Only when the last head pulled back into the shadows did the navigator dare let out a sigh of relief. He took one shaking step, then another, barely believing that he had dared to face the creature down. Rauph slogged his way back to the shore and climbed up to where Commagin was comforting Aradol and helping him fashion a makeshift stretcher so they could carry their fallen crewmate away from the area.
The foliage snapped and cracked to their left, causing Commagin to swing up his crossbow in alarm, fearing that the Nirschl had decided to change its mind and finish them off, only for Weyn and Mathius to burst through the foliage, dragging an exhausted and dazed Marcus between them. All three were covered head to foot in thick foul-smelling mud and slime that dripped from their clothes.
“What happened to all of you?” Commagin gasped, releasing the trigger and lowering his weapon.
“Oh you know Marcus.” Mathius replied flicking some mud away from his clothes in an action as pointless as it was laughable. “Always wanting to experience things and have fun. Whilst we were all struggling with the Nirschl, he stopped to play in the mud and nearly suffocated. It was lucky I recognised his boot or we might never have found him.” The smile on Mathius’ face fell as his eyes took in the still form of Ives lying on the stretcher, his white sword alongside him. He instantly realised that his friend had fallen in battle and regretted his poor attempt at levity. Weyn physically winced at the sight and Marcus let out a gasp of horror, sinking to his knees in shock as the cost of their ill-fated expedition struck home.
Rauph gently placed the orchid bloom at Ives feet then turned towards the sun and stared silently off into the distance. The others took up the weight of the stretcher and began a slow sombre trek back towards the trail that had brought them to this godforsaken place, leaving the Minotaur alone with his thoughts.
The navigator appeared to stare at nothing for a long time but Rauph was not staring into the unknown; his instincts told him Taurean lay over in that direction and this was exactly where he wanted to direct his anger. For it was back in the city that he needed to go, to supply the antidote that had cost so much this day, to save his ship and his crewmates, to root out the evil that festered in the palace that rose above the downtrodden populace. He knew he could no longer make excuses on behalf of his powerful family; they were tyrants and dictators and he had to set things right.
No, Rauph was not looking at nothing; he was staring at the enemy.
Chapter Thirty
She lay on her side as if sleeping; the seductive curve of her body draped in a drifting blanket of reds and creams that constantly moved with the caressing touch of the winds from the Vaarseeti desert. Her haunting face, painstakingly sculptured from blocks of granite, once stared out towards Al Mashmaah, her expression as chilling and inanimate as the massive stone sword on which she once rested her hand.
It was rumoured you could see all the way to the ocean from the watch platform constructed behind her headband and that the beacon burning there was a guide that lifted the hearts and spirits of many a trade caravan. An ever-present flickering light that pierced the darkest veil of night, signalling to any weary traveller that their crossing of this harsh unforgiving landscape was soon to be over and that the exotic delights of Tahl Avan’s mighty city awaited them. She was a symbol of hope, a statement of power, an icon of a forgotten age that guarded the trade route bringing commerce and life to a city of many splendours.
Now she lay forgotten, sleeping at the side of the trail, the passage of time and the constant erosion of the winds tumbling the sentinel from her lofty position in the heights, to now stare wide-eyed into nothing, her lips frozen open, as if in shock at her unforeseen downfall. Broken slabs of stone lay scattered across the sand, remnants of the shattered sword, stunted fingers from an outstretched hand, segments of a shapely thigh, all forming miniature dunes where the wind had swept up the desert and delivered it as an offering to the fallen titan.
Even now, her exotic face retained a poignant beauty, lying gently cushioned upon a dune, creating the illusion that the statue was merely taking a well-earned rest and that she would awaken to resume her duties when summoned. A powerful, fairy-tale image that would cause even the most hardened of travellers to pause and consider the wonders she may have gazed upon in her days of glory. Not that Octavian had taken the time to notice, seeing as he was so preoccupied following the meandering trail of a man, who, along with two horses, seemed to have no idea that the fastest way to cross the desert was to travel in a straight line!
