Mora clicked her fingers and a stool was ushered into the small cell by the gaoler, allowing her to sit and bring her hands together bridging her fingers.
“What is your name?” she asked coldly. Ashe stared hypnotised at the gleaming rings on her fingers, noting the sparkling gems and formulating the value of the hand, rather than view it in the intimidating way Mora intended.
“What is your name?” Mora shouted, leaning forwards to tower over her prisoner.
“Um, Oh… Ashe Wolfsdale.” He replied, holding out his hand and gripping Mora’s, only for the Matriarch to snatch her hand away as if the Halfling was something disgusting that she had accidentally touched.
“The arrival of the El Defensor has been nothing but an irritation to me.” Mora confessed. “Why did you decide to come here of all times, just as Drummon was about to be sworn in as my replacement?”
“Well I’m not in charge of the ship so you need to ask Thomas that question.” Ashe replied. “Oh, but you can’t, can you? Because I heard you tried to poison him.”
“What do you mean tried?” Mora smiled with no warmth at all. “No one recovers from Nirschl venom, absolutely no one. Oh, I am very much afraid that your captain is quite dead by now. Some of Kristoph’s friends are about to follow him, if I am not very much mistaken. Their trip to the jungle was bound to be filled with hidden perils; there are so many wild animals out there. I know Drummon would have tried his best to help these sad unfortunates but tragic unexpected incidents happen all the time.”
“That’s horrible.” Ashe snapped, moving to stand and yet again feeling the bucket nudge beneath him, forcing him to sit again. “You can’t get away with this. The crew of the El Defensor simply will not sit and let you do this to our friends. If you harm anyone, you will be making a very big mistake.”
“The concerns of your crew do not disturb me.” The Matriarch hissed. “Your ship will be impounded, your remaining crew sent to the mines or sold as slaves. Kristoph will take part in the Labyris competition and once a terrible accident has befallen him, my troops shall act with ruthless efficiency. Drummon will be crowned as I previously planned and all will be as it should be. It will be such a shame about Kristoph but sacrifices have to be made for the greater good.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little careless of you to confess such information to me?” Ashe replied, his stern look returning to his little features. “When I get out of here and tell the crew what you are planning, they will be really angry with you.”
“What makes you think you are getting out of here?” Mora replied with a glacial laugh. “You have been found guilty of stealing from the fountains. The penalty is death by hanging.”
“Don’t I have the benefit of a trial?” the Halfling gulped.
“Oh.” Mora brought her hand to her head in a mock pretence at forgetting. “Did I not tell you? We had the trial a few moments ago. Of course I did all I could for Kristoph’s friend, tried to plead for mercy from the magistrate but the crime was simply too severe.”
“I only picked up some coins someone threw away!” Ashe exclaimed. “I did not know I was doing wrong.”
“Of course you didn’t.” Mora agreed. “This is why I have scheduled your hanging for noon today. We did not want you to suffer too much and the magistrate felt it was better to put you out of your misery as soon as possible so that you don’t upset yourself by dwelling on the matter. We can clearly see that you are disturbed.”
Ashe sat there open mouthed. Hung! This was not good. This was not good at all! Hang on a moment… what did she mean disturbed?
“What’s the time now?” he asked his mouth suddenly dry.
“You have about an hour to get ready to meet your maker.” Mora replied. “Shall I arrange for a last meal for you? You must be really hungry after spending all this time in here.”
Ashe went to voice his reply, tempted to ask for something that took more than an hour to cook but he knew the Matriarch did not intend to get anything cooked for him.
“Well. I do appreciate all you have done for me.” Ashe stated. “Don’t hit your head on the door frame on the way out.”
Mora stood up and brushed her dress down before letting out a deep evil laugh.
“Goodbye Ashe Wolfsdale.” She smiled. “I shall make sure to let the hangman know to make you suffer before he finally throws the lever to snap your neck. It’s a shame I will not be there to see it but I have a competition to arrange. I am sure Kristoph will be heart broken when he hears the news of your unfortunate indiscretion and fate.”
