The Matriarch stared over the handrail, her mind searching for a distraction, gazing across the sand coated arena that lay before the platform, scanning the musicians all bedecked in violet sashes, the bugles and trumpets gleaming in the sun, polished so heavily it was as if the celestial orb had seen fit to drop from the sky to rest upon the sun-baked sand. Her gaze wandered from the band to the gates of the huge archway, locked gates barring access to the labyrinth beyond. A large golden gong hung suspended beneath the arch and sentries stationed on the stonework above appeared to be struggling with something that Mora could not make out.
Movement from the right caught her eye, a line of pavilion tents each with resplendent coloured ribbons flying from the top stood in silent formation. A young servant was running from tent to tent putting his head between the flaps to announce that the tournament was about to begin, warning the contestants that their time to shine was nearly here. Mora had to admit the games master was making good on his promise that everything would look amazing and run as clockwork. Where was he anyway?
An explosion over at the maze wall made the Matriarch jump, an errant firework spiralled off into the sky, fizzing and banging to the roars of laughter from the people standing below. The crowds were getting excited; Mora allowed herself a smile, this was going to be the spectacle to end all spectacles. She took a moment to look at the packed terraces set along the top of the very walls making up the maze; it was standing room only up there. The crowds of people kept jostling each other, trying to stare down into the sand paved trenches, within which the contestants would soon be running, fighting and dying.
Mora found her thoughts returning to the line of tents. Where had the games master found additional competitors at this late hour? She found the thought quite exhilarating, a mystery to solve. She reached out for a sweet cake only to find Wanessa guarding them fiercely, hugging the platter and gazing at the Matriarch with a furious scowl.
“I’m sure there is enough for all of us. Mora exclaimed, snatching a delicacy from the tray and lifting it to her mouth despite the venomous stare directed at her. “The others better hurry or they will miss the opening ceremony. Oh too late…”
The sound of bugles cut the air, a fanfare to draw the attention of the crowds and to signal that the tournament was about to begin. Mora swiftly brushed the front of her dress down acting as if the populace could see the offending crumbs on her dress from so far away, then moved to the front of the platform and waved to the crowds drawing rapturous applause from those around her as the seething masses looked on expectantly.
The bugles sounded again, the roars of the crowd quieting down as Mora turned to a serving page who rushed forwards with a small scroll and held it out for her to read the opening speech from. Mora glanced quickly around the box again, searching for the games master and realising with a sinking heart that he was not going to appear. This was very peculiar. The Matriarch cleared her throat, tapped twice on a golden brooch at her breast depicting two horns set side by side, wrapping around each other into a point, then she began to speak, knowing each word would now be magically transmitted across the crowds.
“My lords, ladies and peoples of Taurean,” she began, the crowds noise dropping so that every word the Matriarch offered sounded clear to everyone attending. “Welcome to the 23rd Labyris Tournament…”
The crowd erupted into cheers and yells, causing Mora’s eyebrow to rise in annoyance. She was not used to being interrupted, however from the chorus of cries and clapping going on in the box behind her as well as from the crowd she wisely knew when to bite her lip and let the crowd’s enthusiasm ebb of its own accord.
“This tournament is by Taureans, for Taureans and is an opportunity to showcase the mightiest and strongest our society has to offer,” she continued. “When Autio, the first Labyris Knight, rose up and shook off the yoke of our overseers, taking on the cruel slave masters by facing down the gods and stealing away the mighty Labyris axe, he ensured that Taurean became a prosperous nation that was both feared and respected. Today in honour of that feat, the greatest warriors Taurean has to offer will have the honour of fighting for you. Many will die for your entertainment but only one will win through to raise the Labyris axe.” Mora paused, as two guards came in and moved to stand alongside her and at a nod from them, she continued with her oration.
“Behold, Autio’s mighty Labyris: Weapon of the Gods.”