“Where are you going now?” Octavian muttered under his breath, guiding his stallion around a mound almost as tall as himself that appeared to have once been the heel of a large boot. “Why are you going this way?”
He reached up and scratched furiously at the back of his neck, trying to quell an itch just behind his ear that was as infuriating as the old man he was following. If only he did not need to find shelter nightly to keep his horse safe from predators whilst he wandered the ruined city hunting for food. If it had been any time other than now, he would have caught up with Kerian long ago, resolved their differences and moved on to his real quest; raising the ransom for his wife and child. If only he had been more careful and not been bitten escaping from Glowme castle as he ran through the petrified Blackthorn forest fearful for his life, if only…
Octavian shook his head in frustration. That was a lot of ‘ifs’ and he needed to address these problems methodically, one at a time rather than try to solve them all in one go. The very thought of the impossible things he needed to achieve was almost paralysing and he could not allow himself to become despondent when his family needed him! If he really thought about it this was the reason why he was still following Kerian's meandering trail. Octavian’s gut instinct told him that Kerian still had a significant part to play in his life. The man was a great fighter; apparently loyal, as he did leave supplies so the gypsy would not perish crossing the desert. He could have just left him with nothing, all alone, at the mercy of the shambling undead citizens of Tahl Avan.
He still felt bad about stealing from the knight and felt a compulsive need to make amends. There was something undeniably charismatic about Kerian’s gruff voice; his moody brooding frown and the explosive temper that often grated on the gypsy’s nerves. However, the man also had a softer romantic side that tempered this, a side that Kerian appeared to view as a weakness and rarely exposed, despite it being his most endearing quality. He was a companion you would want by your side when times were at their darkest. Something, Octavian was beginning to realise more and more with each passing lunar cycle.
The gypsy sighed heavily and nudged his stallion forwards, taking his eyes from the meandering trail for a moment just to check behind him and make sure there were no mummified creatures shuffling towards him from the outskirts of the necropolis. It was definitely a relief to be free from the claustrophobic haunted ruins, to be away from the constant risk of surprise attacks from bandaged corpses with screaming golden faces, or giant sentinels with swords that could slice you in two with one swing.
There was also something to be said for feeling the wind in your face, even if it was filled with tiny missiles of whistling sand. At least it did not smell of embalming spices or musty rotten spores! A smile formed on Octavian’s lips. Kerian had smelt like that when he had donned the armour the gypsy had found. That had been a cruel trick to play on the fighter but it was amusing!
Octavian’s ears picked up the faint sound of swordplay and he turned back towards the city expecting the volume to increase as he turned. However, as he moved, he realised the sound was ahead of him, over the next rise. He nudged his stallion with his knees, urging the mount to move faster across the desert and canter up the leeward side of the dune.
He reached the summit in moments, riding through a vertical curtain of sand that blew up from the windward side of the dune, that resulted in the gypsy blinking rapidly, as he tried to ward off the blast with his o
pen hand and shield his face from the gritty onslaught. He turned his stallion side on, to angle the mount away from the buffeting and took in the unfolding scene below.
An oasis lay ahead, a small pool of water surrounded by towering palms and scrub worn ragged by sustained winds and neglect. A derelict watchtower lay toppled on its side, blocks of stone scattered across the sand.
Octavian blinked back tears from the wind and noted Toledo and Dorian pulling anxiously at their reins where they were tied to one of the palm trees. A giant scarlet scorpion ran about the oasis, its tail arched high, its claws held up and opened wide, worrying the mounts. However, every time the scorpion closed in to kill the two animals, it was met by a solitary figure that attacked its crimson body, slashing away with a sword and making a general nuisance of themselves before dodging back to safety amongst the palms.
Kerian Denaris, the only man Octavian knew who could find adventure, excitement and danger, miles from civilization, in the middle of the desert, had managed to do it again! Giant scorpions were exceedingly rare, yet Kerian had not only managed to find one, he had managed to make it extremely angry!
