The Labyris Knight

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The Labyris Knight Page 73

by Adam Derbyshire


  The Minotaur turned another starboard corner, disturbing several birds scratching at something brown and leathery lying on the sand, their explosive flight upwards causing him to shy and throw his right arm up in reflex, as the corridor about him ended in an area approximately thirty feet square. An unexpected mace blow crashed down upon Rauph’s right arm, yanking it down, pulling him off balance and making him bellow in pain as he tumbled out into the daylight.

  Rauph fell to his knees, swiftly putting out his left hand to stop himself falling on his face, only to find the mace catching the front of his chin, clicking his teeth painfully together then striking his nose as the rust coloured cudgel rose up for yet another strike. The navigator reached for his snout, checking it was still attached and noting it felt wet to touch, his hand coming away to reveal a bloody streak across his chestnut pelt.

  “You and your bastard brother!” snarled his attacker. “You have no right to try and usurp us from our birthright. We have waited on Mora, supported her government dictates and legislation, even put up with her idiotic prince, only for her to backstab us in this way. How dare she…”

  Rauph tried to dodge away, knowing from the emphasis of the voice that another blow was coming, only to feel the mace crash into his right side, thudding into his leathers, lifting him clear from the sandy floor and bowling him out across the sand. He staggered up onto his knees, coughing out a wad of bloody phlegm and wheezing heavily as he struggled to inhale enough air to stop his head spinning. After agonising moments, he finally managed to gather enough breath to stare up into the face of his attacker.

  Shuesan stood before him in her rust tinted armour, her orange headband at an angle, her hair dishevelled and matted in blood that Rauph was positive was not his own. The female Minotaur appeared strangely lopsided, her face off kilter and no longer symmetrical, her armour dented and crushed. The navigator shook his head, trying to quell the ringing in his ears, his every breath painful, his right arm still numb and tingly as if a thousand fire ants had set up a colony beneath the Minotaur’s skin.

  Rauph tried to suppress the pain from his injuries, tried to take in the image of the foe before him and comprehend why he had been attacked in this way. He blinked again, allowing his eyes to focus through the pain and realised that something was clearly wrong with Shuesan’s head, she was all bruised, her face battered and swollen, the armour dents also appeared fresh, silver metal glinted from within the virgin creases and deep scoring across the breastplate. He considered all of the visual clues then stated the obvious.

  “Where has your ear gone?”

  “Your evil twisted sibling did this!” Shuesan screamed. “He caught up with me, maimed me and left me for dead but if he thinks I will die in this godforsaken labyrinth, he is mistaken. I’m going to make sure that at least one of Mora’s brood perishes here first.”

  The mace swung in again but the small reprieve had given Rauph time to catch his breath and balance on the balls of his feet, allowing him to spring away just as the weapon whipped past him. He reached up reluctantly unsheathing his swords in a move practiced time and again, only for hot searing agony to flare through his side, eliciting a loud grunt of pain as the muscles across his ribs rebelled against the unexpected movement.

  Shuesan’s wicked mace angled in again, forcing Rauph to bring up his right sword arm in an attempt to parry, only for him to watch in shocked betrayal as his blade flew out of his numbed hand and thudded onto the sand. He reacted swiftly, snapping up his left longsword barely in time to parry the heavy mace before staggering backwards.

  The crowd roared their approval at the contest of strength unfolding right below them, throwing their coloured streamers into the air to show their gratitude and support for the two gladiators battling upon the sand.

  Rauph ducked his head as the mace whistled by, then swung his sword up in retaliation, scoring a fresh silver wound across his adversary’s auburn plate armour, sparks jumping from the weapon as it caught on each seam. Shuesan’s mace whooshed back in with a lightning fast backhand that almost caught Rauph unawares. He had no choice but to give valuable ground, the sand beneath his feet kicking up as he retreated from the advances of her brutal weapon.

  “I have no quarrel with you.” Rauph stated, circling warily just beyond Shuesan’s reach. “If my brother has grieved you, then surely he is the one you should direct your anger towards?”

