  The thumping of closing footsteps signalled that the monster had managed to turn about and was gaining on him again, making Octavian redouble his efforts. However, the stern of the ship looked so far away and doubt started to enter his mind. He was never going to make it. The mummy had to be only a few inches away, the wind blowing through his hair was not from his own running, it was those outstretched fingers clawing and scrabbling for his flesh!

  Toledo burst out from the shadows at the front of the ship, Kerian guiding his mount with a skill that was instantly apparent. The knight cradled an oar in his right hand, wielding it as if it were a jousting lance. He kept his head down low and urged Toledo to give him all the speed it could. The stallion tore past Octavian, eyes rolling, foam flecks visible on its mouth the ground rolling with the thunder of his galloping hooves.

  The oar whistled over the gypsy’s head and smashed into the racing mummy with a crunch sending th
e golden creature flying backwards onto the hull of the ship and knocking Kerian clear from the saddle. Toledo reared, hooves flashing, stamping and snorting as it found itself without a rider to give it direction.

  Kerian groaned from on the floor and rolled painfully over onto his side, his hand outstretched to Octavian. The gypsy ran over, eager to help Kerian to his feet only for the dismounted knight to push his hands roughly aside.

  “The sword idiot!” he snapped. “Give me the sword!” Octavian lifted the sword from his shoulder but it appeared caught up in the shoulder bag strap and he could not free the weapon. Toledo started snorting and neighing in alarm, causing both men to stare over towards their opponent who was now slowly rising from the floor, the jagged end of the oar punched clear through its shoulder.

  Kerian staggered to his feet as the mummy advanced towards the two men, its arms outstretched, a scream forever frozen on its features. He acted instinctively, shoving Octavian face first into the sand before grabbing the hilt of the sword and pulling it free from the scabbard. A lock of Octavian’s dark curls flicked free, as the razor-sharp golden blade passed bare millimetres from his scalp. Kerian held the weapon in his palm, taking in its weight and balance before flipping the blade around and bringing it up above his head.

  The mummy charged in and Kerian met the attack side on, his sword slicing in to clang off the creature’s wrist, shoulder and face, raising sparks and making the monster veer aside. Kerian allowed the undead horror to run past, then turned on his heel and set himself again, this time with his feet slightly apart, the sword held down and to the left, ready for the return attack.

  “Get up and grab the horses!” Kerian snapped, as Octavian sat up, holding the lock of hair in his hand, a glare set on his features. “Move, now!”

  “What have you done to my hair?” Octavian wailed.

  The mummy came in hard, reckless in its attack, despite Kerian’s earlier response. The sword swept up, blade glittering, the monster’s arm came down, fingers clutching. The clash of golden limb and ancient weapon was deafening. Kerian gritted his teeth, throwing every ounce of strength he had into the upward swing. The undead corpse groaned as its hand came away at the wrist and dropped to the floor.

  Kerian spun about, bringing the weapon around to the left, completing a blazing circle of death that had the sword arching in once again. The mummy staggered as the blade smashed into its shoulder, cracking the golden veneer and chipping the fragile bone structure beneath.

  “Go now!” Kerian snapped, as Octavian scurried to his feet. “We need to head deeper into the necropolis.” The gypsy turned to flee, bag bouncing at his hip and the sack firmly clenched in his hand, actually taking those first few steps before finding himself cursing as his pace slowed.

  “I can’t leave him.” Octavian confessed to himself, turning back as the mummy swung in with its remaining hand only to have the lunge parried by Kerian’s expert swordsmanship. “My word is the only thing left that I have not ruined.” He looked about for something to use as a weapon and flung his hand up in the air. There was nothing here!

  Kerian feinted to the right, making the mummy adjust its attack accordingly, then reversed the blow, bringing the tip of the blade slashing across the monsters screaming maw. Teeth cracked as the blow landed and the mummy twisted its tall body, leaning down to smash the man that dared to hurt it in this way, it’s turn bringing the creature’s golden skull right down to the warrior’s level. Kerian did not stop to gloat as the creature acted exactly as he had planned. He was already stepping away, whipping his blade around his head and smashing it down onto the weakened skull of his opponent with a deadly two-handed blow.

  The warrior was in his element, skill and training honed for such a moment, knowing that one wrong step, one mis-timed parry could result in his own grisly end. Kerian had never felt so free, so unencumbered and oblivious to the worries about the future and the regrets of the past. He was firmly in the here and now; fighting and never more vibrantly alive.

  Octavian watched in awe, his search for a weapon forgotten as he observed the swordsman pirouette and lunge with his blade. It was quite hypnotic to watch Kerian in action. He was actually quite good! The retrieved weapon now an extension of the man’s arm, used with unerring accuracy to wear down the giant mummy. Each time the blade crashed against the golden trunk of the creature, an electric spark jumped between the monster and the weapon. It was like watching a play with two tragic figures dancing upon the stage against a backdrop of a humid lightning storm.