The crowd roared their approval as the two guards dropped the covering draped across the object they carried, revealing the heralded ancient weapon to the spectators. They hoisted the huge axe up high above them, grunting at the effort, allowing the sunlight to reflect off the mighty double-headed blade, its bronze edge gleaming sharply in contrast to the satin black finish of the rest of the blade. Mora had seen the weapon many times before but today the eerie weapon appeared to emit a luminous halo of light.
From sharpened edge to edge, the span of the weapon was nearly three feet, with the top half of the axe head sheared across its centre and the bottom half of the weapon twisted into two wickedly sharp spikes that pointed down towards the ground. The shaft of the axe, constructed as legend told from an ancient Harkiss wood, had a deep reddish umber to its grain, with two grips made of wrapped leather strips set further down its length for a wielder to hold to prevent the weapon slipping.
The roar of the crowd seemed to go on forever and this time Mora let them have their moment, allowing the guards to continue turning and hoisting the magical blade, lifting it high for as many spectators to see as possible. Mora let the adoration sweep over her, imagining the same delight when she took the position of Matriarch forever and her son Drummon finally lifted the magical blade. Let them all cheer, her time was nigh.
Mora turned towards Wanessa only to find the idle courtier smiling at her in a way that the Matriarch found uncomfortable. It was as if she knew something that Mora did not and this was unsettling. She wracked her brain trying to figure out what it could be as the guards finally lowered the axe and covered it again, ready for transportation back to its resting place at the tip of the pyramidal tomb looming over everything. No, Wanessa probably had indigestion and her face looked that way due to accumulated gas.
The Matriarch stole another glance and noted the smug grin that remained on her face. This was not a trick of the light, nor was it gas. Something was going on that Mora was not privy to and that little worm of doubt continued to twist within Mora’s brain.
The page cleared his throat, and Mora realised that she was staring like an idiot and that she had forgotten she was in the middle of her proclamation. She looked down at the scroll in her hand and rolled her eyes. It was the most boring part of the announcement; explaining to everyone what was about to happen, despite the fact that every spectator knew exactly what to expect.
“At the sound of the archway gong, the gates will open and the competitors will enter the labyrinth, one at a time, one combatant every ten minutes, until all contestants have passed through. Once they had entered the maze, some of the deadliest trackers and most cunning predators from the jungles of Taurean will be released into the labyrinth to pursue them.” Mora smiled as she said this, knowing that Drummon already knew the weakness of the creatures assembled and how best to throw them from his scent. She took a deep breath and continued her announcement.
“Other beasts have already been set within the labyrinth, lying in wait for the unwary.” She announced, hearing the roars of approval from the people around her. “Fiendish traps have been designed by our games master, set to snare those competitors who are not worthy to progress from the maze, weeding out the weak, highlighting the strong and the cunning. All competitors have until the sun sets this evening to make their way through the passageways and negotiate the exit.”
“The twisting Stairway of the Triumphant leads out of the maze up into Autio’s mighty pyramid. If any contestant fails to ascend the staircase, before the last ray of the setting sun touche
s the capstone on the pyramid, the exits to the maze will be sealed and the monsters remaining permitted to consume those who are still wandering its passageways.”
Wanessa yawned loudly, snatching Mora’s attention away from the scroll. She scowled before allowing her eye to roam down to the small writing once again. The Matriarch noted what came next and smiled. This part of the rules was written in stone, yet none ever considered the implications, although they would after today!
“At this point any lucky contestant who remains alive will face a choice; they can stop at the base of Autio’s pyramid and collect their reward or consider scaling the rest of the stairway to reach the summit and gain even greater rewards.” Mora paused letting the words sink in, knowing that she was now about to reveal her plan before all of these witnesses. “Few have undertaken this perilous act in years past but a true hero, mighty of heart, with the will of the people can consider this option. I am facing retirement and am proud to announce that the winner of this year’s competition will become our new leader, if they successfully wrestle the Labyris axe from its resting place.” An excited roar resonated from the crowd as they suddenly realised this competition had the potential to be really special. A new ruler to be decided that day! The excitement rose to fever pitch.