  “You are all from the same bloodline.” Shuesan spat, jabbing her mace forward, then darting back beyond the reach of Rauph’s blade. “By killing you, I hurt your brother and mother, spoiling their plans and diminishing their legitimacy.”

  “I’m not sure how.” Rauph replied, dodging to the left, sidestepping a wild swing from his opponent before circling warily again. “They both seem equally keen to kill me by themselves, without any help from others. You would just be doing them a favour.” Shuesan mirrored the navigator’s moves, ending up with her back towards the passageway from which Rauph had first entered the small arena. A bird hopped across the sand with something furry in its beak and Rauph noted with some surprise that it was the ear missing from his attacker.

  “Oh look, your ear!” he remarked. Shuesan smiled and shook her head.

  “Do you think I would be that naive to fall for that one?” she smirked. “Really I would have expected better from you Kristoph.” Rauph tried to explain, tried to point out he was telling the truth but then he noticed something else moving stealthily through the shadows behind Shuesan preparing to pounce.

  “Look there really is something behind you!” he gestured, pointing with his right hand only to have to snatch it back again as the mace whipped across the space his hand had occupied.

  “Seriously.” Shuesan smirked. “That’s almost as bad as there’s your ear…” The beast leapt from the shadowy passageway, eight razor sharp legs raised like shining daggers, punching straight through the plate mail of the female Minotaur. Metal parted as if made of paper, as the steely limbs pierced her right arm, left leg and several places on her torso, showering the sand with crimson blood.

  Shuesan crashed to the ground amid a chorus of enthusiastic chants and cheers from the spectators above, all appreciative of the fact that they were lucky enough to be seated in such an excellent position to witness such fantastic gore and relish the violent spectacle.

  Rauph wanted to move and assist, wanted to charge forwards and help but something about the frenzy of the attack had him pause in his tracks. The beast opened its angled jaw and clamped down hard on Shuesan’s exposed neck causing her to scream in terror and the crowd to roar even louder, their applause rewarding the horror as it unfolded before them.

  The creature shook the female Minotaur hard, making Shuesan drop her mace as she valiantly tried to keep her face from rubbing across the sand floor. She hurled vitriol and verbal defiance at the monster despite her pain, struggling to get up onto all fours, even under the sheer weight of the monster on her back and the grievous wounds it had inflicted.

  There was a sickening crunch as the beast bit down hard, severing Shuesan’s spine. Her head instantly sagged, her limbs losing the ability to fight and dropping her back to the floor in a heap. The monster’s long tongue darted out, licking the fresh blood and gore from her armour and fatal wound, savouring the taste of its fresh kill, before burrowing its head into her ravaged neck. Flesh parted in ragged chunks as the creature feasted in earnest, its neck fan vibrating with each large gulp as it relished the luxury of the warm meal.

  Rauph edged towards his dropped blade, carefully inching across the sand to the weapon, not daring to take his eyes from the monster as it gorged itself. He carefully retrieved the long sword then considered running for the nearest passageway and exiting the area as quickly as possible. He paused at the opening, stopping to take one last look at the woman who had tried to kill him.

  The beast continued to feast, aware of the navigator’s presence but not concerned that the Minotau
r offered any threat. It pulled away a fleshy mouthful of shoulder, stretching the muscle from the bone and ripping the bloody meat away, swallowing it in a great gulp, pausing only as a tall shadow fell across its form.

  Rauph’s longsword speared down, slamming into the base of the creature’s neck before it could even issue a warning growl. It squealed loudly, its tail lashing around from the side, only to be parried by the Minotaur’s second blade. Claws scrabbled and gouged at the floor, causing further trauma to Shuesan’s corpse as the monster struggled with the intense pain. Rauph pushed down hard and twisted the blade violently to one side, hearing a snap and feeling the death spasm of the creature writhing beneath him, before it finally lay still, pieces of Shuesan still dripping from its open maw.

  The longsword dripped gore as it slid from the creature. Rauph moved to wipe it on the carcass as best as he could, then turned to examine Shuesan to see if there was anything that he could do to save her. He looked down, taking in her ravaged body and then the limbs of the monster he had just dispatched, before freezing in place as he counted the eight razor sharp limbs, his eyes going wide in horror.