The scorpion’s tail slammed down into the sand, inches from Kerian’s feet as the knight turned and slashed with his sword, the blade clearly bouncing off the bulbous vesicle from which the cruel aculeus stinger emerged. Octavian found himself chuckling at the sight and the absurdity of it all. He had travelled all this way to offer his apologies to the warrior, rehearsing how he would open the painful subject, only to find he was instead going to have to leap into a fight and rescue his accident-prone companion!
He checked the dagger at his belt, then dug in his heels to ease his stallion down the dune towards the oasis. Sand tumbled away from its legs as the mount began its descent; causing the animal to rear up and almost touch its rump to the shifting landscape. The gypsy struggled to control his horse, tried to reassure it, even as he observed the developing scene ahead.
Octavian could not believe he was riding to the rescue! He needed to be careful or he was going to gain a reputation for himself; a vagabond gypsy who kept rescuing an old man! The smile turned sour as thoughts of his family entered his mind. Those were the people who needed saving! No hero would abandon his family in the way he had.
“Steady, steady!” Octavian warned as the horse neighed nervously beneath him. “Everything is going to be just fine…” The hairs rose on his arms and his nose detected the slightest of scents, as the dune face that he had just slid down exploded above him, showering sand across the gypsy as another giant scorpion, disturbed by their passage, clawed its way out of the dune, huge pincers snapping at the space his horse had just vacated.
Two scorpions! Two! Kerian was an absolute loadstone for danger! Octavian lowered his head and kicked in his heels urging his stallion forward. With a powerful leap and whinny of terror, his mount bounded away from the dune, legs thrusting down, propelling the gypsy out from under the curtain of falling sand and into the clear, just as a huge claw swept in and sliced at the air behind him.
How his stallion never broke a leg, Octavian could not say but the resilient and loyal animal scrambled down the sand dune as if its tail was on fire. Violently jostled and jolted about in the saddle, it was only by sheer determination that Octavian managed to stay on board his mount and not lose his seat to tumble to the scorching sands flying by beneath its flashing hooves.
The oasis and its confused geography moved nearer as the horse desperately closed the distance, sweat rising from its flanks as it charged. Octavian could sense the rising terror in the beast; feel the way its flanks vibrated beneath him as it struggled to breathe under the strain. The gypsy snatched a quick look behind him and noted the scorpion charging across the sand in pursuit.
By the gods, this was going to be close! He needed somewhere to hide, somewhere to get his horse out from the reach of those gigantic claws. He looked back towards the oasis, took in the broken watchtower and the way its shattered structure lay upon its side. There! That was where he needed to go! He tugged furiously on the reins, forcing the stallion into a tight left turn, ignoring its frustrated snorts and cries as he dug his heels in.
“Come on you can do it.” The gypsy shouted encouragement as he gave the horse its head, allowing the stallion to fly across the sand. He risked another glance over his shoulder only to be horrified with the speed the scorpion was pounding across the sand after him, the menacing bulbous claws held high as it arrowed towards his position.
The ruin loomed ever closer, its slanted opening leading to a darkened interior masked by the shadows from the sun. He could not tell how deep the room was he was charging into, or if it had any depth at all. He had no idea if he was steering himself and his horse into relative safety or was charging straight into a solid brick wall. The panting from his mount signified it was too fatigued for any fancier evasive movements and was more likely to collapse from exhaustion if he tried. Octavian had no choice but to commit to his course or face losing his horse to the ravenous creature charging after them. It was all or nothing!
Octavian noticed Kerian dispatching the stinger of his scorpion out of the corner of his eye, sending it flying across the sand and making the monster curl up in defence of its injury, claws slashing in from the left and the right as it tried to retaliate. He had the briefest of seconds to recognise the fact that Kerian was somehow dressed in different armour, before the image of the struggle was lost behind tumbled masonry, waving grasses and bedraggled palms before the gypsy found himself charging headlong into darkness.