“His name is Rauph!” Ashe snapped as Mora turned to leave. “He has always been Rauph and will always be Rauph to his friends.”
“Yes so you say.” Mora responded. “However, as I am sure you can see. Being Rauph’s friend can have terminal consequences.” She walked from the cell, the door slamming shut behind her and the key grating as it turned in the lock.
Ashe stood up, moved the bucket and looked down at Sinders who stared back at him with a crazy rolling eye.
“Well that’s a turn up for the books!” he remarked to the bird. “They are going to hang me for collecting some coins that no one wanted. Whatever next? I suppose they would really have a fit if they knew I had one of the cow lady’s rings then!” He held up the palmed ring and angled it to take in the light from the deep red ruby set into the golden band.
“I guess I’ve still got it.” He smiled. “Now if it is alright with you, I feel we have just about outstayed our welcome here and it is time for us to leave. I had faith that a means of escape would arrive and true to form…” he turned towards the now vacant stool, already knowing the increased height would allow him to reach the lock that until now had eluded him.
“…something has.”
* * * * * *
Kerian pulled back into the shadows as a huge golden guard stalked by, menacingly swinging its massive sword from side to side, scattering scarlet scorpions and disrupting sand drifts that had collected within the ruined shell of the city. The knight held his breath as the giant sentinel passed, struggling to contain his frustration at how agonisingly slow his departure from this accursed place was.
Toledo pushed his snout over Kerian’s right shoulder and sniffed the air and then shoulder barged the concealed warrior out into the open. Clearly, his stallion was as desperate to leave Tahl Avan as he was! Kerian wiped his shoulder with his left hand, checking there was no horse saliva marring the beautiful workmanship of his new armour, then considered his situation.
There was no doubt he wanted to get away from this city as fast as possible, leave the horrors he had witnessed far behind him and banish from his mind the hauntingly beautiful woman who had paralysed him with the coldest of touches. However, despite his best efforts, the going had been painful, with Kerian finding himself constantly playing cat and mouse with the ten-foot-tall golden mummies that haunted these ruins and seemed determined to stalk him wherever he went.
A shiver ran up his spine at the thought of Octavian’s mysterious wife. She had disappeared when he had finally recovered from his paralysis. There had been no sign of the woman, no indication she had even been in the room with him; no signs of tracks on the floor or indents in the soft sand to show where she had walked or knelt. It was as if the woman had not existed. Could it all have been some kind of a strange erotic dream?
No, the armour was proof that something had happened in the run-down hovel he had used as his nocturnal base. Kerian remembered he had grunted at the effort when he came to remove the barricade from the door. Either Octavian’s wife was a lot stronger than she looked; or she had not left the dwelling that way. The sun hung high in the sky when he had first cracked the door of his sanctuary, making it clear there was a significant period he had no account for. The flawless red-streaked sand outside confirmed nothing had drawn near during the hours of darkness or left for that matter. This whole situation had the stench of sorcery about it.
>
Kerian gathered the reins for Toledo in his hand and led the stallion out from beneath the shelter of a collapsed roof that had served as cover from the undead eyes of the golden sentinel. Dorian the donkey reluctantly followed at the end of the train, dragging his hooves and showing a distinct dislike to being out under the hammering strength of the sun’s rays.
The knight licked his lips, feeling the hardened ridges of skin rasp against his tongue and considered another mouthful from his water supplies before declining it. The longer he could conserve his water, the better his chances of getting to Al Mashmaah and crossing the Vaarseeti desert. All he needed to do was find some of the markers with the bells on, just like Octavian had shown him and then hope these would lead him back to civilisation. It was clear he was never going to find any markers whilst he remained in this haunted place. He needed to travel to the outskirts of the city and get his bearings. It all sounded so simple in theory but it was anything but in practice.