  The crowd above looked down on the scene not understanding what they were seeing. Their champion initially ran from the slain monster, backing up swiftly to the wall, before hiding himself in the vegetation. Several long moments passed before the Minotaur extracted himself from the plant life, shredded vines hanging from his horns like a deep green curtain. He slowly returned to the corpses, his movement skittish as if expecting the dead to rise and leap at him once again. Then he stood over the bodies, his head bowed as if in discussion.

  Was he thanking the gods for his victory? Saying a prayer for his fallen competitor or simply catching his breath? No one knew for sure. The cheers lessened as spectators leaned forward, desperate to hear the words of their hero, golden ribbons spiralling down to the arena floor to mark his victory and show support for the showmanship the Minotaur had displayed. Cries rose once again as the Minotaur finally sheathed his blades, then the champion looked up at the crowd, checked his bearings and choose from one of four possible exits to pursue his journey into the deadly labyrinth. A resonating horn blast echoed from the labyrinth walls confirming Shuesan’s grisly demise and the spectators roared.

  The crowd grew sombre as the champion departed, knowing that they would be unlikely to see more excitement without moving seats and advancing along the crowded maze walls. Everyone wondered what the champion had said, the mystery discussed in whispers. Only Rauph knew what he had uttered and it was not directed at the fallen female Minotaur. Instead it was aimed at the creature he had slain and was an admission of guilt at having attacked it and stopped it from finishing its meal. Instead, if the crowd had fallen dead silent and listened carefully to the haunting echoes of the battle still reverberating from the canyon like twisting passageways of the labyrinth, they would have heard nine confusing words.

  “I’m sorry but for a moment there, I thought you were a spider!”

  Chapter Forty-One

  “Steady Cornelius, steady!” Miguel whispered, daring to take one hand away from the rusty rung before him and swat at the lizard’s massive tail as it swung from side to side, close to the buccaneer’s head. “You are going to knock me off the ladder if you aren’t careful!”

  The giant lizard uttered a guttural murmur, mocking like a chuckle and then lightly tapped Miguel on the head with the tip of its tail before leaping further up the ladder and disappearing into the darkness of the listing elevator shaft. The buccaneer bowed his head to protect his eyes from the shower of rust slivers dislodged by the lizard’s rapid climb and soon found himself alone in the shadows with only the constant drip of water and the ominous creaking from the huge cruise liner “The Neptune” for company.

  Miguel nervously wiped his hands one at a time on his trousers and then confident no more rust would fall, looked up after his companion wondering for what felt like the hundredth time why he was doing this.

  The plan seemed fine to begin with, salvage Pheris the cyborg and then access his memory banks to reactive a portal. Then use his parts to re-float and energise the barge and high tail it out of this hellhole but now he was deep in the lair of the beast that held his mercenary crew in thrall, he was starting to have second thoughts about its success.

  Those damned spooky hounds patrolled the graveyard of wrecks and derelicts with a tenacity that Miguel had to admire. His three-man expedition, well two lizards and a man, had to halt several times whilst the Scintarns had stalked nearby, collectively holding their breath as the hounds slunk by searching for food and unfortunate shipwreck survivors.

  At least when they were outside, clambering over the slippery creaking wrecks they had a slim chance of spotting the beasts but now deep inside the listing cruise liner the shadows held an ominous quality that placed the privateer on constant edge and made him feel as if a heart attack was imminent.

  He took in a deep breath and continued to climb hand over hand, cursing the pains in his legs, arms and lower back as he tackled the ascent. Clearly, he was weaker than he had realised. Living on a diet of raw fish and rotted scraps was taking its toll, sapping more of his strength by the day. Where was the top of this damn access ladder? In this darkness, it seemed to stretch for miles.

  Something metallic dropped down from above, ricocheting off the sides of the elevator shaft, setting Miguel’s teeth on edge and his heart pounding to the point he felt it would pop out of his chest. It passed by him unseen, clattering and clanging away into the darkness, only to crash loudly into a pile of debris at the base of the shaft, setting the ladder vibrating beneath his hands.