The stallion slid across the stone floor, shoes sending up sparks as it struggled to gain purchase and slow its momentum. Octavian swung himself from the saddle and urged his horse in as far as it could go, up against the far wall, which in years past was the floor of one level of the tower. Luck was not with them as the stairwell leading to the lower levels was not on the ground but rather up in the air and there was no physical way that he could raise the horse high enough to allow passage through to safety.
This was quite literally the end of the road. Octavian turned back towards the entrance and gasped as the scorpion barrelled in after them, legs straining to push its large body inside to grasp the succulent prey that had tried to run from its embrace. It shoved in again, causing dust and sand to drift down from the ‘ceiling’ in an alarming manner and causing cracking noises to echo throughout the masonry.
The scorpion backed up then thrust a large claw into the entrance, pincers clicking together mere inches from the cowering gypsy and his horse, the sound so loud it was as if the very air was being sliced. The scorpion withdrew again and approached from another angle, claw extended into the opening as if fishing, turning the bulbous chela first one way then another to try to grab the morsel it knew was there. Claws snapped closed on thin air, although this time Octavian did find he had to suck in his gut or risk being half the man he used to be!
Clearly frustrated, the scorpion backed away, its beady black eyes scanning the entrance as it flexed its legs and dug its tarsal claws into the sand.
“Ha! I out foxed you.” Octavian taunted. “You can’t get to me or my horse, no matter how hard you try. Why don’t you go off and eat Kerian? He’s got more meat on him than I have and will probably moan incessantly whilst you do it.” The scorpion scuttled a few steps to the left, then a few more to the right.
“Yes that’s it. You just go away!” Octavian yelled. “There is nothing here for yo… Oh hell!” The monster lunged forwards, throwing itself physically into the opening, claws slashing the air as its legs dug in hard, scrabbling determinedly over the baked sandy ground. Octavian parried frantically with his dagger but his reach with the weapon was so poor he could not do any significant damage. Dust from ages past started to fall from the ceiling and the masonry creaked and groaned ominously at the strain put upon it.
A pincer scored across the rump of his horse, causing it to stamp angrily and add yet another dang
er to the close quarter battle. The stallion shoved hard against him, trying to worm its way behind his form and into safety, with a strength the gypsy could not hope to match. Octavian knew he could not stay here and do nothing and as the claw retreated in preparation for another attack, he followed it and plunged one dagger right into the scorpion’s eye.
The crimson giant threw its head up, crashing into the ceiling and sending fractures coursing across the stonework as if an earthquake had struck. Octavian had mere moments to look up in shock at the sunlight streaming into his hiding place, before blocks of stone rained down about him. He threw up his arms, only to have one knocked away by a tumbling block, then tried to step back just as a pincer shot out of the dust and gripped him firmly about the waist, yanking him from his feet.
More stone fell, crushing the scorpion as it squeezed tightly at its prey. Octavian threw his head back as agony shot through his body, only for another tumbling block of masonry to strike a glancing blow to his brow, before crashing down onto the grasping claw and plunging his world into darkness.
* * * * * *
“He’s at the end.” The gaoler replied, leading Aelius along the dank corridor to the cell where the incarcerated Ashe resided. “He talked so much when I brought him down that I felt it was a good idea to place him as far away from the other prisoners as possible in case they complained. What does the matriarch believe she has lost? I certainly have not seen anything anywhere.” The hunched Minotaur picked his nose with a dirty fingernail and flicked the residue away into the shadows.
“It’s personal.” Aelius replied, eager to simply collect the ring and get away from the disgusting smells that permeated the air of the dungeon.
“I don’t know why there is such a rush to find it. Whatever it is, I’m sure we will find it after the hanging.” the crippled Minotaur continued, his other nostril now getting equal exploration time. “I promise I will thoroughly clean the cell out afterwards, just in case someone else needs to be locked away.”
The Labyris Knight Page 55