“Who knows, maybe this year, one of our lucky competitors will be courageous enough to take the challenge. Maybe, if we give our competitor’s a sign of encouragement, they may consider it!” Mora looked down at Wanessa and then at the empty seats alongside her as the crowd roared enthusiastically, despite most onlookers knowing that by the end of the maze, any competitor left alive was normally happy just to limp home with their winnings collected at the base of the pyramid, rather than risk it all on the almost certain death that came with ascending the stair and taking the axe from the orb at its summit.
“So without further delay, let us introduce you to the contestants…” Mora opened her mouth to announce the two contestants listed on the scroll when the page hurriedly placed another piece of parchment in her hand.
“What is this?” Mora whispered, looking down at the list in her hand, her eyes widening as she saw what was written there.
“Last minute changes.” The page replied. “We did not have the time to change the main scroll; the games master sends his sincere apologies.”
Mora felt a lump forming in her throat and her voice suddenly went dry as Wanessa turned fully towards her, clearly wanting to witness Mora’s expression as she read what was written before her.
“I give you the green contestant, Karlar!” Mora choked, looking down to the pavilions and watching as the blond Minotaur threw open her tent flap and stepped out onto the sands waving to the crowd, her armour golden and green, a gleaming trident held high in her hand. The Minotaur turned and raised her weapon firstly towards the crowd, gaining a roar of delight, before turning towards Mora and pointing the blade directly towards the Matriarch, the intention of the gesture anything but one of respect.
Mora swallowed hard then looked down at the next name.
“For your entertainment, the red contestant, Ammet!” The next tent flap flung back and the almost skeletal black Minotaur stepped out onto the sands, red ribbons curled within the braid of black hair that hung down her back, a long crimson cloak, embroidered with strange symbols flapping about her. She waved to the crowd, getting cries of appreciation before also turning to the viewing box and offering a low bow.
“Did you think we were stupid?” Wanessa whispered, just loud enough for Mora to hear as she began to voice the next name.
“The indomitable blue contestant, Chane!”
Chestnut hair, moulded into pointed spikes, adorned the top and back of Chane’s head, making her countenance quite fierce to behold. She held aloft a blue and silver weapon that looked like an elaborate cross, the edges gleaming in the sunlight. As the Minotaur turned, she threw the cross out before her, watching as the weapon spun out in a slow arc. Impossibly the device picked up speed, spinning rapidly out over the heads of several ceremonial guards before turning back towards the umber coloured Minotaur, completing its arc and flying safely back to her hand.
One guard shouted out in surprise as the tip of his ceremonial flag suddenly toppled from its haft, the flag sheared clean through, much to the delight of the cheering crowd. Chane smiled and gestured to her servant who ran forward and offered a lit cigarette for the Minotaur to inhale, before blowing the smoke out in rings as she turned for the spectators to see her ornate gleaming silver armour.
“Your games master was most forthcoming given the right incentive.” Wanessa continued. “He wanted to keep his other eye after we forcibly removed one from him. Who would have believed the ancient clause about the Labyris axe and getting to rule Taurean if you capture it and have it in your hand at the end of the day?”
Mora tried to maintain her smile but Wanessa’s comments were like wicked barbs in her skin and she felt her carefully manufactured demeanour slipping from her as she struggled to maintain her composure.
“Your Purple contestant, Pascol” Mora croaked finding each word harder to speak than the last and gesturing for a drink to wet her dry palate.
Out walked Pascol onto the golden sands, her leather armour patched and threadbare even from this distance, a solitary purple ribbon marking her contestant status wrapped around her left arm. The thin Brown Minotaur flicked her mane back and spun a long slender spear about her body, whipping the weapon about her body before planting it at her side and lowering her head to smile up at Mora and the viewing platform.
“Everyone wants to have a go for the throne.” Wanessa continued to goad. “Let’s be honest the competition is not stiff. Drummon may be strong but he is several eggs short of an omelette.”