  The buccaneer swallowed hard. He tried to put the fall to the back of his mind and tried to ignore the fact that a similar end would befall him if he lost his grip and plummeted to the bottom.

  Echoes of movement sounded all around him. Creatures stirring within the structure, the padding of paws and scratching at the elevator doors informing him that they would not avoid detection for long. So much for the stealth part of this mission. The Scintarns knew they were here now and the job of salvaging the cyborg had suddenly become that more difficult.

  Miguel swallowed hard and continued to place one foot above another, pulling himself up shakily rung-by-rung. After what seemed an eternity, he finally arrived at an elevator doorway that had been violently wrenched apart. Miguel struggled to pull himself through the opening, before getting to his feet and turning, to come face to snout with Horatio’s grinning maw and forked tongue flicking inches from his face.

  He staggered back in shock, almost falling back through the ruined doors and down the very shaft that he had worked so hard to ascend. Cornelius shot out a claw and caught him around the arm, pulling him back to safety then the two lizards stood side-by-side and chuckled wetly again.

  “Ha, ha! Very funny.” Miguel whispered. “Stop fooling around so we can just get on with the mission okay and for heaven’s sake Horatio take that stupid racoon skin cap off your head.” The lizards turned as one, tails swishing across the stained marble floor as they headed off into the shadows, their chuckles still hanging mockingly in the air.

  * * * * * *

  Kerian risked a glance behind him and confirmed his worst fears. The Provan legion was closing in again, the cloud of dust roaring towards them with a speed the strung-out adventurer would be unable to match. Toledo gasped and shivered with every step, clearly close to exhaustion, despite Kerian’s urgent coaxing. The knight realised he might have to consider the unthinkable, of leaving his stallion behind to die.

  In desperation, he turned towards Octavian, staring through the sandstorm blowing about him intent on asking the gypsy if there was any end to this nightmarish landscape and the relentless pursuit that followed them. His companion was off to the side, slogging through the drifting sands, his head down low, his steps measured, leading his emaciated mount onwards, the animal clearly in the same dire stat
e as Toledo. Why was this happening to them? Why was the legion so determined to hound them in this way?

  The dunes still stretched ahead as far as Kerian’s limited vision could make out, miles upon miles of peaks and troughs, a punishing enough trek for a healthy man in his prime but a certain death sentence for two men who were dehydrated and had not eaten properly in a week! The same horrific vista stretched away to the left, whilst on the right, a rock-strewn dune stretched too high to even contemplate climbing.

  Kerian stumbled, his weary foot catching the top of the dune, pitching him forward, to yank hard on Toledo’s reins and wrenching his shoulder as he nearly fell on his face. He staggered back to his feet, spitting grit from between his parched lips, beyond caring at the line of drool left dangling from his chin. He was exhausted, tired beyond all measure of the word.

  They needed to stop, needed to conserve energy, to stand and take on the hordes of undead relentlessly pursuing them. Kerian knew with a sinking heart that he would be too exhausted to even lift his blade, let alone mount a sustained defence against the creatures in his present state. He noticed froth was forming on Toledo’s nostrils and the stallion had developed a stumbling gait. The situation was bad, possibly the worst Kerian had ever endured. Was he going to die here in this accursed place? His shoulders sagged with the realisation that he could be trudging across his own grave.

  “Come on Toledo.” Kerian willed, “Please just hang in there a little longer. For the both of us.” The stallion rolled his eyes, his breath coming in louder snorts. They needed to get Octavian to stop, needed to find a way out of here or a place of shelter so they could mount a defence. He turned to signal the gypsy but Octavian was already cutting across his path and heading towards the huge mountain of rock and sand on their right.

  “Are you insane?” Kerian tried to scream, only for a hoarse whisper to escape his cracked lips with no hope of reaching his companion’s ears. Kerian tried to surge forwards, tried to force his way through the wind-blown sand, only to stumble once again. He felt the strength ebb from his legs, found himself dropping to the ground again, his knees sinking into the soft sand, his arms and legs as heavy as lead.

 

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