He led the two mounts down a narrow alleyway passing between several tall weather-eroded granaries and out across a plaza where a squat temple took centre stage, its roof slanted in such a way as to leave one side of the building completely sheltered from the whispering sands. The preserved side of the building consisted of a polished marble facade that had miraculously survived the scouring elements and reflected back a ghostly image of Kerian, making the knight pause in his walk as he took in the full effect of his new armour.
Knee high boots of soft brown leather protected his feet and shielded his legs from the blowing sands. Cream breeches disappeared beneath a chainmail undercoat of small golden metal links. A tunic of padded leather, highly polished in such a way as to enhance the shades of golden brown and sandstone quilting upon its surface, completed the breastplate and shoulder pads. Warmer cherry brown colours used on the bracers and rerebrace protected the upper arms and the cuisses on the top of his thighs. A beige hooded cloak hung almost to the ground, the hem engraved with a string of mysterious hieroglyphs and tiny cobalt blue gemstones.
A gilded belt at Kerian’s waist held a foot-long dagger at his right hip and the sword recovered from the subterranean boat threaded through on his left. The knight was a little concerned about how loose the sword felt in the makeshift sheath. It was as if the belt expected a different weapon; one he was apparently yet to discover. He shrugged his shoulders, ensuring his mirrored shield remained secure on his back and then turned to swirl the cloak about him, noting how the blue stones flashed brightly as it moved.
There was something comforting about this armour. It had looked too large to start with, yet when he tried it on; the material fitted him as if tailored specifically. It had been a long time since Kerian had felt such confidence in a uniform. Somehow, wearing this armour, he felt like a true hero, that he could take on any challenge and stand a good chance of succeeding against it. He just wondered how the clothing had managed to appear in the satchel, especially when he had checked the bag carefully and found nothing inside at all.
His left hand reached down to reassuringly pat the aforementioned satchel. As before, it felt flat and empty. Kerian carefully lifted the lip of the bag and noted the silvery material inside, just as when he had previously examined it. There were no signs of any hidden compartments, no signs of a sword that would accompany his new armour and most importantly, no signs of Colette’s missing necklace.
Octavian’s wife had promised him that the pendant remained inside the bag. She had also promised he would see Colette again. There had been a confidence about her comments that made him believe she was not lying to him, after all ‘the cards had told her so’.
The cards! Kerian chuckled to himself. It was nothing but superstition! If he had believed in the cards, he would have given up on his quest months ago. After all, he was supposed to be dead. He had to admit that sometimes life did take strange, unexpected turns. I mean, here he was, staring at a mirrored surface, admiring his reflection in a city that had been buried under the sand for hundreds of years!
He went to move away from his mirror image and then stopped himself. What was that comment she had made; the one about him looking younger? He walked closer to the marble surface and stared at his reflection carefully. His hair was definitely looking darker. His temples not as grey and his facial features not as deeply etched.
Could she be right? Was he getting younger, or was it down to the poor quality of the mirror he was using? Toledo nudged him again, eager to be off and across the desert. Kerian swung himself up into the saddle and pulled the hood of the cloak down over his head before giving Toledo free rein to head in any direction the stallion chose. Maybe the horse would strike lucky and they would end up finding a short cut to the edge of the metropolis. To be honest any suggestion would be good now. He felt he had been wandering aimlessly around these ruins too long!
Kerian looked up to try to get his bearings and noted an ominous bank of clouds steadily building on the far horizon. It looked as if they held the potential for yet another storm. What was it with the Vaarseeti desert and storms? The sun shone hazily from its position in the sky, making Kerian start when he realised how low it was; how could so much time have passed already? How many hours had he lost wandering aimlessly about this sprawling ruined city?
The wind whistled hauntingly through a tall minaret and whispering grains of sand started to dance in little agitated swirls at his feet. Maybe the storm was closer than it looked? Kerian scanned the buildings around him, looking for some sign as to what direction to take. An alleyway to the left had an exquisite arched bridge built between the two buildings signifying that another roadway existed above but there were no obvious signs of how to get up there. Another exit from the square led down to a dried canal bed, the skeletal grasses of the waterway reaching up to the heavens, their brittle stalks clicking a warning note of the approaching storm.