“Shuesan wears the orange ribbon!” Mora squeaked as the dark-haired Minotaur stepped from her tent and lifted her mace high for the crowd’s approval; her armour tinted a rusty red, the ribbon wrapped about her forehead like a bandana.
“To be honest they are more concerned about Kristoph.” Wanessa announced. “It appears he has the support of the crowd behind him.
“Your silver champion, Prince Regent Drummon!” Mora stated; her voice now husky. The crowd did not applaud at this announcement as Mora’s son emerged from his tent, his body encased in matt black armour rimmed with silver. He held up his long sword and turned to the crowd, expecting the adoration shown to the other contestants, only to find boos, hisses and laughter coming from the spectators at his appearance. Mora watched as her son’s brow furrowed and he roared his anger at the crowd who continued to goad him, feeding off his frustration.
“Why are you not competing?” Mora whispered, directing her question at Wanessa before completing her announcements.
“Your final contestant. Wearing the golden ribbon. Kristoph!”
The crowd erupted in a deafening round of applause and stamping of feet. The floor of the viewing platform vibrating through its timbers causing Mora to gasp aloud at the support shown for her recently returned child. Golden ribbons flickered through the crowd like ripples across a pond, as people enthusiastically waved their banners and showed their support but the tent flap to the final contestant did not open. Guards moved forward flanking the opening and still no contestant came forth. Mora leaned forward craning her neck to catch a glimpse of the Minotaur she so desperately needed to give credibility to Drummon’s challenge.
“So why are you not competing?” Mora asked, as the guards finally ran into the tent and forcibly pulled Kristoph into the open. The Minotaur stood proud, his head free of a helmet, his body encased in worn salt lined leathers and not the ceremonial armour painstakingly designed for him. Mora realised with shock that the chestnut coloured Minotaur was wearing the garb that she had first seen him in on the floor of the restaurant in the harbour, all those days before. His tattered brown cloak scuffed black leather boots and the twin worn scabbards strapped to his back holding his scarre
d and battered long swords.
The crowd screamed their appreciation as the Minotaur looked towards Mora, his eyes burning with hatred. The spectators did not seem to care that the Minotaur was not playing to the crowd. His brooding looks as he stood encircled by the guards, their spears all pointed at him, only fuelled his image as one rebelling against the Matriarchal society, and the crowd loved it.
“Let them kill each other.” Wanessa replied, as Mora tore her gaze from Kristoph and looked up towards the archway where the bundle struggling between the guards stationed there was revealed to be the missing games master. They pushed him towards the edge of the platform as Wanessa’s comments rang in Mora’s ears. “There is no point in competing myself, I am not fit enough. However, I am not stupid. If they all die, I am the only one left in line to replace you when your term as Matriarch expires. In addition, if anyone by chance does survive, well… I never raised a finger against them. As long as I have food and access to Minotaur of my choosing, I am no threat to anyone…” Mora tried to focus on the last words written on the scroll, the words that signalled the celebration should begin.
“The god’s willing, as the sun sets on the eve of this day, whichever Minotaur holds the Labyris axe will be our new ruler! On behalf of the people of Taurean…” the Matriarch held her arms wide before the crowd, barely containing the tremor in her voice. “Avete Fos… fare you well and may you all die with honour!” Wanessa turned towards Mora fully as, at the signal, the games master was dislodged from his perch and swung down onto the gong, the rope around his waist snapping tight, practically cutting the Minotaur’s body in two as he hit the large metal disc and set it ringing with a wet thud.
“Apart from you.” Wanessa continued to threaten her voice turning icy cold. “Apart from you.” The gong sounded ominously as Karlar ran for the gates to the maze as they slowly creaked open. The first contestant turned and waved towards the spectators, before she slipped through the opening. The crowd roared its appreciation as she ran under the cascade of crimson drops from the gong and she disappeared into the darkness.
The Labyris Knight Page 69