  The mummy charged again, making Kerian dodge to the side as it charged past. He swung the sword in hard at the creature’s leg, catching it behind the knee and dropping the horror to the floor. Before Octavian’s astonished gaze, Kerian snapped the sword up, flipped it around his arm and smashed the blade down onto the already weakened skull, splitting the petrified golden skull with a hollow crunch.

  Kerian took one look at the motionless creature, trying to confirm if it were dead, then turned about and walked over to Octavian, spinning the astonished gypsy around and tugging the scabbard free from around his neck, accidentally freeing the patterned shoulder bag from the gypsy’s shoulder and letting it fall softly to the floor.

  “The horses!” Kerian urged his companion as he slid the weapon back into its sheath. “Where are the horses?”

  Octavian looked at the bag with a puzzled expression on his face. It should have landed with a loud thud when he considered how much treasure he had stuffed into it. He picked it up and squashed it between his hands. The satchel folded upon itself and went flat with no resistance. The gypsy shook the bag, then lifted the flap and stared inside, much to Kerian’s annoyance at his poor choice of priority.

  “Where’s all my stuff gone?” Octavian asked in disbelief. “I know I put some things in here.”

  “We don’t have time for this.” Kerian said in frustration. “I told you I heard other noises. We need to go from here. Either leave the bag or bring it. No time to examine your ill-gotten gains here.”

  “But…” The golden mummy moaned and moved its damaged head towards them.

  “We are leaving now.” Kerian replied. He turned about until he discovered Toledo standing a safe distance away in the shadows. He ran over to the stallion and swung himself up into the saddle. “Come on!”

  Octavian set off at a jog and ran around the side of the ship to find the pack donkey and his steed tethered to the rudder. He fastened the sack of treasure to Dorian’s saddle then swung himself up onto his own horse and sniffed the air, tilting his head to one side. Kerian was right. There were a lot of creatures closing in. He reached into his pack and lifted one of the torches up above his head, standing on tip-toe in his stirrups so he could ignite it from a smoking brazier he had earlier set at the gunwale of the ship.

  “This way!” he snapped, yanking the reins and turning his horse down a colonnade they were yet to explore. “We need to go this way.”

  The two riders cantered across the cobbles, heads down, Dorian voicing his reluctance with a loud bray as they set off into the shadows. The stonework showed more signs of weather here, ghostly statues set on plinths showed signs of wear, the pigment on the sculptures faded, some appearing faceless, the meanings of the scripture lost to the scouring ravages of time.

  They came out of the tall corridor, hooves clattering loudly across the floor. Another courtyard opened out before them, a sequence of large ornamental fountains looming out of the darkness, their depths now filled with sand instead of life-giving water and ornamental fish. The two men guided their mounts around the spooky scene, their passage lit by the solitary flickering torch.

  Ruined buildings stood silent witness as the men and their entourage moved further into the darkness. Shuffling within the shadows kept the travellers acutely aware they were no longer alone and that their passage was being monitored by unseen horrors. They dug in their spurs and urged their mounts to move faster as the hauntin
g landscape unfolded before their torch.

  Large steps led up to deserted temples, ominous passageways led off into the shadows. Kerian looked at several corridors, unsure which way Octavian would lead him, only to find the gypsy turning first one way and then the other before leading them on again. He settled back, in the saddle, hand holding steady to the reins, his other patting the sword now strapped to his side. He finally had a sword. Could his luck be about to change?

  The howl from behind them almost made Kerian jump out of his saddle. He turned towards his guide and took in the scared look on Octavian’s face. The gypsy faced forward, turning down a side passage, allowing Kerian the briefest glimpse of faded hieroglyphics and crumbling masonry before they emerged into another round courtyard with clinking chains rattling from the ceiling. Kerian felt his anxiety, so far kept in check, leap to the fore with a resounding shriek.

  “Haven’t we been here before.” Kerian snapped sarcastically, his growing tension erupting in the only way he knew how.

  “No, I don’t think so, the ceiling is higher here and we did not have to dismount to get down the passageway. I’m sure this is the right way to go.” His guide replied, turning first one way then the other, his stallion’s hooves striking the hard metal droplets scattered on the floor to create a staccato sound as they bounced away into the darkness.

  “That’s what you said last time.” Kerian replied caustically. Running steps echoed down the passages behind them. Their pursuit was closing in. “Where now?” he asked trying to keep the anger from his voice.

  “This way.” Octavian gestured, pointing up another corridor. The gypsy guided his horse up the passageway, Kerian following close behind. They came out into a large area with row upon row of small crypts set side by side, jostling for space along twisted pathways that wound through surely thousands of tombs. It was the biggest graveyard Kerian had ever seen. Each vault faced out onto a path, the openings dark voids in which unseen horrors lurked.