Toledo surprised Kerian by taking another route entirely. Nostrils flaring, the stallion angled across a plaza where an eroded horned statue kept silent guard, before plodding into a passageway that led back underground. Kerian felt the hairs rise on his arms as soon as Toledo moved away from the sunlight. He remained acutely aware of what horrors lurked beneath these shifting desert sands, however, the relative silence after being in the winds outside, was deafening and Kerian thankfully drew his hood back as the cool stone of the chamber closed about him.
Wonderful pictographs on the pillars and walls documented life in this great city before the wrath of the gods had razed it from the face of the known world. Kerian’s eye roamed over these illustrations, marvelling at the rich colours and the cityscapes displayed, noting that most depicted traders and caravans setting off across the desert.
Dorian brayed, the sound echoing loudly in the confines of the passage, making Kerian jump and reach for his sword. The donkey incredibly picked up the pace and drew alongside Toledo the supplies on its back jostling loudly as the impatient donkey rushed to get ahead. They exited the passageway in a disorganised group and entered a sheltered courtyard with an intact ceiling of stained glass, that permitted a multi-coloured view of clouds scudding impatiently across the sky.
Kerian dropped from Toledo’s back and advanced cautiously, noting that the entrance to the room was gated and could be closed behind him to keep the creatures of Tahl Avan safely outside. The stone slabs angled down towards a large hole in the floor but Kerian could not see what was in there from his position. Stone seats lined the walls with stand-alone charcoal burners placed every few yards. Gutters in the floor suggested this area required good drainage but he was unclear as to what the purpose of the room was. His eyes continued scanning the courtyard, searching for dangers, despite the fact Dorian had spoiled any chance of surprise by announcing their presence so loudly.
The donkey lunged forwards, pulling tight against his line, leaving the knight with no choice but to release the animal or risk injury to both the obstinate creature and his mount. Kerian knew
he could not afford to lose either! Dorian’s hooves clattered to the edge of the hole and then the animal moved down a ramp that remained out of view. Toledo looked towards Kerian, as if asking for permission to follow and then independently set off after its smaller companion.
Kerian quickly followed the beasts, hand on the hilt of his sword, only to discover that the courtyard held a greater discovery than he had expected. Not only was this a place of sanctuary from the storm, it also held two deep pools that gleamed turquoise. Dorian and Toledo were gulping down water at one pool, whilst the other steamed gently as if heated in some way. He appeared to be in a bathhouse of some kind.
Dorian brayed loudly in delight and then dropped its head to continue drinking its fill. Toledo appeared more reserved but still lapped at the water as if he had not taken a good draught of fluid in several days. Kerian found himself smiling at the obvious delight the mounts showed, knowing this was indeed a lucky find.
The knight moved away from the pool, leaving the two creatures to slake their thirsts as he continued his exploration of the area, checking the walls and cupboards in the courtyard, ensuring the security of his position and noting that more hieroglyphics and pictograms covered the walls. Finally, he returned to the main entranceway and secured the gate with a thankful sigh.
He saw to the mounts, releasing the saddles from both horse and donkey, only for Dorian to wade further into the pool and splash about like a particularly excitable child. The light from through the coloured roof dimmed rapidly as the cloud cover finally obscured any trace of sunlight that remained. Kerian moved to retrieve some charcoal and kindling from a stockpile he had discovered during his earlier reconnaissance and delighted as a small flickering fire soon rose from one of the burner stands.
With all of the housekeeping out of the way, he looked again at the steaming blue pool and shrugged his shoulders. If he was to spend another night in the lost city, he might as well relax in a warm bath whilst he did so. The soak was luxurious, easing away the aches and pains of the journey, relieving his itching scalp and making his hair feel like something other than greasy straw. It was a good while later before he reluctantly climbed from the pool and got dressed again.
The Labyris Knight Page 49